Now (oh, Lord she’s back already), I have been working on my novel for some time now.
In my head, it’s ballooned somewhat. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is Book One of the pentology.
Anywho, I have started a course in Therapeutic Massage. How, you might ask, how are these matters linked?
Well, you see, I found myself typing that one of my female leads is a qualified massage therapist. So, now I need to understand subcutaneous tissue.
I had a bad back a little while ago. I did pretty intensive physiotherapy, and I no longer cram myself into spaces which don’t really support my size (that being, short and square) or drive for ludicrous periods of time without a break.
So, I’m not working as an electrician anymore, but I have the skills to make for a very compelling and accurately-drawn, possibly slightly broken, electrician.
And in the midst of bad back, I got to thinking about massage therapy. Getting qualified would hardly help my back, but it might have assisted someone else. I have my moments when I’m really quite delightful.
As it happens, what I hadn’t Grasped was that I have what might be termed ‘ice-cold hands’. More appropriate for pastry than shoulder rubs.
Thankfully, a good chunk of the action in Book One takes place at dinner parties. I now have every excuse to experiment with pastry.
Two things: 1) I betcha both electricians and massage therapists have awesome, quirky stories to tell about some of their funky-ass clients; and 2) I have inherited icecold hands matrilineally. My Mom’s, hence my own, developed response has always been, “cold hands, warm heart!”
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Hey there, Denny,
1) Undoubtedly true. As an electrician, I once had a customer ask me to fix their timer switch on their boiler. She wouldn’t deal with electrical stuff, she explained, because it was dangerous. Understandable. When I arrived, it turned out, all I needed to do was switch it on. She made me a cup of tea and we talked about films for the afternoon.
2) “Cold hands, warm heart” is definitely right 😁