Look on the bright side

One of the best things about coming a little close to death - no, don't worry, I may have only a minor nasal outbreak of death-chicken swine-virus - is not lying flat on my bed at 6pm waiting for the reaper to knock on the door, but the heart stirring joy I can surely get from knowing that my living corpse is providing yet another fun educational opportunity for my adoring children.

For a start, from the vantage point of a death bed, I can overhear everyone competing about who should accompany me on the emergency helicopter ride off the island, should things take a turn for the worse at 3am.

I merely raise my withered finger and croak that the pilot will not 'offer you a go'. Neither will he be impressed that you once visited the helicopter museum outside Weston-super-Mare. He will not take it as evidence that you know what you are doing because you once sat in a helicopter cockpit, nor will he give in when he learns you have played the computer game where you fly a bird over Hong Kong and bring it down in a wood.

Also, Squirrel, remember that the helicopter does not land you at the ice cream parlour in the IFC mall as your reward for participating in the air lift quiz. I can croak it again that the emergency helicopter is there for people like me who are profoundly ill and need immediate travel to the crypt or the local hospital, whichever comes sooner, so before you run a show about 'who can dance the best gets the helicopter ride', think on the actual rewards.

Apart from the slight inconvenience of a near death experience, everything is fine, thank you very much, and Shark has cracked long multiplication, at last. Thank goodness for that. If the viral disease doesn't finish me off, the prospect of yet another hour talking through 375 x 17 surely will.