“If only I had a spare five hundred pounds,” I said wistfully in bed recently.

At the time I was wearing my reading glasses and staring at my ankles. Now normally I don’t look at myself whilst wearing glasses (ignorance is bliss) but for whatever reason on this particular morning, such was the case.

“Oh, why’s that?” asked Chris, perhaps suddenly worried that I wished to take money out of our savings.

“Well, if I had five hundred pounds – I know it’s expensive – I could have my veins done,” I said pensively (if not searchingly).

“But you don’t have varicose veins – do you?” Chris tried to remember.

“Not exactly varicose but there are broken capillaries, especially on my right ankle. Haven’t you noticed them?” I queried.

“Not really,” said Chris, “but we all get a few blemishes as we get older. Anyway, I think you look like a Michelangelo statue.”

“Truly?” I simpered at the thought.

“Yes,” Chris paused and added, “and even some of those have veins!”