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.