My 'new patient' visit to the doctors a few weeks ago revealed that a small cyst on my back should go. Today it went. The minimal nature of this intrusion is easily demonstrated by my telling you I have an appointment next week to have my stitch out. No, please don't send cards. The doctor told me I would be in discomfort later and to take paracetemol. No such tablets have been taken due to a complete absence of said discomfort apart from a brief moment this evening when I sat back on the sofa and the beading on a cushion came a bit sharp, as my Aunty Brenda would put it.
During the operation I discussed with the surgeon, a local GP and a fellow Christian, the nature of the various evangelical groupings within General Synod, which says less for my powers of concentration than it does for his. Afterwards I realised that a member of Reform had been holding a scalpel over things I value greatly, which I believe is a position a large number of members of Reform would like to be in in relation to me.
I will look marginally more rugged in swimwear next season.