Quirkie and I arranged to have one of irregular catch-ups. On the day we were due to have lunch she rang to make sure that I was still free and to check where she should meet me.
It turns out she was just home from a gynaecological examination so we ranted for a while about how uncomfortable, nay, downright painful, they can be and how important it is not to let your young-ish, male doctor conduct one of these and then I kind of took over the conversation and raved on for a while about all the various aspects of life with which I was not precisely happy.
"So how are you?" I finally thought to ask.
"Oh, you know: pap smear, dead husband - life goes on."
It did give me pause. But it was only a pause.