DIY anti snoring

Wake at eight to a sunny but blustery day, breakfast on rye toast and honey with coffee and eat at leisure in the Garden Room, whilst listening to the news. After breakfast, hang out a line of coloured washing and then strip and change the beds and put the dirty linen in to wash. Whilst I am in the mood, run the vac over the house and wipe down the kitchen surfaces. Later I wash and clean the car, it was covered with elder blossom residue after I parked it under a tree during a downpour whilst I was swimming at the leisure centre. Around two o'clock, ride into town and have a wander around the market and then through the town, I only buy some plastic football whistles for 99p in Boyes and a loaf of bread. When I get back home I put some bismati rice in the microwave steamer and chop up some apple, orange and banana to add to the last of the vegetable curry from the slow cooker. When the rice is ready I add the fresh fruit and some chopped raisins, apricots and nuts with a sprinkle of garam masala. It works pretty well I think. After dinner I take two of the penny whistles to the garage and clamp them in the vice and then use a fret saw to take off a quarter inch ring, which I then file down to take smooth the rough edges, squash them into an oval shape and then test them to see if they fit my nostrils. They do, which is why I bought them. The reverse nose clips worked to keep my nostrils open but became uncomfortable after a few hours, these should be much better. Last night I taped my mouth shut with paper tape and used the nose clips, and despite drinking a couple of pints with Andrew, I awoke this morning without the dry mouth and sore throat that tells me I have been snoring. The reason for the DIY is that some of the devices for stopping snoring are really expensive, which is OK as long as they work, but money down the drain if they don't. There is an NHS sleep clinic in York and I have e-mailed them to try to get an appointment, no doubt they will refer me back to my GP, but this way I will get some action. A good night's sleep is a precious luxury for those with a snoring/apnea problem. My problem started after my jaw was broken twenty five years ago. The forecast overnight tonight isn't too bad, so I risk hanging out the freshly washed bedding. Read for an hour or two and then turn in.

Snoring and the boozy causes of snoring!

Wake at 6:30 with a dry mouth and a sore throat, even a little wine makes me snore. Breakfast on the last of the baguette, sliced and toasted, with honey and strong, black, Italian coffee. Wash, dress and drive to Cherry for nine again and then take the dogs on the Westwood. Today the weather is warm, but with a strong, gusty, westerly winds, we make our way through Newbegin Pits and onto the common towards Black Mill, and then back via Newbald pIts and Newbald wold, to the car. The dogs are returned to Cherry and then I drive to the Leisure centre, and arrive poolside for eleven, just as the last schoolchildren leave and thus obtain a free lane. As my fitness starts to return, so I increase the proportion of my strokes swum using butterfly, and swim 2000m in medleys, equally between each of the four strokes. Afterwards I eat lunch in the cafe and order fish, chips, salad and peas, and later wander in to town to look at snoring aids. It seems to me that the main issues are to keep the mouth shut and the nostrils open, but the strips and devices designed to do so are inordinately expensive. On arrival home I re-engineer a nose clip that I use to close my nostrils for swimming, to open my nostrils for sleeping by repositioning the supports from the inside to the outside of the device. This keeps my nostrils open and some paper tape over my mouth stops air entering that way, and thus prevents the soft palate from vibrating, hence snoring is stopped. I try this combination and it seems to answer pretty well, and I sleep until four. When I awake, a text from my son, Andrew, invites me to the driving range at Cherry for six. Of course I accept, and I arrive at Cherry golf club before Andrew and buy a basket of 100 balls for four pounds and then proceed to the driving range to fire them off. Andrew duly arrives ten minutes later, and we both fire balls down the range for the next hour. We look quite similar, except our builds are quite different, Andrew is 30 pounds heavier than I am, but our temperaments are totally dissimilar. Andrew will not play a game of golf until he has mastered the technique on the practice range. This bores the shit out of me, as I would much rather play the game, and pick it up as I go along. "Vivre la difference", as they say! Afterwards we adjourn to the pub for a couple of beers, and a chat about life in general. Despite his divorce, he seems to be handling things well, and apart from a sense of mild discontentment, seems otherwise to be ok. Back home make a supper of cheese, salami and pickled gherkins with rye bread, accompanied by more vin ordinaire, which I eat whilst watching Simon Schama go totally over the top, as he provides the commentary on Shakespeare's England on BBC. To bed at eleven.

Deutschland unter Italia 28/6/12

Wake to a cloudy morning around seven and use up the last of the sausage, bacon and black pudding to make a full English breakfast, I will need to restock tomorrow. Wash and dress and drive to Cherry for nine, it's spotting with rain as I arrive, but decide to risk it and take the dogs on the Westwood anyway. I take a bum bag with my hat and cagoule in it just in case, and as I approach Black Mill, it starts to rain and I pull them on, but it stops again after a minute or so. As we are walking to the car I find I have lost my hat and have to retrace my steps nearly to Black Mill to find it again. Extra exercise at no extra cost. After dropping the dogs off drive to the leisure centre and swim a 2000m medley at an easy pace and then have lunch in the cafe, quiche, salad and roast potato wedges. I chat to John Morton and his staff for a while then head into Beverley to shop, I replace a pairing knife from Boyes and then buy my weekly groceries from Tesco before driving home. Later eat Somerset Brie and a baguette washed down with a couple of glasses of vin ordinaire, before watching Italy thrash Germany 2 : 0 in the semi final of Euro 2012. The final is on Sunday, Italy v Spain and I shall be watching it with my half Italian brother in law, Gino, over in Birkenshaw. To bed for eleven.

Gardening and swimming

Get up at seven to a warm and humid morning, outside it's overcast with cloud but it might clear later. Hang last night's whites on the line again and then make coffee and rye toast with apricot jam for breakfast. I take this in the garden room and eat it whilst listening to the news on radio four. Wash and dress and collect the dogs from Cherry for nine and take them on the Westwood. The sun breaks through as we walk round and suddenly it's very hot, briar roses are blooming where they have grown around trees, some are white and others a beautiful delicate pink. When we get back I mow the lawns at Cherry and then head into town for coffee at the Poppy Seed with friends. Later I call in to see Sarah and ask if she wants to come for a swim, but she is busy working on her business plan, so I go on my own. Arrive at the pool just before lunch and find an empty lane, so after a 400m freestyle warm up, swim 200m in all four strokes, then 4 x 100m IM, 2 x 200m on free and backstroke and then warm down with an easy 200m IM. The anti inflammatory tablets have worked, the pain in my hip has gone and I am moving freely again. After tea in the cafe, drive home, bring in my washing and then boil some rice to accompany the vegetarian curry from the slow cooker. After lunch finish off my Ian Rankin book and then spend a couple of hours doing the gardens front and back. I finish fifteen minutes before the Spain v Portugal match and make chorizo, smoked cheese and tomato sandwiches on rye and drink my last bottle of lager as I eat them. Spain win on penalties after another nil - nil that went to extra time, but they look beatable. From what I have seen so far I think Germany are the best team at the tournament. To bed for eleven.

A walk to Skidby Mill

Up at half past six and make a full English with breakfast tea and eat in the kitchen. I have to collect Louis at eight thirty and it's seven fifteen so I thaw out a couple of chicken fillets and fry them up with some onion and peppers, add chilly, garlic, ginger and hot curry powder and then stick it in the slow cooker for dinner tonight. Shower and dress and drive to North Bar to collect Louis, Sarah left at six thirty and so no one has taken Norman out. I solve the problem by taking him with me and Louis as we walk to school, and afterwards drive home with him in the back of the car. When we get home I peg out a line of coloured washing and then sit Norman on my knee and strip his coat and trim his nails. Norman is a fifteen year old black and tan wire haired dachshund that I bought for Alice when she was a baby. He was looking really scruffy, so after I groomed him I put him in the bath and shampoo him with baby soap. The makeover takes years off him and he runs round the garden like a puppy. The weather is warm but overcast so around eleven decide to go for a walk, first leaving a bowl of water for Normy. I drive to All Hallows Church in Walkington, where I park up and change into my walking boots before setting off to walk across the fields to Skidby Windmill. The sky is clearing and it's turning into a lovely summer's day, this is one of my old cross country running routes and it's about eight miles there and back. The fields have wheat and barley, beans and rape seed as I make my way towards the windmill, I make good time initially but hit a couple of stretches of thick,high grass, and so it's one o'clock when I reach my destination. I order beef sandwiches and tea, taking it outside to eat and then reading the Yorkshire Post before setting off back. The return leg follows a different route and there is no problem with long grass but I encountered a different problem when I stop to retie my bootlaces and rest my foot on a fence, my hip is sore and painful. I haven't been moving freely and realise that this arthritis must have been the problem. I get back to the car for three and drive to the supermarket to buy lager and chapattis to accompany my curry and a tin of dog food for Normy's dinner. When I get in I let him out in the garden, bring in my shirts and put out a line of whites before giving Norman his dinner and making myself tea. I take a lanzoprazole tablet to protect my stomach and then a slow release diclofenac, anti inflammatory tablet. It will probably take a couple of days to shift the inflammation. Drink tea and read Ian Rankin until it's time to get Louis and then load the dog in the car and head for Hector's House, Louis' after school club. After they are delivered safely to Sarah's I return to Tickton and warm the chapattis in a dry frying pan, pour myself a beer and eat dinner. After dinner I read until bedtime.

