It’s an increasing sign of my decrepitudity that on occasions recently, one before Christmas and one after, I have fainted after having ridden my bike into Wakefield.  On both occasions someone sent for an ambulance and on the second I was carted off to Pinderfields Hospital for tests.

The experience demonstrated to me, as if any proof were needed, the value of our NHS.  Had this been in America the call-outs, tests in cardiology, radiography, urology and haematology, along with subsequent follow-ups, would have cost me tens of thousands of pounds.

Important lessons for us all but not the point of this post.  This post is about the reactions of my family.

The wonderful Mrs C, ever mindful of the boozy nights out I (as a teetotaler) ferried her to and from, said “This could be life-changing for me if they stop him from driving”.

Daughter No 1, who I have assigned to push me off Bempton Cliffs in my bath-chair when I am old and stupid (well, more stupid), remarked “Huh! Typical! I hope he’s not going to spoil Christmas, is he?”

Daughter No 2 meanwhile asked “Is he OK?”

She’s a disgrace to the family.