I heard yesterday that an Indian politician fasted for one day in protest of the corruption in the Indian government.  FASTED FOR ONE DAY – sorry I can’t help shouting – THE WIMP.  After nine days of fasting, let me tell you a one day fast ain’t going to do it.  I know that Fasting for protest is an Indian tradition – Gandhi moved a nation with his fasting.  So it begs the question, what I can move with mine.  I know I can remove weight but can I get people to do things for me?  What an interesting thought.  Now I am not comparing myself to Gandhi by any means, more like Bobby Sands.  Though I haven’t reached the stage where I am going to paint my cell with shit.  I wonder if fasting for political change would work in the middle east?  And is fasting the same as a hunger strike?

All very interesting but back to the original thought what would fasting for protest gain me?  Hmmmm….something to ponder she says with an evil gleam in her eye (please put all ravings down to fasting lunacy).

I want to introduce you to the lovely Helga and the great Gertrude – my day nurse and night nurse respectively.  They are in fact as different as night and day.  Helga blond, wrinkled, loud and kind who calls me Mrrrssss Mouuunaaaayeeerrrrr and sticks things in my butt and Gertrude, sweet with curly dark hair, a speech impediment and the softest hands, she massages my back every night before I go to sleep – oh yes she is the night massage fairy.  Both these women have made the last eleven days at Buchinger bearable through their kindness and overall sweetness.  I want to take them home with me, well maybe not Helga but please can I have Gertrude????

The most amazing thing happened today.  Lying on the Osteopath’s bed while he held my neck and skull at the end of the session, I suddenly felt a vibration deep in my body.  It travelled in both directions and felt like a crackling, fizzing and popping sensation.  After which I was completely pain free for about three hours.  Not a niggle.  Unfortunately the pain came back but at a lesser intensity and that was magic.  All hail to Mr K-S an Osteopath with magic hands.

As I was wallowing in the Osteopath’s magic, my sister calls me and gleefully regales me with her outings to Wolfe’s Restaurant, in London, for hamburgers and the Chicago Rib Shack for ribs and onion rings.  Oh woe is me….will a fasting protest get me a bowl of onion rings…RIGHT NOW!



My sister’s response to the above post:

Ahhh an onion ring by any other name would taste as savory …Alack !!…alas I know once on the lips forever on the hips …. Oh ‘butwatt’ lies yonder? Aha it’s Buchinger… The hips r saved …


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