Thursday 10th September 1992   Morning surgery 09:40

“A stye?” My Dad looked angrily at the telephone handset.
“Yes, I’ve got a stye, Dr Dennis.”
“As a busy family doctor, I don’t concern myself with the comings and goings of styes, Miss Beedon.”
“It’s huge!”
“Styes are all much of a muchness. There may, admittedly, be some minor variation in size but they are never huge.”
“This feels enormous.”
“They often feel bigger than they actually are.”
“It looks enormous in the mirror.”
“You didn’t need to phone on the emergency line about a stye.”
“I couldn’t get through on your appointments number. I thought it was it was going to burst.”
“It would be a good thing if it did burst. It would let all the badness out. Styes usually disappear quickly after they have burst.”
“What time would you like me to come down?”
“I don’t want you to come down, Miss Beedon. As I have already explained, we do not deal with styes in Portmere surgery.”

A stye?