‘Hold your head up (High)’ was the title of a great disco anthem of my long-ago youth, which, given the speed with which popular culture now recycles itself, has probably come back about 17 times, and may even now be in the charts. Be that as it may, whatever it might do for what Ed calls ‘wasted, flaming youth’, it has a message for the over 50s. I’ve had an increasing amount of grief for a couple of weeks from the area round my Atlas bone — i.e. the bone in your spine which hinges neck-bones to thoracic vertebrae. Having given this some concentrated thought (& having checked with her, the good Dr Wu concurs with me), I have come to the conclusion that I have developed a gradual and insidious response to the over-50s notorious inability to read close print. Much of my day is spent at the computer, with various books from which I check facts or whatever open to its left. They tend to have footnotes, which are small. I do have reading glasses, but don’t care for viewing the computer screen through them … thus, though I have long taken careful and conscientious thought about posture while typing, due to the irration of taking glasses on and off, presbyopia has gradually seduced me into developing a habit of poking my head forward like a tortoise, and since the human head is really quite heavy, creating a tremendous amount of stress on the base of the neck. I’m engaged on a firm programme of retraining. Hold your head up (High) is absolutely the way to go. On another topic, Miss Best Friend went to the vet today, and seems to be fine, within an old dog definition of fine. We have some more pills to counteract the irritation caused by her thyroid medicine. Oh, the wonderful world of side-effects, & more pills to counter the first lot … But she seems perfectly happy in herself.