Warm welcome

10Aug11

I ain’t saying anything, but the day I come back to London, the unrest stops. Coinkydence?

In no way related: panacea’s a good word, isn’t it? Another one: mollify.

As part of my recherche de temps perdu in Dublin, I went to see Dave the acupuncturist. We first met when I was working at Irish Tatler and he suggested I come in and have a treatment. As a deep-dyed unbeliever, in I went and spent a socially awkward 20 minutes sporadically sticking out my tongue and discussing my digestive, er, spoor. After which he diagnosed Something A Bit Rubbish Sounding, like unquiet humours or overheated spleen, and stuck me full of pins. Pfft, I thought. Pah. Tosh.

Until I got out of the shop, craned to see the street sign and realised I could move my neck freely – an impossible dream for at least the preceding six months. And the next day all lost energy returned, I went for a six-mile walk, swam for an hour, sorted and threw out two bin bags of accumulated stuff.

Blimey, I thought. That’s some ju-ju. Even if I still don’t really believe in it.

My mate Tara told me years ago that the thing about Chinese medicine is that it’s great for all the stuff that Western medicine won’t really bother with. Like for an e.g. lady business, or bad digestion, or a wonky thermostat. I could probably digest a hearthrug soaked in vinegar, but by heavens the thermostat’s been acting up for at least a couple of years. It’s fine when I’m walking, but when I sit down I can’t hold the heat – all sereno when I need to get somewhere, not so good when I have to pore over books for many hours.

Last Saturday (ambient temp 18C) I had to put on all the clothes I’d brought to Dublin, inc. thermal leggings and vest. Still freezing, even sitting in the sunshine. Anyway, with shivery fingers I dug out Dave’s number, booked in and went over on Monday to be told something about blood not moving enough and kidneys/liver energy being, um, wrong.

Worked an absolute treat. In fact, he might have twiddled my knobs a bit too vigorously – you could toast crumpets in my radiant glow. I keep kicking off the duvet at night, where last week I was huddled and whimpering. It’ll settle though, won’t it Dave? Dave?

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