The foul taste of medicine

I was one of the many middle class children whose tonsils were sacrificed to the need of ear, nose, and throat surgeons to increase their incomes. I am not in the least bitter about it because of the ice cream I was given to eat after the operation, though I did dive down to the bottom of the bed and spit out the foul tasting medicine I was also given. The ward sister rebuked me sternly for my bad behaviour, but I had my revenge when my mother gave me a box of chocolate letters that I distributed to all the staff with the conspicuous exception of her.

Medicine has always tasted foul, of …