My father is home at last

Today is my father, Robin Hanbury-Tenison’s, 84th birthday and miraculously he was able to wake up in his own bed and listen to the spring warbling of a green woodpecker while watching the swallows cavorting on the veranda in front of his bedroom. He was brought home three days ago in an ambulance having spent seven weeks flickering between life and death while battling Covid-19 at Derriford Hospital. I would be lying if I pretended my, usually unshakable, faith in his invincibility hadn’t wavered at several points during this ordeal. Many tears of joy and relief were shed as he was wheeled out by a paramedic on Monday evening and given back to us.

My wife, Lizzie, and I live a stone’s throw away from my parents across our farmyard on Bodmin Moor. Since his return, we’ve quarantined ourselves from them as Lizzie is 33 weeks pregnant and the doctors still don’t seem to be sure of the contagious nature of recovered patients.