Well, in one way and another, it’s been a busy couple of weeks.

It seems like we’ve done nothing but go to see the doctor or the nurse. We are both registered with Palatine Group Practice which occupies a fine modern health centre on the Ballamona estate, and is just a hop, skip and limp from Noble’s hospital.

In the space of two weeks, I have had four appointments, three with a practice nurse and one with a GP, and for the benefit of anyone who has the slightest interest in the state of my health, I can report that my blood pressure is fine, my breathing is giving no cause for concern, my ears have been pressure washed, my blood test was clear, and I still have Parkinson’s Disease.

Then last week, Brown Eyes had a call from the eye clinic with the news that a slot had come vacant in the cataract queue.

Excellent news, and three more trips to Nobles. Pre-op, operation, and follow-up.

The op was a complete success and, thankfully, both eyes are still brown.

Last week, I mentioned that the first powered flight between France and England was in 1909 and that just sixty years later, in 1969, Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon. Less than fifty years later we take for granted the aircraft that can carry 400 passengers for thousands of miles non stop.

The same example applies to the NHS. Our National Health Service, which started in 1948, is now seventy years old and we take it for granted.

In the beginning it was wonderful. You could be sick free of charge.

I remember when I had my tonsils removed. I was about ten or eleven, and in those days you were in hospital for the best part of a week. It was brilliant! It didn’t hurt, I could lie in bed all day and read my books, and for the first three days I was only allowed to eat ice cream.

Also, in those early days, I remember seeing Dr Pycraft in his surgery on the corner of Circular Road and Bucks Road.

We would sit around the wall in the large waiting room in any available chairs and flick through the pages of one of the National Geographic magazines from the pile on the large table in the centre of the room.

There was no receptionist, but when we saw the previous patient leave by the side door, we all knew who was next in the queue.

Dr P. would close the front door and then work his way through the remaining queue. Many years later we became friends and he had any number of tales to tell about those old days.

In the early days of the NHS, food was still rationed but, thanks to the new regime, school kids were given free cod liver oil, concentrated orange juice and, best of all, malt. Do you know, I’ve just remembered the school milk that we were given in infant and primary school.

Do you remember those small glass milk bottles with the thin round cardboard lids? The lid had a small push out centre that you would remove to insert the straw.

Unfortunately, as the years move on, we rely more and more on the health service.

In those early days, no-one could have possibly imagined how quickly medical science would advance. What we once thought was miraculous is now taken for granted and, in many instances, some procedures, such as heart and brain surgery, that are now just everyday routine would have been in the realms of science fiction in 1948 .

As is human nature, in many instances we have short memories.

But every time a new procedure comes on stream, another waiting list becomes an irritation.

And when you are kept waiting for your turn to see your doctor or consultant, just take another look at your modern health centre or our busy well equipped hospital and remember 1948.