I had an email from my dentist this afternoon. Dentists are permitted by the government to open from next Monday, under strict conditions. My dentist explained that neither the opening nor the conditions were discussed with actual dentists in advance. They heard about it on the news like the rest of us.

The unprofessional lack of respect, courtesy and ability from the government reminded me of my dentist and doctor from childhood, in two respects. The dentist was a friend, though not a close one, of my parents. They met at the same parties, they had mutual friends, though they never visited each other’s houses. That level. Apparently – I don’t know if it’s true but it was what my mother said – he’d started as an army dentist and, basically, pulled out any teeth he couldn’t easily fix by drilling and filling. She was quite disparaging about him. Yet she sent her precious children to him. What? The pressure of social acquaintance, I suppose. Surely a specialist children’s dentist could have been found, or at least a better one? My dentist once remarked to me that I’ve got a surprising number of fillings, considering that I’ve got strong teeth and look after them well. I knew the reason.

I don’t much remember our original family doctor, whose name was David Boswell and whose son was called Charles and about my age. Very nice boy. I didn’t know him well but he was likeable. Dr Boswell retired to Aldeburgh and we had another doctor, who was a friend of my parents’ and he was old-fashioned, but not in a bad way. Good, solid and reliable and he delivered my son Alex at home, which shows trust on my part – however, there was a time when my sister felt under great personal stress and went to him for professional advice. Before she got home, he’d phoned to tell my mother about it. What? There was hell to pay, my mother was more furious that my sister’s personal problems had been shared than that she had them.

Well, anyway. What I’m getting at is that standards are higher now. Thank goodness for that. Mistakes are made and, unfortunately, lessons are not always learned because they are often covered up. But they’re rare and, if found out, investigated.

As for today, it’s been a lot cooler and we’ve cracked on well with the fence. C can’t come tomorrow and we’re busy on Friday with our Zoom chat with the family. So I might do some more or it might be left until next week.

I hooked some blanket weed out of the pond and dumped it next to the pond so that any creatures caught would be able to crawl back. But then it occurred to me that blanket weed is quite dense and they might get stuck, so I spent half an hour carefully going through it all and rescuing any live thing I found. That included two young newts and three newt tadpoles, just getting their legs. It lifted my heart, darlings. I love newts. They remind me of my childhood, which is a tale I have probably told you and I should resist anecdotage.