It has been a stroke of luck that our holiday letting facility, the Peacock Wing, has had no takers for August. It has instead been used for another purpose – disabled accommodation.

We had always been aware that a five-storey building was never going to be ideal in the event of illness or injury. This was emphasised when the knight had his treatment for prostate cancer, and I was continuously trotting up and down the 30-odd stairs between the kitchen and the bedroom.

So when we converted the room that had once been a temporary exhibition space into a living room, I always thought that it could be used as a sick room as well. A well-proportioned daybed from IKEA was the first piece of furniture I bought for it.

I've had my computer brought downstairs and I've been able to move around quite comfortably on the ground floor with my plaster cast and crutches.

The knight has been an admirable nurse and cook – that is, a heater-up of instant meals. Indeed, he's got quite territorial about what he calls "my kitchen". Will life ever be the same again?

One of the side effects of my immobilisation has seen me watching the Olympics quite avidly, even before the gold rush of British medals started.

Usually I limit Olympic viewing to the equestrian competitions and athletics. Although I'm not really interested in the latter normally, they do seem to be the epitome of Olympic sport. The truly great, recognisable international names are mainly field athletes. Maybe it's the effect of Chariots of Fire.

I've been leaving the TV on overnight and drifting in and out of sleep. In that way I've discovered all kinds of disciplines whose existence as international sports I'd never dreamed of.

The marathon swimming for one, and the women's windsurfing for another. Both of these attracted my admiration immediately for their sheer hardihood and physical stamina. And I had no idea there were so many different classes at gymnastics. A slightly bizarre sport of BMX cycling over a course of artificial hills and bends was something that caught my imagination in the early hours one morning.

There was a lovely little programme about discontinued disciplines, such as rope climbing and standing long jump.

One or two of today's competitions could, I feel, go the same way – the beach volleyball, for instance, seems a bit on a par with the short-lived synchronised swimming of a few years ago.

The burst of British medals couldn't have happened at a better time, both to raise the nation's morale and to generate goodwill for 2012. And Gordon Brown, who so often seems to get things wrong, actually seems to have made the right choice by opting to attend the closing ceremony rather than the opening.

I hope some of the shine of gold, silver and bronze rubs off a little on him. After all, it's been under Labour that the investment has been made in training, facilities and support for these sportsmen and women to operate at the level they've achieved.