Today is the day of the grand auction for the scouts. The hall is packed with all sorts of furniture, junk and people wondering whether to buy it. Who will buy all this stuff? Apparently Ingrid is a voracious collector, and this year I'm told she is looking especially for a carriage clock. Jay believes it his duty to restrain her from foolish excesses. But at ten o'clock the gathering throng makes its inspection ...

I wander round looking for an ironing board. Jay thinks I should borrow one that Chris has at number eight. In a spirit of neighbourliness I offer him use of my washing machine as a quid pro quo. Then I spot the only ironing board on offer, and consider bidding. It turns out the ironing board is in a job lot with boxes of bric-à-brac I certainly do not want, so I think I'll stay with the idea of borrowing when I need. Next I come across a card table with folding legs. Foolishly the owner has covered the top with lino, but I reckon a metre of baize would cover that up. The table would fit at the end of the bridge deck when not in use for bridge, perhaps?

Off for lunch, but I'll be back at one, when the action starts. Walking home I meet Jeff, who tells me his daughter, a physio, plans to run the London Marathon this year in aid of Parkinson's Disease research. I suppose she (Caroline Greenaway) will have a Just Giving page, but I can't find it.

just after one I walked back to the sports hall. The hall had been transformed into a professional auction room. Jay and friends — Alan andJames &mdsh; were sitting in the middle of a sea of seats arranged as in a cinema, on garden chairs donated by another friend. The bidding started. I secured my table for a fiver. Here it is, installed on the bridge deck ...

Later on another card table surfaced. I hadn't seen it during the morning and thought it a better bet. That one cost me six pounds. It turned out to be less sturdy, and like the other one, in need of a new baize surface and refurbishment. I shall ask David Lutas to do that for me. Here it is, before it's folded away till there's another bridge party ...

Chris, knowing the ropes, organised payment for all the items we had bought, and then kindly insisted on carrying one of my table back home for me.

Oh, the optimist dinghy I had wondered about turned out to be an early model and, though sound, rather scruffy.

David Lutas came round this morning on the dot of ten. He is the upholsterer recommended by Jay's friend Anthea at Number Twenty in the High Street.

David had left school at sixteen for an engineering apprenticeship. He worked for an engineering company in East Cowes until 1981 when his company, having been taken over by Americans, suddenly shut down, firing 800 workers. David had then found himself a van-driving job with an upholsterer, but within a couple of years was doing the work himself.

We got on very well, finding things in common — like early leaving school early, having arthritis and family experience of Parkinson's Disease.

David warned me that cortisone injections will be panful but effective, so I am looking forward to Monday's encounter with Dr. Walker with some trepidation (see Thursday's entry, below), and realise why we shall tackle the knees one by one rather than both at once.

David agreed to fix one of my two French oak armchairs, and I asked him to tackle the Victorian balloon chairs as well. So he took one of them away to glue it together. When he returns it he will bring some velvet fabric samples so we can decide on the new armchair covering.

I must say I am impressed with the general level of intelligence, talent, entrepreneurism and friendliness of the people on the Island: another good reason for living here.

Another email of thanks from Ginny this morning. I had posted to her a CD of Richard Holloway's talks: twenty, delivered over four weeks on Radio 4. Richard was formerly Bishop of Edinburgh. His talks are entitled Honest Doubt. He traces the history of religious thought from the dawn of history until the present day.

Some confusion this evening over whether we would all be going to the happy hour. We were, it seemed. Chris had been deputed to come back from the Club to collect me. Chris and I walked back together. I met Jeff and Mary Lou for the first time. They have a flat in Hove, and when in yarmouth stay in Victoria Cottage, behind he brown fence a step or two closer to the Club than I. It became clear that it had been Jeff who had remonstrated with me on the occasion in July when I had been peering back at May Cottage through (and apparently on) their garden fence. Jeff had bought May Cottage years ago for its garden, which he turned into a car park. They rented out the cottage, but that wasn't a roaring success, so they sold it to the antique dealer who owned it when I was thinking of buying it.

