I am in a hospital bay, with five other patients. Being in such close proximity during the day and night, there is little room for privacy, between all the inmates.

You can hear them chatting to their visitors, what they’re watching on TV – you even hear their bloody farts!

Another thing you fast become privy too, is their telephone conversations. For a nosey bored person, like me, this can be interesting and passes the time between the 12noon lunch and 5pm supper.

Not all conversations are of a subject you wish to hear. A patient in a neighbouring bed, was on the telephone to his wife.

Unfortunately, the “lady” on the other end of the phone uttered the words…

A darky came along

as well as

The drivers are all bloody Polish

I shouldn’t really get worked up by this – not when you consider the intelligence of the racist woman.

As I continued to eavesdrop, I learnt of two of the television programmes, Eva Braun was planning to watch…

Britain’s Top 100 Dogs and Danny Dyer’s Royal Family

God help us all…

I can now proudly say that I am one of those lucky patients to catch (or is it ‘win‘) a Hospital Acquired Infection.

My prize… a chest infection. It’s not a very good prize, to be honest – I don’t even feel unwell with it.

However, for at least the next four days, while being pumped full of antibiotics, I can look forward to…

• Relaxing with anything up to 6 hours sleep a night
• Enjoying the beautiful, bright LED lights, from the hospital ceiling, throughout the day and night
• Laying back and listening to the local wildlife – including call bells, telephones and screaming patients
• Daily injections with needles made from Sheffield’s finest stainless-steel
• The finest cuisine, with a menu created by world-renowned chef, Olive, from Bash Street School
• Finally, laying back, doing nothing all week – literally – I’ll be bedbound!

“Frustrating” is probably the most appropriate word, to describe the rest of the week. The pain has become a lot more manageable, I continue to feel better with each day and the small wound from the surgery is healthy. All good? Not exactly…

I am still in hospital – but not where you think. Yesterday, I transferred from Southmead back to Bath – simply because I am at the rehabilitation stage, as opposed to treatment.

There are one or two final Is to dot and Ts to cross, before I can return home. Unfortunately, the ink is running out on the pen and there are no pencils left.

Hopefully, the hospital will take a trip to WHSmith and update their stationary cupboard tomorrow – enabling the completion of those Is and Ts – and most importantly, allow me to get home.

Fingers crossed, tomorrow night, I’ll be blogging from home and not this place. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.