ALL the signs are there - runny nose, aching back and fatigue. I've got a chest infection. I'm certain.
It was a bad omen when I spotted my GP as I was queuing up to pay for a Sunday paper and buy 20 Mayfair at the same time.
I gestured for him to go first, because I didn't want him to see me make the purchase. It was one of those rare days when I faced the world 'bare', with not a hint of make-up to colour my washed-out complexion. He looked at me in a dismissive way, as if fully aware of my failure.
A few years ago, I wouldn't have collected a pint of milk from my doorstep without two coats of foundation and lashings of mascara, at the very least. These days, age seems to have got the better of me. I slop about in jogging bottoms and slippers at weekends, and snatch my milk from its perch with such lightning speed that I convince myself it's highly unlikely anybody will notice I'm still wearing my dressing gown. However, my towelling robe is bright pink so, maybe, I'm kidding myself.
The encounter with my doctor took place at Uplyme Garage, a week ago.
I first noticed the signs of a chest infection last Wednesday. Having failed so spectacularly on the SmokeStop course, I decided not to push myself forward too quickly for a prescription of antibiotics. Instead, I decided to eat healthily, avoid alcohol and cut down my nicotine intake.
My valiant efforts are not working. Forget five-a-day, I'm eating fruit and veg till it comes out of my ears!
Last Friday night was hard work. My house was full, on the account that my daughter had invited two friends to sleep over (a third friend went home early, when he realised he was the only male!), and I felt dreadful. I was coughing and my back was aching to such an extent that I was forced to take two Paracetamol tablets to ease the pain. I was struggling to get comfortable, but forced myself to stay awake for A Touch of Frost.
I had a good night's sleep and awoke, slightly later than usual, feeling not too bad.
However, after repatriating the guests to their respective families and having undertaken the weekly shop at Morrisons in Bridport, I was pretty much back to square one.
Saturday's Daily Mail didn't help. I was looking forward to an afternoon in front of the telly, watching Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. The free DVD was going to be the highlight of my day. Unfortunately, I had to hang fire and buy Part Two of the film (the conclusion) with yesterday's (Monday) Daily Mail!
What am I coming to?
I've lapsed back into a nicotine addict slob, with a chest infection, and what am I doing about it? Hoping it will all go away, that's what!
I'll end up, as usual, phoning the surgery and pleading for a same-day appointment.
Of all the unpopular Government initiatives NOT to be cast aside by me is the one that recommends local GP surgeries should be open weekends and evenings.
I know my body. I know my lifestyle. I know when I may need antibiotics.
It will be my own fault when the moment arrives, but arrive it will...
Monday night: I was first in the queue at Tesco in Honiton this morning - to ensure I get the concluding episodes of Pride and Prejudice. I'm just about to watch them, having typed up 12 stories from tonight's Honiton Town Council meeting. I'm seeing my doctor at 4.30pm, after deadline. While I'm there, I'll be pointing out the lump that has appeared on my face. It isn't a spot, I fear.