As people began to disperse Chris and Jay invited me to join them for Jay's birthday treat at Off the Rails, great fun, involving crab linguini, pork belly and chocolate fondant. Here we are at the end of the meal ...

Sorry about the grainy picture: I did not have my camera with me and my old iPhone doesn't have flash.

I took the bus to Freshwater Co-op, stopped at the garden centre to buy a dozen pot feet to put underneath the rose pots, and walked up to Brookside Health Centre for my regular INR checkup. I took the opportunity to have my hair cut, came back to Yarmouth for food shopping and then back home to a warm house: welcome after the bitter cold wind outside.

As I was writing this jumble of thoughts, Jay came round, and climbed up onto the bridge. We discussed the cababilities or otherwise of Alan Turner. Because of his voting record after the second reading debate in the Commons on the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Bill, that led on to thoughts on the topic of gay marriage. Jay then suggested he might come with me to hear Ian Stephens on Friday week. Jay knows of a suitable pub near The Riverside for a thirst-quenching beer or cider afterwards, where we can also get a decent supper. So my political life on the Island is about to begin!

Around six o'clock I took a phone call from Dr Walker. He wanted to talk to me about the prostate business. He will manage the watchful waiting process and arrange the PSA blood tests. I broached the knee triage issue; he read from Mr Nasra's letter and agreed to give a cortisone injection into the left knee on Monday. If all goes well we'll do the right knee later.

Wednesday

I had to get to Southampton for my urology appointment by eleven o'clock so wanted to catch the ten to eight ferry. Walking round Tennyson Road to the ferry terminal I could see no ferries at all. The explanation? Today, unusually, they were not running. Apparently the strong wind made it unsafe to berth here in Yarmouth with WightLink's rather convoluted temporary arrangements. So I caught the bus to Newport and onwards to Cowes for the RedJet to Southampton. On the way I met David — a retired engineer — en route to Winchester for a one-day course on teaching. David tells me there is a shortage of teachers on the Island and he has the idea he might like to make a contribution. Unlike Rob Birch, David is fascinated about politics. David is friendly with Andrew Turner, and has come across Ian Stephens who plans to stand for Parliament as an independent next May. He is holding a meeting at The Riverside, Newport, on Friday week. Jay and I plan to go along to hear Ian Stephens speak, and (in my case at least) to meet David again, even though that means foregoing the weekly happy hour in the Club. Anyone else for tennis?

Uncle Richard joined me for my consultation which was very brief . I agreed with Tim Dudderidge on watchful waiting which means nothing much more than having a PSA test twice a year. Then UR took me to lunch at Prezzo in Oxford Street Southampton.

I took the RedJet and a couple of buses back to Yarmouth, called at the ferry office for a refund on my ferry and train tickets, and decided at that point to buy a sixty journey ticket which will enable me to travel to the mainland and get back home again for £9.40 a day, ighty pence cheaper than an old folk's day return, as well as being more convenient.

Tuesday

My day for weekly PD exercises. Leaving Yarmouth I took this picture of the maintenance works going on at the ferry terminal...

Our exercise class is held in Boldre Memorial Hall. Here is a map of the village...

You can see the village hall halfway up the embroidery, in the middle.

I spoke to John Phipps who told me that Harriet had experienced a sudden decline — sad, and a surprise, as she had told me she hoped to see me at the class today.

After the exercises I went to the Forest Home pub in Hardley for lunch with Tony Carter, our favourite clarinettist. To my surprise there were two people there from the PD exercise class: Glenwys Lawrence and her husband Alan, there to research the pub to see if it was somewhere Alan would like to recommend for one of his bi-monthly lunches. Tony had a magnificent burger; I had curry, excellent. So I'm sure the PD group will be going to the Forest Home soon.

Coming home I found that Josh Hunter and his dad had finished the roof repair and left. So I had to arrange another time for paying him. Josh is a retained fireman and would that evening have been on duty, so I offered to come to his fire station with the cash (£150) but he explained you would be at Newport in a training session, so he'll call on me later in the week.

Paul rang me to explain about the complications following his liver transplant.

