This incident took place back in distant 1995. At the time, I was studying at a prestigious British military academy when, right in the middle of the school day, I was summoned from my lessons and ordered to report directly to the headmaster.

So, this happened way back in 1995. At the time, I was at Sandhurst Military College and, right in the middle of class, I got pulled out and told to report straight to the headmaster. When I walked in, there was a woman sitting there. She honestly looked crushed, with tears running down her cheeks, trying to wipe them away as best as she could with her handkerchief.

Our headmaster was a proper British generala tough bloke and a decorated officer whod seen serious action in the Falklands. He was strict, no doubt, but fair. We were a bit scared of him, but we had a lot of respect for him, too. But that day he looked different, almost defeated. He came up to me and said, in this tired voice:

Lad, Im not asking you as your superior, but as a mate. I need your help.

I didnt hesitate a secondOf course, sir. What do you need me to do? I said.

He sighed. Its my nephew. Hes terribly ill. Graduated from Sandhurst just last year, you might remember him. Then he went on to study at the Royal Medical Academy, and something awful happened. Last hopes with your grandfather. Please, see if hell have a look at the boy and figure out whats wrong with him?

I didnt even bother with questions. The general called my granddad straight away, and within fifteen minutes, were speeding off in his black Rover to my granddads house. Lucky for us, it was the very first day of granddads holiday, and we managed to catch him not thirty minutes before he was about to head off to his cottage in Devon.

The patient was with us in the car. Even though I knew him from before, I hardly recognised him. His eyes looked hollow and wild, he seemed totally out of it. To be honest, he gave me the creeps a little.

We got there quickly enough, took him upstairs, and my granddad listened as this tearful woman told her story. Seven months earlier, her son had started at the Medical Academy. Suddenly, out of nowhere, hed had a seizure right in the middle of a lecture. Theyd rushed him to hospital, ran every test you could think of, but found nothing. Before they could even discharge himanother attack. Then another, and another. No one could work it out. She was at her wits end. Granddad happened to be one of the countrys top experts in neurology and psychiatry, so everyone was hanging their last hope on him.

Now, heres where things get interesting. Granddad took the lad into his study, and fifteen minutes later, he came out alone.

Thats it, you can head home now, he said to the boys mum and the general, utterly calm.

But what about my son? Doesnt he need treatment? she started panicking.

Go home, Granddad told her, Ill take him with me down to Devon. Ive plenty of firewood needs chopping, and itd be a shame to waste such a strapping young man.

In the end, he got all of us out the door and then drove off to his cottage with the lad in tow.

A month later, I was called to the generals office again. The same woman was there, only this time beaming from ear to ear, and beside her stood the former patient. He honestly looked a new manno sign of illness left in him at all. He came up to me, shook my hand, thanked me, and so did the general. The lad, who nobody could help, was completely back to himself in under a month. His family thought it was some sort of miracle. Little did they know how many of these miracles my granddad had managed in his lifetime.

Later on, I found out what really happened. Basically, the lads mind just buckled under the sheer pressure and workload at the Medical Academy. His brain was so overloaded with all the information that it just flipped a switch and refused to absorb anything else. Granddad spotted it straight away. He did a quick assessment and without any fuss, brought him down to Devon and handed him an axe.

From then on, the lad got up at 8, cold shower, hearty breakfast, then straight into chopping firewoodno books, no studying, just hard graft with a few breaks for lunch and supper. Granddad worked him so hard that, by evening, the poor bloke would just collapse into bed and sleep like a log. After a while, his mind completely recoveredbetter than before, even.

And you know, the whole time, granddad never gave him a single pill. All he prescribed was old-fashioned, hard physical labour.

There you have ita story that still makes me smile.