A fine adieu to August.

This morning the sun is back and after making scrambled eggs with smoked salmon for breakfast and my usual Italian coffee, I am able to hang out a line of white washing. Norman hasn't eaten his eggs for some reason, perhaps because he didn't see them on my plate first. Before setting off for Cherry, I put a load of coloureds on to wash, including a cellular blanket that used to belong to my maiden aunt, Dolly had stained it during her stay with a little blood. We pick her and Teddy up and arrive on the Westwood for ten o'clock, where despite two days of torrential rain, the common is still fairly dry under foot, one of the advantages of living on chalk downland. There is no wind today and the sun is shining out of a cloudless blue sky. It is pleasantly warm, although little more than 17 or 18 degrees. The terriers are glad to be off the lead again and dash here and there, checking for new smells and saying hello to the other dogs. Norman toddles on a few yards behind, doing similar things but in a more genteel and dignified way. We get back to Cherry for eleven and I spend an hour finishing off the edging and weeding of the back garden. Pip keeps a low profile, but the radiators are warm, so the central heating must have been restored. I drop Normy back at the bungalow and put away a dozen fresh eggs that I picked up from the farm shop on my way back from the Westwood, before driving to the pool for my swim. There are no classes today and I am running a little late and so don't enter the water until a quarter to one, but then have the luxury of an almost empty pool and a clear lane. After warming up on 400m freestyle and then doing the same on backstroke, I decide to take advantage of the clear space and swim 8 x 50m butterfly, with a good rest between repetitions. This is the first time since my most recent illness that I have done the two length practice. It goes OK, I have a slight stiffness in my left shoulder and somehow this causes me to drift a little to the right, and consequently I catch the lane rope with my recovering arm a couple of times on the first few repeats, but as the muscles loosen and I focus on swimming down the black line of the lane marker, the problem is resolved. The session goes well and I am swimming the two lengths managing to maintain the same pace as I swam the one length repeats yesterday. The power in the stroke comes from the core muscles of the back and abdomen that propel the dolphin movement, the skill in the technique is keeping low to the water and still being able to breathe. Dolphins don't have this problem, as they breath through the blowhole on the top of their heads. Now there's a thought! After the fly there is just time for three 100m individual medleys before the pool closes in order to allow the attendants to put the inflatables in the water for the kids session at two o'clock. I drink tea and eat some sultana oaties in the cafe after changing, before calling in the supermarket to buy Norman some more tins and a few other bits and pieces, arriving home for three. I had planned to take the electric frying pan into the garden and make an outdoor paella, but the skies have clouded over so, after bringing in the whites and hanging my coloureds out, we settle for fish fingers chips and peas. It's quick and easy, whilst the fingers and chips are cooking in the oven, I slice up three large victoria plums and microwave them with some sweetener and then doctor a plain yogurt with sweetener and vanilla extract to make a custard. Norman has a couple of fish fingers and a few chips, which I add to his bowl of uneaten salmon and scrambled eggs, but he will only eat it after I have transferred it to my empty plate once I have finished my lunch. The plums and vanilla yogurt are very good and I have three large plums left in the punnet, so the same desert will feature tomorrow or perhaps Sunday. After lunch the effects of the swimming, walking and gardening catch up with me and I sleep for a couple of hours. When I get up, it is starting to spit with rain, so bring in the coloured washing and then open a small tin of dog food for Norman before taking him for his evening walk down to the bridge. On our way we are passed by a different young girl riding the same chestnut mare that passed us yesterday, when I comment to this effect, I am corrected, different girl and different horse! This chestnut is a gelding. The rider is the older sister of the girl yesterday, which shows my keen eye for horse flesh! When we get to the drain, the water is as high as I have ever seen it, fully a good two feet up on last week. The news reported that we have had the wettest summer for a hundred years, but fortunately Beverley has been spared the worst of it. Norman is starting to enjoy his walks again, motivated by lots of praise, it is almost a shame that his routine will be disrupted again next week when he goes back to Sarah's whilst I am on holiday in Holland. As we arrive home it starts to rain properly and I have just time to put out the bin for the collection tomorrow morning, before battening down the hatches. It is a quarter to eight, I give Norman some fresh water, bathe his eyes with a cold tea bag, before setting too and cleaning the kitchen and bathroom and then running the vacuum cleaner through the house. Despite putting his bed in my bedroom, out of the way, Normy follows me about as I work. It doesn't take too long, as the house is small, and by a quarter past nine everything is squared away again, and I can settle down with my book for an hour before bedtime. Norman is snoring happily in his basket as I write this blog. The forecast for the next four or five days is for fine, dry weather, with luck I will be able to leave both gardens in good order before my holiday.

Another rainy day in August

Wake at seven to a cloudy morning and make Brussels pate and Ryvita for breakfast for myself and Norman, breaking his up into dachshund size pieces, before taking my coffee into the Garden room to read the Independant on my iPad. Of late I have grown to prefer to eat breakfast without the radio on, enjoying the peaceful silence whilst I eat. Perhaps it's an age thing. I wash and dress in readiness for the trip to Cherry, but then notice it has come on to rain heavily. I decide I can profitably spend the morning catching up with some housework, as it is not possible to take the dogs out in this deluge. I strip the beds and put the dirty linen in the washing machine and am about to phone Pip, when the phone rings and it is her, the electricity was restored this morning, but the TV and central heating are refusing to work. I promise to come and see what I can do, as soon as I have put on clean sheets and duvet covers. I take Norman with me, in case the rain eases and we are able to take the dogs round the village. When we arrive, there are roadworks at the top of Two Riggs where the men have been digging, and I carry Normy under my arm, protected from the lashing rain by an old golf umbrella. Dolly and Teddy go bonkers when they see us, thinking we are about to set off to the Westwood. Pip repeats what she told me on the phone, that the TV and heating aren't working, and so I check the fuse box, but everything is OK, and the pilot light in the boiler is on. Turning my attention to the TV, it is apparent that the Sky box isn't working, eventually I find the plug for it amongst a cluster of others fitted to an adaptor and check its fuse, it looks OK, but I replace it anyway. To no effect, the adaptor has an anti-surge fuse, but it looks like the satellite box is stone dead. I have no luck either with the central heating and suspect some internal connection has been blown by the power outage. We have breakdown insurance with British Gas and so I ask Pip if she wants to call them out, but she says she will do it herself in a frosty tone and tells me I might as well leave. I call at Tesco on the way home to buy some Italian coffee, as I used the last for breakfast, and get back to Tickton for half past eleven. Even though it is still raining heavily, I walk Normy down past the snickett and onto Carr Lane, somewhat protected by the brolly, he hasn't been out since last night and I need to toilet him before I go for a swim. He does his business and then legs it for home eager for his warm dry basket, when we get in I dry him on an old green army towel and then give him a schmacko and check his water, before driving to the Leisure centre. The pool is fairly busy, but I spot Crispin in a training lane with only one other swimmer and slot in between them for my 400m freestyle warm up. Although my style is leisurely, it is also deceptively quick, at least compared to non-competitive swimmers. A chap in the next lane seems determined to pass me, but loses several metres with each turn, as I tumble and he doesn't. It is quite comical watching him thrash the water to draw level at the end of the length and then to turn and find me three metres ahead again. He runs out of steam after four or five lengths and gives up, whilst I maintain the same easy rhythm. I have just switched to backstroke, when we have to move to make way for the "wave machine", but by now the numbers in the pool are thinning, and the three of us, myself Crispin and a young woman, have the fast lane to ourselves. I don't really mind the aqua aerobics, other than their loud music, it is good for older people to exercise. Crispin and the girl leave and I am joined by a young lad, who looks about sixteen. I am now swimming fly and we come to an agreement that I will push off as he comes in. This works fine and I complete the 400 fly and then switch to medleys and complete these by one fifteen, by which time I have the lane to myself. So I warm down with lazy 200m backstroke and finally an even lazier 200m freestyle. When I arrive in the cafe, it is still raining outside, and I am out of oaties, so have to settle for just a pot of tea. Back home I have a pork chop defrosting and intend to make schnitzel, chips and salad when I get in. In the event, the rain has finally stopped and I manage to hang out my bedding on the line, before serving up lunch for three o'clock. Norman has some schnitzel and a few chips as well, but passes on the salad. For desert, I eat the remaining Bramley apple stewed in the microwave with an egg custard, (using half the egg mixture that I had beaten in order to coat the pork in breadcrumbs). A very enjoyable lunch, after which, I put my feet up for an hour before making a batch of fresh oaties with sultanas, then giving Norman his tin and later setting off for a walk. The rain has cleared, and just like last night, the sun is shining low in the West, but a strong Northerly wind is blowing and the temperature has dropped dramatically. I have changed out of my shorts and sandals and put on some jeans and shoes and am wearing a fleece for the first time since April. Because he didn't get out this morning, I take Norman past the bridge over the drain, which is now almost full with rain water, and into "almost straight wood". Amongst the trees it is sheltered and the pines have an aromatic resinous freshness, Normy skips along behind me checking the place for smells, a rabbit scampers to its burrow, but it's safe, Normy is too old and slow to catch anything, but if Teddy and Dolly had been here, the bunny's number would have been up! I keep checking that Norman is maintaining station behind me, particularly when we come out of the trees and the path forks, one leg to the village and the other round the fields. He has cataracts on both eyes and his world must look a bit blurry. We steadily make our way round the fields in the strong wind, skirting round puddles and with me occasionally stooping to pat and encouraging the old boy with lavish praise. Each time I do this, he wags his tail, runs a few yards and then waits to be patted again. One of the farmer's daughters comes past us on a chestnut mare and stops to say hello to him before cantering over the bridge and down the lane. As we get back towards the bungalow, his fan club of little girls run over from the green to give him a pat, he thrives on the attention. It is after seven when we get in, my washing is dry, so I bring it in, before putting on a load of whites. Norman snuggles down in his bed for the night and I make a pot of tea and some and join him in the Garden Room and read until bedtime. Pure escapism, Julian Stockwin's novel of the mutiny of the fleet at the Nore, the great fighting age of sail. To bed around eleven.