A quiet day

Wake at seven thirty and finish off the smoked salmon with Philadelphia cheese on rye toast for breakfast then shower and dress and drive to Cherry for nine fifteen to take the dogs out. It's dry today so we drive to the Westwood and I let them off the lead in turn Teddy first for half an hour and then Dolly afterwards. This is supposed to be the best day of the week, it's cool and cloudy, but at least it's dry. The paths through the woods are quagmires but on the open ground up towards Black Mill the paths are dry. When we get back Pip tells me not to come tomorrow as she is going to a funeral, I have to take Louis to school and collect him tomorrow as Sarah is in University anyway. Afterwards I drive to the leisure centre and find the pool almost deserted and have the luxury of a lane to myself. I extend my comeback training to 2,200m in the hour in all four strokes, and feel better when I finish. Later I drink tea in the cafe and then drive home for one to make lunch. Pork schnitzels with oven chips and tossed salad, after lunch I feel tired after the late night yesterday and sleep for a couple of hours. When I get up make some tea and eat a few oaties before doing some paperwork for an hour and then reading an Ian Rankin until bedtime. I have to be up at six thirty tomorrow so need to have an early night. Turn in just after ten.

Ashley's can't shoot! Sunday 24/6/12

Wake at 5:30 in a sweat and pull out a lightweight duvet and then sleep until 7:30am, outside it's still raining, this is reminiscent of the weather when we had the great flood in June 2007. Make rye toast with honey and black coffee for breakfast and eat in the garden room whilst listening to radio 4, then shower and dress and drive to Saint John's for 9 o'clock mass. Sunday morning masses now include the Kyrie, Gloria, and Sanctus sung in Latin. It's quite, quite beautiful and a nice compromise between the millennia old Latin mass and the more recent English language service. As a bonus, I am familiar with all the hymns, (I love to sing), but find myself wondering why the choir keep missing the odd word and catching me out on the last hymn. Eventually the penny drops, I am singing hymn 75 and they hymn 74, which are differing versions of each other. I wish I knew the Latin for, "senior moment"! After communion I collect Leslie from Molescroft and drive to Saturday Market for our coffee and cake at Caffe Nero, after we have sorted out UK, US and European political economy to our mutual satisfaction, I drive him home for noon. We never agree, but our disagreements are always so interesting, as I have said before Leslie is a right wing republican and I a left wing sort of Marxist. I am visiting my sister Jackie and family in Birkenshaw today, so I ring her husband, Gino, who is making a curry to ask what to bring. Then call at Morrison's and buy premium Warsteiner lager for Gino and a bottle of Pinot Grigio for Jackie and some poppadom and chutneys. I used to live about 20km from Warstein, thirty years ago during my last sojourn in Germany and thought then that the beer was the best in the country. Just hope Gino likes it. He is settled in to watch the Grand Prix on TV, and Jackie and the girls have gone shopping, so I take my time driving over and have a pensioners lunch at my favourite fish restaurant, the Mermaid in Morley, the portion is quite small and will keep me going until we eat about six, before the England v Italy match at seven. The fish, as ever, is perfect. After lunch I while away an hour by shopping in the adjacent Asda, where I buy a new toaster, half the elements have gone in the old one, and three plain cotton tee shirts, in red, green and navy, which I like to wear with shorts in the summer. If we ever get one! I arrive at Jackie's just after four and find the curry being prepared to serve. So confess my recent trip to the Mermaid but make amends by eating a large plateful of Gino's excellent chicken korma at half time. My brother Andrew is also there, he is wearing a leg brace after surgery on his knee a month ago. He and I warn Gino not to go native if Italy are winning at half time, but we needn't have worried, after extra time it's still nil nil. Then surprise, surprise, the Italians miss a penalty, but normal service is resumed when Ashley Young and Ashley Cole both miss to put England out. Its only fair Italy were much the better side. I drop Andrew at his house half a mile away and then drive back to Tickton. I get to bed around one.

Counting Slugs with Chugs Saturday 23/6/12

Wake after a fairly sleepless night at six thirty, Louis is wide awake and wants a special "Grandad Breakfast", by this he means full English. Alice, has slept like a log on the futon and she keeps Louis amused with the dinosaur DVD on my laptop whilst I fry sausage, black pudding, bacon and eggs for breakfast with fried tomatoes, baked beans and toast on the side. This takes us until eight, then I shower and dress and then run Louis a bath and then bathe and dress him. Outside it has stopped raining but everywhere is still wet, nevertheless we put Norman on his lead and Louis and I take him for a walk whilst Alice has a shower and gets dressed. We head down Green Lane, through the snickett onto Carr Lane and walk down to the farm to see the baby Alpacca. He is snow white and quite inquisitive and comes to the front of the little herd to look at us. Afterwards we make our way down the. Lane to the little wooden bridge over the drain and I am surprised to see the water level within a foot of flooding the fields. We turn right and walk down the path alongside "Almost straight wood, as it's far too boggy to walk through there. Louis spots a slug and asks what it is and I tell him, we then have a competition to see who can spot the next one, but the game is too easy as there are slugs everywhere and after we get to twenty we call it a day. The morning is not cold but it remains cloudy, swallows are hunting insects above the water in the drain and they swoop and pirouette around us. At the end of the wood we turn right and follow the path over another bridge into the Churchfield estate and then turn right again through another snickett onto the Village Playing fields that Louis knows well. He is delighted that he now knows another way to my house and when we get back home he tells Alice he has had an "adventure". After we have loaded all their overnight gear into the car we drive back to Sarah's house and offload the gear and put Norman back in his basket, before walking through town to the library. It is Louis' first visit and whilst I enroll him, Alice takes him in the children's library to look for a book. Not surprisingly, he finds a book on dinosaurs and we spend half an hour or so there before he asks to be taken to the cafe upstairs. This cafe serves the library, art gallery and the council offices so is usually quite busy. Today is no exception but a party leave as we enter and we take their table. Louis and Alice choose chocolate cake from the menu to accompany their drinks, apple juice for Louis, hot chocolate for Alice and I settle for just tea as breakfast is still recent. Afterwards we make our way back through town, stopping to buy strawberries on the market, which Louis samples on our way home. I drop them off at noon, drive home and sleep for a couple of hours. When I get up I put on a wash load of towels and then make some bechamel sauce for my cannelloni al forno. Whilst this cools I stuff the pasta tubes with the lamb mice tomato sauce from the slow cooker and then layer bechamel sauce, pasta, mozzarella in a red iron ware dish and top it off with nutmeg and fresh Parmesan. I leave the dish to stand for half an hour whilst I read the Guardian on my iPad, and then put it in the oven to cook for half an hour. It starts to rain heavily and I bring in the towels and dry them on the radiator and what seems like only a few minutes later the oven pings to tell me the cannelloni are cooked. When I take the dish out of the oven it looks beautiful, browned on the top with the cheese sauce still spitting and bubbling. It gives off a lovely aroma as I set it to cool for ten minutes whilst pouring myself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. I think it will probably do me for two meals, but it tastes too good and the wine and pasta chase each other down my throat and into my stomach. By the time the last cannelloni has been eaten, I find I have seen off almost three quarters of a bottle of wine. The impact, on someone who doesn't drink much, doesn't take long and by half past eight I am so tired and sleepy that I call it a day and hit the sack.

