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| Statistics, statistics... |
Statistics. We are bombarded with them every day: coronavirus cases, deaths, hospital admissions, tiers. Bewildering and boring.
It set me thinking of the statistics of my life. Intriguing, and surprising.
I was born on 27 November 1926 so today is my 34,379rd day. A long life and very happy one, both as a child and an adult, and very active, What a contrast since 20 March 2020.
Apart from my ambulance rides to and from hospital and the 25 days I was there I have been confined to Sunrise for 300 days including six weeks of solitary confinement - self isolation.
Memory tells me that it is probably more days than in the rest of my adult life, including the spells in hospital.
So, what have I missed due to coronavirus? Holidays - the latest, a cruise last April for which I am still waiting - visits to families, birthday parties, funerals, lunches and dinners out, shopping and, apart from seven occasions in the stop-start visitor programme, having a total of just seven visitors.
No wonder life is rather claustrophobic, but I am lucky to live so comfortably here in Sunrise, well looked after, with plenty to do, so different from the other 48 million adults in Britain.
At 94 I am one of the 600,000 over ninety year olds, 1.06% of the over eighties. One in a hundred. Quite an achievement. But I have a long way to go to match my mother’s longevity - nine years.
The most rewarding time in my busy life in Sunrise is writing my blog, my daily coronavirus diary; today’s is my 329th. I have only missed 21, when I was in hospital.
How many more days until freedom and a normal out-and-about life? We shall see. Not many, I, and we all, hope.
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