Another joy killed off by the panic . . .

LAST week I went to the blood bank to make my twice- yearly deposit of a whole armful of gore.

I mention this not to boast but because, since I started doing it 50 years ago, I have greatly enjoyed it and can’t understand why more people don’t do it.

The best bit of all nowadays is the text message telling you where and when your pint has been used, which arrives not long afterwards and provides a lovely warm glow.

But it was a bit unusual, thanks to the virus panic. I usually go in London, but for various reasons could not, and so went in Oxford. The staff, as always, were a joy, full of humour and efficiency despite having to wear face-masks (it is physically impossible to stick a needle in someone’s arm while staying 6ft away from them. Try it if you don’t believe me).

Only one thing dampened the occasion. I had t hat morning received a stern letter telling me that, thanks to the virus panic, I will be banned from giving blood once I reach 70, a date now alarmingly close. This is a reversal of a previous sensible policy which allowed regular donors to keep on giving to almost any age. I do hope it does not become permanent.

If I ever do reach 70, I really do not want to be protected to death.

DISMAL news from the criminal justice system where – in a change of great i mportance – juries are no longer told they must be persuaded ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ that a defendant is guilty. They must merely be ‘sure’.

These expressions do not mean the same thing. You may be ‘sure’ you want a pepperoni pizza rather than a vegan one. But the word touches a different bit of the brain from the one reached by the nagging, awkward phrase ‘beyond reasonable doubt’.

There is some suggestion jurors were finding it hard to understand what ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ meant. Well, my reply to any such juror is that if you don’t know what it means, then you are not fit to sit on a jury, and should stand aside.