Once again, through a turn of bad luck, I find myself in the hospital on Durban’s hill, Entabeni.

Although it’s two years since I darkened its door I was greeted like a returning son. When you think of the hundreds, no thousands of Durbanites who’ve passed through their hands over the past 24 months, it would be amazing to remember any names.

“Hello Mr Stephen” chorused four or five of the nursing staff with big smiles. “Good to have you back!”

Well it shouldn’t come as a surprise, I suppose. Can’t be often they have pleasure of the company of a big, handsome fellow with a manly chest in their wards where there are only the sick, lame and lazy. As they mop my fevered brow they take comfort in knowing they are doing the work of angels.

So as I lie here in my hospital bed, humming the refrain to ‘Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble’, I have plenty of time for reflection. I admit that over my life I have made many horrible mistakes. My nightmares are reliving some of the worst. But I decided to look back on some of the mistakes that I have avoided.

For instance, I can say with great pride that I have never owned a pair of Crocs. St Peter would surely turn me from the Gate if I rocked up in those. I have never, ever, bought a pair of skinny jeans. The thought of stuffing my 74 year old arse in there would be a bridge too far.

Even though I wore my hair long in the 70s, I can say with my hand on heart that I never wore a ponytail or (shudder) a ‘man bun’. It’s a contradiction in terms, anyway.

I thought of haircuts while watching the Springbok/Ireland rugby. A number of the Irish had partially shaved skulls that to me looks plain silly. And I can only think that the purpose of RG Snyman’s Brakpan-style Mohawk is to make him as scary as possible. Well it works, but at what cost? Though I suppose it was inevitable that silly haircuts would happen when they ran out of arm space for tattoos. What next? Nose rings or full-face tatts?

So as they wheel me into theatre to be sliced and diced again, my body may be misbehaving, but my standards remain factory-fresh. Some things, like tummy muscles, drop with age. Taste, thankfully, does not.

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