So I had the operation (L4/L5 nerve root decompression and partial discectomy) – well, this was purely an assumption on my part because I had been asleep for quite some time, but someone must have done something because my lower back was exceptionally sore – and I was taken back to Side Room 3, where I had begun my surgical adventure the day before. I had a cannula connected to my right hand and one of those nose clip thingies which I never realised before was to supply oxygen; and we used to watch Casualty – tsk!

I was initially provided with a bottle to pee in but, worryingly, it was constructed of egg-box type cardboard and the nurse told me to press the call button as soon as it had been used, otherwise… well, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. As if it wasn’t bad enough having to try and defy gravity by using the damn’ thing, while I was fumbling beneath the sheet with it, I accidentally pulled the cannula out; for an instant, I did wonder where all the blood was coming from. So, fresh sheets, gown etc. The experience of being sponged down by a nurse didn’t turn out to be nearly as exciting as it might have been.

She took the bottle (by this time, I had persuaded them to give me a decent plastic one – gravity still presented a problem, though) and, as she crossed the corridor, I heard her shout to her colleague “I’ve taken it – a thousand mil!” I wondered if this was a record for I could think of no reason for mentioning it other than the existence of some kind of competition.

Apart from the old feller further down the corridor shouting “Great Britain!” and “No, get back!” at the top of his voice, the buzzer at the nurse station going off every few minutes (this was immediately adjacent to Side Room 3), the nurse coming in to do “obs”, the raging storm and the inflatable slippers, it was very peaceful.

Inflatable slippers? Ah, yes, these are innovative devices which fit over your feet and are designed to prevent DVT by inflating and deflating constantly, very much like the armband on a blood pressure machine. It was like sleeping with an asthmatic walrus.

The best thing about my hospitalisation? Morphine.