Fleas In Custard? Sounds familiar...

But to one and all who sent their warm wafts of goodwill, thanks very much indeed. I came out of theatre neatly zippered to the throat, and apparently (I remember nothing of this occasion) insisted my first visitors, a couple of hours later, view my scar in all it's majesty. It closely resembles the River Nile as viewed from space.

I was festooned with drips and feeds that gave me a vague resemblance to a sea porcupine, and the residual pain flowed away following their removal. Other things that went were my voice (you may not be delighted to hear I've got it back) and my appetite, which returned three days later with indecent enthusiasm.

Ray's right – I'd have been out in five days, but my blood pressure dipped and they hung on to me for an extra day. But less than a week between scalpel and release – that's a typical turnaround. In the event I had a double bypass rather than a triple, because – get this – they decided in theatre that I was in BETTER SHAPE than expected.

Another entertaining aspect of post-op were the hallucinations. At one point I saw the face of Keith Richards in the folds of a plastic towel.

So now I'm home and being waited on hand and foot by a seraglio of dusky beauties who attend to my every whim. This may be a lingering hallucination.... Took a walk today and failed to fall down. So, thus far things are proceeding pretty well.

>Raymond was in my dream last night - we were up on the top of Glastonbury Tor with Rob Ayling watching Glen Sweeney dancing, chanting & storytelling in the snow with a huge Shaman's drum decorated with tiny animated figures which on closer inspection turned out to be Grayson Perry's interpretations of characters from the Beano & The Broons intermingled with graffiti from St Alban's cathedral - including the famous Hare, which was being chased by Baby Face Finlayson who in turn was being chased by PC Murdoch. Raymond asked Glen if he could play his whistle with his drumming, but Glen said (in those enigmatic tones so familiar to avid collectors of Third Ear Band bootlegs) 'You're not ready for that yet' before vanishing away into the blizzarding squall... All the while I just sat there, in trembling awe, my fingers numb, and my fiddle-faddle locked away in its case. On the way back down we stopped to take photographs of the hawthorns on which the blossoms grew through the snow in time-lapse unfolding before our very eyes.<

I've had this dream too.