I'd ignored the signs for days.  Everybody sneezes a lot in December and cold air makes for red noses.  The chill that had settled between my shoulderblades was surely to do with the fact that sometimes even five layers of clothing* isn't enough. 

I was in the coffee shop in John Lewis just before Christmas, ostensibly to enjoy the atmostphere but really to get warm.  Everyone around was shedding coats and looking cosy and I was shivering. The cold was now in my bone marrow and growing colder. Eventually I hit on a plan. If I could make it to the warm air driers in the Ladies I could pretend to have spilled something and just stand there till something thawed.

I made it halfway across the haberdashery department before passing out. It was only for a moment but when I came to a very determined JL 'partner' was trying to pull my coat off. 'Quick,' she urged her accomplices, 'she's burning up!'

I wasn't - I was freezing to death.  She grappled with the coat; I held on because my life, and warmth, depended on it.  But JL partners on home territory are a determined crew. They got the coat and the scarf and were gearing up for the first wooly jumper layer when the exertions made them stop for a breather. One of them handed me beaker of water and the other fanned furiously.  It wasn't a real fan but what appeared to be a pile of knitting patterns.

Honestly, the things you can achieve without needles.  Inside I warmed up; outside I cooled down and after ten minutes normality was restored to a fairly acceptable level - at least acceptable for her to let me put my coat back on.

I didn't need the air drier.  A wrestling haberdasher and a pile of knitting patterns did the trick.

Good old John Lewis, never knowingly underprepared.

I had a date last week - Gillingham in Kent to talk to the Medway Stroke Club.  I hadn't been to Gillingham before but had a rough idea where to go. Last year I spoke in Rochester.  The Sat Nav said it took an hour and a half so I set off early and was on the A2 in plenty of time.   About three miles in I realised why there had been a message on the Sat Nav a month ago saying, 'Please Update':  the road I was on did not appear on the screen and an increasingly Dalek voice was saying 'recalculating, please take the next left, recalculating.' 

Eventually the new A2 and the old Garmin were reconciled and I arrived in Gillingham. The talk was to be held in the Masonic Lodge in Franklin Road - a wonderful old building beautifully decorated and airy.  The people were nice too - offered a welcoming cup of tea and plenty of encouraging smiles.   The audience had a high percentage of men and I wondered how my opening gambit - an irreverent observation on male behaviour  - would go down.  Then salvation appeared. A lady who had heard me speak in Rochester all those months ago approached smiling and said,' You won't remember me but I heard you last year and straightaway recommended you to this group. I told them you were brillliant...'

What a sweetie - that was just the right thing to say and suddenly I didn't feel so alone. We were in this together.

Then the audience began to take their seats. They looked like a discerning bunch. She could see that too. She caught my elbow and looked deep into my eyes.  She wasn't smiling now. 'So,' she said, 'you won't let me down will you?'

LIke I said. We were in this together.