My doctor has hinted that I may a have entered the middle age...

ACCORDING to my new GP, I’m a bit of a middle-aged cliché! I don’t know which part of that I was most upset about – the middle-aged part or the cliché.

He’s one of these young earnest bucks, who, I suspect, would refuse to give you anything other than paracetamol unless you had a limb hanging off.

I only went to see him because I couldn’t get an appointment with my regular doctor. She’s known me for years and knows all my ailments and neuroses. She tolerates all my self diagnosis. I can be in and out with her in ten minutes flat. She probably can’t wait to get rid of me.

This guy was way more eager to hear the minutiae of my life. I only went in with a dodgy tummy and asked for some drugs and next thing I know it’s 20 questions and I just knew by the way he sat back in his chair and observed me that I was in for a gruelling.

He started off easy enough asking me about my diet and exercise. I may have embellished the truth on both. I told him I exercised three times a week and that I ate porridge most mornings for breakfast. Not 100% true, but there is truth in there.

Then he went for the jugular. ‘And alcohol? How much would you say you drink in a week?’

Now here’s the thing – I knew if I lied, I wouldn’t be helping myself yet I didn’t want him to think badly of me either. I decided to break it to him gently.

‘Well I’d have a glass of wine most nights.’ He looks up from his pad. ‘Just the one?’ ‘Yes!’ I replied defiantly. ‘But it might be a big one.’ He holds his hands up in surrender, ‘You’ll get no judgement here.’

‘Would you ever drink a bottle of wine in one sitting?’ he wonders. No judgement my backside! ‘Would or could?’ I reply, adding, ‘I certainly could but I generally wouldn’t.’

‘Do you smoke?’ he inquires. ‘Feck sake’ I mutter to which he replies, ‘Like I said no judgement but best to know all the facts.’ I tell him I am a social smoker and only smoke when I have a drink. Then I realise I’ve told him I have a glass of wine most nights.

‘Now I don’t mean I smoke every night, only when I’m…… you know…….. Out Out.’

He puts down his pen and sighs. ‘This kind of hidden drinking is particularly prevalent in middle-aged, middle class circles.’

‘You mean women of a certain age don’t you,’ I shoot back at him. He nods wearily. Apparently I need to have a good hard look at my lifestyle if I want to last until old age.

He gives me a few suggestions, and a prescription for paracetemol and sends me on my merry way.

Merry in the non-alcoholic sense obviously.

Ho bloody Ho Ho Ho!

I TELL HIM I ONLY SMOKE WHEN I HAVE A DRINK. THEN I REALISE I’VE TOLD HIM I HAVE A GLASS OF WINE MOST NIGHTS.