Monday

I went down to the club and joined in the bridge class. Anne was giving very good instruction about bidding at the two level, which brought back memories and cemented in some clear rules. Feeling tired I went home early.

Ginny sent an e-mail thanking me for lunch and a good day spent on Saturday.

I phoned Anna. In the Lake District there is snow on the fells. The children have been tobogganing beyond Troutbeck in the Kirkstone Pass. It's pretty cold up there. I'm glad to be down here in sunny Yarmouth.

I phoned Dan. He's been walking between Waterloo and his London Bridge office. He's also been jogging along the Thames Path with business colleagues and enjoys all that very much.

At about six o'clock my podiatrist Rob Birch arrived. We went upstairs.He sat on his curious little seat and started paring away my callus. I asked him about politics on the Island, particularly about Andrew Turner (our MP). It seems Rob doesn't interest himself in politics because, he told me, he is a Jehovah's Witness. Back in Hythe I used to enjoy my doorstep conversations with the two ladies who came to see me once a month to leave me with Watchtower and Awake. Having someone explain Jehovah's Witness doctrine whilst snipping my toenails was a new one on me.

I posted a card to Paul who's now been removed to ward D8 in Southampton.

For tea, as Anna would describe it, I cooked myself red peppers and heated up a Cornish pasty from the Deli.

i caught up with some correspondence. Jean had written me a lovely letter in her own handwriting sympathising with my situation as she saw it. I wanted to reply but had so much to say and I felt that typing it out would take far too long: dictating using DragonDictate (which is what I'm using to write this) would require far too much editing. So what should I do? Well, I realised I didn't actually need to write anything: I could speak my reply! So I've done two things: I've set up a card template so that I can write messages to friends simply and I hope pleasantly. The card has a picture of the seapie on the front and an explanation of the derivation of the word seapie on the back together with my contact details. Then inside there's space for writing short messages. The whole thing is done in Photoshop so by disabling some of the images I'm able to arrange to print one side of the card and then the other. Here's my template for doing that .....

In the top picture you can see the whole card structure with everything visible; then, in the middle the card with only the front and back visible; then in the bottom picture the inside, where I can type a short message. So that's the card then. For the voice message I dictated my reply into Sound Studio, converted from .aiff to .mp3 and posted the result on my website, gave Jean the link so she and David can hear my reply to her letter.

Sorry if that's rather long-winded as an explanation. It took me most of the morning and half of the afternoon to do all that.

Then it was time to get some fresh air: I went to post some letters and to give Jay his birthday card: a picture of a J class yacht with a simple happy birthday message. Actually I chose a picture of J5 Ranger taken in Falmouth a couple of years ago (with suitable acknowledgement to the photographer). I had to adjust the picture to show J 22 as the sail number, as it's Jay's twenty-second birthday on Tuesday. I think he thought the whole thing mildly amusing.

To deliver the card I had called on number eight: Chris, Jay and Graham were there. I was invited in for a cup of tea and a tasty slice of Jay's Nan's lemon cake which went down very well. The chatter was about amusing anecdotes from the past. The three of them had gathered together to help fold up Graham's foresail. After tea and cake that was duly done. Then I retired indoors, put on some Jan Garbarek and had his soft jazz going while I cooked my supper.

A lazy morning till I went out around middday to meet Ginny off the ferry ....

A cold wind blowing so we hurried home to get warm, had a chat and then went down to the club in time for lunch at one. Fish pie for both of us; pavlova for Ginny; crumble and custard for me.

Ginny wanted to look in the art gallery, as she usually does when in Yarmouth. We agreed neither of us needed any more clutter in our houses so bought nothing. Along the high street to the common, and then feeling frozen walked back home. Ginny made tea while I lit the gas fire. We sat and talked till four thirty then thought about getting Ginny onto the five o'clock ferry.

Ginny feels lonely and cut off in her new house as unfortunately her neighbours are not particularly friendly and both her girls are living away from Lymington: Sophie in Cardiff and now Anna in Heningstbury. I think Ginny may have been envious of my situation here. However she has decided to pursue some old friendships and has revived the quilting group, doing tapestry and knitting as well with perhaps a dozen people involved. She's started attending a bridge class but finds the other players rather stiff and formal. She thinks of having a coterie of bridge players gathering together in one anothers' houses over the winter months to liven things up.

