I woke up rather late, 'drew' a bath and sauntered into the office for breakfast at around 10am.
By 12 I was feeling a little knackered so walked down to a local health bar and had a weirdy juice concoction that tasted so odd it must have been good for me.
Talked to a nutritionist (always working you see) and then had a massage from a man that my mom would have called 'Dishy' but I found terrifying. Imagine a Kiwi Dolph Lungren moving your limbs with what felt like reckless abandon and you're getting close. Luckily nothing snapped, nothing tore and I managed to 'breathe through' the worst of the pain.
I'm now downing Yerba Mate based drinks in a bid to keep the good health thing going for a couple of hours ahead of my meeting up with an old friend and running down to Bibendum for my second fish 'n' chip supper of the week. Still I'm eating well the rest of the time and trying to walk at least and hour a day.
I'm taking the stairs a lot too - and trying to feel as though this is a celebration of my well-being rather than a determination to out climb death.
Drinks with a work-mate last night reminded me that the company I work for isn't full of insufferable prigs
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