Friday the thirteenth.

Wake to a grey morning around half past seven and breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast dressed with lemon juice and cracked black pepper. I take my breakfast and a pot of strong, black, Italian filter coffee into the garden room and listen to the news on radio 4 whilst I eat it. Before setting out for Cherry I put a wash load of whites on and arrive to collect the dogs around nine thirty. Despite the lack of sunshine, the weather is mild and I am dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, with a light blouson jacket against the wind on the Westwood. The dogs and I make our way through Newbegin Pits wood, where the trees are in full emerald green bloom after all this rain. As we pass the corner of the wood I see a friend from the running club, Elaine Julien, sat on a bench and stop to say hello. I stop to chat and find that she has buried her husband on Wednesday. He had been suffering from pancreatic cancer for two years. Elaine asks if she and her Jack Russell, Milo, can walk round with us, and of course I agree. The poor woman seems at a loss, all her time and energy has been spent looking after her dying husband, and now, after the funeral has past she faces a void, of inactivity and purpose as well as grief. She is a nice woman and I let her talk out her grief as we walk through the grazing cattle on the common. We walk slowly and it is ten past twelve when I drop the dogs back at Cherry. I make my way to the Leisure Centre and find the pool fairly quiet again, so repeat yesterday's 2,500m medley swim. After showering and dressing I eat a coconut slice with a pot of strong tea in the cafe, where I chat with John the centre manager and Sandra, a friend of Sarah's from the kitchen. I arrive home at three and hang out my whites before meditating and resting for an hour. At five O'clock I drive down to Sarah's house, where I will be sleeping for the next two nights, an overnight bag in the boot of the car. When I arrive she has just finished packing and is about to set off to Ashbourne in Derbyshire where she and her co-graduates are meeting to celebrate their success. Louis, Alice and I set off for the Hayride, a local pub which serves BBQ spare ribs, Alice's favourite, Louis and I order fish and chips on a two for a tenner deal. The food is OK, not brilliant, but Alice works her way through a whole rack of ribs served in a bucket. In the USA, where ribs are staple fare, they usually provide you with a plastic apron, to protect your clothes, but she manages to eat them and emerge unscathed. Louis and I clear our plates. I drop Alice and Louis back at Sarah's and she gets him off to bed whilst I nip back to Tickton and bring in my washing. I put a load of couloureds on to wash before returning to North Bar. When I get there Louis is in bed and Alice goes to her room to spend some time on her laptop with her friends. A group of them are going to London for the day on Sunday and meeting up with some other girls, about fifty, that have formed a group. I read until ten thirty and then go to bed.