Last week I thought it was all over. Some joint in my hip other than the hip joint (do I care to investigate further??) got stuck and so did I. It hurt like Rush Limbo and I had very clear visions of life in hell. In my utter agony, I sought advise from a witch doctor in the village, also known as cranial osteopath because she was the only one who could see me that day. The promise of someone acknowledging the years of abuse to my skeletal frame through pumping out children, hauling them around on one hip and installing them in car seats at all kinds of odd angles, seemed good enough to me to at least try this option.
Well, forty GBP and a few swift strokes above my mysterious energy lines later, I am healed. And amazingly enough, relieved not only of the obvious pains that brought me into her lemon grass imbued practice on a gusty October morning, but also of an incessant fatigue that had plagued me for months. Therefore, I can only encourage you that if you ever were to consider holding a gun to your head as a benign way out of your misery, you may want to consider looking up a cranial osteopath first...
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