I had a boob appointment today, in our hospital's breast surgery department. I'd completely forgotten to worry about it beforehand! As I was running late the worry never really had time to kick in. The consultant said (in a less blunt way) that she was buggered if she knew what was wrong with me. Apparently I seem to have merely lots and lots of "healthy breast tissue" and if anything, may be a bit "hormonal". Great.

The whole strange chastity thing that has annoyed me in UK gynecological wards seems to extend to boob examinations. It must have been altogether impossible and too simple for me to simply take off my shirt and my bra for when the consultant wanted the boobs. Oh no, you can't have that! What is needed, it seems, is for me to go to a special room to take off my shirt and my bra and put on a special gown/shirt thingy so that my boobs will be properly and decently covered for that 30 seconds of chit-chat with the consultant before the action. Oh, the gown is taken off as well, so the end result is the same in any case, it only seems to be there to make it that little bit more difficult and weird. I asked the nurse the purpose of the gown and she answered, rather bizarrely: "Oh, it's just more handy than a shirt, it's nothing to worry about."

Apart from all that fun, I've spent the day moving furniture about. It all came to me one sleepless night at my parents' house - how all our furniture is wrong and needs to be dragged around for a bit. So that is what I've been doing. After some experimenting and nearly breaking my back I've somehow ended up with all the big furniture in one end of our long and narrow living room, and mostly just a big empty space in the other. Hmmm. But at least now I no longer have any of our furniture against the wall with the bad damp problem, so it will be our landlord's sofas getting ruined, instead of something that actually matters.

Urgh. I feel slightly bitchy today. Poor Jim.


before & after