Chris has brought me a nice cup of weak tea and he comes back to bed for our first chat of the day, as we always do. I have barely opened my eyes yet when my husband says:

“My ear is no better and I’ve been using that powder for a full week now.”

“Oh?” I sit up and peer at his ear, uselessly, as it happens because I don’t have my glasses on, and anyway, I’m slightly squeamish about studying other people’s ailments and blemishes. “Do you want me look at it?”

“No, it’s alright, I’ve seen it myself – inasmuch as anyone can see in their own ear – and I can feel that it is no better,” Chris answers, perhaps sensing correctly that I’m not eager to make an examination.

“Are you sure that it is Athlete’s Foot’?” I inquire solicitously (like a good wife).

“No, of course it’s not ‘Athlete’s Foot!”

“Sorry, Athlete’s Ear,” I laugh (as wives do).

“Don’t be facetious, Sally. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it. But I thought it was a fungal infection, which, as you know, is why I’ve been using my old ‘Mycota Foot Powder'”, Chris says snootily.

He picks up the blue and white tin of Mycota (for Athlete’s Foot) and inspects it.

“When did you buy that?” I ask, “You haven’t had Athlete’s Foot in all the years I’ve known you – or didn’t you like to tell me about it?”

“Why would I try to hide it? No, it was years ago…”

“Well we’ve been together for seventeen years now,” I remind him.

“Perhaps the powder is out of date,” Chris searches the tin for a sell-by-date, “Oh, it was probably in the days before they had to have a sell-by-date. The price label is still on it… G.H. Powell, The High street, Caterham. Well I’ll be blowed.”

“Didn’t you live in Caterham when you were really young?” I have my eyes wide open now.

“Yes, I was there in about nineteen seventy one!”

We often have funny conversations in bed. And here is a photograph of the old Mycota tin that was purchased for a nasty bout of Athlete’s Foot over forty years ago.