Made glorious summer for this son of York

Wake around seven to clearing weather, the wind is mild from the southwest. It has rained heavily again overnight and the garden is still wet, as Norman trots down the path to relieve himself. It is still not quite dawn and when the dog comes back, he runs happily to the kitchen in gleeful anticipation of breakfast. I make our full English and Normy gets extra sausage as I am not too impressed with these Wall's ones. We shan't be buying these again, however cheap. After breakfast I drink my coffee and read the Guardian, Francois Hollande is being interviewed on the radio and he has been interviewed by the Guardian. He is putting pressure on Angela Merkel to ease up on austerity and behave in a states womanly way rather than pandering to national politics. In one way he is right, it is as though we never learned anything from the Great Depression and are intent on repeating the same mistakes. German folk memories are more attuned to the hyper inflation that preceded that depression and Merkel is walking a fine line. Talking tough for internal consumption and letting through as much as she dares to prop up the euro. She is a clever and I believe, honourable woman. I suspect she will use Hollande's pressure to secure internal permission to complete the deal that she appeared to agree to last month. After breakfast I shower and collect Dolly and Teddy from Cherry around a quarter to ten. There are puddles everywhere on the Westwood and I have to park right next to Newbald Road in order to let the dogs out of the car onto the tarmac. Otherwise, when we come back, they will be jumping in the car from a muddy puddle. I have a blanket covering the back seat, but it can only take so much. It is a mild morning, half the sky is clear blue and the other half grey cloud, which lies to the south. The sun lies behind this cloud but should burn through later. In the woods, even more leaves and small branches have been blown down and the trees are still dripping from the overnight rainfall, it smells fresh and clean, the cider scent of autumn leaves perfumes the air. It is a lovely day for walking, with little wind but quite boggy underfoot in places. A few temporary streams have formed, as the water drains off the higher ground, they are not very deep and Norman fords them without any real problems. We walk through Burton Bushes, the smell is incredible, it is largely oak and ash with some holly and hawthorn around the edges. The winds have brought down leaves and small branches and the tannic aroma of the oaks is dominant. I have to hold the dogs hard on the lead, because grey squirrels are frantically gathering their harvest of windfall acorns and seem to be taking more chances than usual. We stop for a while and sit on Brandon Barker's bench, it is located in the midst of an ash grove, the majestic trees tower a hundred feet above our heads and have formed a natural temple. It is easy to see why the Druids and the Nordic tribes worshipped the ash. There are the remains of an Iron Age settlement near Black Mill, and a chariot was unearthed there a hundred years ago. Druids could well have worshipped in these woods. We walk happily down the hill, half an hour in the woods does wonders for the spirit. It is still too wet to garden, so after taking the terriers back to Two Riggs, Norman and I return to Tickton. It is twelve o'clock and though I intend to swim, there is little point in going over lunchtime as "the wave machine", will be taking up half the pool. Instead, I slice the rest of the beef and put it in the remains of yesterday's gravy and set it to warm on a low heat while I peel some potatoes and cook them in the microwave. When they are done, I reheat the red cabbage and then serve the beef with parsley potatoes. Norman has rot kohl, spuds and beef as well and clears his plate. After lunch I make a pot of tea and take it into the garden and sit in the warm sunshine for an hour cracking another puzzle leaving for the leisure centre at a quarter past two, after first making sure the garden room door is left open for Norman. The pool is quiet, the school children have left for the day and swimming lessons don't start until four. I have the fast lane to myself again and repeat Tuesday's program, 3x 400m on back, breast and freestyle, followed by 4 x 100m individual medley. I feel wonderful, my chest finally clear. To celebrate I warm down with a slow 400m in a mixture of strokes, and then adjourn to the cafe for tea and a couple of oaties. The leisure centre is starting to fill up, it is now four o'clock and harassed mums are delivering their kids for swimming lessons. After my tea I call at the supermarket for some more rye bread and to buy Norman more dog food, getting back to Tickton just after five, he is waiting for my return, his tail wagging in anticipation of dinner. After he has eaten, we take our evening walk down to the bridge and watch the sun set over Beverley before playing "praise and pat" on the way home. The exercise is having a beneficial effect on Norman who now looks toned and fit. It has taken years off him, but it also boosts his appetite, the little kraut could eat for the Fatherland! I make ante pasta for tea and resist Norman's entreaties for even more food. Later listening to a serialisation of an Ian Rankin story on the BBC iplayer, and then turn in around half past ten. We have to be up early in the morning because we are taking Louis to school for Sarah.