The sleepover Friday 22/6/12

Wake to another soggy morning, the rain is bouncing off the garden table and squally winds are buffeting the hedges. Make smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast for breakfast with my usual black Italian coffee. I have Louis and Alice, to stay overnight, whilst Sarah attends her graduation ball in Huddersfield with her boyfriend, Richard. Once her insurance comes through, she will be starting in business as a fully qualified podiatrist, doing supply teaching to make her income whilst the clientele grows. I am meeting her for coffee in Beverley at eleven, so after washing and dressing, drive to Cherry and take the dogs out for Pip. It's too wet for the Westwood so they have to stay on the lead and patrol the village again. They seem to understand and walk nicely on the lead and toilet on the grass, which I collect and deposit in one of the bins near the duck pond. Fortunately the rain has eased to the odd spot and I don't need the umbrella. I collect Sarah, as arranged and we wander through town to the Orange shop, her contract on her IPhone has ended and she resists the temptation to upgrade her phone and moves on to a tariff that saves her fifteen pounds a month. Afterwards we have our coffee in the Costa cafe on Toll Gavel and chat about her business before walking back to her house in North Bar, where my car is parked. She has to get ready for the ball and I have a few things to do before collecting Louis at three fifteen. When I get home I meditate for an hour and then make cheese and tomato sandwiches, using up the rye bread and the last of the mature Gouda with a pot of tea. It is raining again steadily when I collect Louis from school, but I have a plan, I have his swimming togs in the boot, along with mine and we drive the twelve miles to Hornsea to the swimming pool there. Beverley is busy with swimming lessons. We play for an hour in the pool and then, after we change, make our way across the car park to Sullivan's fish and chip restaurant. There is only one other middle aged couple in there, so we are served promptly and our meals arrive moments later. Louis is starving and eats all his fish and chips and four slices of bread and butter, I eat all mine as well, the haddock is fresh and beautifully cooked and presented. After dinner we walk on the beach for ten minutes or so, but it begins to rain again, so we drive back to Beverley and collect Alice from North Bar. She is a little put out that we have been to Sullivan's but as she finishes school much later than Louis, is placated when I promise to make fish and chips at my house for her. When we get in Alice keeps Louis amused watching a DVD about dinosaurs on my lap top whilst I knock up fish fingers, chips and beans for her in the kitchen. Whilst she eats I set up the futon in the lounge and draw the short straw and have to sleep with Louis in the double bed. We put him to bed around a quarter to eight and it is my job to tell him a bed time story. Since he visited the Natural History museum on his birthday trip to London with Clement, Louis has become obsessed with dinosaurs, which makes a change from Power Rangers. We were all getting bored with them! As ever his story is about Beverley in the olden days when it was a tropical mangrove swamp with a beach onto the sea and dinosaur roamed everywhere. In the story, cave boy Louis is taken out in a canoe for the first time and taught how to fish with a net by his Grandad and Uncle Andrew. Of course he catches a fish and they survive attacks by sharks, crocodiles and pterodactyl, anyway it does the trick and within half an hour we are both asleep. I wake up at ten and get up to talk to Alice but she has gone to bed, so just have a glass of milk and some oaties and read the Guardian on my iPad for an hour before turning in just before midnight.

Solstice

June 21st, the first day of summer, the day of the solstice, outside it's pouring with rain, the garden is nicely green and there are briar roses in the hedge but it is still very, very wet. Breakfast on a full English with tea, then listen to the news and Melvyn Bragg on Annie Besant, in the hope the rain will ease but it doesn't. Drive to Cherry for ten fifteen, dressed in an Australian stockman's coat, that Leslie gave me and a hat, I also take a golf umbrella against the downpour. The dogs and I just do a toilet walk round the village, it's about a mile in total and they can't go off the lead, but it's the best I can do for them today. The trees and the flowers have a different hue in the rain, a kind of luminosity and presence that is absent in sunlight and even when it's grey and dry. It is poignant, ethereal and quite, quite beautiful. After the walk I drive to the pool, I had intended to run today but don't feel masochistically inclined, so will get wet indoors instead.I have to share a double lane with three other swimmers, but that's OK, I am still easing myself back into exercise after my chest infection. I repeat yesterday's session easy 400's on freestyle, backstroke and breaststroke and then 4 x 100m IM's a bit quicker and then 2 x 200m on freestyle and backstroke to finish off. Needless to say my concentration on perfect technique continues, it's not achievable but it's a good focus. My stroke counts hold 13, front crawl, 17, backstroke, 7 1/2 breastroke, 8 1/2 fly. Tomorrow I have Louis from three o'clock until lunchtime Saturday and if the wet weather continues will take him swimming to burn up some energy. After showering and changing eat a scone and tea in the cafe, no lunch today as I have savoury lamb mince slow cooking at home. On my way back to Tickton, call at Morrison's to buy more rye bread but they have sold out so just replenish on English breakfast stock. Back home I meditate for a while and then peel the vegetables and potatoes and put them in the pressure cooker for ten minutes and a late lunch is ready. Savoury mince on mashed potatoes with buttered cabbage and swede and parsnip mash, a good meal for a wet day. I still have quite a bit of mince remaining so add a tin of chopped tomatoes, a little garlic and oregano and put the slow cooker on low. Slow magic will turn it into a nice pasta sauce for tomorrow or Saturday. Sarah texts to say that Alice wants to come as well tomorrow, which is nice but as I have no TV, I hope she doesn't get bored. I use the motivation of visitors to clean up, the house doesn't get dirty when your on your own but a vac through and a mop of the bathroom and kitchen floors doesn't hurt. Afterwards I have a glass of milk and some oaties and listen to the last hour of Mantel's book, which is good but not as enjoyable as "Wolf Hall", largely because the narrator is different and not as good. To bed at midnight.

Sunshine and swim

Wake at 8:30, it's a lovely day again, breakfast on rye toast and honey with strong, black, Italian coffee and then drive to Cherry for ten o'clock to take the dogs on the Westwood. In Newbegin pits meadow there are buttercups everywhere, the dogs love it here, lots of friends for them to meet and rabbits to chase. We take our way round our usual loop in the warm sunshine but to the west clouds are starting to gather and the forecast is for rain from tonight for the next few days. After dropping the dogs back at Cherry, make my way to the leisure centre for noon, and find a spare lane in the pool. I have only swum twice in the last three weeks so ease back into things by swimming 4 x 400m at an easy pace and 4 x 100m IM. Afterwards eat lunch in the cafe, Thai fish cakes with salad and roast potatoes and then drive to Tesco's where I park and then walk through town to Boyes where I buy some spare trouser buttons for my shorts and then make my way back and drive home. Meditate and rest for an hour and then make tea and sourdough white bread and jam for tea. Later listen to Mantel's "Bringing up the bodies", and then go to bed around eleven thirty.

A sunny day.

Wake at twenty past six to a beautiful sunny summer's morning and then breakfast on rye toast with honey and strong, black, Italian coffee. My catarrh is slightly better but I will give it another day before risking a swim. Shower, dress and drive to Cherry for twenty past eight and then ferry Louis to St. Mary's. Then take the dogs on the Westwood, which has dried out a little after a days sunshine. We see Jan Morrison and her little dachshund, Toffee, in the meadow in Newbegin Pits and chat for a while, before making our way to Black Mill. The forecast is for another good day tomorrow and then wind and rain for the end of the week. When we get back to Cherry I mow the lawn and then drive back to Tickton, where I make a pot of tea and then knock up a batch of oaties. Whilst the oven is hot I put the roast potatoes and parsnips and roast beef into re-heat, and when they are done put the swede and carrot mash and cabbage in the microwave. The resultant lunch is good, but not as good as it was fresh on Saturday. After lunch, rest for an hour and then mow the lawns and weed the garden. This done I read some more of Vermes, before collecting Louis from Hector's House at five thirty and taking him back to Sarah's. On my way home call at the supermarket for more fruit and a French stick and when I get in make bread and cheese with spring onion for tea. The mature Amsterdam Gouda is spectacularly good. Later watch England beat Ukraine 1:0 on my iPad before going to bed.

Slight relapse

Wake at 6:30 to the alarm and make a full English breakfast and tea. It's raining outside but the sky is clearing and fine weather is forecast for the next few days. Slept well last night despite a recurrence of my bronchial catarrh, perhaps it would be prudent to stay out of the pool until it has completely cleared. Shower, dress and drive to Cherry to collect Louis and take him to school. We arrive a little early and he gets the chance to run off some energy before school commences. Louis makes me laugh, he has such a surfeit of energy, always running and never tired. Just like his dad, Paul. Drive back to Cherry, load the dogs and take them to the Westwood, they are a bit stir crazy as they haven't been off the lead since last Wednesday. The rain has stopped and the sky is clearing, and soon I have to take off my jacket and then my jumper, as the sun comes out. All the trees that were flowering a short month ago are now starting to produce fruit and the abundant rain will ensure a bumper crop in the autumn. I let Dolly have an extra ten minutes off the lead as Teddy usually gets the lion's share. They are both glad to see me and much calmer after they have run off some pent up energy. Kids and dogs have much the same needs, love, food and lots of exercise! After dropping the dogs back with Pip, I drive into town and park at Tesco's and then walk to the library, but there is nothing that I haven't already read, or at least nothing that catches my eye. Walking back to the car, I feel suddenly tired and pausing only to buy some more fruit for Louis and a French stick, I drive straight home. Once in, I put the kettle on and make tea, then slice the baguette and make beef salad sandwiches of it and eat these in the garden. The midday sun burns hotly and I am forced to put the umbrella up whilst eating. Afterwards my attempt to read another book by Vermes ends in failure, no fault of his, just overwhelming tiredness. I set the alarm on my phone for ten to three and lie down until it's time to collect Louis. After collecting him, we go to the park opposite our doctors on Manor Road and he plays with the other children, happily, for an hour or so, until it's time to take him back to Cherry. Back home I make a pancake with lemon juice and Splenda from the left over Yorkshire pudding batter from Saturday. Then spend an hour breathing new life into my lap top, in order to redeem the iTunes voucher Andrew gave me for Fathers Day. After using my iPad and iPhone, I find using windows so slow and painful, it seems to take forever. I use the voucher to buy the audio book of Hilary Mantel's "Bringing up the bodies", her sequel to Wolf Hall. After rye and cheese sandwiches, listen to the first few chapters before calling it a day.

