I felt vaguely unwell during some important exams at school, but attributed this to anxiety, having done very little work beforehand. Then, the following Saturday, just I was getting ready to go out dancing, I suddenly found myself coughing up warm, frothy blood—spurting, trickling, then gushing again. Very nasty. Hemoptysis is a horrible experience, one I shall never forget. That's why, for me, one of the most vivid passages in English literature is H. G. Wells's description in his autobiography of the occasion when the same thing happened to him.