LADY AT LEISURE

Aches and pains can mutate into life-threatening illnesses if you consult the wrong ‘expert’

The slightest sign of illness can cause panic in a hypochondriac hound

‘ What’s the use of a Mediterranean diet without the climate to go with it?’

We’re all recovering from sniffs and sneezles and other irritating winter bugs in the MacGregor household. Roll on spring and sunnier days. We might all be eating platefuls of grilled vegetables and dressing t hem liberally with health-giving olive oil, but what’s the use of a Mediterranean diet without the climate to go with it?

Of course, the worst thing you can do when you’re feeling under the weather is to look up your symptoms on the internet. An itchy, red foot (most probably caused by something as simple as damp wellies) leads me to the fearful conclusion that I am, at the very least, halfway to having diabetes. I worry about my fate until a tube of antiseptic cream seems to do the trick.

Then, the chief ’s stabbing knee pain, we learn, may not be due to decades of galloping through glens and haring up hills, but must surely be the onset of rheumatoid arthritis. Again, a touch of Deep Heat brings no small relief. And whatever is wrong with you, they infer that it could get even worse – that is, that you can never rule out the dreaded ‘big C’. Yes, if you want a sleepless night, have a browse of a medical website…

It’s the same with the animals. We have a friend whose rather handsome hound is in danger of losing his looks. The debonair dog has been shedding the hair on his magnificent tail at a frightening rate – and, having checked on a number of reputable veterinary sites, his owner has now convinced himself that poor old Bracken must be put down immediately before he is forced to endure a long, lingering death. The hapless, hairless pooch most probably has some easily treatable skin infection and will outlive us all.

Touch wood, our naughties are reasonably hale and hearty, and long may they remain so. In fact, as far as dogs go, they’ve proved themselves pretty low maintenance on the sickness side. Jack, the oldest cocker, once had to have nine lumps removed at £50 apiece – and I’ll let you work that out, as it upsets me to write it down – and his son, Barra, has the odd ear infection or ten to cope with. Apart from that, we’ve been relatively blessed when it comes to shelling out on vet’s fees.

But a hound can still prove itself a health hazard – especially an uncontrolled one – as I’ve discovered twice in the last month while filming. In the first house, all was going splendidly until an enormous german shepherd freed itself from the kitchen and bounded into the sitting room before leaping up and pinning me to the sofa with its monster paws. Although he was yowling and slobbering in my face, I think he was trying to be friendly. Or at least his mummy said he was.

Then there was location number two, where a gangly red setter puppy also got itself loose and jumped exuberantly and unexpectedly at me before managing to land a triumphant scratch or two on my chin. In neither case were boisterous dogs mentioned on the ’elf and safety forms that we all have to read and digest before setting off with our cameras and tripods.

I suppose I could sue the TV company for shredded nerves and loss of dignity. I might make some money. Then again, I do like working for them… And let’s scratch-face it, I love dogs and can forgive them most things – especially if they can manage to keep themselves in the pink.