Father's Day.

Wake to the alarm at seven and open the bedroom window onto a fine morning, it's sunny, but with a fair bit of cloud. Make a full English breakfast with tea and take it into the garden room, where I eat whilst listening to the news. Shower, dress and drive to Saint John's for nine o'clock mass and arrive by quarter to. After communion, drive to Molescroft and collect Leslie for coffee, when I ask him where he would like to go? He replies, "anywhere except the Beverley Arms", It really was that bad last week. Despite the Folk Festival, we decide to risk Caffee Nero, in Saturday Market, and our faith is rewarded as there is ample parking. We discuss a number of things including Neil Ferguson's upcoming Reith Lectures on radio 4, Ferguson's thesis is that the West is in decline because democratic governments appease their electorates by providing benefits that cannot be afforded and thus pass on unsustainable debts to the next generation. A corollary to this is that irresponsible borrowers are the cause of the problem, as much as irresponsible lenders. Leslie buys this, I don't. The Marxist analysis highlights the fact that western governments have been subsidising the owners of capital by using government spending to support workers who are paid below the level necessary to support their families and when even these jobs have been exported to even lower wage economies in the east, the resulting mass unemployed have been placated by welfare. Otherwise the whole system would have erupted in violence years ago. The debts are owned by the whole population, the profits only by the capital owning elite. Leslie and I are never going to agree on this, but nonetheless, we remain friends. After taking him home, I fill the car at Morrisons, and drive back to Tickton. Andrew texts to say he has my Father's day card and a gift and enquiries what I'm doing. I reply and tell him that I'm going with Sarah to the coast and invite him along. Unfortunately he can't make it, so will see me later in the week, perhaps. Sarah arrives, ten minutes late as usual, you could set your watch by it, and tells me she has to go to Asda in Hull as she needs postal orders to send off with her registration as a certified podiatrist, and that's the only post office open on a Sunday. I take Louis to East Park in Hull and Sarah meets up with us after doing her errand. The weather is quite decent, occasional hot bursts of sunshine amidst generally mild and cloudy weather. Louis plays in the paddling pool for an hour and then we dry him and he plays in the recreation area with the other kids for a while. We just manage to visit the small zoo before closing time, and then finish the afternoon in the park cafe. I chat to Sarah whilst he plays, and she tells me that she has to go to University tomorrow and Tuesday, so I'm chauffeuring this week again. The Lake District will have to wait. We part company at five and on my way home I decide to call at the pub at Hull Bridge. I order a pint of Jennings Lake District bitter and a bag of salted peanuts, it's the closest I will get to Cumbria this week! The beer is rather good so have a second before heading home for a tea of roast beef sandwiches. Later I finish my LeCarre novel and then have an early night.

Mummers, Morris Men and the Roast Beef of Olde England

Wake at a quarter to eight and make a full English breakfast with tea and eat this whilst listening to the first episode of "Ulysses, the Martello tower", on radio 4. Like almost everyone else, I tried reading the book and failed years ago, although I had liked "Dubliners and Portrait of the Artist as a young man". As a dramatised audio production it is much easier to follow and I shall download the other episodes and finish the book this way. The weather forecast for Scarborough has deteriorated, so I will stay local today. As its market day, I will go to Beverley, there are one or two things I need and I like the buzz on a Saturday. I drive to town and park on Manor Road, near Saint Mary's, Louis' school, and walk the half mile or so to the market. The forecast was fine for Beverley, but it's cloudy and spitting rain as I reach town, just hope my coloured washing dries that I pegged out before I left. At Market Cross a group of Morris men are performing and there are Mummers playing between Toll Gavel and Butcher Row. It's all part of the folk festival and the performers, they look like solicitors and estate agents mostly, are giving it some Welly! In "Harrods", as we call it, or Boyes general store, as it's properly named, I buy a new telephone cord, a milk jug and some cook's whisks. The whole lot costing less than a fiver. Outside in Wednesday Market another folk group are performing, the usual buskers that occupy the town on Market day must have been given their marching orders for the festival. A pity, they have more talent! I make my way back towards Saturday Market and find a hardback copy of Annie Proulx's "Accordian Crimes" in a charity bookshop for £3.50. I will donate it to the library once read. I try to buy beef dripping, in which to roast my brisket, but there's none to be had. We seem to obsess about low fat, when the real villain is sugar, the scientific evidence has been suppressed, but is now starting to emerge. As I make my way round the market, I resist the temptation to buy aubergine and other vegetables as I don't want to have to lug the weight all the way back to the car. It comes on to rain quite heavily, so take shelter in Perk-u-later, where I order a tea and a scone. I read the intro to the Proulx book whilst eating the snack and get a text from Sarah asking me out for Father's Day. We settle on a trip to Hornsea, I will take Louis swimming whilst she and Alice visit the Freeport and then we will all have fish and chips at Sullivan's. On my way back to the car I pop into Tesco's and buy some cannelloni, lemon juice and mature Gouda cheese. I get home for two and miraculously my washing has dried, so I fetch it in before the next shower. Then set too to prepare dinner, after first finishing off the last slice of smoked salmon with Philadelphia cheese on rye toast, sprinkled with lemon and black pepper. Another episode of Joyce is on as I peel the parsnips and roasting potatoes, it really is very well done. I stick the oven on at 180c, rest the brisket on the vegetables in the roasting dish and leave it to cook slowly for a couple of hours. Once it's in the oven, I peel some carrots and turnips, chop some cabbage and then stick these in the pressure cooker, so that they are ready to go when the meat is cooked. The forecast for next week is good and I am tempted to take the car and head off for a few days walking in the lake district. After a bit of web searching, I find a bed and breakfast in Kendal for four nights at £120. Unless I am urgently needed, I am sorely tempted to bunk off for a few days. The alarm on the oven sounds, and I take the meat and roast vegetables and put them in a separate roasting tin, drain some dripping from the original dish into an ovenware dish for Yorkshire pudding, turn the oven up to turbo heat and put the meat and veg back in to brown. Put the pressure cooker on to boil and then make a gravy with the juices from the beef and put that on a low heat to reduce. The Yorkshire pudding batter I had whipped up earlier, and so, once the fat in the ovenware is smoking, I pour the batter in the dish and put it back in the oven. The meat, parsnips and potatoes are nicely browned, cover these with kitchen foil and leave them to rest, whilst draining the cabbage and mashing the carrots and turnips with a little butter and ground lack pepper. Carve the beef, plate the nicely risen Yorkshire pudding and lay the beef, roast vegetables, carrot and turnip mash and cabbage on top and then add gravy. As my kitchen is quite small the choreography for a roast beef dinner with all the trimmings is a bit of a fuss, particularly when I could have gone to a carvery for a fiver! Still the result tastes very good and the meat will feed me for two or three days. After dinner, I wash up and then settle down to read the only LeCarre I have not yet read, it was published in 1962, and may well have been his first novel. Around nine o'clock I make a beef sandwich and then read on until bedtime.

