I went to hospital to see a specialist today about my alleged alarmingly low iron levels.

He disagreed with the doctor who referred me that they were alarming, or that my liver or cholesterol was of concern.

He said I am The Man.

And I was out of there in 5 minutes.

Fsshhhhh. And to think of all that beer that I didn't drink over Christmas-New Year's period.

It was a great relief.

I used my secret psychic powers before I went in to ensure everything was going to be alright.

Because I was totally worried that he was going to put on a latex glove and stick a finger, or something, up my bum and then that would have technically made me gay, cos that's like taking it, or something, isn't it?

So then I had heaps of time to go on a secret shopping trip for D-Missus.

It's her 93rd birthday this Sunday. We're also going away without the kids this weekend to celebrate our 65th wedding anniversary.That's not actually till the 1st of March, but our plans for then fell through because the people who agreed to baby sit for a night forgot that they had agreed and instead booked a trip across the ditch to Australialand.

I walked into one of those obnoxious jewellery stores and the rude lady behind the counter made some comment about me looking for an engagement ring. Which puzzled me, so in annoyance I held my hand up to her so she could see my wedding ring.

She threw me a puzzled look back.

I looked at my hand and, bloodyhell, there was no ring. Because I had taken it off to paint the house yesterday and then injured my finger and couldn't get it back on.

I felt a little foolish: “Ummmm … this would have been waaay more dramatic if I was actually wearing my ring”.

And I made my exit.

I wonder if the Lack of Ring was why that chick from the TV hospital drama was totally checking me out in the hospital waiting room?

I'm The Man.