mostly david ephgrave

It’s always good to experience something new (he says, hyperbolically) and today I did just that, by having an ECG.  I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Like anyone with a query, my first port of call was the world’s most faultless resource, Wikipedia. The 22 nd word in their definition, ‘electrodes’, stood out like a sore thumb, leading to visions of cattle prods, or of Frankenstein’s monster being summoned to life. Thankfully, this didn’t perturb me, as I couldn’t either being offered on the NHS. The nurse warned me when I came in that she may need to shave my chest, as the adhesive pads they use to attach the electrodes to the body don’t always stick to hair. She said this before I’d removed my shirt, so I must let off a musky testosterone-filled Tom Selleck-like vibe. Either that, or she was looking for an alibi for her manscaping fetish. Whatever the case, it turned out not to be necessary, which was a relief, as I didn’t want to leave all pat...