It had been a cold night but by midday the temperature had risen considerably. I went out expecting to be cold but found myself overdressed in scarf, ski jacket and hat. Silly and Crass came to Yarmouth on the midday boat. Here they are arriving ...

Their unusual disembarking method is a result of the Wightlink decision to carry out maintenance on the linkspan; so traffic rolls off on a temporary ramp and the passengers have to come off the same way.

We went back to my house for them to see around. Sally pronounced herself impressed and presented me with a pot of marmalade and a box of chocolate brownies. Down to Off the Rails for a good lunch which Chris insisted on paying for. We chatted on about this and that including the pitfalls of divorce and child maintenance problems — for Nick their son has suffered those difficulties. Afterwards we walked along the old railway track in the Newport direction, turned left onto the Thorley Road and back along the Solent shore. The Montagnons were entranced by the pretty cottages, large houses and gardens on the High Street.

Home briefly for a cup of tea and then I saw them onto the five o'clock ferry whilst I took the number seven bus to Freshwater for my appointment with Carol Farrell in the INR clinic. Fortunately as my INR is now up to 2.0 so I can stop the heparin injections. No more Jay with needle.

Catching the five forty bus home I was recognised by Les, who had been shopping in Sainsbury's. We travelled together to Sixpenny Corner where I got off; but Les continued onto Newport — he had taken a phone call from Esther with the news that they had been invited to dinner with friends in East Cowes.

On the bus Les spoke to me about his life working in the harbour. It seems he used to operate the swing bridge on the River Yar and well remembers the old bridge which sometimes failed to operate. On one occasion after some new metalwork had been installed the steel became so swollen in the heat of a summer's day that the bridge would not close properly. Quick-thinking Les asked a bus driver to inch forward and use the weight of the bus to press down a section of bridge to close it, before traffic could get across.

Once home the phone started to ring. It was Von from Yorkshire, Patti's cousin. She chatted for about fifteen minutes. Apparently George has gout in the ankles. Poor chap.

I went upstairs and sat down imagining a quiet evening ahead, but at half past six a knock on the door. It was Jay. He came upstairs and I offered him a chocolate brownie. When he mentioned the happy hour I realised I had quite forgotten about that. We decided to go down to the club together. The usual faces plus previously unknowns Graham and Lynne. Graham has bought Jay's YOD, which surprised me. Jay explained that he would continue to crew the boat and teach Graham to sail. Another couple, also previously unknowns and also called Graham and Lynne turned out to be narrow-boaters keeping theirs somewhere north of Lichfield. Then yet another new face: another Chris. There was animated chatter about the foolishness as he saw it of the Harbour Commissioners replacing the old simple manual crane which had been so useful in lifting our boats out of the water. Apparently the replacement is too cumbersome and difficult to use.

Home again, alone, to tea of bread and cheese and an apple. The cheese was Lincolnshire Poacher, which is quite tasty.

Throughout the day I have been playing music from my iTunes collection through the amplifier and speakers which now provides a pleasant background to my munching and reading the County Press.

To bed, to bed, said Sleepy Head. Tarry a while said Slow. It's now midnight. The rain has started and the wind has got up.

Good night, anyway.

I had to be up early as both Roger Rice and Josh hunter planned to meet me before nine. Walking around outside the house to find the best place for a ground level view of the errant ridge tile, I met Chris Temple, wheeling his bike back home from a trip to collect his paper.

Roofer Josh appeared at that point, so the three of us discussed storm damage. Josh turned out to be a very nice tall alert young man. Josh gave the roof a good dose of looking at, and declared he would need another man with him on the job. He left his ladders and promised to be back in the afternoon.

