Bathing in Chocolate

Well, the good news is that I’m not pregnant, and the bad news is that I’ve got some kind of VD. Not a terrible, life-threatening, incurable kind, but a non-specific sort. I really hate going to the walk in-clinic for this stuff. I hate the way they just assume - kind of half-smiling in reception- that everyone who goes in there is
a) pregnant, or
b) riddled with VD.
And, of course, I hate the way they are right.
When I was being rubbed with hot mud and wrapped in plastic at The Grove, the massage lady had the whole medical thing just right: caring and gentle and concerned. The nurse at the walk–in place was the opposite.
Oh, and it makes me wonder what else has to happen to make going to The Grove with Michael definitely NOT worth it. I feel it’s sort of hanging in the balance at the moment.
Still, at least my local Tesco has ‘discontinued’ luxury chocolate for 39p, so I’m just going to overdose on the stuff until I can drink cocktails again.