Of booze and hips and healing whacks, of adjectives and fillings

I puzzled the osteopath a bit. He doesn't think that bursitis should keep coming back like this (third time in fourish years) and wonders if it could be something else. He had me bending over and touching my toes and suchlike agilities and seemed to decide that my back and hip are all right. So I received an extremely painful massage and he hopes that will do the trick. I wanted some more of that nice ultrasound, which hurts but really works - the massage works too, but was more painful than I really wanted to have to deal with. At one point I silently gabbles the seventeen times table, which is normally my refuge at the dentist (it really works, soothes me no end).

Probably, regular gentle exercise would help, but I'm never going to do it. Far too much once in a while is more my way. On the way home, I wondered if I should investigate a Pilates or yoga class, but I'd talked myself out of it, to my relief, by the time I'd driven the couple of miles to my house. I simply wouldn't bother and there's no point pretending I would.

Getting dressed, I contemplated a drawerful of underwear. One has to get the knickers right on this sort of occasion. Too frivolous or - eek - too revealing and it would be embarrassing, but hopelessly sensible would be just dispiriting. And ancient and falling apart has no place in my bedroom, unless it's me or the Sage.

I spent the morning at the High School, with the teacher who deals with remedial reading. I sat in - and joined in - on various lessons and afterwards talked to him. He's a lovely bloke, had some years in industry and earned a lot of money before deciding that teaching would fulfil him more (I didn't discover this today, I interviewed him for his original job as a teaching assistant). I asked about liaison with feeder schools and it seems to me that this is an area rather ripe for development - he has spent quite a lot of time at one of the middle schools, but I think that time, when available, spent on some analysis could be worthwhile. I am sure that a pupil who comes along at the age of 13 not knowing the difference between a noun and a verb has already received some learning support, but it doesn't seem to have worked very well and it would be helpful to see the sort of remedial teaching in each of the dozen or more primary schools that feed the two middle schools, and their relative worth. Schools are supposed to 'share best practice' nowadays and if comparisons could be made, it might be found that one or two schools stand out either before or behind the rest. One has to be immensely tactful, however, as schools do not necessarily appreciate 'helpful' comments from outsiders, even other schools.

When I arrived home, the Sage and Ro had just got back from the dentist. Ro had not been for three years and was rather dreading it - extremely chuffed with a clean bill of dental health. The Sage was not quite so lucky and had had a tooth extracted - it could have been crowned but it was right at the back and the dentist felt it would not be missed. No alcohol tonight, apparently - ow, poor dear.....how does one do that?