Five days old, and they're not getting any less cute...

But personally I'm more concerned about day three of Nosegate...

Amelie came home from nursery today with her first ever Accident Form. Apparently she hit her scabby old nose on a chair. Which will teach her to sniff other people's backsides. To be honest, I think it's just the nursery's way of letting us know that they're monitoring her facial injuries, and keeping social services on speed dial.

I questioned Amelie on the intricacies of her medical treatment, and apparently the cold compress was a wet paper towel. I've no idea what the cuddes were.

As it happens, she's not the only one who's received advanced medical care today. I've had a telephone call from my doctor. Not at the time I was expecting it, obviously, but this is the NHS, not Bupa. Lisa kindly phoned the surgery for me this morning while I was cleaning my teeth, and booked me a telephone consultation for 11:30am, which was the perfect slot. It meant I could have the whole thing done and dusted by lunchtime, when I was due to take Amelie to nursery for a bit of chair-butting.

Unfortunately by 12:30pm, the phone still hadn't rung. At least, my phone hadn't rung. Their phone, however, was ringing off the hook, with people like me calling to ask what was going on. Having got through to a receptionist, I was told that all timings are approximate, and I'll get a call when it suits my doctor. Apparently if you book a call for 11:30am, they expect you to be available indefinitely.

As it transpired, the time that suited my doctor was 12:47pm, when I was walking out of the door with Amelie. It meant that I had to go back inside, chat to my GP for five minutes, and end up being late for nursery. But it was worth the wait. I had a very pleasant chat, during which my doctor asked me if I'd like to try coming off my tablets. I asked her if she thought I should, so she checked the report from my urologist, who advised me to stay on them indefinitely, before saying no - but if I want to, I can.

So I asked her if it'll do me any harm to be on them for life. She said no, none at all - but if I want to come off them, I can. I think she was trying to save the NHS money. So having thought about it for a nanosecond, I opted to stay on the tablets which stop the excruciating pain and do me no harm at all, rather than opting for a life of drug-free agony and exhaustion. At which point she printed out the prescription.

I did ask if I'm entitled to any kind of discount on my prescription charges, but apparently that only applies to certain chronic conditions, and prostatitis isn't one of them. I should have asked her for some cuddes instead.