Playing it BY EAR

I’M at the pharmacy in the small town where we're staying — any excuse, really, because I love nothing more than a small-town pharmacy; but this time I actually do have earache. My husband is entirely unsympathetic, even though, as always, I'm pretty sure my condition is a) rare and b) potentially fatal. The pharmacy is packed, and while I'm waiting I comfort myself by imagining how bad he'll feel when he learns how little time I have left on this earth, and how noble I will be about it. It'll make him feel so much worse.

- By Suzy Brokensha

An old man shuffles in. (It feels like I'm about to launch into 'Piano Man', but I am not.)

'Good day, Martin!' says the woman at the till in that cheery tone reserved for kids and codgers.

'Is it?' The old man says. 'Too early to tell.'

I love him immediately. Maybe I could just leave my husband instead of actually dying.

When I get to the front of the queue, the pharmacist, hair standing on end, tilts her head and looks at me through narrowed eyes.

'Hello,' I say. 'I have this sharp, intermittent pain in my ear. I've been swimming in the river and I'm worried that—'

She is even less interested in my ear than my husband. 'Are you the one from that magazine?'

'Um,' I say, with caution learnt from experience, 'which one?'

'The one for women in midlife... Is it FAIRLADY HOT!?'

I nod warily.