As if getting old isn’t bad enough, when people reach the age of 60 they are invited to take part in what is possibly the most undignified medical test ever: the NHS Bowel Cancer Screening Programme.

It sounds like the sort of procedure that could involve visiting Huddersfield Royal Infirmary, slipping on a gown that ties up at the back with the possibility that you could bare your bum if you’re not careful, and standing in front of a machine that will indicate whether you are clear or not.

Nothing so modern, I’m afraid. This test requires the patient to take two samples of their own bowel motions on three consecutive days.

For this purpose, a set of wooden sticks are provided, seal-able cards and an instruction leaflet.

And I thought my journey into the golden sunset of retirement would involve walks in the countryside, laughter on the beach with my wife and drinking sundowners on cruise liners. Well, that’s what thea dverts show.

Instead, I am given a task that could challenge any of the best brains on the Krypton Factor because the instructions say the sample you take must remain uncontaminated from the water in the toilet bowl.

They say: “Suggested ways to catch your sample are: folded pieces of toilet paper; your hand covered in a small plastic bag; a clean disposable container.”

Where was Bear Grylls when you needed him? He could have managed one-handed while cooking a fresh-caught trout over an open fire with the other one.

Mind you, in such circumstances, I would be disinclined to share his supper.

Not having a background in outdoor pursuits, I settled for folded pieces of toilet paper. I overdid it and almost flooded the bathroom.

Some years ago, I had an internal bowel examination at HRI that was less embarrassing, even though it involved a nurse administering an enema and a consultant inserting a microscope up my bum.

At least there were people to talk to with whom you could share a joke.

The nurses had to have a sense of humour; it was part of the job description.

But alone in your bathroom all you can do is laugh at yourself and reflect on the ageing process and wonder why no-one issued warnings along the way or offered adult education classes in how to complete the NHS Bowel Cancer Screening Programme.

Which is why I have shared this intimate experience for all those in their late 50s.

You have this to look forward to, so start practising now. The test is offered to everyone aged from 60 to 74 and is, obviously, of great benefit.

Younger people can have a laugh because by the time they reach the age of qualification, the test will probably involve baring your bum in a hospital gown and standing in front of a machine.

Whenyou have completed the test, you pop the samples in an envelope and send them to Gateshead to be tested.

And what a job that must be. My results came back last week: I’m clear, which is a genuine relief and probably worth the embarrassment although, all things considered, I’d rather bare my bum in a hospital gown.