Imelda picked up on the above statement from the doctor as we sat down to receive the news of my blood test yesterday afternoon, and immediately drifted into a paranoid state.
Luckily it all came back good. Not perfect, but good enough to go on holiday, and an improvement on last time. Which means no pelvic extraction when I return from Rhodes!
When I do return I'll be a married man. How bizarre. I'll also be oily as an olive, and as brown as a, ermmmm, cardboard box?
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