I was admitted to ward B17. This was fine except that ward B17 was, in fact, acting base for ward A7 which was having to be deep-cleaned due to scandalous amounts of muck detected there the week earlier.

I was in a bay with 5 other women. Mrs Bhatti had gone into hospital in September to have her gall-bladder removed. Since then every part of her body seemed to have been attacked, in sequence, and she had never gone home. Being Hindu and vegetarian she had a bit of a problem with the food but as she had very little appetite anyway it didn't seem to matter very much.

Edith sat in one of those electronic beds all day, wired at every orifice. She didn't say much but every visiting time about a dozen people crowded...

I think it had been coming on for a long time. I kept telling my GP that I was tired all the time and various blood tests were done but nothing showed up. Then last Summer I had what they said was a bout of bronchitis and I was poorly for a few weeks but I rallied.

Anyway, this time I did it in grand style. I started feeling ill the week before Christmas, sort of flu symptoms with rather disturbing delusions. Have you ever dreamed about Lembit Opik - of all people - and you have to help him because he's hurt his hand? Oh, yes, and he's calling himself Jack London for the time being. That's how delusional I was.

By Boxing Day, when all the family comes round, I was mostly in bed. I looked, apparently, like...