Garden Cure

Wake at four thirty, with a raw throat and feeling feverish but after a drink of water and some paracetamol, then slept until eight thirty. I can barely drag myself out of bed but force an English breakfast down and some black coffee, after which I feel a bit more human. I have finally consumed all the breakfast food before it went off. I hate waste. After breakfast I toy with ringing Pip and cancelling the dog walking but defer making a final decision until I have showered and dressed. Take a couple more Paracetemol and, after a shower feel just about well enough to drive to Cherry and take the dogs on the Westwood. It's a cooler, cloudier morning so I'm wearing jeans and a sweater over a tee shirt as we make our way round the loop slowly. Towards Black Mill the clouds start to break and there are increasing patches of blue in the sky. As we did yesterday we shortcut across the common from Black Mill to the car and as I load ip the dogs I feel tired but glad of the fresh air. After dropping off the dogs I drive directly back to Tickton and resolve to make some savoury mince in the slow cooker, (good invalid comfort food), and another batch of oaties before crawling back into bed. Back home, I fry
Up some onions and beef mince in the bacon fat, add an oxo and some nagging seasoning and a little oregano and then pour half a pint of water into it and pop it in the slow cooker. The oaties only take ten minutes to mix, roll out, and cut with biscuit cutters and then pop in the oven for half an hour. Whilst they are baking, I take a pot of tea into the garden and start a new book, Philip Roth's, "The Humbling",. Just into my second pot of tea the oven pings to tell me that my biscuits are ready, so I pop into the kitchen and take the baking tray out of the oven and set the oaties to cool on a bread board. I take two on a tea plate back into the garden, and when they have cooled down, I eat them with the last of my tea as I read my book in the warm sunshine. Suddenly the realisation dawns that I don't feel quite so bad! Perhaps this might only be a short illness. Roth writes beautifully and with great insight and as the book is only just over a hundred pages long and it's so pleasant sitting out, I decide to read on. I finish the book at three and then toast some whole meal pitta bread from the freezer and eat the last of my home made humous and wash it down with the last glass of vin ordinaire. Now at last, I feel tired enough to lie down but meditate and relax rather than sleep. Sarah is calling round with Norman and her house keys, she wants me to keep an eye on the decorators, who are doing the house, inside and out, whilst she is away in Portugal. Around six O'clock I peel some potatoes and take some broad beans and carrots out of the freezer and put these in a microwave steamer to cook. As soon as dinner is ready to serve, Sarah arrives with Alice, Louis and Norman. They only stay ten minutes as they are going to Sullivan's in Toll Gavel and then home to finish packing. As soon as they are gone, I mash the potatoes with a little butter pour over some mince and then add the vegetables. It is baby food, but very tasty and welcome nevertheless. Norman eats the little I leave and then watches for more as I wash up. I add some garlic and a tin of chopped tomatoes to the leftover mince in the slow cooker and set it to the lowest level. It will turn into a pasta sauce for later in the week. The sky has completely cleared and it is a lovely summer's evening, so I put Norman on his lead and walk him through the estate to Carr Lane and then past the stables and farm to the little wooden bridge that spans the drain. On our way back, I let him off his lead and he trots happily alongside me all the way back home. Once indoors I make a pot of tea and take it into the Garden Room and start another book, an Ian Rankin crime thriller. Norman who is only twelve inches long snuggles up next to my thigh in the armchair and is soon snoring gently. It is good to have a little company. The day didn't start well but it is ending on a more positive note, I still have a cough and some catarrh, but the trajectory seems to be one of improvement. Tomorrow will tell, to bed at ten thirty.