Afternoon:
10°c
My lower back has ached since the middle of 2007, so January 2009 seems a good time to put it right. A consultant in Harley Street prods and pokes and murmurs about a disc bulge. Am I already at the stage where even my discs are bulging? But of course there must be an MRI scan and X-rays. The MRI is lovely. I get to sit in a basement, wedged around with foam padding, watching Will and Grace in the daytime. "Not long now," shouts the operator as the contraption whirrs and clanks its see-thru magic. "Please," I want to say, "take your time."
Afterwards in the consultant's waiting room, I spot an eminent and sociable Lib-Dem peer. People always look disconcerted to meet each other in Harley Street, even if it is the wholesome setting of the London Spine Clinic. We meet again in the secretary's room and exchange brief details of the aches and pains we back-afflicted endure.
That's not the end of it. I head for the X-ray and undress in a tiny room that must surely be for one person only. No sooner have I donned one of those back-to-front gowns that leave the nether regions and much else prone to display than I hear familiar tones through the makeshift cubicle door. Millisecond calculation is required: I streak out as fast as my disc bulge will allow to retrieve my day clothes and hope he has closed his cubicle door. Mr Bean is the only appropriate role model.
Alas, the noble lord too has assumed he is alone and cast aside discretion. I am now more familiar with his physique than either of us ever intended. That will clutter the mind next time we end up in conversation about the Single Transferable Vote.
* Matthew Taylor, formerly of Camp Blair and now at the Royal Society of Arts, takes issue with me for arguing on a BBC programme that newspapers are entitled to vox pop their readers on what they think of issues, whether or not the public is acquainted with the minute details of a case. He introduces his blog entry with the words, "My old friend Anne, etc", which is true on the face of it: we've known each other since Mr Blair was a twinkle in the electorate's eye. But it's a phrase only ever applied to people one is having a disagreement with. No one ever says, "My old friend X was saying something true and sensible yesterday." How very English: a statement that proclaims fond courtesy but with warheads on it.
* We took Abba's album The Name of the Game on holiday recently because it has all the early songs on it like Ring Ring, from the days when the Swedish accents are full strength - all the more charming for hardcore fans. The three-year-old now demands the rest of the family be cast in a tribute band. "You be Agony-etta and I'll be Yawn." Mamma Mia! sceptics will sympathise.
