August proceeds - here we are at the fourth day; we shall be at the first week end before we know where we are. How quickly time flies and let me assure you that from my ancient perch in life, each year flies past more quickly than the previous one.
Everyone was kind in enquiring about my hospital visit yesterday but I need to explain more carefully why I was called in. As regards 'them' not being able to find my pulse in my wrist: after I broke my hip last October I was transferred to a 'recovery hospital' for a couple of weeks once I had rcovered from the operation to mend it. And it was whilst I was in there that no-one was ever able to find a pulse when they came round twice a day to monitor blood pressure. The sister on the ward said it was not at all unusual - towards the end of my stay they could find it in one arm but not the other. That is why I was referred to a specialist. Yesterday the Nurse Practitioner couldn't find it either but was expecting it to happen after reading my case notes. A stronger, more sensitive machine together with a special cream located it loud and clear and she said that it was possibly due a slight thickening of the arteries at my age. (We are a bit like old cars you know).
I am still here, I am still able to walk with the aid of Priscilla and J, my taxi driver, and I had a lovely drive into Northallerton on a pleasant sunny day and whole new buildings had sprung. The forbidding prison in Northallerton has disappeared and in its place stand large Lidl and Iceland stores. A sign of the times no doubt.
Since the advent of Covid hospitals (and G P 's surgeries) have changed out of all recognition. Yesterday it all seemed empty apart from a person on Reception and a Nurse who appeared, who took Priscilla and I where we needed to go. The corridors were all empty, the chairs looked new and were spaced and fastened to bars, so that even if you had wished to pull them nearer together you couldn't have done so. Masks were of course compulsory.
Enough of hospitals. It is time I went for my walk. Priscilla is getting rstless and what started out as a clear blue sky is taking on an ominous look as heavy rain clouds drift in (it is forecast). So I shall abandon this but hopefully I shall return.
I don't know about anyone else but I shall so miss all these young, strong, fit and healthy young people pitting their strength and expertise against one another in an effort to win the Gold for their country. I am all for a bit of Patriotism when it is used in something like this. I just hope no really young folk try to emulate their BMX skills.
Travelling to Northallerton yesterday we were reminded for the first of many times no doubt that next week is The Appleby Horse Fair and Gypsies and Travellers from far and wide are beginning to converge on Appleby in Cumbria for the annual event, which should have been held in the early Spring but was postponed because of Covid. On the village green in Crakehall - a village between Leyburn and Northallerton - there was a beautiful, colourful Gypsy caravan, together with various other vehicles, caravans, horseboxes, and of course three or four beautiful gypsy horses grazing off the greenery. A lovely sight. When I was a small child in Lincolnshire gypsies and their caravans were a common sight around our villages - the ladies coming round selling their home-made (and very efficient) clothes pegs and their mock chrysanthemums made out of dyed wood. All long gone now of course.