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Day 26 again and heartsinks enter my consulting room at their peril.
If Sean Connery himself were to wander in asking for a little sympathy he'd be told to pull himself together, forget Bond and play older men.
Afternoons are the worst as, by 4pm, I'm usually out of chocolate. I tell you, things look black for those worried working well who turn up at six and complain that I ought to do their smear at 7.30pm because it's more convenient.
Do I jest? Or does our ability to be kind, sympathetic and occasionally gullible vary with our many varieties of biorhythm? This could be a quality service issue. It was time for another Selby mini-survey.