‘Perhaps you’d like to choose some music to listen to during the scan,’ suggested the nurse.
‘Ah, yes!’ I chirped. ‘Can I give you my iPod to play, then?’
‘Um, no,’ she said. ‘We don’t have the facilities. But I do have a list of our music if you’d like to pick something?’
She pointed to a laminated card on which I saw the words Wet Wet Wet and Phil Collins.
‘Tell you what,’ I conceded, handing it back with a wink. ‘I’ll leave the music up to you.’