A cold wind in August

Wake at seven to a fine morning, but heavy rain is forecast from about noon. Make our usual full English breakfast and then wash and dress and make our way to Cherry for a quarter past nine, to collect Dolly and Teddy, before arriving on Newbald Road, next to the Westwood, five minutes later. As we set off into the woods, the skies are already starting to cloud over, and approaching Black Mill, the first drops of rain are blown in the stiffening breeze, fortunately we manage to regain the car before it begins raining in earnest. After dropping the dogs back in Cherry, I make my way to the Poppy Seed cafe with Norman, after parking on Albert Terrace. When we get there, Felicity is sat with her friend Annie and so I order a strong tea and join them. Annie says she has just been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease on top of her diabetes and the loss of both breasts to cancer. Despite the grim prognosis she remains upbeat, but her days of independence must be numbered. Rosemary comes in and joins us, and I arrange for Iain Scott to have a look at her garden one day next week. I leave at eleven thirty and buy some sweaters in the sale at the Edinboro Woollen Mill in the market square. All are plain, one maroon, one green and one blue. We make our way back to the car in the rain and drive back to Tickton, where I leave Norman indoors, before driving to the leisure centre. The rain is coming down in sheets as I leave the village, but has moderated a little by the time I get to the centre. On arrival in the pool it is fairly quiet, except for the ladies aqua aerobics, which takes up half the pool, the infamous wave machine. In fact I mind them less than the blaring music to which they bounce. I find a gap in the double lane reserved for training and manage to swim an easy 400m freestyle warm up, overtaking down the centre a couple of times, as necessary. A couple of swimmers leave the lane and it is safe to swim backstroke, so complete a steady 400m on my back, before switching to fly. By now there are only four of us in the lane and I am able to push off as a lady swimming breaststroke arrives and because my fly is much quicker than her breaststroke, manage a twenty seconds rest before she arrives again. In this way I complete eight of my scheduled sixteen lengths of butterfly before the aerobics class disperses. Rather than climbing out of the pool on the steps nearest to them, they wade across eight lanes like matriarchal elephants, causing mayhem as other swimmers are disrupted by their passage, in order to use the steps next to the showers. Fortunately I now have a lane to myself and complete the remaining lengths of fly without problem before switching to 4 x 100m individual medley, and even have time for a 200m easy backstroke warm down before the pool closes at one thirty. My condition continues to improve and the anti inflamatories that I have been taking for my hip, also seem to be working. Nevertheless I am limiting the amount of breaststroke I do, to the individual medley only. After showering and changing, I drink tea and eat some oaties in the cafe, before driving to
Morrisons to buy some more bacon and black pudding. When I arrive, the makeover of the store that my brother in law, Gino, who works for Morrisons told me about, has been completed and a third of the store is now given over to fresh fruit and vegetables. The choice and display is impressive, clearly they are setting their stall out to compete with Marks and Spencer and Waitrose, rather than slug it out on straight price with Asda and Tesco. To reward their enterprise, I also bought some more tomatoes and a couple of Bramley apples. En route home, call in at Beverley Library to renew my books, having spent the last week reading the ones I took out from the library in Hull. It is still raining when I get in, around three thirty, Norman wagging his tail in greeting at the door. After unpacking I finish the Parmagiana with Ryvita and then stew one of the Bramley apples in the microwave, before sprinkling it with artificial sugar and cinammon and adding the last of the cream with vanilla essence as a custard. It works OK, I let Normy lick the Parmigiana dish clean and then we put our feet up for an hour. It is still raining when it is time for his tea, but eventually it stops, around six thirty, and we are able to walk down to the little wooden bridge. By the time we get there, the clouds have retreated eastwards and the sun has reappeared low in the sky to our west. The air smells fresh and clean after the rain and the drops clinging to the ripening hawthorn berries sparkle red as the low evening sunlight catches them. Across the fields, a rainbow arches from the ground near the newly installed wind turbines, before merging with a retreating dark cloud. When we get back home the phone is ringing, it's Pip telling me she is without power again. I leave Norman in the bungalow, grab my torch and drive the five or six miles to Cherry. When I arrive, there are electricity workers at the top of the cul de sac, and they inform me there is a general outage and that they are probably going to have to dig up the road to find the problem. In the house I find Pip on the phone to a friend, but she breaks off for a minute so that I can relate what I have learned, and then she continues her conversation and ignores me. I check the fuse box and find the main fuse has been tripped by the outage, so reset it and then leave my torch with Pip and head home, as there is nothing further I can achieve. I get back for half past eight, make a pot of tea and some oaties and then read a book until bedtime.

A late summer's day

Norman and I wake at seven to a lovely sunny morning, he goes for a toddle in the garden while I make coffee and breakfast. He soon comes running in when he hears me serving up, we are both having a full English again. As soon as I have washed up, the phone rings, it's Pip asking if I will run Andrew and his girls to Hull station at lunchtime? Of course I agree, and after showering and changing drive to Cherry to take the dogs for their walk on the Westwood. There are plenty of people on the common taking advantage of the beautiful weather and when we get to Black Mill, my old friend, Angus the highland bullock, is back enjoying the shade. We get back to Cherry for eleven and I have time to mow the lawns, before packing Andrew's luggage into the car and drive into Hull. The traffic is heavy down Beverley Road and it is a quarter to one before I drop them off at the new station, which has integrated both the bus and train stations. They are holidaying in the capital until Friday. I park up and have a look in TK Maxx to see if they have any decent knitwear or late season deals on summer shirts for my holiday. Unfortunately their stock was dull and poor, and I wander across the mall into the supermarket, where I buy some vanilla extract, losalt, diet cream soda and some new potatoes, before driving home. There is still enough smoked gammon and cream sauce to make another meal, so I cook some new potatoes, carrots and broad beans in the microwave steamer. Lunch is ready around two thirty and I eat in the garden, occasionally pestered by late season wasps, but the meat and sauce is every bit as good as yesterday. The purple candle blossoms on my Buddlea bush have attracted a host of butterflies and moths, red admirals, tortoiseshells and the odd cabbage white. After lunch I crack a puzzle or two whilst eating desert. I stewed some of my home grown rhubarb in the slow cooker and have used artificial sweetener to make it palatable and have added some vanilla to the half pot of cream left from yesterday. The result is a kind of low sugar rhubarb and custard and is very acceptable. I have saved Normy a few spuds and a bit of meat and sauce, which he really enjoys. After lunch we have a kip for an hour and then I wash up the pots from lunch, before giving Norman a tin and taking him for his evening walk down to the little wooden bridge. It is a fine evening and three or four riders pass us as they make their way back to the stables. When we get back indoors, I make a pot of tea and take some oaties into the garden room and listen to Hull v Doncaster in the league cup. The tigers are playing away and are two goals up in fifteen minutes but Donny pull one back on the half hour. After the break they score again and then the Tigers have McKenna sent off and Doncaster score the winner in the closing minutes. We haven't won there in 28 years! After the match finish my novel on Franz Mesmer and go to bed at eleven thirty.

German cuisine, literature and small dogs.

We wake to a sunny morning at seven, I let Dolly into the garden and make coffee and breakfast. Yesterday they had Connakyltie, Irish black pudding on special offer, so we are having slices of this with our full English today. The forecast is for a beautiful, sunny morning and then cloud and rain from lunchtime. After showering and dressing, I take the smoked gammon joint that had soaked overnight, in order to remove the excess salt, and coat it with garlic paste, fennel and paprika, before wrapping it in foil and putting it on a low heat to slow roast until lunchtime, while Dolly and I go for a walk. We have just got as far as the farm, when Pip phones me to say the electricity has cut out, Andrew has gone out for the day, and she doesn't know what to do. I tell her I will come straight away, and we turn round and make our way back to my bungalow, where I pick up my torch, before driving to Cherry. When we get there I leave Dolly in the car and soon resolve the problem, the main fuse switch had flicked off, and once reset everything was back in working order. Teddy is going crazy when he sees me, not having been off the lead for days, so I load him and Norman into the car with Dolly and drive to the Westwood. We arrive just after ten and already the clouds are rolling in from the southwest as we make our way through the woods. Dolly is past her season now and when we get onto the common, I swap her over with Teddy and let her off the lead. The walk proceeds without any problems and we arrive back in Cherry shortly after eleven. After some discussion, it is agreed that I shall leave Dolly and take Norman back home with me. En route we call at the Asda convenience store, where I buy milk and a carton of fresh cream. When we get home, the house is suffused by the smell of roast, smoked gammon. After opening the garden room door for Normy, I take the joint out of the oven, open the foil, and pour the juices into a Pyrex glass jug. Then set the oven to 220 degrees and put the joint back in to crisp the crackling. I add a little knorr pork stock and some maggi seasoning to the juices and then whisk in a couple of tablespoons of single cream. The resulting sauce is spectacularly good. While the joint is crisping, I peel three large potatoes and take some carrots and broad beans from the freezer and steam these in the microwave. When the meat is cooked to perfection, I take it out of the oven and set it to rest, while I chop up some fresh parsley and return the jug of sauce to the cooling oven to let it warm through. A little butter and parsley on the potatoes and cream sauce over the meat and vegetables and lunch is ready to eat. It is exceptionally tasty, the meat tender, smoky, sweet and not to salty, the sauce rich, creamy and full of the subtle flavours of the garlic and herbs. I have second helpings and a half bottle of crisp white Chardonnay helps it go down a treat. Norman has a generous helping of meat and crackling and then fully sated, we both crash out and listen to the rain, that is whipping against the windows. We get up at four, the rain has stopped and I make a pot of tea before rustling up a batch of oaties. Open a tin for Norman, and then walk him down to the bridge over the drain for his evening constitutional. Right on cuestyle rain comes down again, just as we get back to the bungalow, around half past six. I warm up the teapot with some fresh hot water and take tea and a few oaties into the garden room, before starting my new book. It is another historical fiction by a German author called Alissa Walser, entitled "Mesmerized", set in 18th century Vienna and based upon an episode of the life of Franz Mesmer. Arguably the founder of both hypnotism and Psycho analysis. In any event another really good book, translated from the German, where it won the Spycher Literature prize in 2010. I seem to be on a winning streak with European literature of late. To bed around eleven.

