Definitely welcome visitors

It's my sister's birthday and she wanted to spend the day driving back and forward to Cambridge (5-6 hours of driving) to sit next to my hospital bed. I said it wouldn't be a joyful birthday for her so she held off and I had a succession of other lovely local visitors who came laden with reading material, toiletries and snacks. My rallying cries about the geriatric patients portion sizes had been heard.

Falling ill when you live alone can make you think you need to handle it solo, and it's an insight into how life could be when older and in need of help more often. British people are very good at letting pride and politeness obstruct genuine offers of help. If you put those aside, friends rally around wonderfully and generously, and their company lifts the spirit and monotony much more than any hospital radio DJ's banter.

I now have a plethora of reading material: classic works of fiction, magazines covering topical issues and interesting non-fiction about Africa. I can choose from grapes (a must have for every hospital patient), brioche and pork pies, which I'm keeping secreted so that the nurses don't freak out about unrefrigerated meat.

I was supposed to attend Elizabeth's parents' surprise 40th wedding anniversary party this afternoon, for which I'd bought a new shirt on Friday in order to mingle confidently with the West Cambridge Dutch community. It was nice to receive a call from Elizabeth in the evening to confirm the ruse had been achieved successfully, despite one guest, Graham Beck, getting the venue wrong and lingering suspiciously in the garden of the celebrating couple, before they were spirited to a nearby church hall where their mates were waiting surreptitiously.