When I'm ill I don't care who knows it; I tell everyone. In fact friends have suggested I should put a public notice in the columns of The Argus.

Not so The Mother. She doesn't like people knowing she's unwell and what she dislikes even more is my telling all and sundry.

"Some 'Get Well' cards, how thoughtful," I said looking over The Mother's shoulder as she opened her mail last week.

"How on earth did anyone find out I've not been well? I haven't told anyone," she said.

Then she groaned: "Oh, it's you isn't it? I've asked you not to say anything but you can't resist."

"But people are always asking after you - especially if they haven't seen you for a few days," I explained.

"Well, I just wish you'd mind your own business," she said huffily.

The next day there was a hospital appointment letter in The Mother's mail. I knew because I was looking over her shoulder again.

"That's quick," I said. "There must have been a cancellation. Is it for this Thursday? I can't quite see."

"And there's no reason why you should see," said The Mother, coming over all huffy again.

"This letter is private, so will you please stop peering over my shoulder?"

"If it is Thursday," I said, picking up where I'd left off, "I'll certainly be able to come with you. I won't have to cancel anything."

The Mother really huffed and puffed at this point.

"You are NOT going to the hospital with me," she snapped. "I don't want you there, I am not incapable. Just stop treating me like some little old woman."

"But you are," I muttered. Fortunately she didn't hear.

The day of the hospital appointment arrived. The Mother had been told she had to fast after eight that morning.

"I've packed some chocolate in my bag, you'll be able to eat it after your scan - you'll be starving," I told her.

"That's very kind but it won't be much use to me in your bag," she said. "Better pop it into mine."

"If you say so," I said. "I'll carry our books and a couple of magazines instead. We'll probably have quite a wait."

Stop it," said the Mother. "I'll take the chocolate and the books and the magazines. You are NOT going to the hospital with me."

"Yes I am," I said. "You can carry your own books and chocolate, you can travel on a different bus along a different route but I'll be there waiting for you at the hospital when you arrive."

She backed down, of course. We travelled together, even exchanged a few words and when we got to the hospital I bought us two coffees (black for the fasting Mother).

"Very nice," she said. "Now I'm going outside for a cigarette."

I was appalled. "You can't do that," I said. "This is a hospital and you're a sick woman."

"Yes, I am a sick woman," she replied. "Sick of you trying to interfere with everything I do. Now you know why I didn't want you to come."

And off she went to puff and wheeze.

At the weekend I was opening my mail when a voice from over my shoulder said: "Looks like you've got a dental appointment. Tuesday isn't it?

"Well, it just happens I'm free on Tuesday. Will you carry the magazines or shall I?"