Tony & Judy...?

Rotten pains all over kept me awake after just a few hours’ kip. I was counting the minutes until I could take some more painkillers. Jacqui (who could give Flo Nightingale a run for her money) appeared like a vision with a cup of tea, and later I staggered into the shower. I have some spectacular bruises – if only I had my camera. The way I look I could enter for the Turner Prize. The golden yellow diagonal seatbelt impression is particularly impressive.

I took up residence on the sofa. Moiselle was also there, in a similar condition to me, so we were vying for the most attention. I was pleased because Laurel & Hardy were on the telly – the only trouble was I laughed so much I was in agony and Jacqui thought I was having a seizure. Later on, to add insult to injury and in true Oliver Hardy style, I banged my head on the low doorframe and saw stars. Another bump won’t make much difference.

It was weird to be watching telly after so many months without it. I couldn’t believe my eyes when Tony Blair turned up on Richard & Judy – what the hell has been going on while I’ve been away? After another delicious dinner (no wine for me for fear of dulling the effects of the painkillers!) I lazed on the sofa until bedtime. I’ve left out all the bits about getting all emotional and dealing with the shock for fear of tarnishing my macho-man image. I spoke with André who told me he should be out of hospital the next day. We were all desperately worried about Michael and waited anxiously for any snippets of news of his condition.