Sore point

The Girl Racer sliced her toe open on a metal bracket that was carelessly sticking out from her bed frame, so ended up with a trip to a Canadian clinic, stitches, and a bill for £170 plus a day's lost earnings from her employment on the ski slopes.

Still it meant we got to Face Time before she settled down to a duvet day with Netflix, magazines and chocolates. And I got a blip.

My day involved a failing car on the way to a hospital appointment which meant stalling at every junction (I think it's the exhaust manifold or the catalytic converter). That meant dumping the car at home, taking the train to work, and begging a lift to my monthly shiatsu massage which is at an outlying point of the compass as far as the local rail network is concerned. Very grateful to my mate Mrs V for playing the taxi driver. The massage went down a treat.

My hospital consultant sees me once a year for five minutes to ask if I am okay and still taking the tablets, and I say yes to both questions and go off again. Today he chose to casually inform me that I would need another colonoscopy - in 2022. Great. Seven years of having that at the back of my mind...