Bear has been poorly since November and is still very much under the weather.

He spent five days in hospital after his fall and then came home nursing an infected hand (where they had inserted the canular) and a fractured shoulder (which they couldn't do anything about except give large doses of paracetamol).

This was followed by a bout of bronchitis and  he is still coughing and wheezing.

It was with considerable difficulty that he dragged himself out of bed for his first hospital appointment yesterday. I ordered a taxi because he still refuses to accept a lift in Jay's car and we arrived at the main reception office in good time.

However, having done all the necessary paperwork we had to find the right department for the consultation. It was not clearly labelled and in the end a friendly nurse informed us that we had to backtrack, go out (into the snow) and then we'd find the O.R.L. (E.N.T.)  out-patients in another building. We found it a few minutes before our allotted time of 10 o'clock.

By this time Bear was cross, nervous and grumbling but we didn't have to wait long before we were called in to see a very affable doctor. He briefly examined Bear's eyes and ears, asked how he had been since his stay in hospital and then declared that from his point of view everything was fine.

BUT he had a list of further specialist appoinments.

"Really? We only have a letter about the MRI scan on the 18th."

"Oh, haven't you been informed? There's the cardiologist on the 9th, the neuropsychologist on the 29th and the memory test in February."

He kindly copied down all the details, handed me the paper,smiled broadly, shook hands and ushered us out with a 'Bonne Année.'

It was not quite 10.15. when we emerged and I called the taxi. Pretty good timing compared to the NHS I reckon.

When we were back home I looked up neuropsychologist on the web. It seems they deal with all sorts of mental illness including 'mood disorders' and 'personality disorders'.

I wonder what they'll make of Bear. . . . . .