Thatcher's chickens

Woken at four thirty by someone misdialling, probably drunk. Sleep on until six thirty and then get up and let Dolly out, before making breakfast. It is a bright, clear but cooler morning, with the wind out of the Northeast. Dolly and I have a full English breakfast and afterwards I hang out a line of whites and then put a load of coloureds in the washing machine, then shower and dress for church. Before setting off for Saint John's, I walk Dolly down to the little wooden bridge and she performs her ablutions, very handily, next to the waste bin by the farm. After taking her home, I drive to North Bar, park the car, and am seated in my usual pew by five minutes to nine. Father Roy is back from holiday, looking fit and relaxed, so the hybrid mass, part English, part sung Latin, is back. I find it much more aesthetically satisfying than the spoken service in plain English, probably due to nostalgia for the old Latin mass, but surely there has to be some connection between musical beauty and spirituality. Isn't singing together a form of spiritual communion? Anyway, as you can probably guess, I love the sung Latin mass. After communion, I collect Leslie and take him to Caffe Nero for our Sunday morning chat. He is in great form, and really enjoys our discussions on politics, economics and science. We both believe that Romney can't win in the US election, because he has to play to the Tea Party right and hence will vacate the middle ground. I take him home for midday and then call at the supermarket for more breakfast stuff and salad. When I get in Dolly greets me enthusiastically, and follows me around the house as I unpack the shopping and then bring in the whites from the line, which are now dry. Before hanging out the coloured washing, I take advantage of the dry weather and mow the lawns front and back. Finally we settle down to lunch, sitting in the warm sun in the garden. I make a tossed salad to accompany the cold Parmagiana with Ryvita. It always tastes wonderful cold, even Dolly loves it. After lunch I do a puzzle until the clouds roll in and it suddenly feels quite cold, there are also spots of rain. We put our feet up until five and once the rain has stopped, I pop on a fleece against the cold wind and take Dolly for her evening walk round the fields. Her season is just about over now, so once we are past the farm, I let her off the lead and she trots on happily a few yards in front of me, checking the scents and occasionally putting up a pheasant. As we walk through "almost straight wood", it comes on to rain, but we are sheltered and by the time we emerge, it has stopped. It rains again as we approach the bridge, but it's not heavy and we arrive home slightly damp, but in good spirits. For the first time since June, I turn the heating on and Dolly settles down next to the radiator, while I wash up and then check stuff on my iPad. My energy company, who had been overcharging me and had to give me a £500 rebate, instead of reducing my payments for Cherry by ten percent, as agreed, have actually put them up by the same amount. I have given them seven days to correct this before I close the account. Privatisation has been a disaster, all the energy companies make huge profits on the wholesale market and then cite market forces to hike retail prices. There is a cartel operating and the coalition are doing nothing about it. The chickens from Thatcher's right wing policies have hatched, come home to roost and are shitting all over the ordinary UK consumer. Monopolies may have been inefficient, but they weren't corrupt! As you may gather, these abuses wind me up. To bed at ten.

Stately Homes.

Wake at seven to a clear day and make a full English breakfast with my usual coffee, before showering and dressing and loading Dolly into the car to drive to Sewerby. My friend, Felicity, has asked me to visit her in a cottage that her daughter, Melissa, has rented for the weekend. En route I call in at in Bridlington for some diesel, as I have less than a quarter of a tank left, before arriving at High Barn cottages down Jewison Lane in Sewerby. The accomodation is beautifully appointed, a barn conversion, with open fields to the rear. Felicity, her daughter Melissa, granddaughter, Ruby and her friend Isabel are just finishing breakfast as we arrive, just before ten. After a quick coffee, Dolly and I walk round the freshly harvested cornfields whilst Felicity and family get ready to visit Sewerby Hall. The clouds are breaking and by the time we park in the grounds at Sewerby, the sun is shining brightly. Melissa has hired a wheelchair for Felicity and we take turns to wheel her round the grounds, a wedding is in preparation in the orangery adjacent to the hall, which looks across lawns to Bridlinton Bay and the sea sparkling in the sun less than a quarter of a mile to the East. On our way to the walled gardens we pass a putting green and spotting that the children are looking bored, I give them some money and ask if they would like to play golf as we continue? They take up my offer enthusiastically and we continue into the gardens. It is ten years since I have been here and the restoration by East Riding council has progressed enormously, the gardens are lovely. Felicity wants to stop and sit in the sun and we find a bench by an old sun dial, whose brass face has the date 1767 engraved into it. The girls call Melissa on her phone, but the reception is bad and so she walks back to the putting green to see what they need. I arrange to push Felicity back to the cafe by the hall and meet her daughter there in half an hour. When we arrive at the cafe, we order a pot of tea and a scone for Felicity and sit in the courtyard at the back, where some old stables have been converted into artisanal shops. There is also a bowl of water for Dolly. Melissa's boyfriend, Nick, arrives shortly followed by her and the girls, and after a few minutes,we make our way back to the putting green, where the girls had still to play their game. Felicity has forgotten her insulin and so Melissa has to drive back to the cottage to get it, and in her absence I get drawn into a four ball game of putting. Nick and I versus Ruby and her friend Isabel. Felicity watches from the shade and when Melissa returns, she takes her to the ladies toilet for her injection and then returns to the putting green. I cede my place in the team to Melissa and wheel Felicity back to the cafe, buy a pot of tea and order lunch, jacket potato with coronation chicken for her and tuna salad for me. I also request a slice of bread and butter for Felicity, because she is getting tired and grumpy, a sure sign of low blood sugar, not uncommon after insulin. The others join us and we all eat lunch in the courtyard in the lovely sunshine, Dolly feasting on the leftovers. After lunch the party heads for the small zoo and I take Dolly for a walk, as she is not allowed in. We walk towards the cliff top, and notice two signs, one is for a Roman battle reenactment tomorrow and another is advertising holiday cottages within the grounds of Sewerby Hall. On our way back I enquire, out of curiosity, how much a two bedroomed cottage would be out of peak season and am surprised to find that it is only £250 per week. It is unlikely I would rent one on my own, but great value nonetheless for someone wanting a nice holiday away from the usual kiss me quick bustle of the East Coast. Sewerby Hall is about a mile North of Bridlington, situated on the coastal path to Flamboro Head and about half a mile South of Danes Dyke. Whilst Dolly and I are waiting for the others to finish their tour of the zoo, we sit on a bench outside a shop selling honey and beeswax products, the owners take a shine to Dolly and feed her treats, which she graciously accepts. Clouds are rolling in from the North Sea and when Felicity and her family emerge from the zoo, ominous spots of rain are starting to fall. It is now three o'clock and Felicty is really tired, so they make their way back to the cottage and Dolly and I drive home, listening to Hull away at Charlton on the radio. We get back for half time and I construct the Parmagiana from the aubergine slices, Bolognese Sauce and cheese, with a liberal sprinkling of fresh Basil leaves after making some Bechamel sauce. Hull draw 0:0 away in a cloudburst, as the construction is completed and put in the fridge to allow the flavours and fresh Basil to mix. Dolly and I read the papers, outside it is raining again and I find I have fallen asleep to the sound of the raindrops. When I come round I put the oven on and cook the Parmagiana. We eat around eight and then listen to a serialisation of a Thomas Mann novel on radio four before bedtime. Tomorrow the sun is due to shine, but the wind will be from the Northeast and so it will be fresher and cooler than of late. To bed at eleven.

The creature from black bog!

Wake at seven thirty and make breakfast, smoked salmon and cream cheese on Ryvita with black Italian coffee. Outside it is raining steadily and the skies are grey and overcast, but the forecast is for it to clear later in the morning. Put in a load of white washing and then fry the sliced aubergines for my Parmiagana, that I Intend to make later, before taking Dolly and driving to Cherry for ten. When we get there Norman is asleep in Dolly's basket and Teddy is tearing round the garden with excitement at the prospect of his walk. I load them in the car and we arrive at our usual parking space down Newbald Road, adjacent to the Westwood. It is still raining as we make our way into the woods where, once safely away from the road,I let the two boys off the lead. The woods are cool, green and smell of humus and nettles, as we make our way through. The sky to the West is clearing and the rain eases and then stops altogether as we emerge on to the common. There are very few other walkers about because of the rain, and by the time we complete our walk, we are quite dry. I drop Norman and Teddy back in Cherry, take Dolly back to Tickton and then make my way to the Leisure Centre. As I arrive there are officials stopping cars on their way into the car park, warning people, that because the Olympic torch is arriving, as part of the Para-Olympics prelude, parking is extremely limited. I find my usual spot under the trees at the back of the parking area. It is the only free space left. In the centre itself, hundreds of disabled people are attending a whole series of sporting events, but when I ask, I am told the pool is unaffected. It is about a quarter to twelve when I get in the water and the pool is still quite busy, but I find space in a lane with Crispin, another older swimmer. I manage to do much the same program as yesterday, 400m freestyle, backstroke and butterfly, followed by 4 x 100m individual medley and because it is only half past twelve as I complete the session, I fit in an easy 200m warm down on freestyle and backstroke. I am starting to feel as if I am getting back to normal, although only managing to fit in three sessions this week. Later, whilst drinking tea in the cafe, John, the centre manager tells me that the Olympic Torch will be delayed, as the train from Kings Cross to York is running late. On my way home I call at Asda for milk and some broad beans, that I intend to cook in garlic sauce and eat with a small smoked gammon joint over the bank holiday weekend. Arrive back in Tickton for two, put the oven on to warm up and then let Dolly into the garden whilst I hang up my wet towel and costume. Once the oven is at 200 degrees, I put some fish fingers and oven chips on a baking tray and set the timer to fifteen minutes. I make tea and cook a few frozen garden peas in the microwave, in a bowl that I place on top of my dinner plate in order to warm it up. When dinner is ready, I serve Dolly some dog meat and then sit down to eat. After my swim my appetite is good and I clear my plate, outside it is raining again, so Dolly and I lie down for an hour. We get up at five and after a drink of pop, I put Dolly on her lead and take her round the fields. I am baby sitting for Sarah at a quarter past seven and so need to be back for seven at the latest. There are no other walkers as we make our way round the fields, travelling in the opposite direction to yesterday, walking through the wood first. As we get to the corner I take pity on Dolly and let her off the lead for a run. Just before the little bridge on our way home, she takes off across the drain and chases a rabbit into the cornfield. It is impossible to follow her and so I continue on my way home calling to her as I go. She comes back just before the farm but has waded through a peat bog and is covered in thick black mud. Fortunately we get back for a quarter to seven and I have time to clean her off in a bucket of soapy water in the garden before drying her on an old towel and then driving to Sarah's. Louis is in his pyjamas and sits on my knee watching Batman cartoons until bedtime at eight. After a short Grandad story about winning a sandcastle competition, he goes off to sleep and I finish Andres Neuman's "Traveller of the Century" , before dozing off. I am woken by Sarah and her friends arriving back at half past eleven and head home and eat some oaties with a glass of milk before going to bed for midnight.