Electrician Roger turned up whilst Josh was still here. Roger got on with urgent maintenance — like replacing the clapped out bathroom fan. We worked out how he would sort out the wiring on the mess deck, and discussed replacing some of the ceiling lights with low wattage LEDs. I also broached with him the idea of having some sort of intercom between the bridge and the engine room. You see, people come here, ring the bell, and then wander off before I've stumbled downstairs to greet them. I'm then out in the road shouting for them to come back. I'd prefer unfamiliar visitors to respond to my disembodied voice by waiting till I can get downstairs.

Tall Roofer Josh came back by four fifteen with an older, even taller man. I introduced myself as John and asked his name. "I'm his Dad". Up on the roof, Josh discovered several more faults: all of the ridge tiles above Caroline's bedroom were loose; there were two slates missing; and one of the the lead valleys had a hole in it. Josh stuck the ridge tile on — like a temporary filling at the dentist — and will come back on Tuesday to do a proper job.

Joiner/Carpenter Chris Holdaway turned up while Josh and 'I'm his dad' were still at work. Chris and I had a good chat. I promised to email him with drawings so that we can agree on the bookshelf design before he gets going. Chris suggests building a bookshelf unit in his workshop and then installing the competed unit, instead of building it here in situ. We thought he would hoist the unit up over the terrace balustrade, as we had done in November, with my armchair.

A busy day, but progress made. I am content.

Here's a picture looking westward early on this bright crisp morning.

It's good to be alive. Do you remember the lines by AH Clough:

Today I am due at Southampton General Hospital to learn the results of my prostate biopsy and MRI scan.

I walked to the ferry, took the train from Lymington to Southampton and then a bus to the hospital. Caroline came to join me. She appeared at half past eleven looking brilliant, waited with me for ten minutes, then, feeling guilty about leaving her ward round, went back to rejoin that. However, she was told: "Go back to sit with John." So she did.

At half past twelve we started a useful meeting with a very nice specialist nurse — Robert Keating — who comes from Liverpool and has worked in Cardiff, so I had an opportunity to discuss both those cities after we finished with the prostate discussion. Rob was there to tell me the test results and give me a sheaf of information. I am then to go home, consider what I have been told, and return in ten days for a discussion about possible treatment routes with my consultant Tim Dudderidge. The test results were good. Out of eleven biopsies six had been taken on the right and five on the left. All the cores on the right were negative. Three cores on the left indicated a slight degree of cancer potential, but nothing much to worry about. In each of those three cores the Gleason score was six: more about this on the prostate webpage where I post both the pathology reports and a recording of our conversation with Rob Keating.

Afterwards Caroline invited me into the small cardiology doctors' office offering me a pheasant salad. She had bought five pheasants in the market for ten pounds and roasted them all. Here I am eating my scrumptious lunch:

Travelling back home, I caught the four o'clock boat, then took the number seven bus to Freshwater to meet Carol Farrell for an INR test and to have my daily heparin injection. We discussed the red hair of the Farrell clan, as my Uncle Pat was an Irish Farrell. Back home by six o'clock, I made macaroni cheese for supper.

This picture, taken as we were entering Yarmouth Harbour, shows the temporary floating ramp installed whilst the normal bridge deck is being maintained. Look at this lovely evening sky in the cold winter air.

Jay came round early to give me my usual injection and we discussed the arrangement of the bookshelves I'm going to have built in the alcove next to the French windows, the shelves to be made out of 18 mm marine ply. With that in mind I took Jay upstairs to show him my design for marine ply bunks in what was to become Caroline's room. Then I went down to the ferry office to buy tickets for tomorrow.

During the evening I had phone calls from Uncle Richard to say how they both enjoyed the day; Dan, driving home from a family visit to Richard and Natasha in Farnham; then Ginny, wanting to know when she could come to see me. We fixed on this coming Saturday in 6 days time. Caroline sent a text confirming the arrangement for tomorrow: she will accompany me in my meeting with Tim Dudderidge, the urology consultant. The moment of truth: watch this space!

Saturday

Uncle Richard and Linda arrived by the ten o'clock boat. Wightlink had brought a moveable ramp over from Lymington earlier in the week, for use in a temporary mooring arrangement whilst carrying out maintenance on the usual bridge deck. Uncle Richard from his naval perspective was rather critical of the way this was done. Meanwhile I was striding back home through a hailstorm to pick up shopping.

