wings and things

Honiara needs a chiropractor!

My brother, Brinsley Lane, is looking for a locum for his Honiara-based chiropractic practice so that he can come home to his family in Western Australia. In his own words: “Warm Pacific adventure awaits. Chance of a lifetime for someone needing that sea change they’ve been talking about. Contact”

Honiara is the capital city of the Solomon Islands, a beautiful place just northeast of Australia. Brin established the practice two years ago and now sees an average of 100 people per day so, despite wanting to be here with his family, especially his daughter who is recovering from injuries sustained in the recent car accident, he can’t just up and leave, obviously.

So, if any of you know of any chiropractors who might be interested, please share this with them, and get them to contact Brin on the email provided above. Incidentally, Brin also has a blog at

Thank you!



I went to see a new chiropractor today because my chiro. brother is living in Honiara at the moment. So I showered and dressed in my going-to-town clothes, making sure I had decent underwear on in case I had to get into a gown.

Just before I left home, I ran outside in my old sandals to let the geese, ducks and turkeys out of their pens for the day. I accidentally stepped in a couple of puddles and so my feet were covered in mud, but, as I was running late, I just rinsed and wiped as much of the grime off as possible, then threw socks and boots on and raced into town.

Imagine my horror when the chiropractor asked me to take my boots and socks off! Dirty feet that have been inside socks and boots for an hour on a hot day aren’t particularly pleasant things to deal with.

Reluctantly, I took off my boots, then said to the chiropractor, Do I have to take my socks off? I think my feet might be dirty. He just smiled and said yes because he wanted to test my reflexes. Argh! So I peeled my socks off to reveal two filthy feet with matching toenails. I looked at them in shock and said, Oh no, they are dirty! as if I had never seen those feet before, as if they belonged to someone else, a dirty person.

The rest of me is clean, I said lamely, as I explained about the chookyard mishap. But the chiropractor just smiled and did the reflex thing and asked about the birds as if to distract himself from the horror of touching my feet.

Well how was I suppose to know he’d want to see my feet?