That was the message on that print-out at my GP's which I mentioned a few weeks ago.

But it set me wondering. It had given my height as 1.48 (4ft and a bit). But I'd always been at least 5ft. I therefore turned to the kitchen wall, a reliable marker of my height since I was able to “stand up straight and look ahead” whilst a ruler measured me against the tiles.

If I had indeed, shrunk, should I notify the Passport Office? They would want to know if I'd changed my name or address. But my passport does not mention my height, just that I am female, born in Woking and the date. Other details may be there but if so they are encoded.

Back to the wall, literally.

There is my Dutch son-in-law, Roo, at 6ft 6in, which we know to be correct, and me at 5ft 1in. That's better, over five feet – just.

And I am prepared to agree with the rest of the data on the print-out: blood pressure normal; weight healthy; BMI healthy. Perhaps I was just slouching.

My faultless stream of carers – my daughters – had been enquiring about my having a district nurse attend to me on a regular basis. Unfortunately it would appear that I am in the wrong district and no such person could be found.

So my daughters marched me to the walk-in centre in Woking. We took plenty of reading matter but were summoned quite quickly by the efficient, and charming Danielle, who dealt with my problems and said she would arrange for a district nurse to attend. Which she did and along came Kate.

I was told they would see me every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning, though actual times were not set.

Lesley was the next nurse and gave high praise for my daughter Caroline for the way she had dealt with my problems. It is such a relief to have someone attend regularly if only to check on me and on the medication. NHS has done well for me.

Having written those words it was pointed out to me that I would not be having my current problems had my notes been more thoroughly read.

The main problem was my smoking. Which I do not do. One of the first forms we all have to fill out before treatment is whether or not we smoke, and whether or not we drink – and if so, how many units.

I am sure many people just read down the tick line and duly state they do not smoke, and do not drink to excess. But do the medics take any notice?

When I started having breathing problems when on immunotherapy I was asked about my heavy smoking and it was only at that point that it was realised the immunotherapy was having an adverse effect on my lungs.

Yet another case of how lucky I am to have family who notice these things and make sure they get reported to the medics. The immunotherapy was halted but much damage had already been done and I puff like a grampus.

No, I don't know why a grampus should puff any more than any other type of dolphin.

To Specsavers, that is. When I received my regular message from Boots notifying me that it was time for my regular eye test I thought about how I could achieve this.

In the past I have made the appointment, walked into town, had the test and wandered around the town, wondering what else was going up or coming down.

Now the wandering days are over but I reckoned I could go to Shopmobility, park the car, take a wheelchair and visit Boots. No problem.

Except some days are considerably worse than others health-wise and what if the day of my eye appointment is on a bad day, and I can't make it?

OK, so let's try Specsavers and have them come to me. And that is what I did.

Along came Kejal Shah, the optometrist, and Agnese Stare, the optical assistant. I sat at the dining room table and they did the tests and I chose some new spectacles.

Surprisingly, my eyesight had not changed that much: I had thought that the cancer and subsequent treatment might have affect my eyes.

I should tell you that we have a Ring doorbell which enables my daughters to keep an eye on any comings and goings at my home. Therefore there was a slightly worried Caroline who glimpsed a van in what looked like ambulance colours arriving at my home.

I understand that several people have commented on the Specsavers colours – and that it can be useful on busy roads as other drivers tend to give way to the optometrists.

A few days later Agnese arrived with my new glasses for trying on. Perhaps they were a little tight but I am currently on steroids which have given me a fat face, so I won't ask for alterations until my steroid intake has lessened.

I was delighted that ShyneFest won the Highly Commended award in the Best Family Fun category at The Surrey Awards, which highlights Surrey's social calendar.

It all started off so small but is now in its 10th year and settled into its home at Merrist Wood, which has turned out to be an ideal location for musicians, stallholders, and hundreds of families to enjoy themselves.

Shyne wanted to do something special for her 40th birthday and someone came up with the idea of a music festival because there was an available field, and music, and friends.

That combination worked so well that there were more ShyneFests – bigger, better, more choice of music, stalls, camping and giving to charity.

My daughter, Katherine, met Shyne at school. They were at Greenfield, which is now due to merge with Hoe Bridge School.

Sadly, Greenfield has become better known recently for the multimillion-pound loans owed to Woking Borough Council.

A disappointing turn of events for a school which owes so much to its charitable beginnings when Ockenden Venture sponsored refugee children after the Second World War.