And the doctor said…

Well, what an amazing difference from those f***wits in the Walk-In Centre in Liverpool Street. Nursey at Barts was brill. She did a lot of prodding (ouch!) and said a lot of technical things I didn’t understand about muscle wasting and cartileges and stuff but said it was definitely caused by the running but nothing serious and just to rest for about two to three weeks and take ibuprofen three times a day, so yay, should be ok soonish! She said not to walk on it too much so my boss is going to have to come and see me instead of buzzing me 30 times a day asking me to go to his office and I’ll have to get the bus to B&Q to buy more plants instead of walking there and back 2 miles. Oh dear, I hope I don’t get fat with all this lack of exercise. Nursey already said the muscle on my bad leg had reduced or something because I haven’t been walking on it properly and it was a lot less strong than the other leg. So I didn’t need an x-ray or crutches like those idiots at the Walk-In Centre said just to scare me purely for their own entertainment.

Speaking of plants, they’re all doing ok except for the sleeping flowers which has got loads of woodlice crawling all over the soil and I haven’t seen them (the plant not the woodlice) awake for ages but I don’t know what time they wake up so I’ll have to check on them tomorrow. Surely they get up at the weekend at some point? Blimey, they’re worse than a teenage girl. Although Ben did point out to me today that I’m supposed to water them every day. I did know that though.

Anyway, it’s Friday which means it’s (joggerblogger, you’d better look away now! scrap that, I just read your blog :-)) wine o’clock, hurrah!

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