History and mystery in the making.

Let Norman out at seven and then nod off again until eight. I Breakfast on rye toast with cream cheese and smoked salmon, poor Normy had to have dry dog food, although he had a taste of my fish. He much prefers the full English. After washing and dressing, we collect Dolly and Teddy around ten for our walk on the Westwood. A stiff westerly breeze is blowing and bringing a lot of weather with it, very changeable, bright one minute then cloudy and spitting with rain the next. Coming out of the woods we see Jan Morrison with her dachshund, Toffee who is now two years old. Norman is happy to meet another midget, but the two terriers are less impressed. Jan lost her other dachshund a couple of years ago and got Toffee from Julie Livingstone at North Cave on my recommendation, Julie sold us Noddy, Jacko and of course Norman. It is too wet to do much gardening after the walk, so I just spray the paths with weed killer, before driving back to Tickton. After giving Norman some water and a few biscuits, I change into light slacks, decent shoes and a jacket. History is being made today, the first catholic Mass for five hundred years is being celebrated in Beverley Minster. It is to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the local catholic primary school, Saint John of Beverley. It starts at two o'clock, which means that I still have time for a swim and a cup of tea and a few oaties before the service. The leisure centre is only a five minute walk from the Minster. No classes in the pool today, so I have the benefit of a free lane, but limit myself to a 1600m swim , as I want time to rest and have a snack before the service. 3 x 400m on backstroke, breaststroke and freestyle and then 4 x 100m Individual medley. I feel fit and strong at the end of the week, the only cloud on the horizon is a slight touch of catarrh, which will need watching. I am in the cafe, showered and changed by ten past one, which leaves me half an hour for tea and oaties, before heading to the Minster. I have two texts on my phone, one from Sarah asking me to look after Alice and Louis over my birthday weekend, whilst she and Richard go to the Rugby League challenge cup in Manchester. Her boyfriend is a big rugby fan and I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than being with my grandchildren. The other text is from Clement, who has got himself a new iPhone 5 and needs me to call at the Orange shop and sort out a sim swap at the Camden branch of Orange. His account is in my name, so I have to authorise it. As I leave the leisure centre and make my way over the level crossing, I join a crocodile of infants from Saint John's, being shepherded by their teachers to the Minster, so I tag along behind them. Father Roy asked for a good turn out last Sunday and he must be impressed, over a thousand people have turned up. Of course that includes two to three hundred kids and many of their parents. The Minster hasn't been this full since "The Antiques Roadshow", a couple of years ago. BBC "Look North" are here with cameras to televise The historic occasion. Non parents, teachers or children, are sat on pews at the western end of the Minster, a hundred feet from the alter. The building is a Gothic Masterpiece, but it is distinctly chilly inside. The service is very nice, everyone sings the hymns and the mass at the proper places and communion for so many people is managed with military precision. The Minster Organist, who is a renowned and accomplished musician, goes somewhat over the top, with long Baroque riffs at the end of each hymn. Some wag in the congregation comments that it sounds like they have let the phantom loose! The organ was constructed in the seventeenth century by a Swiss specialist and has a wonderful tone, he tuned it to resonate with the great chamber. By half past three the service is over and we all troop out. I am sure that I spot the Archbishop of York, John Sentamu, arriving late in civvies, he is one of the two favourites to succeed Rowan Williams as Archbishop of Canterbury. Perish the thought, but might this outbreak of ecumenical harmony be part of his election campaign? Suddenly the crowds and TV makes sense. Nevertheless it was a fine service, the Minster lacks the warmth and intimacy of our little church, but lets hope it's not another five hundred years until they let us left footers back in again. I walk into town to the Orange shop and sort things out for Clement, before retracing my steps to the Leisure Centre to pick up the car. On the way home, I call at Tesco's for a few bits of shopping and then drive home for half past four. Norman is waiting for his dinner, so once the shopping is unpacked I open a tin for him and then put the oven on. Fish fingers were on special offer, so I am having fish fingers, chips, garden peas and tea with bread and butter. It only takes fifteen minutes to make, once the oven has warmed up and I realise that I am ravenous, having only eaten a couple of oaties since breakfast. After dinner we walk down to the bridge and then I succumb to my recent puzzle addiction and exercise my brain until bedtime. To bed at ten thirty.