No, Archie!

Well, I survived my time in hospital. Many thanks for all your kind wishes. I have no hope of thanking you all personally, so please take a heartfelt collective one.

The bed was terrific - I could whizz bits of it up and down at the touch of a button; my handmaidens were wonderful - perhaps a little too wonderful every hour of the night; but the food was pretty awful. No, that's too polite. They want people to get better and tempt them to eat, but they serve up tasteless mush, though I must say, the soups were usually edible. But even the ice cream - and I could eat ice cream for Britain - was horrible.

I must say, I saw the best of the NHS in my aftercare in the High Dependency Unit - one nurse to two patients, constant monitoring. But boy, I got fed up with them coming at me all the time with needles, chirruping, 'Just a little scratch...' And each time I would say, 'It's not a little scratch, it's a little prick' I don't think they were allowed to say that.

But on my last night I was transferred to an ordinary ward, and saw what some people had to put up with. Fortunately, I was mobile and self sufficient, but I found it distressing. The constant noise and shouting (everybody shouts at old people) that went on all night - I was always only half asleep, dreaming I was in a Brueghel painting.

There were three old ladies, Edna, Peggy and Iris (who was 91) and they were just left for hours on end. I kept tending to them - getting them water, fixing pillows or summoning a nurse if I couldn't help. Tears were welling up many times, as I just thought of my own mother, and would hate to think of her lying unable to reach her water, or slipping off her pillows, or waiting for hours for help washing.

Home to Archie who just looked at me like, 'Oh, you're back...' and carried on playing with his toys. Hmmmm. In fact, he kept coming and staring at me as if he couldn't quite place who I was. I have been staring at him too, because he's changed and I can't quite place what's different. So we sit and stare at each other for ages. Here he is helping load the dishwasher. He's not allowed to do this, of course, but he rushes over hopefully every time it's opened. He's just posing for a photo.

But the Big News is that JR has discovered that the 'hayfever' she had all summer is, in fact - wait for it - an Archie Allergy!! So new rules are in place. His access to all the house is restricted. Sofa access may be banned completely. And housework is to be much more frequent and much more thorough.

Just as well I've been given a life-long ban on any housework by the surgeon.