So, off I go to Bristol to see Dad, do a bit of housework, get him out and about etc., having left Keith in reasonable health and what happens? No sooner have I driven down the road and round the corner than he goes and gets himself what he calls a cold, but which is actually doing a very good imitation of a chest infection.
You can't leave the man for five minutes!
"Off to the doctor's in the morning," I say.
"Oh, I'll be fine by tomorrow," he replies.
Somehow, I think not.