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.