Hello Dolly!

Get up at half past seven and make breakfast for myself and Norman, full English for both of us. The morning is bright but cloudy, and as I drink my coffee a text comes in from Sarah asking me to drop Louis' spiderman book, which he left on Tuesday, back at her house. Normy and I call in on our way to Cherry and have a cup of tea with Sarah, Louis has some more spiderman stickers, that he proceeds to transfer into his book with great concentration. Before I leave I find I have consented to baby sit Louis tomorrow evening. When we arrive at Cherry, Pip asks me to take Dolly out as she is going stir crazy, having been kept in since Monday. So the three dogs and I arrive on the Westwood around ten, I let Norman and Teddy off the lead as soon as we are in the wood but keep Dolly tethered, as she is still highly receptive and there are plenty of obliging dogs on the common. She doesn't seem to mind too much and just seems glad to be out again. When we get back, I agree with Pip, to take Dolly to Tickton until her season has passed and leave Norman with her. It is the sensible thing to do, leaving the two boys on their own and taking the girl with me, but I do this with some regret as Normy was settling in so well. I bet he wonders just where he belongs? Still we will see him tomorrow for the morning walk. Before leaving Cherry, I mow the lawns and do a little weeding, finally arriving in Tickton for noon. I spend a quarter of an hour putting some extra chicken wire across the little gate on my back garden, to make certain Dolly can't get out, before locking her up and driving to the leisure centre. It is almost a quarter to one before I enter the water, the wave machine are dancing to music again, and I have to share a lane with two other swimmers. Fortunately they are much younger than me and we are able to maintain our separation, with no one needing to overtake. I warm up with 400m freestyle and then follow this with 400m backstroke, this takes more effort to maintain my position in the lane, as the others are just doing freestyle, which is a quicker stroke. Both of the other swimmers leave at one and I am able to swim 400m butterfly, in sixteen single lengths, taking thirty seconds to each length and thirty seconds rest between repititions. My left hip is playing up a little, so I am keeping breaststroke to a minimum. I experiment on the fly, sometimes doing as many as six pulses underwater before surfacing into my arm pull and sometimes as little as three. This adds an extra stroke or two to the length, but makes no difference to the time. In fairness I am not trying to go quickly, just to swim smoothly and without making a splash. Nevertheless three underwater pulses in exchange for a couple of arm strokes is a good deal, as it is the arm pulls that require the strength and effort in the fly. Consequently when I switch to 4 x 100m individual medley for my final session, I adopt the six pulse underwater start technique. The saved energy leaves more for the other strokes and I feel noticeably fresher on the final freestyle leg. They throw me out of the pool at half past one and after showering and changing, I drink a tea in the cafe, before driving home for two thirty. It begins to rain as I enter the village and I am now glad I didn't have time to hang out a load of whites before I left. When I get in, Dolly is waiting to greet me and I set too to make lunch for us both. Yesterday I knocked up a Bolognaise sauce in the slow cooker, with the intention of having pasta today, but I don't fancy it just yet. So instead, I make a mixture of savoury things, a tin of mussels in esbeche sauce, sliced chorizo with mustard, slices of strong cheddar, some stuffed olives and the roasted peppers I made earlier in the week. A sort of tapas meets ante pasta, but with Ryvita and a large bottle of Bavaria lager, that I bought from Aldi yesterday. Dolly has dog meat, cunningly disguised with Bolognaise sauce. We finish lunch by three thirty and as it is still raining and I am tired after all the butterfly swimming, we lie down and sleep for an hour. We are awoken from a pleasant snooze by someone trying to sell me insurance, my details passed to them by Lloyds Bank because of the loan for Sarah's car. I politely decline, try to regain my place in the pleasant dream I was having and when I fail, get up and have a drink of pop. Since I am up, I do a little admin, write a letter to my insurance company about my life cover, freezing the indexation and my premiums and finding the phone number for Ian Scott, a landscape gardener I know who might be able to help Rosemary. This done I take Dolly for a walk round the fields, as it has stopped raining. Once we get over the little bridge, I take a chance and let her off the lead, having first checked that there are no other dogs around. She bounds off immediately in hunting mode, hopping above the long grass to see if there are any prey and then suddenly dashing down into the drain and splashing in the water. I am having second thoughts about the wisdom of letting her off the leash, but she comes back and maintains a steady position ten paces or so ahead of me. As we turn the corner of the field and walk parallel to "almost straight wood", she once more splashes across the drain and disappears into the only corn field that has yet to be harvested. I can follow her progress, parallel to my own on the opposite side of the drain, by the rippling of the corn. Just before the corner, where I saw the deer last night, she splashes back across the drain and I put her on her lead. The poor girl hasn't had a run for almost a week! We arrive home for half past six, I make a fresh batch of oaties and then slice and salt a couple of huge Dutch aubergines I also bought from Aldi, because they were half the price of Tesco. Once salted, I lay them in layers in a colander and then put them in the sink with a plate over them and balance a two litre bottle of pop on top, in order to press out excess liquid before I fry them to go into a Parmagiana. ( it's a sort of Italian Moussaka, but with Bolognaise, Mozarella and Bechamel sauce. Later I read a few more chapters of Andres Neumann's, excellent book, which I will regretfully finish tomorrow. To bed around eleven thirty.

When the sun sets in the West

Wake at seven thirty, there is no rush today, Pip phoned last night telling me not to take the dogs out. Norman is still asleep as I get up and make coffee and breakfast, we are out of eggs, so it's just bacon, sausage, black pudding and fried tomatoes. When everything is ready, Normy saunters in and has everything but tomato. The broadband is down again this morning but it comes back to life after resetting the router. I phone my friend Felicity and arrange to collect her and walk the few hundred yards with her from her house to the Poppy Seed cafe in North Bar. She is unsteady on her legs and has fallen a couple of times in the last month. Norman and I drive to the Westwood and walk through the woods to Woodlands lane and then round the corner to Albert Terrace, where Felicity lives. She is ready when we get there around a quarter past ten, and the three of us make our way to the cafe, which is only about two hundred yards distant. We stop twice en route, to let Felicity rest on a wall and arrive in the cafe for ten thirty. Usually most of her friends are there but being the holiday period, today it is just the two of us and Norman, who sits quietly on my knee. Felicity has a tea and fruit scone and I just a tea, she is going to Sewerby, near Bridlington, at the weekend, with her daughter, Melissa and her granddaughter, Ruby, and is looking forward to it. She hasn't been away for years. We chat happily and discuss the possibility of a disability walker with a fitted seat, so she can stop and rest, for her, but she says she can't afford one, so I promise to see if there are any second hand on eBay. By eleven o'clock she is tired and wants to go home, so we make our way back, stopping to rest a couple of times again. She tells me she will have a lie down after we have left and Norman and I retrace our steps back over the Westwood to the car. Poor Felicity has deteriorated markedly over the last few months, I hope her holiday goes well. We get back to Tickton for midday, I have my swimming gear packed, but don't feel like swimming today, so make a pot of tea and take some oaties into the garden and do a puzzle sat in the warm sun. There is a strong Westerly wind, but fortunately the garden is sheltered, but there is a distinct hint of autumn in the air. At half past two, I decide to drive to the Aldi store in Willerby, about six miles away, to do some shopping. I need washing powder, razor blades, breakfast gear and a bunch of other stuff. Aldi's retail proposition, is good quality but less choice and keen prices. It works for me, but it is difficult to get to the store because they are upgrading the road from Beverley to Willerby from a single to dual carriageway and consequently there are extensive roadworks. The shop is surprisingly busy but by the time I arrive at the checkout there is no queue. It is half past four as I turn into my drive. After unpacking I knock together a salad Nicoise and eat in the garden giving Norman a bowl of dog meat, which he doesn't touch until he has checked out my empty plate and smelled the tuna. Only then does he clear his bowl. After dinner I check eBay, and find a couple of walkers for around forty pounds, I will talk to Felicity's daughter,Melissa and arrange to get one. Around half past seven It is time to take Norman for his evening walk, it is a little cooler, which is much better for him, so we walk past the little bridge and round the fields. It is a beautiful evening, the sun low on the horizon, the sky clear blue, and the fields a mixture of swaying corn and freshly harvested stubble. As we get to the half way corner, a young deer, a doe, emerges into the field next to us. We are upwind of her and partly concealed by the hedge, I stand still as a statue and watch as she makes her way to the edge of the drain, less than twenty feet away. After several minutes she hears Norman moving and turns and looks straight at me, and then bounds away in a series of graceful leaps. The sun is shining crimson through the dark pines, as it glides, ever faster into the Earth. I feel blessed and give Normy a pat and tell him he is a good old boy, he wags his tail and then runs like a puppy for a few yards before stopping to wait for me. I pat and praise him again and he scampers on some more, we keep this up until we come to "nearly straight wood", which is cool and mysterious now the sun has set and dusk is gathering. We arrive back at the bungalow for half past eight, old Kath, my lovely next door neighbour, is just finishing up in the garden and Norman says hello to her and wags his tail in anticipation of the biscuit that she has started to give him. After a drink Normy goes to bed and I listen to Hull lose to Blackburn 1:0 before reading my book for an hour before bed time.

