Well I have to admit it's not been the best of weeks.

So I am afraid that it’s going to be a bit of a moan and groan today.

Bill has not been at all well and is in Royal Blackburn Hospital.

Andrew and I went to see him last evening and he was, as they say in hospital talk, “quite comfortable”.

Needless to say when I asked him how he felt he said “I just want to come home” and the bloke in the next bed said “so do I!"

It's funny, isn’t it, often in the morning lying in bed I think how great it would be if I could just lie here all day.

But the minute you have to because you're not well, you can’t wait to get up.

We are such a contrary lot aren’t we?

But we are so lucky to have the health care and hospitals that we do have.

We can go to have treatment without the worry of “can I afford it” and the staff are so diligent and considerate, not only with the patients but also with the families that are with them.

My plans for my trip have been put on hold, as I must see how Bill is, and whoever it was that said “good health is your greatest wealth” never said a truer word.

I am a little concerned as my little squirrel friend has not been tapping on my window for his/her daily ration.

I do hope he or she is okay. Andrew says maybe it’s courting time on the squirrel calendar so food might not be the first on its priority list.

Football is back, dominating the papers, conversation, and seemly the thoughts of all of the men folk.

I just don’t understand how adults and quite often intelligent men can be so interested and concerned about other men kicking a ball about.

But let's face it men are quite often not understandable or intelligent at the best of times, (I am only kidding lads).

I was thinking about how strange it is we strongly object to the restrictions and routines that going out to work put on us, but when we at last are masters of our own days we do exactly the same to ourselves.

Things have to be done on certain days or we feel a bit guilty, and I want to know why?