No.115, Saturday, 4th. April 2026

It is dull and grey and cold out there and I am beginning to wonder if I can live without heating for a fourth consecutive day. My ambition, if I can call it that, to ensure that April is a heating-free month seems to override the feeling of cold but not the lethargy that accompanies it. However, in this instance at least, the irresistible force of temptation is pulling on me, and I might just cave in.

Sadly, the woman who lived opposite me passed away during the week, not at home but in hospital. She was 95, a good age and one that I would like to think I might reach. I have been thinking this morning about two things in relation to her passing. Firstly, I would have 25 years of life left if I was able to reach that age. A quarter of a century. For me, that is a comforting thought. Secondly, she died in Newton Abbot Hospital, a modern hospital with plenty of natural light and fresh air. I was born in Newton Abbot hospital – the old one – and I feel sure I would prefer to die in hospital – the new one.

Whilst on this train of thought I was also reminded of the closure of the old hospital and the redevelopment of the large site into flats, shops and a substantial GP surgery. The two-storey granite building in which I was born – the maternity wing – was saved from the bulldozer and converted into flats, and I understand they are quite pleasant. I was born ‘upstairs’ in Philips Ward, and many years ago I thought how satisfying it would be if I could move into one of the flats that would once have formed part of that ward.

I am sure that a psychologist might have a field-day with this sense of wanting to return to my place of birth, but to me it would simply provide security: living in a historic building in the centre of town with all the facilities within a short walk. It is highly unlikely that I would ever have such a home, but at least it is more likely than my ideal of a house by the sea.