Up at 7am, because apparently my body hates me, and the first thing that greeted me was not peace, not coffee, not even my daughter calling Muuum. No. It was a private message from a personal trainer asking if I wanted personal training.

I replied no thank you faster than I have ever replied to anyone in my life. Honestly, it was Olympic level decision making. With arthritis partying in my knee and one thumb, there is absolutely no space left for burpees, kettlebells, or someone shouting one more rep.

Another day in paradise...

At 9.50 am, Ambulatory Emergency Care rang and asked if they could book my daughter in for an ultrasound that afternoon. Of course, they could. My calendar is basically owned by the NHS.

Since there was no school run today, we headed straight out for yet another hospital day.

Later in the afternoon, we arrived for the ultrasound. I tried my favourite hospital hobby, peeking at the screen to see what the doctor could see, but the angle was completely blocked. It is always blocked. I am not asking to join the surgical team, I just want a tiny peek, but the screen refuses to cooperate every time.

After the ultrasound, we headed over to Ambulatory Emergency Care for bloods and to speak with the doctor.

Princess Diana

When we got there, the main waiting room was packed full of people coughing, spluttering, throat clearing, and releasing a full symphony of germs into the air. All unmasked, all sitting in rows like a choir of viruses. If we had sat in there, we would have been destined for flying phlegm. Absolutely not.

So we walked into the extended waiting room instead, which was completely empty, the entire room just for us. It felt like a private lounge, only with grey NHS flooring instead of velvet sofas. On the wall was a plaque saying the unit had been opened by Princess Diana on 20th May 1999. I was so chuffed. My inner nineties child lit up and I had a whole emotional moment thinking about our beautiful Princess who left us far too soon.

After that, we were called in to see the doctor, and finally, at long last, we have some answers about why she has been so unwell. Actual clarity. Actual progress. I nearly fell over from relief.

Once everything was done, we headed to the car park, where chaos awaited us. Cars hooting, traffic frozen, drivers confused, and the whole scene looking like a low budget version of Fast and Furious Hospital Drift. The exit barrier had broken. Naturally. Why end the day calmly when you can end it with a mechanical diva throwing a tantrum.

Eventually the barrier lifted its sulky little arm and we escaped. Home at last.

Another day in the glamorous life no one asked for, and nobody gives a crap about!