I hadn’t scheduled a health check in 14 years, because between one thing (drinking) and another (smoking), I hadn’t had the time. My mother nagged me so much that finally last week I bit the bullet and had a top-to-toe medical exam, shaking in my shoes because the internet had already confirmed that I was mortally ill. It came as a great surprise to me, therefore, and greater still to my mother, to learn that I’m healthy as a horse. There’s nothing like the what-a-relief smoke.
And yet this week I’m sick as a dog. Sick to my stomach, in