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.