Selling the idea to the patient, of course, was not easy, since he just wanted the praziquantel without a fuss, and he left with the dubious expression on his face only partially relieved by my explaining what the spatula was for and that he didn't have to aim directly into the pot.

It was my enthusiasm for his worm, I could tell, that had scared him.

Microbiology were also thrilled, as the prospect of a living, breathing tapeworm for their collection of strange things that come out of patients was clearly better than Christmas and a birthday rolled into one.

And it got me thinking about the things that fire our enthusiasm.

Why is it that the vast sea of snot to which I have been exposed over the years is almost erased from my memory, while the lady with Bonnets Syndrome who fought lions with an umbrella, and the man who came in and said his daughter had swallowed a bishop will stay forever in my mind. It was a chess piece, rather than the then incumbent of the throne of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich who would have been rather too large.

I decided to look into the things that really do it for the non-medical people in my life. The answers were surprisingly predictable and includeddragons, mermaids, wine, chocolate, large lamb bones (okay, the dog didn't speak but I worked it out), Star Wars, YouTube and Johhny Depp. All rather more normal than being thrilled by the presence of a salt cellar in someone's large intestine, even one inscribed A Present from Margate.

The question I am left with is of the chicken and egg variety. Do we evolve the strange taste in personal entertainment before or after we join the strange ranks of the strange people with the strangely gripping job (yes, I do mean medicine)? Are we born strange, do we achieve strangeness, or is strangeness thrust upon us?

 

• Catch up with Mary's Road to Revalidation blog