The unusual thermometers arriving in the post for years - Julian Norton

Mr Bowes and his wife - philanthropists from the nineteenth century - had done a good thing by collecting all these things and housing them for display. They must have had a lot of money as well as a strong benevolent streak.

Nowadays, the multiple billionaires of the world purchase yachts, football teams, newspapers or space rockets, apparently unaware of the word “philanthropic”. I’m sure the world would be better if they diverted some of their wealth to more altruistic projects.

Speaking of which, a gift arrived at the practice in Thirsk earlier this week. It came in a small, faded cardboard box which suggested that its contents, too, came from some time in the past.

There were some handwritten words on the outside which told me who it was from: Robert Whitelaw, Newcastle. There was no phone or email, so (unless Robert reads the Yorkshire Post on a Saturday) there is no way to thank him.

I knew exactly what was inside the box, because, strangely, I have had several similar presents donated over the years. Inside, were ten glass mercury thermometers. Rather bizarrely, they were described on the back of the box as subnormal thermometers.

At first, I didn’t know whether that referred to their quality or the range of temperatures that these relics could measure (I couldn’t understand why this could be a favourable feature for a thermometer). But, lo and behold, the range on the scale went from twenty-five to forty degrees Celsius.

I have taken the temperature of thousands of animals over the years, and I know that anything below thirty-five is not very likely to be alive. If the patient is alive, it won’t be alive for very long, rendering more than half of the range of these thermometers totally useless.

There were more interesting clues on the box. The letters “NHS” suggested they had been made or packaged after 1948 and the scale of Celsius (rather than Fahrenheit) gave a clue that they were not as old as they looked.

There was more of interest on the box, too. In bold letters, it said, IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT THERMOMETERS ARE CLEANED BEFORE USE, EG, SPIRIT WIPE.

It was sound advice, indeed. Even in human medicine, it’s clearly essential to clean the instrument thoroughly, although a veterinary thermometer goes into a different place.

There have been many thermometers in my own veterinary history which have certainly not been cleaned with a spirit wipe quite sufficiently- usually cow-side in the middle of the field.

I’ve been receiving small packages of thermometers for a few years. The best ones came in a smart metal tube.

It was ever since an early episode of The Yorkshire Vet, which featured a brief and very incidental discussion between me and a colleague as we lamented the demise of this essential piece of old fashioned diagnostic kit.

The glass and mercury combo presented a health and safety disaster waiting to happen and so now we use the digital, battery-powered equivalent.

A reassuring beep tells us that the recording has been completed and the number can be read without the need to twiddle the glass nor reach for spectacles.

Luckily, at that time, the practice had a secret supply of the old-fashioned version, which never ran out of batteries and didn’t flake out when submerged in a bucket of cold water. “I think I’ve got enough to last me until I retire,” my colleague commented with a grin.

Evidently, his supply was bigger than anyone expected.