"Religion?" was the receptionist's first question.

My sense of direction is pretty brilliant; show me a map and I can get there, easy;  take to me to a location once, and I can get there again.

But with an NHS hospital I need sat-nav.

The signs contradict each other, human advice vague ("Take the second lift" are you counting the one marked "operating theatre"?)  Suddenly an overheated corridor turns into an outdoor rat-run for ambulances and laundry vehicles.

And, in Brighton's case, all the 'get there' instructions are based on the premise that you will have, and will want to park, a car.  (This in a city where virtually no one besides builders and cab drivers seem to own a vehicle of any kind).

"Religion?"  The receptionist needed me to tell her.  I should have answered "Post Nihilist" but by now my brain had numbed.

The waiting room has a wonderful view, south east, of the coastline and the English Channel, which to-day is in an exhuberant mood.  Unfortunately, the windows don't open and there is no air conditioning.  50 minutes after my appointment time, the unconditioned air has given me a headache and lost half my will to live.

The doctor sees me - not that's wrong.  "See" is not the right verb.

Because, although he prods my stomach once, he doesn't actually look at it, or my face, at all.  After 45 seconds in his presence, he says he'll put me on the list for a hernia operation (although he is not a surgeon).  I mention my blood pressure problems; he takes my word that this has been solved at about 1 minute 10 seconds, and tells me the waiting list is about four months.  Good bye.

"Who is your next of kin?" the receptionist had asked me, prompted by computer software.  She was upset when I say I'd tell her my sister's phone numbers next time.  "I don't think I'm going to collapse during my consultation" I quipped.  Her expression suggested I might be being optimistic.

But here I am, unscathed, back home.  The questioning by the receptionist probably lasted more than twice as long as my time in (unnamed) doctor's presence.