Another shot of a cathedral sunset, taken a few days ago. Since my last post I’ve had my catheter removed, which is something of a relief. Everything seems to work more or less OK, but the downside was that I had developed an infection from it, which meant I had to stay in hospital overnight on Sunday. In fact I had been feeling pretty rotten on Saturday with what I thought was a stomach upset, but on reflection it was probably the same thing. So on with the antibiotics, and into the bed.

I was in the opposite centre bed from where I had been before – the one previously occupied by Ron the policeman. At first this didn’t seem to matter, and I got on with the novel – Arthur & George, by Julian Barnes – that Dave and Julia had bought me, then watched Spain overwhelm Germany 1-0 in the European Nations Cup final. However, as I tried to get to sleep later, I realised this time was going to be different. On my left was a guy who brought a new definition to the word “restless”. I don’t think he went 20 seconds at a time without some kind of major shift of position. This sounds like an exaggeration, but it isn’t. He moved up, down, side to side, got out of bed, sat sideways on the bed, knocked his water jug on the floor, got it back and knocked the lid off it, yawned theatrically, sang a bit and moaned a bit halfheartedly. Then the same again. I lay there till 2am, then walked into the corridor and sat in a chair, but that didn’t help. I was there for half an hour without seeing a nurse, which was sort of interesting. Eventually I went back to bed, and somewhere around 3am he must have lain still for a whole minute and I dozed off. I was woken again by nurses clattering around at 4.20 – and that was my night’s sleep.

The guy opposite was clearly in a lot of pain involving his kidneys, and he had to have a procedure done a couple of times during the night, each of which took about half an hour. The guy in the bed I had occupied before was on two drips and occasional oxygen, so altogether the ward had quite a different atmosphere from last time. The only peron still there was Leslie, who was due to be discharged yesterday. Hope he made it.

On Monday morning my temperature was down and my condition much less painful, so I was discharged. This happened well before 9am. I eventually left about 12.30pm: it had taken over three hours to get me ten pills from the pharmacy. To say I was frustrated would be a masterly understatement, but I managed to avoid hitting anyone. Dot and I had a snack at Waitrose, did a bit of shopping and went home. I was feeling a bit woozy, but it wasn’t surprising.

Phil and Joy came round in the afternoon, and I was feeling pretty tired by early evening, so went to bed about 7.30, just as Andy Murray seemed about to lose. In fact he immediately turned it around, so I may employ this tactic again. Interestingly, I woke up at 8.30 when David rang and for a while thought it was 8.30 the net morning, and I’d had a good sleep. Bit worrying. Eventually I did get a good night’s sleep, and the next day we went to Jessie’s for a meal about 5.30pm with Roger. Excellent fare – followed by a drop-in at Ed’s, where the Tuesday Group were immersed in a barbecue. Stayed for about half an hour, then went home.

Slept badly again – don’t know why. It had been very warm, but during the night it rained and turned a bit cooler. Today has been dull and I’ve stayed in, but Fred and Sue called in late morning and we had a long chat. They’ve offered to lend us their caravan for a break either next week or the week after, which we have a mind to accept for two or three days if the weather is nice. Just watching Andy Murray being slaughtered by Nadal, so I’d better go to bed. Mmmm. Maybe not.