The infiltration of the world by batty old ladies continues.

She called us out after calling the out of hours GP service 6 times. We turned up at one of those warden controlled flat complexes that seem to exist in another dimension to the real world. They really are quite surreal. I don't know what drugs the architects take but they must be good. I'll give you an example: We pull up outside the front door and let ourselves in. We're looking for a flat number and guess (wrongly) that it was on the first floor. We get in a lift, because we can't find the stairs. The lift doesn't go to the first floor, only the second. We go to the second and at the other end of the corridor is another lift. Which goe's down to the first floor. The floor between them seemed to slope and I'm sure I saw a fire escape on the second floor that seemed to be below gound level with outside steps going up.

And no, it wasn't built on a hill.

Anyway, I digress. We found the flat. And knocked the door. And knocked the door. And knocked the door. I was a bit reluctant to look through the letter box after what happened to a colleague of ours on saturday night so knocked again. Movement.

We entered and were met by the lady concerned and her husband. She told us that she couldn't breath which was patently untrue. We went through the checks anyway. Blood pressure, fine. Pulse, fine. Blood sugar, fine. Breathing, fine. My colleague listened to both lungs and air was going in and out as it should. She was a good colour. There didn't appear to be a lot wrong with her.

So we all got talking and it transpired that she didn't want to go to hospital and didn't really want a doctor to see her. Her husband had nodded off by this point.

Her breathing had sorted itself out by this point and she talked and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked.

Sweat started to break out on my crewmates forehead. He managed to steer her conversation back round to what she wanted from us and she wasn't sure. He said he would phone the out of hours GP and see if they would come out. At this point we didn't know she had called them six times.

He left to make the call so I got full force of the talking pointed at me. We ranged from the bombing of Portsmouth to a relative of theirs seeing the Duke of Edinburgh.

I was about to chew my foot off when my crewmate reappeared. By this time it was about 5.30am so it was agreed that she would ring her own GP in a few hours.

We were there for an hour and a half. I think she just wanted someone to talk to.