It was with some trepidation that I parked my car in the hospital car park, paid my �1.50 and made my way inside.

It is always difficult when you are seeing things from the other side, but now I was cast in the role of patient attending outpatients.

Like all good NHS patients I had waited a fair time for the appointment to come through (no special preferences I'm afraid for doctors), and now, with the knowledge of how the NHS had been reported recently in the press, was wondering what sort of state the old alma mata would be in.

I was very pleasantly surprised to see that all was not as bad as I had imagined.

Staff were very pleasant, naturally smiling, and listened when you asked them something.

I did at that point pinch myself just to check that I hadn't fallen asleep at the wheel on the motorway and this was some weird dream.

Previous knowledge

From my previous knowledge of NHS clinics I hadn't turned up early for my appointment because I guessed that the time I had been given on the card was probably an expression of a wish, rather than the actual time I was due to be seen.

At 10.15am I settled down to the usual diet of Sunday Telegraph magazines and prepared myself for a long wait.

Surrounding me were a vast number of patients with plaster casts, I suspect from the previous weekend sports and play injuries, so my hopes weren't high.

But to my utter surprise at 10.40am I was ushered into a cubicle.

Could it be that the NHS were now allocating the correct times for peoples appointments and not expecting the consultant to see three people at once? In which case I was impressed.

Take your clothes off please and put the gown on - split to the back please, not the front, the nurse informed me! I laughed out loud.

Warm breeze

The warm September breeze wafted across the split in my back as I sat on the edge of the couch, and I almost had to pinch myself again.

The consultant was fantastic, if a little bemused to discover my BBC connections.

He decided that I should have some further tests. And he and his German medical student (there's another story there I'm sure) gracefully moved on.

As I left there was a strange reminder of my hospital days.

I was off to X-ray to make an appointment with an X-ray packet lodged under my arm, and being smart in my suit, and probably walking in the way I used to walk down the corridor in hospital, I was stopped twice by fellow patients to ask the way to various departments.

I'm sure they thought I was a consultant, but unfortunately I had to disappoint them by looking blank.

I know one swallow does not a summer make, but all I can say is that the reports of the demise of the NHS could be premature!