The Orient Express trains have been in and out of Victoria regularly recently - it must be the season. I do find it very disappointing that the engine(s) attached to the beautiful old carriages are mostly the diesels.

I have a sneaking suspicion that they are are probably magnificent in their own right to one who knows about such things, but I know nothing. Therefore I do love to see one of the steam engines at the front of the Orient Express – they just seem to have a certain romance about them that the diesels lack.

Note to self: get picture of steam engine when it's next in, and don't delete it.

At the other end of the civilised spectrum, (but let's keep it civilised anyway) I had a Papanicolaou (smear) test a couple of weeks ago. Because I am in fact part alien (which comes as no surprise to many of you, I know), this always results in something like the following:

• Go see nice nurse,
• Gossip about cute men on telly,
• Get test done,
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get a 'your results are dodgy' letter (because 'sample not good enough' is too reassuring and I might not go back, apparently),
• Go see big burly Brunnhilde nurse,
• Receive instructions on proper positioning and deportment during test,
• Get test done,
• Get large glass of wine,
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get a 'your results are still dodgy' letter (because 'sample not good enough' is still too reassuring and they definitely don't want to risk me not going back, apparently),
• Go see elderly, portly, hairy, doctor,
• Listen to burblings about his grandchildren and his dodgy pancreas,
• Get test done,
• Get large bottle of wine with a whiskey chaser for good measure.
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get an 'all-clear' letter,
• Get large bottle of whiskey,
• Swear never, ever to go through that again ever (until next time).

This is been my experience pretty much for the last twenty-five odd years, no matter the doctor, the surgery or town where I've had it done.

This time was a completely new experience. I saw nice nurse, who informed me that I was an alien and instructed me on an advanced contortionist yoga-like position that made pretzels look positively straight. Test was done, and three working days later, NHS letter was waiting for me when I got home. Now this was so unbelievably fast, that I was actually worried about opening it. 

It was, fortunately, the all-clear, but I was so shocked at the speed and efficiency, I by-passed all the other stages and went straight for the whiskey anyway.