Sunshine and showers

Wake late at a quarter to nine again, after reading until one last night. Outside it's grey and wet and I make smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast for breakfast, because once the packet is opened it has to be eaten quickly. Over coffee in the garden room I plan my day, I have no dog walking or school run duties, so the day is my own. I decide that I will go for a swim, visit the library and potter round town for a bit and have lunch out. Before leaving, I put on half a load of white washing and then make a list of things I need whilst I'm out. I arrive at the leisure centre about eleven and am surprised that there is still plenty of parking, in spite of the folk festival. When I get in the pool the schools are in and I share a double lane with three other swimmers, after waiting for a gap I push off and warm up on 400m freestyle. I have pretty much made up my mind to repeat Wednesday's 2,000m session, I feel better today and am moving better, so it doesn't take quite as long. The front crawl is followed by backstroke, then breaststroke, 4 x 100 IM and a warm down on 200m free followed by 200m backstroke. Next week I will go back to doing equal distance in each stroke, I have been going easy on the fly until I am fully recovered. After showering and changing I walk to the library and return Gaza Vermes on " The Gospel of Jesus the Jew", I also donate four books from charity shops I have acquired, a mixture of AS Byatt, Cormack McCarthy and Ian Rankin. Afterwards I wander through town with of the librarians on her lunch break, but part company in Dyer Lane, as I have decided to eat lunch outside at Perk-u-later, as the sun has come out and it's lovely and warm. By the time I have ordered my salmon fish cakes and salad, the sky has darkened and a thunderstorm is cutting loose. Fortunately there are plenty of tables inside and after I have eaten lunch and read a chapter of my book, over tea, the storm has passed. I call at the supermarket for some more breakfast tea and Splenda but get seduced by a joint of brisket on special offer and then have to buy parsnips and cabbage to go with it. In the end I walk away with a couple of bags of groceries, some more fruit I will need over the weekend and some tinned peaches and yogurt. My car is at the leisure centre, half a mile away, because I'd figured there wouldn't be much to carry. Fortunately I make it back just as it starts to rain and watch an intense cloudburst from the dry safety of my car, before driving home. Back indoors, I pour a glass of milk and take a couple of oaties and watch the downpour from the garden room. Half an hour later the sun is shining strongly again, so I hang out my whites and put a load of coloureds on to wash and then sit in the sun and settle down to read my book. Summer is short lived and in less than half an hour, I am driven back indoors by another thunderstorm, I hang some whites in the bathroom and my undies on the radiator. The weather forecast is unsettled for the rest of the weekend but once the folk festival is over, next week is set to be fine and sunny. I read a John Grisham legal thriller until bedtime, with a break for cheese and gherkin sandwiches around half past eight. There is a Beverley Ramblers 10 mile walk from Scarborough to Filey tomorrow, which I am tempted to do, but the forecast is showery. I will see how I feel in the morning.

A good long walk

Wake at 5:30 after a good night's sleep then roll over and don't wake up until nine o'clock and then face the dilemma of whether to rush to catch the five to ten Scarborough bus or not. Short of the house being on fire, rushing is a bad idea, so make breakfast, smoked salmon with cream cheese on rye toast with black coffee, and take this in the garden room. Outside it's cloudy but dry, and I settle to going for a long walk locally, so after showering and dressing, put on my walking boots and then pack my medium size bum bag. The contents include a cagoule, hat, two oranges, an apple, five fruit oaties and a bottle of water. Bum bags are better than rucksacks because the weight is carried lower and hence the back and neck don't get tired. I'm wearing just jeans, shirt and a golf jumper, which is light but wind proof, the weather is cool outside, but I feel comfortable. I make my way to Hull bridge via the snickett to Carr Lane and then through the village and onto Weel Road. Once over the footbridge, I turn north and follow the path, after ten minutes, or so, I get a text from Sarah to say she has passed her exams, I text back my congratulations, she has passed her podiatry degree. No mean feat when you are a single mum with three kids and a sixty mile each way commute! I am walking alongside the west bank of the river Hull, after another half a mile I meet old Eric and his border terrier, just opposite a new woodland, called Storkhill Wood, Eric is an old East Riding country lad and knows everybody and everything in the town. I stop and chat for ten minutes and he gives me the background to the wood, a local farmer did a deal with DEFRA, and donated it for public use apparently. After waving Eric goodbye I continue up the path on the top of the levee, the grass has grown knee high either side of the narrow path and soon my jeans bottoms are wet. An easterly wind is blowing but I still feel warm enough, after another half a mile I cross a style and the grass is short again, because cows are grazing on the land between the river and Barmston drain, a man made waterway that runs parallel to the Hull. There are ducks nesting in the reeds on the drain and the mother flies off as a decoy, whilst the tiny ducklings speed and hide back under cover. A little further on two swans are swimming by the bridge that leads over the drain to Arram Road, the bridge is opposite Eske nature reserve that I ran round a few weeks ago. Over the bridge and past the farm, I turn left onto a bridle path, there are wheat fields either side of me and bright red poppies flowering at their edge. I have been walking for an hour plus the ten minutes stopping for a chat with Eric. The bridle path comes to a T junction, left goes back to the river and right leads south towards the airfield at Leconfield. This is a road less travelled and the path is less distinct and the grass long again, after half a mile, I come to the abandoned farm house, overgrown with brambles and elders and speculate about what it would take to put it back together. The location is wonderful at least a mile from the nearest road and only the noise from an occasional train on the Hull to Scarborough line to bother you. The crossing over the line is about a quarter of a mile further on and once I'm safely over, a southbound diesel rumbles past. I am now following the Minster Way, a long distance path that links York and Beverley Minsters, hence the name. It runs parallel to the railway line for a quarter of a mile and then turns west to Chestnut farm, which has a for sale sign up. From the farm there is a metalled road for half a mile before the path diverts along a hedge by more wheat and brings me out on the bypass, opposite the Hayride pub. Across the road and through the pub car park, the Minster Way joins the Hudson Way, which is macadammed for the next half mile. It brings me out on the Copandale estate, and from here it's only another mile to the leisure centre, where I plan to have a break for lunch. I make my way through the town centre and buy a Guardian to read over lunch, walking down Eastgate, where I used to live, I decide to walk past the Friary and use the footbridge over the railway line. From the top of the bridge I have a birds eye view of the new Flemingate development, the site is now cleared and foundations for the new buildings are being laid. This time next year it will be completed and we will have a new multiplex cinema and theatre, as well as shops, an hotel and houses on the site. From here it's only a short walk to the leisure centre and I arrive about a quarter to two, just over three hours since leaving home. The visitor village and concert tents for the folk festival are all up and the staff in the centre are beavering away to get ready for the thousands of tourists who will arrive tomorrow. There are no specials on the menu, just sausage and bacon sandwiches, so I just order tea and eat my oaties, whilst reading the paper and doing the sudoku puzzle. I leave at ten to three and make my way back via Beckside where the water lilly are starting to bloom. From Beckside I make my way back to the river Hull and walk along the wall on the eastern bank. In one of the boatyards someone has made a small boat into a U-boat, further along there are a flock of geese by the river and all the ponies are back on swinemoor grazing. After a mile or so, I come to the path that takes me home across the fields, which are also sown to wheat. Hundreds of rabbits scamper out of the field and into the wood as I walk past, before making my way into the plantation and through "almost straight wood" and then back across the little wooden bridge over the drain to Carr Lane. Down the lane, at the farm, half a dozen baby alpaca are grazing in the paddock next to the farm house. I thought they were Llama's but the local paper corrected my error. Back through the snickett onto Green Lane and I'm home, six hours after I left, a walk of between ten and twelve miles. I take off my muddy boots and then once indoors, put the kettle on and start to prepare dinner. I have some cannelloni, stuffed with the last of the lamb mince in tomato sauce, that I made last night, so all I need to do is knock up a bechamel sauce and stick it in the oven for half an hour. I drink tea and listen to the news whilst my cannelloni cooks, the alarm on the oven tells me it's ready about six. I'm starving, but have to wait ten minutes for it to cool, but then I eat the lot. No leftovers today! Dessert is tinned figs and yogurt and then later I read until bedtime. It's wonderful to feel well again!