My visitors arrived just before eleven. Uncle Richard proudly showed Linda all round the house proprietorially. We had coffee, Richard and I sharing a Chelsea bun from Grace's Bakery. Soon it was time for lunch at the old station: a luggage burger in my case with a pint of ale.

Afterwards we walked along the High Street towards the common. I invited them to walk up Eremue Lane and then turn around and recognise (if they could) this view:

The picture appears on the January page of the calendar of course. It was taken on 3 June 2004, on one of the occasions when I had wondered whether Patti might consider living here.

Uncle Richard expressed his delight at being near the sea, identifying two or three houses he'd like to buy: a vote of confidence in Yarmouth. How interesting it would be if they came to live here — but I don't think Linda will vote for that, much as Patti didn't ten years ago.

The two of them left the Island on the three o'clock boat, Uncle Richard on the sun deck observing how the crew manoeuvred around before the boat could leave for Lymington.

Friday

I stayed in till the postman delivered my new mouse mat from Amazon. Caroline and I had decided I needed a very large gaming mat to cover most of the surface of my Pembroke table.

I wanted to get the place shipshape for Cmdr Albery and his lady, so busied myself with that.

Last night a storm was raging. Much thunder. Apparently wind gusts at the Needles overnight had reached 96 miles an hour. This morning the rain had stopped, but the wind was still strong, blowing in from the west-south-west, more or less along Alma Place.

Graham came round for coffee and biscuits. He stayed about an hour. We talked politics, especially local politics and personalities. Graham had been recommended as Mister Electricity for Alma Place. Ferris would fix anything in the house, etc, etc. In the end we agreed my best course would be to get hold of the guy who installed the electrics here. Andrew has his name and number. I must chase him up.

Jay came round to give me in my injection. He is Hon. Sec. of the Yarmouth One Design Class Association. He showed me the draft of his annual report for the RSYC Magazine; it read well — better than most of that sort of thing, as I told him.

I talked to Jay about my idea of joining the Yarmouth Sailing Club so that the grandchildren might learn to sail on one of their picos, which are for hire. Jay was unenthusiastic. "They'll get you doing all sorts of irksome duties like manning the bar, and cooking." Jay's idea is that "someone in The Club — the RSYC — will lend you a boat", and that he, Jay, a qualified instructor, would give some lessons. We shall see.

When Jay had left I took this photograph of my newly planted floribundas. I hope we shall have a good display in the early summer!

Can you guess where I went at half past nine this morning? Here's a clue:

When I got home afterwards I climbed up to the Bridge and took this picture out of the west window, looking over the rooftops towards the river:

Then I met June Smith at the garage for her to take the remainder of my collection of unwanted books to the hospice shop where she works as a volunteer. She seemed disappointed there were not very many books so I explained to her that my daughter Caroline had seen the collection and extracted several to take home.

After all that it was time for lunch, and then planting my roses. I had accumulated three bags of John Innes number 3 compost, some organic rose fertiliser, and a bag of horticultural gravel — besides the four pots I bought the other day. As I was starting work, a small crowd gathered. A cold wind was blowing up Alma Place but it was dry and still sunny. The others went home, but Chris and Jay stayed, and eventually took over. All I had to do was stand and watch. We have planted the floribundas either side of the front door. The climbers are on the terrace angled towards the trellis on the wall of Peta's Cottage.

Whilst on the terrace we all took a look at the configuration of walls and gutters to see where I could erect a flagpole. Chris and Jay are all set to procure an unwanted XOD or YOD mast. Either would be about thirty feet tall and be quite heavy, so I must be certain that any fixing is sound. After all I don't want my flagpole to pull out the bricks from the wall of our house.

We considered what flags it would be politic to fly: my house flag when in residence, an Isle of Wight Flag, and on state occasions a Union Flag.

My house flag should be a seapie — that is, an oystercatcher. Would one of the grandchildren like to design it? We could have a competition, with prizes.