A day at the seaside

Wake at seven twenty, before the alarm that is set for half past. Get up, toilet, and then make breakfast, smoked salmon with cream cheese on Ryvita. Norman sleeps on and doesn't stir until it is time for me to leave and drive into Beverley to collect Louis at a quarter to nine. Then, all of a sudden, he is wide awake, skipping and wagging his tail ready for the Westwood. We arrive, in good military fashion, five minutes before parade, and Sarah makes a great fuss of Norman, but tells me he is getting fat. Which is true. I collect Louis and a huge plastic shopping bag, containing a towel, swimming costume, goggles, bucket and spade, a complete change of clothing, and a jumper and a coat, in case the weather turns cooler. Only as I am going out the door, does she ask," can you have Louis overnight?" I decline the offer, knowing I will be too tired after having him all day. Louis is fiercely intelligent, equally fiercely Independant, charming and totally exhausting. Seriously I think the kid could be a genius, but the jury is out as to whether he develops into an Einstein or a Hitler! I take him to Cherry, where we find Dolly confined to barracks because of her season, and Louis is given the option of watching TV, or walking Teddy and Norman with me. He chooses the latter, and we do our usual loop of the Westwood, at Black Mill we sit on a bench and I phone Hull Central Library and renew my books. Despite having an I-phone and an iPad, I prefer my books on paper, in much the same way as some music enthusiasts prefer vynil to digital. We get back for half past ten, drop Norman back in Tickton and then drive to Bridlington South Shore and the Park and Ride facility. The bus delivers us to the Harbour, and from there it is only a shortish walk to the leisure centre, where they have slides and a wave
Pool, besides a conventional twenty five metre pool. I am glad it is not too far, because all of Louis' gear and my swimming togs are quite a weight. We arrive at the pool for twelve thirty, only to find the wave pool and slides closed for refurbishment. What genius at East Riding Council picked the height of the holiday season for this task? Revenue prevention officer anyone? We change into our costumes and make our way to the pool, it is very hot and humid, the baby pool is freezing cold and the main pool, which only has four lanes, is too hot. Both pools are packed with holidaymakers, but Louis doesn't care, he can almost swim, being happy underwater and can float for a few yards and he can almost read, making out the words for deep and shallow end. Within weeks he will have crossed the threshold in both activities. He is also fiercely independant, and makes up his own mind about what advice he will accept and from whom. We swim and play for an hour and then Louis states that he is starving and wants lunch. The cafe is equally as good as my home pool in Beverley and the food arrives fresh and hot within minutes. I have the Aberdeen Angus burger with tossed salad and Louis insists on a ham sandwich with chips. There is a table overlooking the pool and we eat whilst watching the other swimmers. After lunch, I rest and drink tea, but Louis wants to continue swimming, I confine him to the learner pool but after five minutes he ignores me completely and enters the main swimming area. From my vantage point, overlooking the main pool, I can easily keep an eye on him and don't initially contest his disobedience, until he seems about to jump in the deep end, in order to play with some older boys. Whilst he can swim a few metres and could probably regain the side of the pool, this is a risk too far and I intervene. Reconfined to the learner pool, he plays for another half hour, before we shower and change and then head outdoors about half past three. The bags are even heavier now that they contain wet towels and costumes. I take Louis to Tophams Ice Cream Parlour, which remains the best inBridlington and was on the go when I was Louis' age. I can distinctly remember going for coffee before breakfast, at six thirty or seven o'clock, when we holidayed in Bridlington with my Grandma and Aunty Rene, a few weeks after my mother died in 1956. Louis chose chocolate ice cream, and told me it was still the best in the world. We make our way to the beach and Louis wants to play crazy golf, I am scandalised that it now costs £2:50p when it used to be sixpence or 2:1/2p in decimal currency. Louis won't be shown how to use the golf club and converts the game into "crazy hockey", before we reach the beach. We inherit two holes in the sand which are interconnected by a deep tunnel, as the original builders, a father and son combination, vacate the beach. This keeps Louis amused for an hour or so whilst I watch some local kids who have developed a kind of trampoline by partially burying two giant beach balls in the sand. There are about a dozen of them, ranging in age from about nine to sixteen and they take it in turns to perform acrobatics, somersaults and twists, bouncing off these balls after an energetic run up. Louis complains to me that he has buried two sponge fish in the holes. These are bath time toys that were included with his bucket and spade. The last land train leaves in ten minutes, so I spend a frenzied few minutes excavating the holes before finding one of them, but not the other. Louis sheds a few tears but I tell him it is finding "Nemo", and we manage to squeeze into the last two seats on the train. When we arrive back in Beverley, Louis is fast asleep and I am feeling quite exhausted. We are greeted by Sarah at the door, who tells me the steam cleaning lady isn't finished and Louis will have to stay with me overnight. I politely but firmly decline and point out to her, that he is her son not mine, at which point she tells me to take him to Cherry and ask Pip if he can stay there. This is meant to be a kind of manipulation, but I do exactly what she asks and leave him with Pip. I can't for the life of me see why having the carpets steam cleaned means you can't sleep at home, but there again what do I know! I get back to Tickton for six thirty, just as a thunder storm breaks, and am greeted by Norman, who wants his dinner, I duly oblige and once the thunderstorm has passed take him down the lane for his evening walk. Finally, at half past seven, I am able to put my feet up, and am too tired to cook, so dine on cheese and crackers, before reading my book for an hour and then having an early night.

The luck of the draw.

Norman is becoming less greedy, or perhaps he is unwell. This morning he slept through my leaving the bedroom and the aroma of frying bacon, sausage and black pudding failed to penetrate his consciousness. With a strange guilt, I ate my breakfast, unperturbed by his usual begging and whining, before capitulating and hurrying to the bedroom to ensure that he hadn't died in the night. The snores from his dog bed quickly reassure me, he wakes, stretches and wags his tail when he sees me, strolls to the kitchen and leisurely consumes his mini full English breakfast. We pick up Dolly and Teddy and arrive on the Westwood for nine thirty, the sky is overcast and it is much cooler, a steady breeze blowing from the Southwest. I am dressed in shorts, sandals and a polo shirt, and had I brought a sweater, I would be wearing it. Norman is delighted to see his friends and trots along beside them, like a dog ten years younger than he actually is. I soon realise that the spring in his step is the result of Dolly being in season. These are the dangerous few days and she and Teddy have to be forcibly discouraged from copulating, as we progress round our usual route. Back at the car, Dolly goes on the front seat, whilst the boys are confined to the back. They have both been neutered but it doesn't stop them making the effort, or of getting stuck if they do. Back in Cherry, Dolly is locked into her cage and Teddy and Norman kept in the garden, while I put in another hour or so of weeding. The garden is already looking much better, and soon, too soon, the vigorous growing season will be over as Autumn takes hold and the long descent into Winter begins. I drop Normy back in Tickton after noon and find myself poolside for twenty to one. I swim 400m backstroke sharing a lane, then 400m fly partly shared, pushing off when the other swimmer comes in, until an adjacent lane falls empty, and I can complete the leg in peace. This is followed by 400m freestyle and then 4 x 100m medleys. There is just time for a 100m backstroke warm down before the pool is cleared at 1:30pm. A decent session, strength and fluency are flooding back, but I must remind myself not to do too much too soon. I drink tea and eat some oaties in the cafe before driving home to make lunch for Normy and myself. The sky is clearing and it is becoming warm again, so I make salad, beef burger and oven chips for lunch. One quarter pounder for me and one for Normy! We eat in the garden sat in the sun and afterwards I complete a puzzle before gathering Norman and driving to St Giles croft for tea with Rosemary Major. She has invited us to view her extensive garden, which I admired a couple of weeks ago. We arrive at four thirty to find Rosemary chatting to a chap who has been washing down the external paintwork on her house. It turns out the fellow is a triathlete and I bemoan the fact that every triathlon is biased in favour of cyclists. What I mean by this is that equal time should be spent on swimming, running and cycling, but because swimming is more technically challenging than the other disciplines, it only receives half the time allocation allotted to cycling. We end up chatting for a quarter of an hour, and I give him the web site for "Total Immersion", which does special swimming training for triathlon. Rosemary's garden, is extensive, but in imminent danger of growing beyond control. She employs a gardener one day per week, but in the summer months, it is not nearly enough. I promise to put her in touch with the father of a friend of Clement's called Ben, who lives nearby and is a landscape gardener. Rosemary's husband was a professor of modern history at the University of Hull and died from prostate cancer a few years ago. Rosemary is about seventy five, at a guess, and a friend of Felicity. Her husband died and I survived prostate cancer through an act of blind luck. My next door neighbour, Leslie, who I have coffee with every Sunday, developed the disease fifteen years ago and was fortunate not to have the aggressive strain. As a consequence, I learned chapter and verse about the disrase during his sequence of treatment, and reacted promptly to my own symptoms and a raised PSA reading. My cancer was aggressive, as was Rosemary's husband's, unfortunately his had spread throughout his body before he was diagnosed. Mine hadn't had time to spread. Despite this somewhat gloomy aspect of our discussion, Norman and I had a pleasant visit and sat outside in the garden enjoying the late evening sun and drinking ice tea, before driving home around seven thirty. Norman has his dinner and we walk down to the lane afterwards, the little girls are back from their holiday and come over to pat him on our way out. Once on Carr Lane, Norman does his business, which I retrieve and deposit in the bin, before turning around and running for home. It is a quarter past eight when we get in and already dusk is falling. It is only a month to the equinox and the start of Autumn. I make some oatmeal biscuits and Brie for dinner with a glass of wine, which I take into the Garden Room and eat, whilst reading a couple of chapters of Andres Neumann. I am the first one to take the book out of the library and when I check the return date, discover I should have taken it back today. Tomorrow I am looking after Louis again and will probably take him to the seaside, after we have walked the dogs. To bed at ten forty five.

