EDitorial ± 30-Jun-2004

Faintly Amusing

So there I was, lying on the floor at work, staring up at the ceiling — hang on an Egyptian cotton pickin' minute, haven't we been here before? Oops, I did it again.

One hundred fully conscious days have elapsed since my little headbanging episode at work, an incident that rightfully provided much hilarity for my fellow office wage-slaves. True, the first few visits to that same gents had brought back some uncomfortable memories, but I'd put The Fall behind me.

Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
One of my bad days
— Pink Floyd, One Of My Turns (1979)

Thing is that I cricked my neck recently, probably as a result of giving the boy a ride on my shoulders in town, and this pain-in-the-neck (not the boy, for once) had spread to my arm. So when I saw that the visiting massage people were on-site in the room next to the coffee lounge, no booking required, I had to give it a go.

During her intro, the nice lady asked about various medical conditions (not me, guv), and did point out that the relaxed feeling I'd experience could lead to a drop in blood pressure. She'd worked the top of my spine and had moved on to my sensitive left arm — most pleasant — before applying the same moves to my right. At which point I began to feel a tad warm: could I have a glass of water please?

Not sure what happened next: thought I was still on the orthopaedic chair; actually I was slumped on the floor, legs wrapped around it, my face wet. Nice lady had returned from the water fountain to find me out for the count. Fortunately her colleague had been present to observe my apparently graceful collapse, doing my best impression of a boneless chicken.

They wouldn't let me go until I'd sat down for a good half-hour with cups of water, numerous biscuits and even a cuppa coffee; felt like I'd given blood. After which I happily walked the 200m back to work, looked busy for two hours, then biked home. Got vertigo? No, just down the road.

Be seeing you!