Who You Gonna Call?

Last night, I went to Ghostbusters instead of having a bath.  Ghostbusters was ACE and just what I needed, as was the Elderflower Prosecco spritz thing I drank, and the chocolate coated honeycomb. And the gossip.

I’d taken my shoes off in the cinema, and when I went to put them back on again, my feet and ankles had swollen up – heat, alcohol, salt – so they didn’t really fit, and the journey home ended up being half bus, half taxi.  I gave up.

I would’ve had a bath but I was knackered, so I feel asleep without even massaging my feet.

This morning – predictably – I overslept, but needed to bathe.  I’m still looking for a cheap and cheerful £1 a bottle replacement for the Essential Waitrose ginger one that got discontinued, but until then, the quick baths are Yuzu and Cocoa baths.  I washed my hair in it too.

I really, really needed to massage my feet but didn’t have time. Now I’m in the office, stressed, in pain, and having foot cramps, smelling of chocolate and fruit.