Perfect fallibility

Wake around seven thirty, get up and make breakfast, including an extra sausage, egg and a slice of black pudding for Norman. By now he is usually sniffing around my ankles as I make breakfast, but he remains in his bed. When I check on him, his nose is warm but he soon stretches lazily and then trots after me back to the kitchen, sniffs his breakfast and then goes back to bed. Clearly he is under the weather. Taking my coffee into the Garden Room, I watch as Norman, having roused himself, toddles off onto the lawn and toilets before coming back inside. When I wash up, I see that he has eaten his breakfast with some relief. He can't be all that sick! After showering and dressing for church, I make sure the dog has fresh water and that the Garden Room door is open, before driving to St John's for nine o'clock mass. Monseigneur Coughlin is conducting the service today whilst Father Roy continues on holiday, he loses his place reciting the Gloria and like sheep, we meander about before finding our collective place in the text. The whole service is disrupted by the old boy's failing memory, but rather than feeling annoyed, I find it enlightening, because it stirs me from the comforting rut of ritual, forcing me to be really present to the act of worship. Which, in itself, is the act of genuine presence before God. Human fallibility is an inescapable and divine truth. After communion I intend to call in and see Sarah and Louis, but her new Peugeot, which was there before mass, is now gone. Instead I drive to Molescroft and collect my friend Leslie, a little earlier than usual, before taking us both to Caffe Nero. Once again there are an abundance of "pain au raisin" and once again, I order one for Leslie and abstain myself. Leslie has brought me a clipping from the "Economist", regarding the human biome project. It states that the ten trillion cells of our body carry one hundred trillion bacterial cells and that the harmonious balance of these exotic cells with our own, are essential to our well being. We are, in effect, a walking ecosystem. This resonates with my recent understanding, following my experience of an imbalance of candida albicans. I suspect, that within a few years, western medicine will rediscover the Taoist principles of Chinese medicine, namely that of balance and harmony with our environment are essential to good health and well being. After our usual stimulating discussion, I take the old boy back home, before calling at the supermarket for some odds and ends and then making my way back to Tickton. Norman greets me with a wag at the door and after unpacking my shopping, I take him for a walk down the Lane. His nose is still dry and warm and the temperature at midday is uncomfortably hot, so we dawdle in the shade of the large willows down Carr Lane and then head for home. Once inside, I boil an egg and a potato in the microwave and then open a couple of small tins of tuna to make a salad Nicoise. One tin is for Norman, and I mash half the potato with his fish and slice the rest with the egg into my salad. Within ten minutes lunch is ready and we eat in the garden, or rather I do, Norman is unimpressed with his lunch, and whinges and begs for mine, but when he discovers I am eating tuna as well, retires indoors. The sky has clouded over, but it is still pleasantly warm and so I remain outside and drink coffee and do a couple of puzzles, before it starts to rain. Retiring indoors, I take Normy's bowl of tuna into the kitchen, he may eat it later when he feels a little better. We both rest for an hour, listening to the gentle sound of the rain as it falls on the garden, before drifting off into sleep. When we awaken, the rain has stopped, I make some tea and seeing that Norman isn't going to eat the tuna, relent and give him some dog meat. This he quickly eats and feeling his nose, I find it cold and moist, the old chap is on the mend! After eating his dinner, I take him for a walk down the lane, as far as the little bridge, The air is a little fresher after the rain, but it is still pleasantly warm. When we get back, I do some weeding in the garden and then vacuum through the house, before settling down with my book, as darkness falls. Gradually the colour drains from the day and soon I am confronting my own image and that of my reading lamp, which is reflected back to me from the patio window, as it becomes black outside. Norman puts himself to bed around nine and I take a break for cheese and oatmeal biscuits about half past. Without the constant exhortation and expectation of happiness that is imposed on us by modern media, I actually find myself contented in the simple, mundane, processes of life. That which the Buddha called "suchness".

The stuff of dreams

Wake just after midnight starving hungry, so get up and eat strong cheddar cheese on Ryvita and help it down with a glass of wine. Consequently I dream vividly and wake retaining the memory of it. I believe the future to be one with small nuclear power stations and efficient battery powered vehicles and monitor developments in these fields, as I had done last night before going to sleep. In my dream someone had taken a complete energy and communications infrastructure to an African village and transformed their lives. When I got up at half past seven, I didn't feel very hungry, but made a full English breakfast, which I shared with Norman. After washing and dressing, I concoct a benchmark sauce, while boiling some whole meal penne noodles in the microwave. Using the last of my Bolognese sauce, I make a pasta bake, with alternate layers of Bechamel, noodles, Bolognese and Mozarella and then cook it in the oven at 180 degrees for thirty five minutes. It emerges golden brown, the cheese bubbling and spitting as I set it aside to cool, before driving into Beverley and parking at the top of Westwood Road. After letting Norman have a run and exercise his bowels, we head towards town, calling in to see Felicity and her dogs for ten minutes en route. She tells me her children are having a meeting to discuss her situation this weekend and I wonder how long she can last before she has to go into care. I don't say anything to her, because I think she is starting to realise that it might be necessary. Her health and strength are failing, but not her spirit. Norman and I walk through town, which is busy as its Market day, and by eleven o'clock it is hot. We stop and sit on some tables in the market square and I buy Normy a sausage and myself a cup of tea. After a rest we browse the stalls and buy some salad and a bottle of red, Spanish Temperanillo, before slowly wending our way back to the car, with frequent stops for water for Norman. As soon as I start the engine, it starts to rain and then stops again after less than a minute. When we arrive in Tickton, the white washing I had hung out is still dry, the shower not reaching as far as our village. After bringing the dry clothes in and hanging out a line of coloureds, I make lunch. Deciding back in town, that we would have the pasta bake cold, with a side salad and a glass of wine. Lunch is ready in minutes and we eat in the garden, Norman is also having pasta, but no wine or salad. It starts to rain, but I suspect it won't last, so put up the sun umbrella and continue eating. Sure enough after a few minutes the shower is over and the sun comes out again. Having eaten all his dinner, Normy is asking for more and as I have half a dish of it left, I fetch him a little extra. It is very tasty, but I notice later that Norman has managed to lick all the cheese and Bolognese sauce off his extra portion and left the noodles. Hull City are playing Brighton at home this afternoon, so I listen to the match whilst doing killer sudoku sat in the sun and drinking coffee. The Tigers win 1:0 , having been outplayed for most of the game, a little unfair on Brighton but it happened to us often enough last year. The match finishes at five and there is time to make a fresh batch of oaties before doing some gardening. I have added cinnamon and sultanas to my mixture, reasoning that the seven or eight sultanas that four oaties contain, will not be sufficient to set my low sugar diet askew. Whilst they are baking, I bring in my coloured washing, which is now dry and then mow the lawn at the back, popping in to get my biscuits out of the oven when the alarm sounds. I also mow the lawn at the front and then weed the flower beds before it is time for Norman's walk at half past seven. We only get just past the snicket, before he does his business. As soon as it is picked up and placed in the waste bin, Norman runs for home. After ten seconds he stops and waits for me, and once he is sure I am following, he jogs on again. He probably had enough walkies this morning and feels he has done enough for one day. The end of a pleasant day finds me reading my book with the dog pressed against my thigh, snoring gently.

A hip guy, with a three stroke engine.

Wake at six after a bad night, an arthritic pain in my left hip kept me awake, but after a trip to the toilet, I meditate, relax my body and manage to sleep for an hour until eight. Outside the sky is dull and overcast, rain is forecast for most of the day, but it is dry at the moment. I breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on Ryvita, Norman is disappointed that no full English breakfast is on offer and refuses to eat his dog food, even though I mix it with Bolognese sauce and warm it in the microwave. I take my coffee into the Garden Room and listen to the news, before taking an anti-inflammatory tablet and then setting off for Cherry around nine thirty. It is spitting with rain when we arrive, but I have a summer waterproof jacket and an umbrella, so we go to the Westwood as usual. It is raining as we set off, but we are soon in the shelter of the woods, and the rain eases as we emerge onto the common, the wind and the weather are blowing in from the southwest. The respite is short and the rain soon resumes with more vigour, so I put up my umbrella as we make our way towards Black Mill. Then quite suddenly it stops again. We arrive back in Cherry at eleven and seeing that it is dry, I get my gardening tools and little folding stool out of the boot of my car and weed the rear flower beds until midday. The rain holds off, and it is still dry when I arrive at the leisure centre, after having deposited Normy back at the bungalow. A life saving class is just finishing as I enter the water and so I enjoy the luxury of a clear lane. I have decided to avoid breaststroke, as the jarring of the powerful leg kick will aggravate the inflammation in my hip. As a consequence, I start out with a steady 400m backstroke to warm up and follow this with 200m butterfly, broken into eight single lengths with a fifteen second rest between repetitions. Butterfly requires a delicate balance of keeping the body low to the water, in order to minimise drag, and also raising the chin sufficiently above the surface to be able to breathe. It is impossible to do this if the body is too tired and there is no point in practising bad technique. After the fly, I swim 400m freestyle and soon settle into an easy rhythm of thirteen strokes to the length, tumbling into a long glide before resuming stroke. When this is finished I repeat the butterfly section, with a further eight lengths and then have time to warm down, with 200m easy backstroke followed by an even easier 200m freestyle. Whilst showering I realise that I am starting to feel good again, but know from experience, that it will take as long to regain my former condition as the time I have been out of the water. In short another three weeks, health permitting. After tea and some oaties in the cafe, I drive home arriving about two thirty, Norman is in the garden pottering about amongst the rhubarb. This prompts me to consider stewing some in the slow cooker with some artificial sweetener as a desert. Perhaps tomorrow! It starts to rain and to compensate for an unsettled night, I meditate and then sleep until four thirty. It is still raining when I get up, feeling rather hungry, and decide to make some fish fingers, chips and peas for dinner. I notice that Norman's bowl is empty, so he must have changed his mind about the dog food, nevertheless I cook enough fish fingers to feed the pair of us. Such a simple yet satisfying meal and so easy to cook. I pop the chips and fingers onto a baking tray and stick them in the oven for fifteen minutes and whilst they are cooking stick some frozen garden peas in the microwave. The dog and I both clear our plates and then he sits on my knee while I drink tea and do a little admin in my iPad. The rain stops around six and the sky clears to make a pleasant evening, we walk past the bridge and through "almost straight wood" before making our way back to the bridge along the drain. Norman is getting fitter, his coat is glossy and his tail now wags when he sees that I have his lead. We get back for eight, I give him a few biscuits and then warm up some tea in the microwave and take the last four oaties into the Garden Room. Inwill need to make another batch tomorrow. After we have had our snack, Norman settles on my knee whilst I read Andres Neumann's "traveller of the century", until bedtime. My only criticism of the book is with it's translation, it strikes me that because Neumann is of Argentinian and German descent, and the book is located in Germany, it could have done with a translator who is fluent in three languages. As it is, a lot of the German street names have been unnecessarily translated into English, making the narrative a little clunky. Notwithstanding, it is a fine book for so young an author, and daring in his willingness to tackle some weighty issues. I like books that make you think and particularly those that challenge my cosy preconceptions. To bed around eleven.

