Louis the artist

It is half term and I am looking after my 5 year old grandson Louis today and tomorrow, as Sarah has to work. With this in mind, I am up at six thirty and make breakfast after letting Norman into the garden, it is breaking dawn and looking to be a reasonable day. It is always helpful not to be held indoors by the weather when entertaining small children. Norman and I collect the terriers shortly before 9:00 AM and park at our usual spot on Newbald Road before crossing the road into the woods of Newbegin Pits. We meet Jim the neatherd rounding up cattle for return from the common. He tells me most will be gone by the weekend but officially they don't end grazing until December 10th. It's a milder day, with the odd spot of drizzle and the wind from the Northwest. After bringing Dolly back to the lead at Black Mill, we make our way to the little wood of Newbald Pits and walk among the trees. There are numerous benches situated around the common, left as dedications to relatives and loved ones who appreciated its charms as much as I do. One such bench lies in a grove in this wood, it's dedication reads "To Jo from Lynn, rest and enjoy the tranquility". Today it is nestled under a russet sprinkling of leaves, and just beyond it is an elm with a hollow in the trunk, where a branch was lost, years ago, in the spring an owl nested there and for a week, before it fledged, a fat fluffy owlet peered out as I walked by. Today's walk is, of necessity, a little shorter and we are back in Tickton for ten thirty, I change out of my muddy boots before driving to Beverley for eleven. My oldest Granddaughter, Alice, who is fifteen, is looking after Louis until I have walked the dogs. As ever, Louis is full of beans and raring to go, he has his day planned out already. Last week I mentioned, in passing, a place with lots of art materials, (The Range), and he wants to go. It is a half hours drive, situated on Clough Road, not far from where my old company had its service department. We spend half an hour buying coloured paper, card, a Prit stick and children's scissors as well as crayons and stickers before adjourning to the cafeteria, where we share a mozarella and tomato panini. There are other things I would have liked to look at, but prudence dictates that I don't come between a five year old and his art. Louis wants to play with his new stuff and play now! We drive home on a very bendy minor road that takes us through the village of Wawne, beyond the hedgerows are arable fields and the countryside is at its best at this time of year. Halfway home he asks how long it will be and I fob him off with ten minutes. " How many seconds is that he asks?" We work it out together, then I tell him to count up to a hundred. When he gets to one hundred I tell him to repeat it, and by some divine intervention he reaches six hundred as we pull into Green Lane. I dig out some white card, set aside by me for just this purpose from some Egyption cotton bed linen bought on eBay and we are soon in business, making Xmas trees from triangles of green paper and sticking them on card. After an hour he is hungry and wanting his usual Granddad tea, Parma Ham, Chorizo, smoked cheese and olives. After eating this he goes back into the sitting room and plays happily with his paper and card while I clear up. Norman is sniffing round for dinner but it is only half past three and too early to feed him yet. While Louis is keeping himself amused, I take the crackling off the last of the pork and chop it up for the dog's dinner. The rest of the meat is cubed and put in the food processor with chunks of Bramley apple, onion and dried sultanas and apricots that I soaked before leaving this morning. I season it liberally with salt, pepper and marjoram, pulse it a few times and then set it aside while I roll out some pastry from the fridge that was left over from last weeks pie. Louis asks what I am doing and I tell him we are making pork sweet meat pies. There is only enough pastry to make two smallish ones, in ramekins, one for him and one for Alice. We use a sliver of pastry trimming to label his L and hers A and then put them in the oven for half an hour on 200 centigrade, before going back to his artwork. He has made a Xmas picture, with three trees, we play a guessing game about how long the pies have left and then check the timer to see who has won, we win one each on 18 and 8 minutes and just have enough time to take his photograph with Norman, sitting on the couch before the timer tells us the pies are ready. They look fine, nicely browned and smell wonderful as I set them out to cool before we feed Norman and walk him down to the bridge. It is half past four and falling dark already, on our way back Louis plays for ten minutes in the split willow "pirate ship" and then we have to go, as he has swimming lessons at half past five. He has a different instructor this week, a chubby young blonde girl with a natural affinity for kids, she obviously likes them and they respond accordingly and try to please her. She seems to have a tremendous sense of fun, a natural if ever I saw one! I drink chocolate and watch from the window by reception until it is time to collect, dry and dress him. Sarah is working late tonight, so I take him back to North Bar, where he and Alice test the pies and give them their seal of approval. Louis can't quite finish his, so I get the chance for some quality control. They are really quite good, the pork working well with the onion and fruit. I shall make a couple more tomorrow, as I have to make a pastry case for the pumpkin pie which will result from carving the "Jack O' Lantern", tomorrow for Halloween. Nothing gets wasted at Grandad's house. I drive home for seven, too tired to cook and just make a couple of Cheshire cheese and tomato sandwiches on rye. My son Andrew phones about nine on his way back from London, we chat for a while, then his connection drops because he is in a taxi from the station. He didn't inherit my culture genes, so I text him later and ask if he wants to see "Skyfall"?