A day of mixed blessings

Wake at seven and make a full English for breakfast, washed down by a teapot of strong tea. It's another grey morning outside, but at least it's dry. After showering and dressing, leave the house around nine and arrive at Cherry at quarter past, load up the dogs and drive them to the Westwood. As we make our way round, I get a call from Felicity to say she's under the weather and won't be going to the Poppy Seed for coffee, this removes any time pressure and the dogs and I stroll leisurely round our usual route. As we walk round Newbald Pits wood the sun comes out and, as I look at the flowers and trees and the meadow, I wonder whether the garden of Eden might have been like this? A voice comes into my head. It says "look again", and I do and have a sudden satori. The trees are luminously present and the world is always already, perfect in every way. "the kingdom of heaven is nigh", could Jesus have meant that it was "now", immanent, and if only we could shake off the shackles of language, and stop this endless ricocheting between past and future, constantly obsessed by fears and desires, that we might find real peace in the living moment. These short periods of enlightenment are essentially ineffable and fade as soon as the normal mental chatter resumes, but are nonetheless moments of great peace and beauty. As we arrive back in Cherry, Sarah's car approaches from the opposite direction, Clement gets out and tells me Sarah has gone to the village post office to collect her family allowance. As we take the dogs in the house, he starts to tell me about Louis' trip to London and that he, Clement, is getting the one o'clock bus to London from Hull. Clement tells Pip he's here, she is upstairs, and that Sarah won't be long as I put the kettle on. I shout up to Pip to ask if she wants coffee and she says no, so I make tea for me and coffee for Sarah, whilst Clement explains he has to flat hunt with friends for next year. Sarah comes in the kitchen and tells me that Pip is furious because I have made drinks, and that she and Clement are leaving to drive to Hull. I give Clement a hug, as I won't see him now until September and then leave and drive to Beverley. As I get to the end of Bishop Burton Road, Sarah phones to say Teddy has escaped and that I have to turn round and go back. I do and when I get back to Cherry, Teddy is sat on Pip's knee. She tells me not to come until Monday as she will be out, and Andrew will take the dogs. This unreasonable anger and petty selfishness, is why I chose to live on my own. I retrace my steps and drive to Beverley and park at Saint John's, I promised Josh's dad that I would light a candle and say a prayer for him today. I pray that all those performing the transplant operation will be helped and say a special prayer for him and his family. I also pray for Pip and me and our family. Afterwards I drive to the leisure centre for a swim, when I get there marquees are being erected on the sports field for the "folk music festival", that starts on Friday. The pool is fairly quiet and I warm up on 400m easy freestyle and feel terrible, but persevere and follow this with 400m backstroke and feel a little better, a further 400m breaststroke feels better still, so I put in 4 x 100m individual medleys at medium pace and find my mojo's back, not wanting to push my luck I warm down with an easy 400m backstroke. After showering and changing, I order an Aberdeen Angus beef burger with salad for lunch in the cafe with a pot of tea. On my way home I call at the supermarket for some maggi seasoning and some washing up liquid. Once indoors, having unpacked the shopping I meditate and then rest until four. Make a pot of tea and some oat biscuits with goats cheese and then set too and spring clean the bedroom. This done I put the oven on, knock up a batch of fruit oat biscuits and then put the pasta bake, I prepped this morning, in the oven for dinner. I eat around eight and then catch the second half of Holland v Germany, 1:2 , before putting some cannelloni into the remaining pasta sauce and popping these back in the oven for an hour. They will make lunch or dinner tomorrow. I have discovered that there is a bus to Scarborough that stops in Tickton at five to ten, and seeing that I'm banned from taking the dogs out, I may have a day at the seaside.

In a Tudor Garden.

Wake at seven thirty and breakfast on porridge and tea, outside it's grey and cloudy, although better weather is forecast for later in the day. Wash, dress and drive to Cherry for nine fifteen and take the dogs on the Westwood. It's a cool morning the reading on my car says eleven degrees centigrade, but you can knock a few degrees off that due to the northerly wind. As we walk towards Black Mill we see old Di and her dog, Rocky and Pat from Wood Lane, with her black Labrador, Dora. Everyone is waiting for summer to return. We get back to Cherry for ten thirty, and after giving the dogs a treat, I set too and mow the lawns, this doesn't take too long so I also trim the southern hedges. Working steadily until one o'clock, I have my swimming gear with me, but perhaps today is too early, as I feel tired after gardening. Deciding to err on the side of caution, I head for home but first call in at the supermarket for fruit, salad, some vegetables and a French stick. When I get home, after unpacking the shopping, make a tossed salad to accompany the cold pork chop from Sunday and eat this with sliced, buttered French stick, washed down with a large glass of Chardonnay. After lunch I finish off my wine in the garden room and put an audio book of Hilary Mantel's "Wolf Hall", on my iPad. It's two years since I first heard it but it's well worth listening to twice. The rest of the afternoon and evening are spent in Tudor England, with breaks for dessert, tinned peaches and yogurt, and tea, French stick and honey. The spring cleaning and swimming postponed to see how I feel tomorrow.

Recovery

Wake before the alarm at half past six and open the window to a cool, grey, morning. I make a full English breakfast and strong, black, Italian coffee and take this into the garden room and eat it whilst listening to the news on radio 4. About half past seven, shower and dress and then leave the house by ten past eight to drive to Cherry to ferry Alice to school. Sarah has the last of her final exams today and then, all being well, she will be awarded her degree and be able to practise as a podiatrist. After dropping her off I go back and collect Teddy and Dolly and take them to the Westwood. They are very excited as they haven't been let off the lead since Thursday. Newbegin Pits woods are wet and muddy and the "Pit of Death", where the Tarzan swing is hung from a large tree, has filled with muddy water. Fortunately there is little wind so whilst it's cool it's not cold. After returning the dogs I intend to mow the lawns at Cherry but Pip tells me that Andrew has a telephone board meeting, so leave it until tomorrow. After driving back to Tickton I take the opportunity to mow the lawns at home and then, finding that I still have energy, iron the remaining shirts left from my washing, whilst listening to an audiobook on my iPad. Finish this by two o'clock and then peel some carrots and potatoes and put these in the pressure cooker along with some frozen spinach. Ten minutes later I am ready to eat my lunch, mashed potatoes, carrots, spinach and savoury lamb mince. It is just what I needed, after lunch I sleep for a couple of hours and wake full of energy. After a pot of tea some rye toast with honey I catch the France v England football match, which ends in a one all draw. After this complete the clear up in my bedroom and iron some bedding. It's now ready for spring cleaning, which I should do tomorrow. My chest seems to have cleared and my energy levels seem to be back to normal.

Beverley Arms Hotel revisited

Wake to a better morning at seven, outside the sun is shining, so after putting the kettle and some toast on, peg out a line of whites I washed yesterday. Whilst my Italian coffee filtered put in a coloured wash and the spread cream cheese and the last of the smoked salmon on my toast. I eat my breakfast in the garden room and then shower and dress for mass, driving to Saint John's for a quarter to nine. Before the service I say a prayer for Dan and for Josh's Dad,before his transplant on Wednesday. Today is Corpus Christi, and the hymns reflect the holy day. After communion I am reminded of an insight that has been opened to me several times, but which I continue to forget. True contentment lies in letting go of our neurotic need to be in control, to accept that a higher power is working, and accept the hand we are dealt with. Luckily I get through the service without coughing although the catarrh is worse today. After mass I collect Leslie and we decide to go to the Beverley Arms Hotel for coffee. It used to be our regular haunt on a Sunday for many years, but then it got taken over by a succession of major hotel chains and gradually declined into mediocrity. The reason we are trying it again, is that it has gone back into private ownership, Leslie met the new owner when he booked rooms for his family, who are coming up for his ninetieth birthday later in the month. The service is slow and the floor dirty, not good signs. Leslie orders his usual Americano and I tea, we both order toasted rescaled. The tea cakes are OK but Leslie's coffee is served in a weird glass mug and my tea has been made with cheap catering tea bags. The waiter tells us the new owner is the former manager. Leslie and I agree that the poor standards before he bought the place have been maintained. It's a shame because it's a lovely old historic building, directly opposite Saint Mary's church in North Bar. After dropping Leslie off I call at the supermarket and buy some pork chops and lamb mince. When I get home, after bringing in the whites and pegging out the coloureds, I prepare the mince and put it in the slow cooker and then fry off the pork chops and cover them with kitchen roll and leave them to cool. This done I eat some crusty bread and the last of the Camembert, supplemented with a little hard English goat's cheese for lunch. By now my energy levels are flagging and settle down to read a thriller by Ian Rankin, it's boys own stuff, but entertaining. I read it straight through with a break for dinner, a cold pork chop, tossed salad, crusty bread and a glass of Chardonay. I wrap the other chop in kitchen roll and put it in the fridge for another day. I finish the book by eleven and then turn off the slow cooker and go to bed.

Raining cats and dogs on market day

Wake at eight, the bronchitis is now obvious, my voice is deep and hoarse and coughing brings up unpleasant smelling green phlegm. It is cloudy outside and I have no dog walking or taxi duties today, so make a full English breakfast and eat this at leisure in the garden room, washed down with copious amounts of tea. After showering and dressing, phone Felicity and explain that I won't be sharing my germs at the Poppy Seed this morning and then read Geza Vermes, on early Christianity for an hour. Towards noon I drive into town to collect a book that I ordered from the library, parking at the leisure centre and walking via the Minster into town. It begins to rain heavily, but fortunately I have a golf umbrella with me and remain dry. After collecting my book, another Vermes, "The Gospel of Jesus the Jew", I walk through town to the market, and as I do so, the heavens open, so fierce is the downpour that it clears the streets. People are herded into shops and doorways, or squeeze into already crowded cafes. Despite my large umbrella, the bottom of my jeans get wet, and when I arrive in Saturday market, the place is deserted. I drink a large, black, Americano in Perk-u-later, which despite the naff name, is OK. The owner is a Londoner and a West Ham fan and has a large picture of Trevor Brooking on the wall and a signed shirt. I read Vermes until the rain stops and then make my way back through town to my car, and then drive home. There is another downpour as I get out of the car and into the house, and I have to hang my raincoat out to dry in the bathroom. Later, I make a lamb pilaf with a couple of old capsicums, an onion and my last frozen lamb chop and lamburger, which I dice and fry with chile, garlic, ginger and coriander powder. To this I add the chopped onion and peppers, a cup of paella rice and half a pint of boiling water soaked with saffron. When the rice has absorbed all the water, I chop a few sprigs of fresh coriander, picked from the garden and sprinkle it over the rice, as a finishing touch. Frugal Dougal is my alter ego, as long as you have herbs and spices you can make a meal out of anything! After lunch I read and finish the Vermes book I collected from the library. It's a slim volume, less than eighty pages. It's thesis is that Jesus was a charismatic Galilean, Jewish teacher and holy man, whose teachings were primarily concerned with the existential relationship between ourselves and God and with each other. The translocation of the early church from its Jewish foundation into a Greco Roman environment has, in Vermes view, overlaid a lot of platonic philosophy and Greek mysticism on the essential teaching. Of course this finds resonance with me, because this stripped down Jesus, is much closer to Buddhist essentials. Although Jesus could never be said to be dispassionate! Later on I eat a few oatcakes and some smoked cheese and watch a large, white, barn owl hunting in the field, as darkness falls.
The main consequence of my illness is a reduction in energy levels and by half past nine I am ready to go to bed.

