Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Hi All

So, I toddled off to get the instrument of torture fitted (24 hr blood pressure monitor) and, as my luck would have it, waiting for me in the consulting room was a boy-child, resplendent in a crisp, white coat, all smiles and adjusting his nappy. The nappy bit is not true, but why do I get these child or Adonis types when my flesh has to be exposed. Remember the Greek god who kindly repaired my groin hernia to the background track of Mama Mia? The one who delighted in patting-up my shaved pubic hair with a sticky-backed glove, and then delighted in showing it to me amid comments like, ‘Look, these sticky things are very effective. They pick up everyhair.’ This was said with a slight Greek accent – not that I would know a slight Greek accent if it slapped me in the face, but…