The morning Apollo 12 was due to moonwalk. "I don't feel ower grand." "Stay at home. You're on your own." Result.
Crew whip out the camera, point it at the sun, burn it out. Mission ruined as a televisual event. Bastid! "God, why did you do this to me?"
"You think that's it? Here, have a grumbling appendix on me."
Phoned the GP surgery. Luckily me mum had worked as a nursing auxiliary with Doctor Forbes during the war, he came out to me, diagnosed. The pain had stopped doubling me up. Nothing to do here. "Don't be surprised if it flares up again in the next six months.'