Magic Hands

I wont mention the Sydney heat in this blog since I know it's rather cold in London right now - he he.

I've just discovered that as a result of dallying for so long about whether or not to go, I've missed out on my Glastonbury ticket this year. I'm a bit sad to miss the mud, music and merriness that Ric will be enjoying with our friends but could do with saving the money and my liver will thank me, not that one needs to be intoxicated to enjoy these things :)

For those of you stranded at home by the thick snow in London here's something to while away the hours. My friend E has just directing me to this cute site: WikiHow - another way to come across things you never thought you cared about or needed to know but which are actually rather fascinating.

And as if we didn’t have enough social networking stimulation, Ric’s discovered the wonderfully giddying, ephemeral, spangled world of Twitter, a micro-blogging site, and is twittering away with the best of it's addicts, including Stephen Fry. It really does exemplify the speed of communication we have become accustomed to, the nature of these virtual faceless friendships we now forge with total strangers, and the bathos of human life. Go on, try it if you dare: Twitter

Here in the house of shingles and neck aches, Ric has almost totally recovered and has been busy building new Flash games and downloading all the latest film releases while I've been working as many hours as possible to save up for the the next leg of our trip.

When I told my boss about my neck injury, he very kindly phoned up the family physiotherapist in Bondi and sent me off to her the following day. I resisted at first, adopting my typically prudent ‘I’ll see how things are in a few days’ attitude, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I’m so grateful for it – boy is she good. Not only did she quickly identify and get to work on the source of the joint injury in my neck but proceeded to tell me all about the ‘knots’ I had in my shoulders and back muttering how old and hard they were, the knots that is, not my body.

With her firm, experienced hands and upbeat, almost motherly tones, it seemed as if she was revealing to me a whole new intricate and interesting world I had never been particularly interested in or aware of; that of my own body! These new shapes, new names for places on my back I couldn’t see without looking in a mirror, new sensations, pains, movements.

There is also something deliciously indulgent about being a fugitive from the office for a few hours to go and lie face-down down on a bed, close your eyes and let the hands of a stranger perform their magic your body. She twisted and pulled, kneaded, pressed, yanked, gave me ultra sound, rubbed minty oil in to my skin and finally, the best part, gave me a brief but deep massage. Bliss. I could get used to a regular physio ‘check-up’. Thanks Mr. C.

Only one week of work left now and in just ten days we'll be in our camper van driving around The Lord of the Rings country. I doesn't seem real. It feels like an age ago that I was wearing my skanky shorts, crocs, $3 bikinis and living out of a stuffed sweaty back pack. I've decided to devise a really good 'capsule wardrobe' this time as I really haven't got much space now and I never wore half the clothes I took to Asia anyway. That's the plan at least.

Above are some pictures of our leaving party at the flat on Saturday. It was also Helen's (29 going on 16) birthday too so it was a double celebration and worthy of a cake. More about that next time...