There are two Isle of Wight flags, an old one and a new one. See which you think we prefer:

Once it started to rain we went indoors for cups of tea and biscuits, chattering on about this and that till about five o'clock when Chris and Jay went home and I put my supper in the oven: a chicken, ham and leek pie from Cook, along with some frozen beans.

Rosie rang. I had left a message for her the other day asking her opinion about the acting in Last Tango in Halifax. She wants me to watch another serial she likes: Broadchurch: sequel to a murder whodunit, in which the accused man is attempting to exonerate himself. Rosie told me she had reahced the finals in a tango competition in Torquay. Also, she has been given a part in another production at The Stables, the Hastings Theatre. The play is a stage adaptation of the TV series wDinner Ladies.

Tony called to ask if he might postpone our lads' lunch from next Tuesday, as on that day contractors will be pouring concrete into the base of what will be his Wintergarten.

Derek Bates phoned to talk to me about his decision fifteen years ago when diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Then I prepared a framework for sleeping accommodation which I should like you to look at. Comments welcome:

Up early this morning, breakfast, and off to catch the ten to nine ferry. A brilliant sunny morning: cold but with hardly any wind, so the sea was calm as you can see from this picture, taken as we entered Lymington.

I attended the PD exercise class after an absence of nine months or so. The last time I went Patti came with me. She came twice actually. Tshe first time she said she wasn't going to join in any of the exercises but actually she did. The second time she couldn't. I think that must have been in April last year.

Everyone was friendly and welcoming. After coffee I asked Harriet to give me my heparin injection: something which she said she had never done before. Strange for a geriatric specialist nurse. So she learnt something new today.

I drove off through a heavy shower to Lymington for lunch with Tony Carter in Wetherspoon's, crossed the road to Cook — buying another five frozen meals — drove back to Walhampton Lodge, left the car and caught the three o'clock home.

On the way I stopped at the Deli aiming to discuss the menu for the lads' lunch next week, but Alex wasn't there. He had had two floods at home: one from outside, a rainy deluge presumably, and the other from a burst pipe.

Arriving here I found two large cardboard boxes waiting for me. And H&J's Peter had left those four plant pots outside the door, as I had asked. It's four o'clock by now and far too cold to mess about with gravel, compost and roses. Just as well, it turns out, for once in and upstairs I found an email from Apuldram Roses offering what is sure to be good rose-planting advice. Aren't I fortunate. Everything seems to be working out well!

Yesterday I was planning to pot my roses. I had four pots but they were all too small, I was told by the experts in Alma Place so that was a disappointment.

Jay came round about midday to give me my injection and then I messed about. It turned into a day of relaxation: a bit of reading, a bit of television. Here is a picture taken by Caroline on Friday showing me reclining in my chair.

This morning I had a date with the INR people at Brookside Health Centre so I went, was given my injection and told I would need to carry on with heparin for another five days.

After that I went over the road to Hurst, the hardware shop, to buy some longer cable ties, which I want to use to bind up the heavy cable that will run between my computer and the hi-fi system so that I can listen to all my iTunes music. I also bought a dustpan and brush and asked whether they had any suction pads so that I could remove blown ceiling lamps. They had none of those, but suggested I went to a garage to find the same sort of thing used for valve grinding. I walked down to the garage and asked. They didn't, but gave me the telephone number of a man who would surely be able to help.

Then over the road to the garden centre to buy another four large pots for my roses. This is getting expensive! Peter will deliver them tomorrow; he will have to leave them outside because I shall be away on the mainland.

While I was in the garage Anna phoned. We had an interesting discussion about how lift is provided over an aeroplane wing — how an aeroplane flies through the air. Judah (and the others) have been doing some interesting experiments learning about the Bernoulli effect. Perhaps they would like to see some illustrations of a similar phenomenon: the Venturi effect?

Back home on the number seven bus after buying some wine and cheese in the Deli. The wine was for tonight's bridge party. Jay and John Gallimore (known as Mr Galileo) came round at six and stayed till half past eight. For supper I had a Cornish pasty, then wrote up this diary, and now I'm going to bed ready for an early start tomorrow.

