Paying for Pain

I just know that were I ever captured and in enemy hands being tortured for information, I would sing like a canary. The reason I know this is because of what it feels like to be lying on a slab and being pummelled by a physiotherapist and feeling pain but presumably nothing as bad as being tortured .
Physiotherapists who look like normal people are let loose on sore bodies to make them even sorer. It matters not that they are young, handsome and Irish with a fetching top knot, they are in it for the squeal like that of a stuck pig when they hit the right spot. However this time it’s not information I hand over but my bank card- I actually pay to experience pain..... but don’t confuse me with those of the S&M persuasion.

I was so relieved to escape from the physio, that I put the relief to good use and rushed home to make a pot of soup, a tea loaf and a rice crispie tray bake before a friend arrived for an after lunch blether. We sat outside, well wrapped up and drank tea as we discussed some books we had read and in particular the one we are having a virtual Zoom meet about on Friday.

And so another day passes when we learn that the present restrictions here will continue for a week longer than originally stated and then will seamlessly transform into the predicted stricter 5 (!)tier lockdown proposals;saving the NHS but not the collateral damage of missed appointments and undiagnosed cancers.