Louis' Birthday

Wake at seven to a wet and rainy morning and breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast with strong, black, Italian coffee. Today is Louis' fifth birthday and I am to collect him and Clement from Sarah's house in North Bar Without at a quarter past nine. I still feel under the weather but the symptoms have developed further I now have a cough and a hoarse throat. Bronchitis again, to which I am prone, so swallow a couple of paracetamol and then shower and dress and drive to Sarah's. Louis is in a high state of excitement for his birthday and can't wait to get to Kinderland in Hull, about ten miles away. His mum is picking up Pip from Cherry and is already there when we arrive. Kinderland, is an indoor play area and cafe set in a large industrial unit about a mile from the city centre. As soon as we arrive Louis takes off his shoes and dives into the play area with some friends. I end up talking with the father of one of Louis' friends, a tall Londoner from Camden, it transpires he has a chronic kidney disease and will have a transplant at Saint James' in Leeds on Wednesday. We talk about football and boxing and his three children, all of whom are autistic. Some people are dealt really tough hands, nevertheless, he is cheerful, optimistic and full of life. He's a lapsed catholic but I promise to light a candle and pray for him on Wednesday. Sarah's best and oldest friend, Linda, arrives with her daughter, Stephanie, who is Alice's age. She tells me that her husbands best friend, Dan, died of a sudden heart attack earlier in the week. We used to go to the football together and I only saw him last Saturday by Saint John's. At noon we adjourn to a private room for a birthday buffet and the cake and candles, Clement slips out and reappears a few minutes later as a Power Ranger, the kids swallow it, hook, line and sinker. The outfit suits Clement who is six foot two and athletically built. He will need all his strength to look after Louis in London when they go this afternoon. The whole thing wraps up about one, and as I'm not needed to taxi anyone home, I make my way into town to change my library books and then head home, feeling very tired. En route I buy a French stick, and eat this with some Camembert and a glass of claret, when I get in. After this late lunch I lie down and sleep until seven and then get up, make a pot of tea and read Geza Vermes on the passion until bedtime. If this bronchitis hasn't improved by Monday, I will have to see the doctor, the cool, wet, weather isn't helping either. Needless to say, exercise is out of the question until I'm well again.

A little better

Wake at eight to another grey morning breakfast on rye toast, honey and coffee and then shower and dress and drive to Cherry. It is spitting with rain as the dogs and I make our way round the Westwood, the cows, in strict accordance with country lore, are sat in groups keeping their seats dry. Fortunately any heavy rain holds off until we have completed our walk. I don't feel quite as tired today, but still less than 100 per cent fit. After dropping off the dogs, I drive to Sarah's to see Clement, he looks really well, Louis has had a haircut and looks like a mini version of his big brother. Alice is revising for her Gcse's and Sarah hasn't yet got back from University in Huddersfield. I chat to the kids and play with Louis for an hour, and then really do feel tired, so head home, calling at the supermarket en route for crusty bread and a few other bits. I get in around one and make ham sandwiches, with the fresh bread and then read until four. I feel a little better and so undertake a few chores, outside it is raining heavily, it's a good day to be indoors. Tomorrow is Louis' birthday and I will be on taxi duty ferrying Clement and Alice to Kinderland in Hull, where his party is being held, from 10-1200am. In the afternoon Clement is taking Louis on the train to London, so I have given him some money to spend at Hamley's toy shop. This evening meditate for an hour and then make a pork stir fry for dinner. Later read until bed time. Hope to feel better tomorrow.

A little off colour.

Wake at seven and make a full English breakfast, which I take and eat in the garden room and wash down with black, Italian coffee. Outside it's cloudy again and the path is still wet from the overnight rain. There are no rabbits in the field next to the garden, I think its because the grass has grown to a height of six inches or so, more than enough to hide a stalking cat or fox. There are at least two families of finches nesting in the hedge that separates my garden from the field, I can see them popping out and back with food for their chicks, as I eat my breakfast. Wash, dress and pack my swimming togs before driving to Cherry to take the dogs to the Westwood. Our walk is peaceful and without incident, it's cool today, and the grass is wet from the nights rain. The woods and meadow in Newbegin Pits are lush and green, whilst we prefer the sun, the plants are enjoying the rain. When I drop the dogs off I chat briefly with Alice and Louis, who have stayed with Pip overnight as Sarah is sitting one of her finals today. Louis is excited because Clement is arriving this afternoon and is taking Louis to London after his fifth birthday party on Friday.
I drive into Beverley and park as St. John's, then walk to the Poppy Seed for tea with some friends. Afterwards I walk through town to the library to change some books and then make my way back to the car. It's about half a mile each way to the library, and I have walked maybe two miles with the dogs, nothing really, but suddenly I feel exhausted. Swimming is off for today, I don't feel ill, but I don't feel right either. If there is no change in another week, I will see the doctor. I get back home for twelve and reheat the leftover lamb lunch from Monday, it's OK, but not as nice as when fresh. After lunch I sleep until a heavy shower wakes me at four thirty, get up feeling less tired but hardly full of beans. Make a pot of tea and drink it in the garden room, whilst watching a Utube video of a lecture by Geza Vermes, the world's leading expert on the Dead Sea Scrolls, he is an interesting man, a Hungarian Jew, who became a catholic priest in the order of Sion, in Louvain, did his doctoral thesis on the Scrolls, and is now professor of Jewish studies at the University of Oxford. I have ordered his book on Jesus from the Library. Later made some beef sandwiches and read until bedtime.

Cramps and gripes

Wake at 1:30am again, but this time with an agonising cramp in my right thigh, it eases after I stand up and then bend my knees, but I can feel the muscle on a hair trigger, ready to twitch into spasm again. Gingerly I make my way into the kitchen, lick the back of my hand, sprinkle it with salt and then lick it off. After a few minutes the medicine works and the muscles relax, it is unusually cold, so put an extra duvet on the bed and then sleep until eight. The cramp was probably caused by working in the sun all day yesterday and losing electrolytes. When I eventually get up, its dry but cloudy, breakfast on cream cheese, smoked salmon, toast and coffee and then phone Pip to arrange to take the dogs and mow the lawn at Cherry. My wife tells me that Andrew's girls, Laura and Rebecca are there, but that it's OK to come. After washing and dressing, I arrive at about quarter past nine and take the dogs on the Westwood, Andrew takes them out, but doesn't let them off the lead, so they are happy to get a run. We see old Diane and her Westie, Rocky, as we head towards Black Mill and the retired policeman who picks up litter and his Jack Russell, Elvis. There is a cold Northerly wind and rain is forecast for lunch time, but our walk is mercifully uneventful. Back at Cherry, Andrew and the girls come out to chat to me as I mow the lawns, he is taking them swimming later. As I finish off, I have an attack of the gripes again, my stomach has been rumbling for the past couple of days, and I make the toilet in the nick of time. On the way home I call at the supermarket to buy rye bread and some cleaning products and then head home, arriving around midday. I feel tired, although I haven't done much, perhaps I'm just a little under the weather. Don't feel much like exercising, so make tea and beef sandwiches for lunch and then read until four, falling asleep for an hour in the armchair in the garden room. When I wake up, make more tea and bread and honey, (Honig fuer der Koenig), again. My stomach rumbles on and I finish Zafron's "Shadow of The Wind", my oldest grandson, Clement, is just back from Barcelona today, and the book is set in that City. I shall give it to him when I see him on Thursday.

