After one day in bed and two on the sofa, I returned to work today. I felt I should get my nose back to the grindstone before I blew it. And frankly I've been doing a lot of that over the past couple of days.

To be honest, I've spent most of the day regretting the decision. My cough kept me awake for half the night, and when I did finally fall asleep, my prostate woke me up with a sharp poke to say it was inflamed again and needed some antibiotics. But against all the odds, I lived through the night and dragged myself out of my death bed this morning to go and do a clinic in Winnie the Pooh country.

I've spent the day at the Ashdown Forest Health Centre in the heart of the Hundred Acre Wood, looking for heffalumps and trying not to turn the surgery into Eeyore's Gloomy Place. Although when I started to lose my voice this afternoon I wasn't happy. By the end of the day I felt like a pooh-stick drowning in a flood on a blustery day.

I'm due back at Pooh Corner tomorrow morning to rabbit with a few wise owls (sore throat permitting), and the good news is that despite having visited the place for the first time today, they've already got my name above the door...


I think Evatt drives the BMW and Gardner's on his bike.