I popped to see my physio this afternoon. My left knee's been giving me a bit of non-specific gyp, as I believe it's known in the medical game, for a couple of weeks. So I needed an expert eye and a BUPA slush-fund to give it the once over. The prognosis is positive. I'll be back to my middle-aged best in no time. The only eff in the oh is the fact that I have another appointment on Friday morning at 9am. Normally, this wouldn't present any great hardship, but this Thursday is our firm Xmas set-to. Generally, the day after this is reserved for sweating and personal recrimination.
When the fizz suggested this "window", I bullishly thought "Yeah, why not. Let's do it," Now I can't stop welling-up at the prospect. I may have to back out. I don't like to disappoint him, but the inner-weasel is strong. The weather's supposed to be shithouse as well on Friday. I've started making excuses already. Have you noticed?
But first things first - it's our residents' association annual carols tonight. I'll get through that and see how I feel in the morning. I don't hold out much hope for the current appointment's prospects. Know thyself.
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