7th March 2010

I’ve had a birthday. Jamie brought a cake, and he and Sue serenaded me with a version of Happy Birthday that could charitably be described as brave. I don’t recall ever having a birthday cake as a child, though that might be selective memory or simple repression, but given my lifelong indifference to all things sweet, it wouldn’t have been missed. Cakes, biscuits, and sweets do little for me. Give me something savoury any day, ideally involving cheese.

Presents this year were pleasingly eclectic: an axe, some underwear, and of course, the traditional selection of beers. No Ferrari again, alas, perhaps next year, if there’s a clearance sale.

More significantly, I’ve started having trouble swallowing food. It goes down well enough, but brings on a nagging pain shortly after. A visit to the doctor set in motion a series of tests to investigate the cause. And so began my reluctant tour of NHS diagnostics:

Test One: The ECG
Straightforward enough. The result looked fine. Rather gratifyingly, the nurse conducting it was someone I used to teach, which meant the stakes were high. Had the results been anything less than perfect, I’d never have heard the end of it.

Test Two: Gastroscopy
Ah, yes, this was scheduled for the morning of my birthday, which added a certain bleak comedy to proceedings. Carried out at the shiny new Melton Hospital, this is meant to be a simple procedure. I found it to be a form of modern torture. In fact, it was so painful it brought tears to my eyes, not from sentiment, but sheer discomfort. The camera revealed a couple of ulcers in my oesophagus, most likely caused by excess stomach acid. A biopsy (equally unpleasant) was taken to be sure. I was sent away with a prescription for some acid-reducing tablets which, I’m pleased to report, have already worked wonders. Less pleasing: the doctor wants to take another look in four weeks. Can’t wait…

Test Three is still to come and will involve running on a treadmill while being observed, possibly by people who still remember me from my more athletic days.

Test Four will also involve a camera. Let’s just say it’s exploring the scenic route from the opposite direction.

While the NHS is a popular target for criticism, I’ve got no complaints. I feel I’m finally getting my money’s worth, and though I’m fairly sure the culprit has already been found, it’s sensible to complete the checks.

Last Sunday, Charlotte, Suraj, and Lucas visited. They came bearing my birthday axe and to install a larger hard drive in the lounge’s Media Centre. We’d promised Lucas a car to play with next time he visited. So, naturally, Sue and I went the whole hog and got him an electric sit-in car he could drive around the garden. He was utterly thrilled. They took it home, and I’m told he now eats his meals in the car. At this rate, they’ll need to get him insurance and a parking permit.

Nan went to stay with Aunty Edna in Sheffield for a couple of days this weekend. At their age, I doubt the local nightclubs will have seen a spike in activity, though you never know.

Sarah spent the week in Cornwall on a geography field trip. The weather was unusually kind, and she returned absolutely shattered, always a good sign of teenage enthusiasm well spent. Although she still has another year of A-levels, she’s already planning a university taster week this summer and has been busy sending away for brochures. It seems only yesterday she was off to infant school with a book bag half her size.

Jamie’s had his first wage packet and, true to form, spent it on a new exhaust for his car. Some things never change. Unfortunately, shortly after that, he broke his phone. His employer, meanwhile, has been fined over a million pounds for improperly burying waste, with the knock-on effect that Jamie’s hours have been reduced, now starting at 9.30 am instead of some unholy hour. He’ll be earning a little less, but seems unbothered by it.

Yesterday, a friend popped round for coffee before we headed to the rugby club to watch the second team play. While I was getting changed, he had a long chat with Jamie, and, to my astonishment, managed to persuade him to play rugby next weekend. I’ll be even more astonished if he actually does.

Sue, thankfully, remains fit and healthy and recently dragged me to the local cinema club to see Starbright, a film about a young orphan who escapes into a fantasy world. I cannot stress enough how deeply unsuited I am to this sort of film. The man in front of me fell asleep. I yawned and fidgeted my way through it. At one point, I began calculating how many fillings I’d rather have without anaesthetic. But Sue enjoyed it, and, in the end, that’s what matters. Apparently.