Schnitzel for Norman

We get up a little earlier this morning, around half past seven, I put the kettle on to make coffee whilst Norman relieves himself in the Garden. This morning I fry an extra egg and some black pudding and we both have a full English breakfast before we set off for Cherry. It is another fine day, the rain has cleared and there is a stiff breeze coming out of the West. After collecting Dolly and Teddy we arrive on the Westwood around nine thirty. There is a second day's racing on the Hurn today and quite a few of yesterday's punters have left their cars parked on the grass overnight. Presumably unsafe to drive having consumed a few drinks too many! I let Teddy and Norman off their leads and we proceed at the pace of our slowest member through the woods, which smell fresh after yesterday's rain, the sun dappling through the leaves as they are rustled by the breeze. The dogs are in a routine now and Teddy comes back to be put on the lead as we round the corner onto the common. There don't seem so many cows about today, perhaps they are grazing further afield, and when we get to Black Mill there is no sign of Angus. We get back for a quarter to eleven and I make hay whilst the sun shines and mow the lawns, and then finish off the weeding on the front flower beds before driving back to Tickton for midday. I leave the back door open for Norman and make sure he has plenty of water and the head for the pool. The human wave machine are bouncing to music again but it is not quite as busy as yesterday and I complete the same programme but in a different order, 400m backstroke and then the same in breast and freestyle before 4 x 100m individual medley and even have time for an easy 200m warm down before the pool is cleared. My strength and condition is returning, although you can never be sure of clear training space in the summer holidays. Still adapting to conditions as you find them is better than getting angry if they are not as one might wish. I take tea in the cafe and eat a few oaties before calling at the supermarket for a few bits and pieces. On my way home I call in at the doctors to collect a prescription for my blood pressure medication as I am out of tablets. When I get home Normy is sleeping in the garden but soon wakes up and comes to say hello, wagging his tail as I prepare a late lunch. Today we are having pork schnitzels, I took two frozen chops out of the freezer to defrost before leaving this morning. I bone them and flatten them with a tenderiser before seasoning and then dipping them in egg and breadcrumbs. In their flat and thin form they completely fill the frying pan and I sautée them carefully whilst making a tossed salad and buttering some Ryvita. I have also dipped and fried the bones and Norman has his own bowl of schnitzel, whilst I eat mine with a glass of nicely chilled Australian white wine in the garden. After lunch I drink a coffee and do a puzzle sat in the sun, whilst the dog sucks every last scrap of meat from the bones. We retire indoors as it starts to rain, but after a few drops, it blows over. Norman is running to the kitchen and barking because it is six o'clock and despite his schnitzel he wants his dinner. I give him a little bit of dog food, enhanced with some of the Bolognese sauce that I saved in the fridge. He seems happy with that and wags his tail when I put his lead on to take him for his evening walk. We go down to the bridge, in the fields the harvest is in full swing and the wheat field beyond the wood has already been brought in. The hawthorn trees are heavy with red berries and I am reminded that in four weeks, after my visit to Holland, autumn will be knocking on the door. I let Norman off the lead on the way back and we stop at the farm to buy some eggs. They only have six left, two large and four small, so they only charge 50p, and we are advised to shop earlier in the day. We get back around a quarter to eight and Norman has a drink and puts himself to bed and I make a pot of tea and some oaties before reading my book until bedtime. These two weeks of fine weather and returning health have been a real tonic.

A home for two old boys!

We wake just before eight to a bright but windy day, Norman trots into the garden whilst I prepare his breakfast. When he comes back he refuses to eat until I have given him a pat, I think we are starting to bond. I make a full English breakfast and save Normy a sausage, which I cut into tiny chunks and spread across the plate, to make it seem more. I take my coffee into the Garden Room and listen to the news, but when I try to read the Independant, I find my broadband is down again and restarting the router fails to bring it back to life, so I wash and dress and leave the house a little after a quarter past nine. After collecting the other dogs we drive to the Westwood, today is Ladies Day at the racecourse on York Road and the road is closed except to race traffic. So we take the road down to Walkington Manor and then turn left onto the Newbald Road, which runs down the middle of the common. On our way round our usual route, we see Elaine and Milo by Black Mill and she waits for us and then walks with us back to the car. She is still feeling low and tells me she sold the caravan last week, that she and her husband had so many holidays in. She has lots of friends and has a holiday to Spain booked and another in Robin Hoods Bay with her mother, so eventually the pain of losing her husband to cancer will fade. We get back to Cherry around a quarter to eleven and I spend an hour weeding the flower beds at the front of the house, before taking Norman home and collecting my swimming gear. I am slightly later today and arrive in the pool for a quarter to one. It is busy again, but largely because half the pool is taken up with aqua aerobics. About two dozen larger, older, women bouncing up and down to music have approximately the same effect as a wave machine. There is a double lane where people are swimming laps in a clockwise rotation and I join this and push off and warm up with an easy 400m freestyle. Although the lane is busy the centre is left free for overtaking and so it is perfectly manageable. My stroke holds good at thirteen strokes per length, breathing to either side every three strokes. I follow this with a 400m breaststroke, again done at a steady rhythmic pace concentrating on the glide after the second pulse of the stroke. After ten lengths the aerobics class finishes and I switch to a free lane on the other side of the rope to complete the last six lengths of breaststroke. The pool is warm and the air humid, but I have a litre bottle of water with me and drink between repetitions, I usually drink a litre of water per hours exercise, as the water temperature is only six degrees below blood heat. After breaststroke I swim 400m backstroke, the easiest of the four strokes because the face is in the air most of the time, but the stroke that requires almost perfect balance to swim properly. I find the trick is to lie back on my shoulders, so that my head is almost underwater, this allows my hips and legs to float high, minimising drag. I follow this with 4 x 100m individual medley and then warm down with a few lengths backstroke, before the pool is cleared to prepare for the children's inflatables. Today was a little easier than yesterday, and by next week, if all goes well, I should be strong enough to increase the butterfly element back to parity with the other strokes. After showering and changing, I adjourn to the cafe for a pot of tea and some oaties. One of the girls who works in the kitchen is having her lunch and I share an oatie with her, she is a little overweight and asks for the recipe when I tell her there is no sugar in them. The recipe couldn't be simpler, porridge oats made a little finer in my food processor, sweetener, olive oil margarine and a little soya milk. Rolled out, cut with a biscuit cutter and baked for 30 minutes at 180 degrees. I drive home and call at the village shop for some red wine to accompany the whole wheat spaghetti Bolognese I intend to make when I get in. I have been brewing the sauce in the slow cooker since last night. After boiling a pan of water I add the pasta, which takes 10-11 minutes like ordinary spaghetti. I time it on my iPhone and when it is done drain it in a colander and then toss it with butter and black pepper before adding the sauce and Parmesan. I am quite hungry after my swim and so is Norman, so I disguise some dog meat with Bolognese sauce and we both eat together. Surprisingly I have never eaten whole wheat spaghetti before, and it is OK, I could even imagine myself preferring it after a while. The broadband is still down as I take a quarter glass of wine into the Garden Room and find, that the rain that was forecast, is coming down hard. The garden is in need of it but it is unfortunate for all those girls in their high heels and summer frocks and hats at Ladies Day. Still there are marquees on the racecourse for people to shelter in. There is something so restful in listening to the rain fall and soon my dog and I feel sleepy, so I put a blanket over my duvet, and we nod off for an hour or so. It is still raining when we awaken, and as I am down to my last three oaties, I mix up and bake a new batch. I give Norman his dinner, and then, when the rain stops, take him down the lane for his evening walk. When we get back I read my book until half past ten and then write this, before retiring at eleven thirty. It has been another good day, my health continues to improve, the gardens are in a manageable condition and old Norman seems happy in his new retirement home. I don't know how long the old guy will last but I will try to make his last few months or years as happy as possible.

