They are huge. They have sat on the shelf for a year now, rebuking me. Yes, I invested in Glucosamine. Not just your bog-standard glucosamine, but Glucosamine Gold. This was going to transform me. Make me lithe and limber. Make my coat glossy. Maybe not, but at least put a spring in my step. But they are huge. Did I mention that? Suddenly it all came back to me why I had bought and failed to take them years ago.
I put one on the kitchen worktop.
"Jeez, what the hell is that?" asked Dearest.
"A glucosamine pill," I replied.
"You're not going to swallow it, are you?"
"What do you suggest I do with it?"
Why do we ask questions to which there is only one predictable reply? However, suffice to say, that both of us imagine, and I do stress the word imagine that it would be easier to take as a suppository. But we Brits are squeamish about such things and so I had to proceed with Plan A.
I cut one in half. Oh, the jaggedness of two pieces was dreadful. So I dug out my mortar and pestle and tried pulverising the pill into a powder. I succeeded only in producing a substance that resembled fine gravel and was as difficult to swallow as throwing down a handful of pebbledash. There was nothing left. I had to take the pill whole. Standing up with a mugful of water I swallowed hard.
Job done. No problem. All a state of mind. I have to take them, apparently, three times a day after meals.
All I need now is some Gingko to help me remember to take them.
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