what a day I've just had

You'd think that when your day starts at 5.30am with a nurse sticking a thermometer in your ear that things can only take an upward turn from that moment onward.

Generally I'd tend to agree but for me that was the high point today and things were about to take dramatic turn for the worse.

Was it because the shower on my ward chose this morning to only dispense freezing cold water?  Or because my usually uninterrupted view over Swansea Bay at sunrise was today unusually interrupted by drizzle?

No.  It's because today I received some really, really (no, really) bad news.  

It appears my bracketing musical theatre together with deadly diseases as something the world could do without has caused something of a stir.  I feel compelled therefore to justify myself.

Firstly, and for the avoidance of absolutely any doubt, I have seen three live shows in the West End (I've actually been to four but slept through one) so consider myself more than fully qualified to pass comment on the experience.

Unbearably hot, uncomfortable, surrounded by impossibly happy people on a coach trip from Harrogate (and there's nothing wrong with Harrogate before anyone else complains; or coach trips) with their Christmas shopping on their laps, being called daaaaarling by the man selling programmes and all the time having my ears assaulted by someone with a piercing voice and a permanent smile while they spin about with their feet over their head whistling Abba tunes.  I could accept this (to keep my wife happy) if I hadn't just been royally fleeced for over £200 for the privilege along with a further £8 for a warm bottle of Carling because someone else stole my half time drink and that's all they've got left.

No, the only theatre I'll ever set foot in again is in this hospital, and they can carry on sticking things in my ears until I've been fixed.  Just as long as they don't make a song and dance about it.