Back in the swim

Woke in the early hours feeling really hungry and eat some curry and rice before going back to bed. The resulting dreams were impressive, the Japanese were invading the East Yorkshire coast and the land was being flooded to foil them. At one point I dreamt I was in the front line shooting at the oncoming hordes, but there were more than I could kill. Fortunately when I woke up the land was dry, although there had been a light shower, and there wasn't a Japanese in sight. After a breakfast of cream cheese and smoked salmon on Ryvita, Norman and I collected Dolly and Teddy and arrived on the Westwood for about ten fifteen. When we got to Black Mill, our highland bullock, who we have nicknamed, Angus, was sat on his own. There must be a couple of hundred cows on the common and he is the only highlander. Perhaps the other cows don't like great big hairy jocks! Still it is a little sad. We get back at ten to twelve and Pip tells me she is going to the cinema with Sarah and Louis, so I am stood down from gardening for today. Seizing my opportunity I drive back to Tickton and drop Normy off, before gathering my swimming bag and heading for the Leisure Centre. I arrive poolside around 12:15, and the place is packed, but I find a training lane with just a few people in it and warm up with a slow 200m freestyle. The pool closes at 1:30 to allow the lifeguards to set up the inflatables for the kids during the summer holidays, so they stop admitting swimmers from 12:30. Consequently the pool soon thins out and I am able to find a free lane and swim 200m easy backstroke and then 200m breastroke. I am concentrating on technique and relaxation, but after a month out of the water I can feel the loss of condition. Nevertheless it is great to be back in the swim and after the , I switch to individual medleys and swim 4 x 100m IM and then finish off with 200m freestyle and 200m backstroke. Seeing that there are five minutes left to 1:30, I squeeze in another individual medley before showering and dressing. In the cafe the regulars are glad to see me, and I stick to my diet and just have a tea with a couple of oaties I brought in a Tupperware container. It is a lovely warm sunny afternoon, so I spend a pleasant hour mooching through town before returning home just before four. By now I am feeling quite hungry, so I finish the lamb and rice with side dishes of cucumber raita and tomato and onion salad. I eat this in the garden and save some lamb and rice for Norman, who much prefers my food to his dog tin. After lunch I do a puzzle for an hour and then wash the pots before driving back to Beverley to visit Felicity with Norman. I had left my brolly there last week and the forecast is for showers from tomorrow. When we arrive she is watching TV, but we go into her little garden and drink tea and exchange news. Felicity is going to Sewerby, near Bridlington, the weekend after next for a short break, funded by social services. Her daughter and granddaughter are going with her and she is greatly looking forward to it. She tires after half an hour and so Norman and I drive home, getting back about a quarter past eight. After giving Normy his dinner, we have a quick walk down the lane, before returning to make myself a snack of Ryvita, cheese and Parma ham. Norman puts himself to bed and I spend an hour on my puzzle before turning in around ten thirty.

Catching up

Norman slept in again this morning and it was a quarter to eight when we finally got up and I let him out into the garden. It is a fine, warm, morning the sky is cloudy but the wind has swung to the south making the air more humid than of late. I make myself a full English and give the dog some of his tinned meat, he sniffs at it and decides to wait for some of my sausage instead. I duly oblige and save one for him and after he has eaten this he deigns to eat some of his own breakfast. We adjourn to the Garden Room for coffee and to listen to the news, my broadband is on the blink again but it recovers when I reset the router. I feel fully recovered and after washing and dressing, pick Dolly and Teddy up and head to the Westwood. Once we are in the wood, I let the boys off, Teddy dashing off in pursuit of rabbits and Norman trotting along behind us sniffing the scents along the route with the air of a connoisseur of fine vintage wine. The sun burns off the cloud by the time we emerge onto the common and it is hot again. I swap Dolly and Teddy on the lead and we head for the shady bench by Black Mill. When we get there the Highland bullock is in possession of the seat but we squeeze him aside and sit down. Teddy has a good bark at him but he is impervious to Ted's bluster, and only shies away when I stroke his forehead. There are clouds streaming towards us from the southwest and once we have a little shade, we amble at Normy pace back to the car. When we arrive back at Cherry, Pip puts Dolly in her cage, whilst the two boys pop into the garden. I have been asked to weed the front of the house and take a pot of tea and a grouting knife and sit in the sun digging the weeds and moss out of the gaps between the paving stones. It's not the most exhilarating job in the world, but it is pleasant sat on my little camping stool in the warm sun, letting the work take its own pace and clearing up the debris as I go. It takes longer than I thought and it is two o'clock by the time I finish. After gathering up Norman we drive into Beverley, calling at the doctors, en route, to drop off a prescription and then carry on to the supermarket for a little shopping, finally arriving home about three. My lamb Kahari needs a bit longer in the slow cooker, so I make some Ryvita canapés, smoked cheese with Parma ham or Chorizo and a slice of pickled dill cucumber, with olives and roasted peppers on the side. A glass of Australian red wine helps it go down a treat. The trouble is the canapés are so moreish that I make a few more and have a second glass of red. After lunch I take a black coffee into the Garden Room and do a couple of puzzles until I feel sufficiently rested to start catching up on my neglected housework. By now it is nearly five o'clock and after clearing all the pots away and wiping down the kitchen, I mop the floor and then repeat the process in the bathroom, before taking the Garden Room furniture outside and then vacuum cleaning through the house. Norman is a little put out, because the clean up delays his usual dinner time, but happy enough once I serve up around half past seven. Then we take our walk down the lane, the little girls come over to pat him and tell us they are going on holiday in the morning. We walk as far as the bridge and then stop and pat the old, one eyed, Jack Russell at the stables on our way home. When we get in I make a pot of tea and take some oaties into the Garden Room, intending to read but I feel too tired, so just do a puzzle before going to bed about half past ten. My chest is just about clear and my energy levels have returned to normal, never the less I shall continue with my low sugar diet, at least until my holiday in Holland, as I don't want to risk a relapse. Perhaps I might swim tomorrow.

Pirates and sandcastles

Wake at seven, whilst Norman sleeps on, when I feel his nose it is warm and he leaves his breakfast, which is most unusual. I make smoked salmon and cream cheese Ryvita crackers and a pot of coffee, which I take into the Garden Room and eat whilst listening to the news. After showering and dressing, I pack my coffee, filter and papers to take to Leslie's and, leaving the garden door open for Normy, drive to church. I arrive, as usual, ten minutes before mass and quieten and prepare myself for the service. Monsiegnor Coughlan is conducting the service again, so there is no sung Latin this week, but what he lacks in energy and mental agility due to his advancing years, is more than made up for in the gentleness and radiant kindness of his personality. This happens with some people as they age, the body and mind might weaken but the soul becomes more radiant. Johnny Cash's American series of records, produced by Rick Rubin, are a great example of this, he was nearly dying when he made them but the sincerity and emotional content in his voice is transcendental. After Mass I call at Sarah's and arrange to collect Louis at half past twelve and take him to Bridlington. Then I drive the half mile to Leslie's house and make coffee for us both. He says his muscle problem is much better and he is certainly moving better but I can't rule out the possibility that a trip to Scarborough for a morning concert may have just been to much for him. I leave the invitation open for another day but will leave it to him to initiate things. We have a nice chat for an hour and then I drive home to check on Norman and to take him out for a walk. When I get in he has eaten his breakfast, but his nose is still a little warm, so I only walk him to the farm and back. He is glad to head for home and jumps straight back in his basket when we get in. I change into some old shorts for the beach, pack a sweater and then make sure there is plenty of water for the dog, before picking Louis up from Sarah's. We park at South Shore and get the little train that runs down the promenade to take us to our first destination, the large paddling pool. The train stops a couple of hundred yards beyond it and after we get off, Louis runs ahead and strips off his sandals, shorts and tea shirt and jumps in the water. He had put on his costume before he left. I retrieve his wet clothes from where he left them on the soaking concrete, and sit in the warm sun with the other adults and watch the kids play. Although Louis is only just turned five he is as big as most seven or eight year olds and this can cause problems. Today two boys of about this age are playing with a large inner tube in the water, taking turns to sit in it and be pushed along. Louis grabs it and is quickly and very firmly shoved out of the way. I have to explain to him that he must ask first and accept the fact that people are allowed to say no. He returns to the two boys and asks if he might play with them and is told no. A young mother takes pity on him and let's him ride on her daughter's inflatable dolphin. After ten minutes the boys with the inner tube ask him if he would like to swap and after a while he agrees. I keep an eye on the dolphin to ensure it doesn't go astray. After an hour he gets hungry and we move to the beach and I buy him a hot dog and myself a tea from the busy cafe on the promenade. We then select a place on the beach to set up camp, Louis wants to dig a sandcastle, so we find some firm sand that's not too wet to sit on and start work. First we inscribe a big circle in the sand and then dig a trench around it that will become the moat. The sand we excavate is piled in the middle, and when there is enough, we will sculpt this into the castle. Louis helps for a while and then goes to the sea, about twenty metres away, to wash the sand from his hands. When he comes back he occupies himself collecting shells and pebbles for decorations. After a while a little girl asks if she can help and of course we let her. She only looks about three but is very friendly and chatty, when I ask her how old she is, it turns out that she is only three weeks younger than Louis. The contrast in size is enormous, the difference in mentality, minimal. If anything she is more sensible than he is, but then little girls usually are. We have a happy couple of hours digging the sandcastle and the little girl's mum buys me a tea for keeping her amused all afternoon. We call it a day around four o'clock as it becomes chilly as the clouds roll in and the onshore breeze stiffens. Before we leave the kids jump all over the castle, shrieking with glee as they demolish it. Louis and I make our way to the harbour, where a fishing coble has been decked out as a pirate ship and a ten minute trip into the bay can be had for a pound. ( Good value compared to his donkey ride which cost two.) As we arrive, the boat embarks, so we buy fish and chips from Baynhams stall, the best in the harbour, and eat them sat on a bench surrounded by predatory seagulls. Louis, who is going through a dinosaur phase, asks if they are pterodactyls? Not dissimilar I tell him. The pirate ship returns, we pay our pounds and enjoy the short ride on a choppy sea. The more the boat bobs up and down as it breasts the waves, the more Louis laughs, he is an adrenalin junkie. After we get our land legs back, we make our way back to the little train stop and join about half a dozen people sat on the little wooden platform. It is ten minutes before they tell us that they are watching their children on the boating pool and that the last train left just before we arrived. It is only a mile back to the car and it is a pleasant and easy walk along the promenade. I drop Louis off in Beverley at a quarter to seven, tired and happy, Sarah and Richard have been to watch Hull FC beat the Catalan Dragons at the KC stadium. I arrive home at seven, Norman is asleep but when I check his nose, it is cold again and he eats his dinner with gusto. Afterwards we walk as far as the little bridge before returning home. I mix up some more oaties, and then marinade some stewing lamb, I bought on Friday, in chile, ginger, garlic and coriander Tomorrow I will make a Lamb Kahari with it. It is now nine O'clock and I feel tired but my energy levels seem back to normal and I have had a lovely day. Long may the good health continue.