I can’t remember where I read it, but it seems when professional athletes are injured, they often rely on the expertise of psychologists to keep them from becoming depressed during their layoff. Now I’m not insinuating I’m any kind of professional athlete, but this morning I started to experience a modicum of depression stemming from the somewhat unglamorous injury to my left knee.

I’m hoping the fresh degree of pain is mainly due to the hardcore osteopathy I underwent on Thursday, but I’m fairly sure I didn’t help matters while stretching one of my clients yesterday and causing a momentary yet crystalline burst of agony. I did manage to hold in the requisite expletive though, which was a distinct improvement on last time. Anyway, today I’ve been finding walking without favouring my left side hard, walking fast impossible, and various other things like standing up, sitting down - anything involving knee flexion really - much more difficult than someone with any kind of physical ability should.

So, in this time of desperation I’ve turned to my own crack squad of experts. I choose not to use one, but three therapists. The first is St John’s Wort - my favorite herbal remedy which has helped me through various hard times in the not too distant past. It also (perhaps psychosomatically) works almost instantly (in my case, anyway), so I’m hoping by tomorrow I won’t have the urge to take off anyone’s head just because I feel like a total loser. Case in point, Mr Dog wagged his tail against my knee this morning and I went berserk. Happily, we made up soon afterwards.

My second expert - Series 5 of Sex and The City. I love this show. I love the clothes (oh how I love those clothes!), the writing, New York - and seeing other women have trouble with men. I think I ploughed through five episodes this afternoon, and feel much better for it.

The third and most controversial member of my team - Miss M’s bought birthday cake. From Coles, with an ingredient list featuring absolutely nothing without a number in brackets behind it, it has now been completely devoured. By me. That’s right, last week when my training had me feeling better than I can remember in a long time, I was eating so healthily it was disgusting even me. Now I can’t do anything, I’ve resorted to eating 3/4 of a shocking, shocking cake.

So there you have it. I’m not sure what any of this says about me, but hey, a girl’s gotta do … you know the rest.

Today I’m loving: any part of my body still working properly