A simple day

Wake at 1:30 am with stomach cramps and a violent need to use the toilet. Fortunately I had some immodium tablets left from a previous attack and these quieten things down and I sleep until eight. This morning the sky is blue and the sun is shining brightly, after a breakfast of toast, honey and coffee, I shower and dress and plan my day. The main tasks are the gardens, the good weather is forecast only for today, so first, put on a coloured wash and then mow the lawns front and back, trim the edges and weed the flower beds. It's pleasant work sat on my little tripod stool in the sun, drinking tea as I work my way round the beds. Around Noon I break for half an hour and prepare lunch, a small leg of lamb that I rub with olive oil, rosemary, garlic, salt and black pepper. I place this on a bed of whole carrots, parsnips, potatoes and onion in a roasting tin and set it on a moderate heat in the oven. Whilst its cooking, I chop some spring cabbage and peel some more potatoes and put these in a pressure cooker for later. This done, I hang out my coloureds, put on a load of whites and then continue gardening until the work is done. Around two thirty break for lunch. The lamb and roast vegetables are cooked, but just need browning off, I remove the roasting tin lid and turn up the oven to full heat and then put the pressure cooker on. When the lamb and vegetables are browned, I remove them from the roasting tin and cover them with foil to rest, drain off the fat and then add some lamb stock and reduce this in the roasting tin, to make a gravy, drain the cabbage and potatoes, carve the meat and lunch is ready. I eat in the garden, the lamb is tender and the sweetness of the roast vegetables fully brings out its flavour. As ever there is enough left for lunch or dinner tomorrow. I save the bone and the fat for the dogs. After a black coffee, I bring in my coloureds, hang out the whites and then set too and wash and polish the car, and then vacuum the inside, it hasn't been done since Aunty Marion's funeral, almost a month ago. Whilst the vac is out, give the house a run through and then wash up and tidy up the kitchen. It's six o'clock now, so make a pot of tea and drink this sat on my garden bench, enjoying the late afternoon sun whilst reading my new book, "The Shadow of The Wind", by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. The sun dips behind the house at seven and suddenly it's cold, I bring in the washing, make some bread and honey and more tea, and then read until bedtime. A simple but good day, tomorrow, all being well, I will mow the lawns at Cherry after taking the dogs out.

Long to rain over us.

Wake at seven thirty to a rainy, jubilee Sunday. Breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye, with coffee, then wash and dress and drive to St. John's for nine o'clock mass. It is Holy Trinity Sunday, the hymns are nice and the sermon on faith being non-intellectual resonates, for me religion is about feeling the presence of God, everything else is an act of interpretation. But there again I am an old mystic, the most powerful sermon is living silence. After Mass I collect Leslie and we drive to Caffe Nero in Saturday Market, where we park easily, despite half the square being cordoned for the erection of a bandstand for the Diamond Jubilee celebrations tomorrow. Perhaps it's the rain, which continues relentlessly. As I queue for our Americanos and pain au raisin, I am joined by Rolando, who has just returned from holiday in Tuscany with his wife. His cafe is closed on Sundays. Leslie and I air our usual concerns and then Leslie mentions a new one. He is worried that his GP, Doctor Hill, may retire before Leslie dies. Dr Hill is about fifty and Leslie ninety! You have to admire his optimism. After taking him home, I call at the supermarket for some shopping, and then get back to Tickton about noon. It is still raining steadily. I spend the afternoon ironing and listening to the radio, before making a chicken stir fry for a late lunch. Towards six, drive into Beverley and park at the top of Westwood Rd, which is resplendent with bunting and union flags, their street party was today and the rain has been steady and remorseless. Felicity is thawing out, she attended the party, but said it was cold, wet and a bit of a damp squib because of the weather. I leave around seven, drive home and eat Camembert and crusty bread before reading until bedtime. The news is all about the Queen's diamond jubilee and the great flotilla on the Thames. What a fuss over the achievement of managing to be inoffensive, in the service of entrenched privilege, for sixty years.

More Chug Wrestling!

Wake at six, needing the loo, but then sleep on until eight. Open the window on a grey morning, then breakfast on boiled eggs and brown toast, with tea. A combination of gardening for Pip, ear infection and looking after Louis, means that I have a back log of gardening, cleaning, ironing and car cleaning. As I dropped Louis off last night Sarah told me that my Granddaughter, Alice, wouldn't be able to see her friends today unless I had Louis again today. This, of course, is pure manipulation, I said I would let her know. Louis is very close to my heart, but he exhausts me, after four or five hours of "Chug wrestling", I am only fit for bed. (Chugs is my nickname for Louis, because he comes on like a train.) After showering and dressing I leave the house undecided and drive to Beverley, parking near Sarah's house and then walking to the Poppy Seed for coffee with friends. Felicity is first to arrive, then her friend Hannah, followed by Julia, Felicity's sister, Barbara English, Julia, and finally her daughter Melissa and boyfriend Nick. Soon there are multiple conversations that one can join and dip into and then leave again. The Poppy Seed has become a Saturday institution. I leave at 12:30 and follow the better angel of my nature and collect Louis from Sarah's, he wants to swim, my ears seem to have recovered, so agree. Beverley Leisure Centre is very busy on Saturdays and sessions are time limited to 45 minutes, so we drive the twelve miles to Hornsea and swim there instead. It's a good decision, the pool is quiet, with only half a dozen swimmers. Of course it gets busier later. We stay in the water for two hours, Louis is totally fearless and has taught himself to swim a couple of strokes. He likes to play "crocodiles", a game where I swim underwater and then wrestle with him. It is still very tiring and prone to mishap. In the shallow water I dash my foot on the bottom and bruise my toes badly. After swimming, we retire to Sullivan's, a famous fish and chip cafe on the other side of the car park to the pool. Louis clears his plate and then demolishes a large chocolate cake. We take a quick walk on the seafront, the tide is in, the North Sea, cold and grey, and a nasty wind coming off the sea. We give in and retire to the ball pool at Hornsea Freeport, where Louis plays for another hour, before driving back to Sarah's. After dropping him off, drive home, meditate and then nap until eight. Then later eat some tortilla chips, with salsa, guacamole and sour cream, with French lager. Later read until bedtime.Housework still undone.

Danes Dyke Surprise!

Wake at seven and breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast with black coffee. It's cool and cloudy outside again, but the garden has enjoyed the rain. Shower and dress and drive to Cherry for nine o'clock, collect the dogs, and then head for the Westwood. We walk round our usual route with two elderly, but sprightly, ladies and their dogs. One of them turns out to have been a childhood friend of Felicity and passes on her best wishes. After dropping the dogs off, I collect Louis from Sarah's house, and we set off for North Landing at Flamborough Head, about thirty miles away. We are less than three miles from our destination when Louis insists he needs a wee and needs it right now. Fortunately we are passing Danes Dyke, a nature reserve, and I pull in and park there. Danes Dyke was not built by the Danes, but probably by iron age farmers before Roman times. A natural ravine and water course was extended manually to provide a defensive line across the headland of Flamborough. After Louis has relieved himself we stop and have lunch on a picnic table by the little cafe. Louis has never had a Cornish pasty, so I get the lady to heat two up for us in the microwave, and break the news to her that the governments pasty tax is repealed. After Lunch I show Louis the nature trail, and tell him there is a big surprise at the end of it. We contour up and down the sides of the ravine on the pathways, passing wild flowers and bees collecting nectar, here and there are wooden carvings of horse chestnut, ash and hawthorn leaves. The big secret, of course is that the nature trail leads to a small pebble beach that opens on Bridlington Bay. Louis is delighted, he loves the seaside, and there are a couple of families with children about his age already there. In a trice he has taken off his clothes and is paddling in the cold North Sea. It's not cold today, but the sky is cloudy, still he is happy, all children really need is somewhere to play and other kids to play with. It's not possible to build sandcastles here as there is no sand, the tide is in, but we can build a castle of stone. We select large flat pebbles and build a cairn about three feet high. One of the families puts up a little tent and Louis moves in with them for a while, he asks me to take his picture on my phone, which I do, and then to play an audio book of the "Ugly Duckling", that he and the other kids listen to for ten minutes or so, Unbeknown to me, I find he has used the phone to take my photo, whilst I thought he was listening to the story. Later we find a water logged branch and push it out to sea, and then pretend it is a U-boat and bomb it with pebbles. The other kids have to leave around three thirty, so Louis and I make our way back on the path up the other side of the ravine. When we get back to the car we complete the remaining two miles of our journey to North Landing and play in the sea caves for a while, but the main attraction, the fishing boat trips to the bird sanctuary at Bempton Cliffs, are not running today. We leave after an hour and drive a few miles up the coast to Filey, where we eat fish and chips at Ingham's Cafe. We both clear our plates, and then drive back over the lovely Yorkshire Wolds, Louis soon falls asleep in his car seat, and it is with some regret that I wake him when we arrive at Sarah's. We have had a good day.