Beverley Food Fair

Louis wakes at three needing the toilet, which is down two flights of stairs, so I put the hall lights on and accompany him. The kitchen light bulb blows as we pass through, but there is nothing to be done about it until morning, and so we climb back to bed. Despite his early night, Louis sleeps until eight and then we get up. He plays on the kitchen table with a toy tablet computer while I search in vain for a spare light bulb. I partially solve the problem by putting on the light over the hob, which at least allows me to cook breakfast. I find some sausages and some bacon in the freezer, which I have to defrost before I cook, but they turn out OK anyway. We eat for a quarter to nine and when Louis gets Alice up, she wants to know why I didn't use the sausage and bacon that she had got out to defrost last night and put in a bowl. In the gloom, without the light bulb, I hadn't noticed it. They will do for breakfast tomorrow instead. Louis seems a little better today but still not one hundred percent, Alice agrees to look after him whilst I drive home to shower and change for church. I have a message on my answer phone from Leslie's daughter to tell me he has been hospitalised because of mobility problems, but when I call back it goes straight to answer phone. I arrive with seconds to spare for ten thirty mass, Father Roy's sermon is taken up with an appeal to lobby our MP about the proposed changes to the law on civil marriage. There is a briefing document for every household at the back of the church for collection after the service. I shall read it out of respect for Roy, but suspect I may be more relaxed about "gay marriages", than the official position. Whilst I agree with the principle that eternal verities cannot be sacrificed to contemporary whims, I also believe that Patriarchial Jewish customs from three thousand years ago are not necessarily relevant today. There is a distinct tension between New Testament tolerance and loving kindness and Old Testament eye for an eye theology. I shall examine my conscience and follow that, which probably doesn't make me a very good catholic. After Mass Louis and I take Norman for a walk, on our way down Seven Corners Lane Leslie's daughter, Margaret, phones to tell me he has had a minor stroke that has affected his walking and that he is in ward 19 at Castle Hill hospital. I explain I am tied up today, but will try to visit him tomorrow. We continue on our way, past the tennis club, across York Road onto the Westwood and then pop in to see Felicity for ten minutes before going into Saturday Market. It is Beverley Food fair today and with the glorious Autumn weather the town is packed. The Market is full of stalls selling locally grown organic produce, everything from sloe gin and Wold Top Bitter, to pork pies and rare breed pig sausages. I need some more streaky bacon for breakfast and am surprised to find that locally smoked produce is only fifty pence more expensive than Tesco. Louis wants a snack, so we take Norman into the rear courtyard of Caffe Nero, where he watches the dog whilst I queue for coffee and pain au raisin for me and orange pop and pain au chocolat for him. We get back to Sarah's for two, Alice tells me Sarah is going to be back somewhat late, as they lost the car in the Trafford Centre in Manchester, so I take them to the Hayride for lunch. Louis plays outside for a while, but Alice says she is hungry and so I order after a few minutes. We all decide to have steak, mine with salad, Alice with peas and Louis with beans. The food arrives within ten minutes, but it looks and tastes tired and unappetising, the pain au raisin didn't help either. They have a "no quibble" guarantee to replace the food if you don't like it, but the whole place looks down at heel and demoralised, so we cut our losses and leave. The big winner in all of this is Norman, as we take a large doggy bag of uneaten steak home for him. Sarah and Richard text to say they will be back in twenty minutes, so I drop Alice and Louis back home, collect Norman's bed and my birthday present, a set of non stick skillets and head home. When we get in, I make a mug of coffee, chop up Norman's steak and then sit in the Garden enjoying the last of the afternoon sun while he has his dinner and I do a puzzle. We then walk down to the bridge and back, Normy is in a really good mood after his steak and plays "praise and pat", with great enthusiam all the way home. When we get in the broadband is more or less working and I have an e birthday card from Graham and Jackie, but can't open it because I need a new version of Adobe Flash player. When I try to import it, I am told my iPad doesn't support it, but I am too tired to fiddle about trying to get round it. I make a fresh batch of oaties and then iron a dozen shirts, before making a cheese and tomato sandwich. Clement has been trying to phone me for my birthday but we keep missing each other. I will make one more attempt and then go to bed.