Pipistrelles

Wake at seven to a clear morning, Norman is up and anxious for breakfast to start, but agrees to go into the Garden after I insist. We take our time over our full English breakfast, and then I defrost a couple of chicken breasts which I slice into strips and then marinade in a trilogy of chile, ginger and garlic. I intend to christen my birthday wok with a chicken stir fry for lunch. After showering and dressing, drive to Cherry for half past nine, it is another glorious October day and without the mist, quite warm. The Westwood looks magnificent in the bright sunshine, the fairways and greens of the golf course are emerald after last weeks rains, the Hawthorn trees are full of bright red berries and the trees are on the turn, with a few providing a spectacular showing of colour. It is simply irresistible, and so we walk all the way round again, but vary our route slightly, taking in the southern end of Burton Bushes and then following a little valley downhill to Newbald Road and our car. After dropping a happy Dolly and Teddy at two Riggs, we call at Tesco to buy some stir fry vegetables and a packet of noodles, arriving home for half past twelve. The wok performs admirably and lunch is ready within fifteen minutes and eaten, al fresco, in the garden again. I have enough stir fry materials left over for another meal, so will probably serve the same again on Thursday. I like green tea with oriental food and so sit and finish the teapot, while I crack a tough puzzle, and wait until my lunch has gone down. I am still not swimming, as my chest still has quite a lot of phlegm, but it is almost clear, so I may get back in the water before the week is out. After lunch I mow the lawns and weed the front garden before meditating for an hour and then feeding Norman. At a quarter past five, I drive into Beverley to collect Louis from the after school club. Sarah has a staff meeting tonight and so he is having tea with Grandad, I picked up some more Parma ham for him in Tesco this morning. We finish tea around six and then take Norman down to the little wooden bridge. Louis finds a huge old willow tree whose trunk has split and he climbs into the hollowed out trunk and pretends its a pirate ship. As we pass the farm one of the daughters is taking her horse for a trot round the fields, she asks Louis if he would like to stroke the horse, who is called Minstrel, but Louis declines. He remembers that it was Minstrel that nipped his finger when he gave him a carrot earlier this year. The sun has set by the time we get to the bridge and darkness starts to fall quite quickly, as we pass the hollow willow again, pipistrelle bats are hunting above our heads. They are tiny little things, hunting the midges that are swarming at dusk. I deliver Louis back to Sarah's for seven and then return home and make further inroads on the pile of winter shirts that need ironing. It has been a good day and I feel pleasantly tired, so have an early night with my book again.