My father-in-law is a jolly soul but he can't help treating me as if I'm two flying saucers short of an alien invasion.

This week he and my mother-in-law have come down from Lancashire to assist with the children while my husband is at work.

It's been good to have them around. Baby Max gets more cuddles and Eve gets a bigger audience for her antics.

But occasionally I have had to remind my father-in-law that I'm not quite as stupid as he thinks.

For instance, as I was packing away some shopping the other day, he advised me to put the lettuce in the bottom of the fridge because "it will stay fresh longer".

"I know that," I shouted ...

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just telling you," he said apologetically.

Later on, he inquired as to whether I had ever cooked a chicken.

"Once or twice ... " I started, before he launched into the low-down on his technique.

"Look," I said. "I know how to cook a chicken. I might do it differently - and I doubt it could ever be as nice as yours - but I CAN do it."

In the past, I would have avoided outbursts like this. I would have bitten my tongue and quietly fumed.

But ever since I've had this heart problem, I've found my feelings have got the better of me.

It's as if the physical effect of my heart enlarging has also altered the scale of my emotions. Now, in the battle of the organs, my heart most definitely rules my head.

It's been no bad thing of late. I can happily give vent to what's bugging me without feeling embarrassed or guilty. I speak up if I think someone has behaved cruelly or insensitively.

I'm also more open with my appreciation of others.

I'm all over those who have been kind, considerate and generous with their time, no matter how much they protest in a very English way that "it was nothing".

In fact, most of our friends have certainly proved their worth during the past two months.

My friend Jenny has combined the essential ingredients of a bit of sympathy (but nothing weepy) with a lot of practical help. As soon as my back is turned she is at our sink doing the washing up.

Our other good friends Ian and Morag have been brilliant at helping out with emergency childcare whenever we have needed it, while, at the same time, treating me as normally as possible.

The top award should go to my husband. This may sound overly gushing - so stop reading now if you have an aversion to outpourings of sentiment - but I cannot thank him enough for being so efficient at tackling all the extra tasks he has had to do since I became ill, as well as making sure I take enough rest.

He is also the one that keeps my spirits buoyant and makes me laugh most days. Without him, I would have been far more worried about the present - and the future.

There, you see what I mean about having oversized emotions?

Perhaps next time I'll choose a brain enlargement and really teach my father-in-law a lesson.