Sunday

A welcome rest day. Six days shalt thou labour ...

Chris and Jay called for me just after ten. We collected a few things from the cottage and then went round to the garage, where I found some LPs, the small television and some old carpet which could go the Boy Scout auction at the end of the month. We took those things all round to the Scout Hut and then came back to Chris's house for coffee.

Soon afterwards I had a text from Anna. ÒDad, there is a man at your front door waiting to give you a heparin injection. Where are you?Ó I rushed out but the man was nowhere to be seen. It turned out later he had let himself into my house and was looking to see if I was all right. Back to ChrisÕs. We all had coffee and some of us had madeleines too. A district nurse arrived — I went to get my box of syringes so that he could do the injection for me. However it seems he would have needed a Ôgiving chitÕ which I did not have! James (that was his name) suggested phoning for a doctor, or 111, to get permission!! This was really over the top. At that there was a clamour of neighbours all willing to jab me. So, drawing the short straw, Jay gave me the injection and promised to do the same for me tomorrow.

After that piece of high farce someone asked if I played bridge. It seems there is a bridge class at the Yacht Club on Mondays starting on the 19th. I can't go on the 19th as I have to be in Southampton to see my urologist, so I have arranged to start bridge classes on the 26th.

On my way home for lunch I was hailed by Les who wanted to give me a present here it is:

Andrew Pitman came round at ten to discuss building some bookshelves, and I telephoned Tim to see if he still had some of the oak skirting board and floorboards we might use in the conversion. The idea is that the wires for the hi-fi and the computer could be hidden somehow in the bookshelves — but we still have to work out exactly how to do that. Later I had a call from Rutherfords: my new glasses were ready! I left hurriedly to catch the next bus to Freshwater, had the new glasses fitted, and asked Elaine to correct the focus of my the special computer glasses. I used a bit of spare time to trot down to the garden centre: I had realised I needed sone crocs for the pots, but ended up with gravel. I shall use some of my nostalgic stones to stop all the gravel dropping through the rather large holes in the pots. Back in the face of a forceful wind to Brookside to see Sarah for my Enoxaparin injection. Meanwhile Caroline had left on the two o'clock ferry. She phoned later to say she had arrived safely by about four. Here are my new glasses:

Thursday

I took the midday ferry to be met by Pete who took me for my appointment at Lymington Hospital for my prostate biopsy. Afterwards I took the ferry home and went to bed early.

Wednesday

I had a nine o'clock appointment for a complicated filling with my dentist here in Yarmouth. Later I went to the garden centre in Freshwater to buy flower pots, compost, rose fertiliser, gloves and a trowel, and from the library bags to hold earth and dead plant material.

Tuesday

Caroline had very bad period pains during the night so we were occupied helping her recover on Tuesday morning: I went down to Tim the chemist to buy a hot water bottle, heating pads and paracetamol. I caught the eleven o'clock ferry to Lymington, missing the PD exercise group and went straight on to meet Paul Newman in his flat, talking about this and that. We lunched at Loch Fyne in Winchester. By half past four I got to Sarah Chester's in Edgar Road. I left at half past five. I had intended to stop at John Lewis to buy a telephone but there wasn't time so instead went straight home. Caroline and I had a meal together at the Bugle.

Monday

Caroline arrived on Monday full of fun. Her idea was to spend a quiet few days preparing for her RCPCH exams on 10 February. She had not seen the house since 9 July, the day we decided to buy it — and was impressed with what she found. So all three children have been here now, with me living in it.

1105 ferry met by Pete. Lad's lunch at Mares Tails with Tony, Pete and Bill

RSYC happy hour from 1830; stayed till about 2030. Met John Gallimore who lives in a flat at the top of a large house up Halletts Shute. John has been deeply involved with the Galileo project.

Thursday, New Year's Day

Everyone has gone away, or is asleep. A fine day, as far as I remember.

Wednesday, New Year's Eve

Quiet. I don't mind that. It gives me time to think, and to recover some of my lost strength.

Tuesday

The middle of that dark week between Christmas and New Year. Nothing much to remember.