Tomorrow I have to check in at the Bradford Royal Infirmary to have a heart pacemaker fitted. I suppose that the fact that a problem has been spotted in good time, and the fact that our great health system means that I will be treated entirely without payment, should actually be counted as good news. Nevertheless, I was entirely unaware until very recently that I might have a problem, and this is the first occasion in my eight decades of life when I have had to acknowledge the fact that I am mortal. In the past, somehow, problems of this kind always seemed to belong to other people. The procedure, I’m told, is simple, and it is probable that I will be in the hospital for only one day.
In fact, it has all worked out pretty well. I finished a painting today, and this seems to constitute an appropriate signal that it is about time that I actually cleaned the studio. This is a task I have been putting off for some long time. (I confess that I can’t actually remember when last I did so.)
I’ll let you know how both of these momentous tasks proceed.