After an operation, I’m in uncharacteristic floods of tears over ‘Love Actually’

What sort of joyless person could possibly sneer at romcoms? Well, me – until 10 days ago, writes Jenny Eclair

Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon in the 2003 romcom (Moviestore/Shutterstock)

I had an operation about 10 days ago, a full-on, general anaesthetic, buttock-revealing gown and sexy surgical support tights number. I haven’t had many medical procedures in my life, just a bog-standard appendectomy when I was 15 and wagging school with a vague “tummy ache”, which the doctor took far more seriously than I did.

This was followed by a more alarming, “just before Christmas” tonsillectomy when I was 18. An op which resulted in a 3am dash back to the hospital just days after being discharged, due to a small haemorrhage. My mother drove her little orange Mini through amber lights, swearing all the way to Blackpool Vic, while I bled into one of the “good towels” from the airing cupboard.

I was put in the children’s ward and, due to coughing up clots of blood, had forgotten to pack my make-up bag. Consequently, when my rather more grown-up boyfriend came to visit me, he walked straight past my bed.