Just a few short months ago, Baggy Body's world was pretty straight forward. In fact Clever Bird was just beginning to worry that Baggy was in a bit of a rut. A happy rut. But a rut nonetheless. Every day Baggy would be dragged out of bed either by Furry Mama, or by Grotty Groom, depending on which one shouted the loudest. It was usually Furry Mama because one or both of her cats would have landed on Baggy, demanding cuddles and food. Hinge and Bracket are typical rescue cats. They adore their Mum and Dad and their brother Mint (a.k.a. Minty Mutt) a very large eight year old German Shepherd, but they are terrified of anyone else. Furries fed, watered and let out, Baggy would shower and dress. Minty Mutt would clock what Baggy was wearing and make a decision. Jodphurs and scruffy top equals Grotty Groom must be off to look after the horses. Mint would go and lie on his bed. Twitch his eyebrows, raise his eyes up and look sad, while waiting for his chewies, knowing that Grotty would be gone for most of the morning.

Grotty looks after Baggy's and her husband Calum's horses. Wesley is a fourteen year old, 15'3" Irish coloured cob, who thinks he's a Throughbred. He's very sharp and very spooky but has a heart of gold. Joey is a ten year old, 16'2" pure Irish Draft who likes to do a bit of Norman re-enactment with his Dad. Grotty Groom's unpaid work is to look after the Boys. It's hard physical work that takes up the majority of the day, not helped by the fact that they are at a livery yard ten miles from Baggy's house. Just taking the Boys to and from their paddocks takes forty minutes a day. If Grotty has someone to ride out with on her nutty D.T. (Dobbin/Thoroughbred) Wesley, that will take another couple of hours. Mucking out. Haynets. Waters. Rug changing. Grooming. Feeds. All the usual stuff to care for horses. Grotty does it seven days a week. She loves it.

Back home to the furries. Furry Mama would give the girls a cuddle and take a very over excited Minty Mutt out for a long walk. Home again. If The Domestic Goddess (put "Not" anywhere you like in her name and you'll get the picture) can be found, then Baggy might get a bit of lunch. If she can then be persuaded to do a bit of housework, that would be classed as a miracle. Occasionally Gloria Gardener might also be tracked down and persuaded to cut the lawn or trim a hedge. Then Minty and Baggy would go through the same routine and Grotty would head back to the yard for her afternoon duties. Home again. Persuade The Goddess to rustle up some supper. Let Creative Clara write a bit of a "status" on the internet. Phone Calum (who works away all week) to say "Good night". Let Baggy fall into bed by about 9.00pm. Wake up and repeat. Seven days a week. A rut. But a happy rut.

Then one day, in early September, Grotty was due to hack out with a friend. But Baggy was in so much pain that she could barely stand up and was struggling to breathe. Now Clever Bird is frequently wrong about things (as Baggy's husband is often heard to pronounce, "For a highly clever bird, you can be pretty stupid sometimes"), but on this particular occasion, she was right to suggest that perhaps Grotty shouldn't ride. Wesley is a very sharp horse and Baggy needs all her core strength to keep Grotty safely in the saddle if Wesley does one of his infamous spooks. As Baggy could hardly stand, it didn't bode well. So Clever Bird dragged Baggy to the Doctors' Surgery on the way home to try to get an emergency appointment in the next couple of days.

Apparently Baggy looked a whiter shade of normal and as bad as she felt, because the receptionist took one look at her and asked if she was in pain. "Yes. A lot". "Hang on, I'll have a word with the Doctor". Fifteen minutes later Baggy was sitting, very uncomfortably, in the Doctor's office. Her symptoms presented as appendicitis. But no. It wasn't a urinary tract infection either. So after a lot of thinking and stomach prodding, the Doctor said she would like to do an internal examination as she could feel a mass on Baggy's stomach. At this stage Freda Fretter, who worries about everything, but had been incredibly brave up until this point, started to worry. Well truth be told she panicked. She persuaded Clever Bird to feel Baggy's stomach while the Doctor had stepped out to let Baggy remove Grotty's jodphurs.  A mass indeed! It was so easy to feel. Okay breathe Freda Fretter. The Doctor came back in. Prodded some more, inside Baggy this time. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. "Okay, you can get dressed now". A shaking Baggy re-dressed and went and sat back down.

"I'm afraid there is definitely a mass. It's now a question of what to do next", she said. Silence. Typing. Clever Bird could see the Doctor's cogs working in her brain. Silence. More typing. "Urrm, what are you thinking? Because clearly that lump shouldn't be there. Even I can feel it" said Freda Fretter. "Well, it could well be something sinister, yes. So I'm trying to decide whether I need to get you to hospital today". Panic. "Well actually, I think I felt a lump months ago, but I thought it was the lovely menopause. I've been in pain for ages. Just not this badly. I thought that was the menopause too. If you want to send me today because of the pain, I don't feel too bad now". Idiot. Shut up Clever Bird. "Okay. I'll contact the Gynaecological Unit at Ipswich hospital now. They'll give you an urgent appointment. They'll call you." "Okay. Thank you so much for seeing me". So nearly an hour after entering, a rather dazed Baggy left the Doctors' surgery, past a queue of disgruntled waiting patients who had appointments, to her car. She just about got in it before Freda Fretter had a meltdown. The pain was back. Big time. Baggy called her husband to hesitantly tell him the news.

That afternoon Baggy received a call from the hospital. Her appointment was for the following morning. Freda Fretter started to blub when Clever Bird pointed out that they must really think that Baggy had a serious problem. Not helped by the fact that her husband (an HGV driver) was a few hundred miles away in his lorry. Baggy had one of the most sleepless nights of her life. Thank goodness for the company of her furries. Suddenly all she wanted was to be back in her happy rut.