I left the house this week for the first time in nine days.

It was only a short walk to the baker's and back but it felt like a major expedition. I had to lie down for half an hour to recover.

Since being diagnosed with a rare cause of heart failure two weeks ago, I've followed the doctors' orders not to do anything more strenuous than the washing up.

But watching my husband leave the house every day to take our four-year-old to nursery, or give the baby a change of scene, has been very frustrating.

You can only do so much pottering about the house before every room and everything in it irritates you. In my head I feel well enough to run up Ditchling Beacon. In my heart I know a stroll to the shops is still a bit beyond me.

It's not just the physical exertion I'm having to avoid. It's any sort of excitement. My GP said I should be careful with the TV programme I'm watching.

I figured Norman Wisdom matinees and Watercolour Challenge, with smiley Hannah Gordon, are not likely to set my pulse galloping.

It's a good job they're not showing repeats of ER any more. I wouldn't be surprised to hear it was my addiction to the programme that caused this problem in the first place. Every episode I've ever seen has given me palpitations.

We did watch my brother's video of Fellowship Of The Ring the other night, which could have been a problem were it not for the fact that we've already seen in at the cinema.

I remembered that every 15 minutes or so there would be a clash between the Ring Wraiths and Frodo and his gang so as soon as the soundtrack began a crescendo I popped out to the kitchen for a biscuit or to put the kettle on.

For once my husband, who's a bit sensitive to on-screen violence, had to cope with the frightening bits on his own.

I'm also trying not to get angry with anyone or anything, which is possibly the hardest part of my recovery. It's easy not to get cross with the baby. Max can't help creating a mountain of laundry and he is almost sleeping through the night.

Our daughter, Eve, is more of a challenge so I'm trying to choose my battles carefully. Does it really matter if she wants to wear a blue stripy top with a pink floral skirt? Probably not. Should I shout at her for pouring water over the side of the bath? Most definitely yes.

Controlling my temper towards my husband has not been all that successful. We never argue over the big things but can usually find a multitude of insignificant issues to quarrel about during the day and I really don't know how to resolve this.

Today's flare-ups included a dispute over whether Max needed to wear socks. I said his feet were cold, my husband insisted they were fine and pointed out that the weather was far too warm for anyone to be wearing socks.

I reminded him that I was wearing some - and a fleecy top. He said I wasn't normal. I refused to accept this and went to get socks for the tot.

Within seconds of me putting them on the baby, my husband had whipped them off. I put them back on again but as soon as I was out of sight my husband removed them.

I was fuming when I discovered an hour later what he had done. Eventually he gave them back to me but only because he was worried about my blood pressure.

"You really shouldn't be getting worked up over these things," he said. "Remember what the doctor said about controlling your anger?"

"But I wouldn't need to get angry if you did as I said," I pointed out. "Besides, it's not in my nature to give in."

I must be on the mend.