I saw a gynaecologist and a physiotherapist at Crawley Hospital today. So all my problems with sexual athleticism are now sorted.

I'm joking of course. My problems with sexual athleticism are far from sorted. In reality the two healthcare professionals I met today were both there to see me, which is a bit of a turnaround. It makes a change to turn up at a hospital and give medical advice to a doctor.

But that wasn't the most satisfying aspect of my day. That moment came at 4:30pm when I packed up my flask, walked out of the consulting room, headed for the exit, and was immediately stopped by the lady on the reception desk. I assumed I'd forgotten to sign out (or been caught stealing pens), but it transpired that she wanted to tell me what an impression I'd made on one patient. I'd seen a young lady this afternoon who, as it happens, had no problems with her eyes, but was worried that her diabetes would one day send her blind. So having already discussed our respective young children and what a handful they are, I spent five minutes explaining retinopathy to her, and flicking through a few photos (of the eyes, not the kids).

She apparently went straight back outside and told the receptionists how lovely I am, and what wonderful feedback she'd had. If I'd known, I'd have told her to phone my boss. By this time tomorrow I could have been crewmember of the month.