Now, I don't know this particular man at all well. He's not a stranger exactly, but then again, he's not a close chum. So, I didn't know whether he had an injury, or something nasty and contagious festering under those dressings. Nor did I want to know, so I didn't ask. And I think he was disappointed.

"Yes, it's been keeping me awake all night; you wouldn't believe something could itch so much", he said, obviously hoping this might elicit a response.

Fearing that I might be drawn into something spectacularly unwholesome if I didn't terminate the phone call quickly, I made the time-honoured excuse about "someone at the door" and hung up.

What is it about people nowadays that makes so many want to discuss their medical histories and conditions with strangers?

I've met the chap with the itchy whatnot two or three times. I've no desire to develop the relationship further. Even if I did, I'd find the sort of knowledge he obviously wants to share a bit off-putting, a lot off-putting actually.

Sometimes, unfortunately, you can't escape as easily as I did on this occasion. A year or so ago I was on a transatlantic flight, sitting next to an elderly American who will remain forever in my memory as Mr Sick Bag.

I should have seen the red light when shortly before take-off he rolled up his trouser leg to show me a nasty rash that had appeared under his sock. "Caught it over here in the UK," he confided. "Any idea what might've caused it?"

"Probably the water," I lied. How could I tell him the marks looked like flea bites?

Then, for almost eight hours, except when I feigned sleep, we discussed medical matters . . . his. He introduced me to his wife's prolapse and his prostate. By the time we were at

36,000 ft I was well acquainted with his sister's haemorrhoids and his youngest daughter's chronic PMT.

If you're one of those people who are really into sharing medical confidences, however, let me tell you the best places to find like-minded company.

Go shopping. Not to the big supermarkets and chain stores but to the small establishments such as post offices, chemists, charity shops. Here, assistants stand behind counters chatting to each other and passing the time of day. And the topics under discussion? Invariably their own, or a close friend's health problems.

Want to join in? Why not! You do, however, have to abide by certain rules and regulations.

You must, for instance, be suffering from some chronic, but not life threatening disease, preferably below the waist. If not, you should have a close relationship with someone who has, or someone who is expecting to go into hospital for an operation any day now.

Have a sense of the dramatic by knowing when to pause meaningfully as in: "She always had a weakness in that department you know . . . now she can't bend down without everything slipping . . . and there's nothing more the doctors can do".

Above all, always make sure you have an unwilling audience within earshot. Otherwise there really wouldn't be any point, would there?

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.