Another picture from our visit to Wroxham Barns: after feeding the animals, Oliver felt it was time to feed himself. Today would have been his great-grandfather’s – my father’s – 95th birthday, if he hadn’t died tragically early, 53 years ago. I am taking it easy, after my prostate biopsy under general anaesthetic yesterday. No problems in the immediate area of the biopsy, but I have a cough and a slight temperature. I’m on antibiotics, of course, so I hope they’ll sort it out soon. I had a bad night, getting less than four hours’ sleep, but not because of any pain or even discomfort. Nor was I worrying about anything. I just couldn’t sleep, which is very annoying. I did also have an episode of acid reflux, which I haven’t had for months. The nurse who rang this morning to check on me said it was probably the anaesthetic.

Yesterday at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital went very well, and I felt fine the whole time. We had just got a late Christmas present from the Cares – some vintage port and a book called The Naked Jape, which is about what makes people laugh and contains a large number of jokes. The timing of this was perfect, because I took it to the hospital and spent much of the waiting-around time reading it, with frequent laughter, which had to be good for me. Dot was with me as well, of course, but although she is also funny, she didn’t make me laugh quite as much. Smile, yes.

The staff were brilliant, from the time we arrived at 12.30pm to our rather late departure at around 7pm – late because [stop reading now if you have a sensitive disposition] I had to produce a relatively blood-free batch of urine, which took several attempts. The two nurses who looked after me – Michelle and Liz – were not only thorough but also friendly and easy to talk to. They clearly deal with people in a similar condition all the time, but they showed real concern. The surgeon and two anaesthetists were also friendly and sympathetic as well as being meticulous in telling you what was going to happen and what might happen. I also lost count of the times different people checked I was the right person having the right procedure, and that the signature on the consent form was mine.

I don’t remember anything after the needle was put in my hand until I came to in the ward. Dot had popped out for something to eat – apparently I asked her what she’d had several times – and arrived back just as I came round. There was no pain or even discomfort, and no obvious reaction to the anaesthetic. I felt as if I could have driven home, though clearly I couldn’t.

On the Tuesday evening our usual group came round, and they ended the evening by praying for me, which was encouraging. I know various other people were praying too. David rang to check I was OK. In the evening yesterday (what was left of it after egg and chips), Dot and I watched a two-parter of Waking the Dead, which was not only appropriate but also very good – probably the best story I’ve seen on the series. Even Trevor Eve’s extreme emotions seemed almost credible, and the acting generally was superb.