Otello

Wake at four thirty, when I hear Norman by the garden door, get up and let him out. It is freezing cold outside and when Norman comes back indoors, I put the central heating on and then go back to bed. The phone rings and wakes me up about half past eight, it is Felicity, she won't be able to go to the Poppy Seed this morning as she is under the weather and wonders whether I might buy her some bacon and sausage from the farm stall on Beverley Market. I say I will and then get up and make breakfast, English again, and share a little with Norman, continuing his diet. Outside it is bright and cold, with a stiff Northerly wind, it may just be OK to dry the shirts and socks that washed overnight. After pegging these out, I put this week's pants and vests in to wash and then shower and dress. We leave the house just after eleven and drive to Norwood and park in our usual place, opposite Mill Lane fish and chip shop. I am dressed for the weather, which is bringing short, sharp, showers of sleet and hail. Norman performs his duties on our way to town and I collect this and deposit it in a handy bin. We walk up Hengate, past Saint Mary's Parish Church, whose bells are pealing, perhaps there is a wedding. We look in on the Poppy Seed Cafe and find Barbara sitting alone and looking a little sad, so join her and drink tea and chat for a while, she is going to Otello this evening for the telecast from the Met at Cineworld, as I am going as well, I offer a lift and it is agreed I will collect her at five twenty, the performance starts at five to six. Afterwards Norman and I stroll into the Market to buy Felicity's sausage and bacon and replace my breakfast stock with free range bacon, black pudding, and chilly, ginger and garlic pork sausages. While I am there, I also pick up a loin of pork, as the weather has me thinking of roast dinners. I buy some rye bread from the Ukranian bakery and a fennel bulb that will form part of the roast vegetables that I plan to serve with the pork. It is less than a half mile to Felicity's house on Albert Terrace and we arrive there at half past twelve, she is making herself a cup of soup and I have brought her the plum pie that I baked last night. Melissa, her daughter, has gone to Amsterdam with her boyfriend for the weekend on North Sea Ferries and that is why Fliss needed me to shop for her. She is diabetic and has lost the sight in one eye, but her Joie de vivre, remains undiminished. She is a poet and artist and like me, shares a deep seam of triviality. We almost always laugh ourselves silly and I am in need of a laugh, after my concerns about Leslie. The pie is made with sweetener, not sugar and is OK rather than brilliant, we each have a slice with a cup of tea and then Normy and I have to leave, as we only have two hours parking on the car. We arrive back in Tickton for a quarter to two, which leaves a little over three and a half hours before I need to pick Barbara up for Otello. Long enough to roast the pork with some winter vegetables. While the oven is warming I season the joint and then peel and slice carrots, swede, parsnip, fennel, onion and potato into largish chunks, rub with olive oil and season liberally with salt and pepper, before laying them as a bed in the roasting tin on which I rest the meat. It takes a little over two hours to cook, and while it does, I bring in my shirts and socks from the line. Amazingly they are dry, despite the showers of sleet and hail, so I chance my luck and put the whites on the line to see if these will dry too. The weeks dog walking has rendered the car a bit muddy, so I use the fact that I have to pick someone up, as motivation to give it a clean out. By the time I have done that, and run the vacuum cleaner through the house lunch/dinner is served. Norman is hopping round the kitchen in a state of excitement, as the aroma of the roast pork fills the room. He can hardly wait for me to carve it, the crackling is also nice and crisp, I took the foil cover off for the last half hour and whacked the fan oven up to max. The vegetables have caramelised nicely too. By the time I have made the gravy, the meat has rested and we are both ready to eat. Norman has meat, crackling and a few veg with gravy. I am not that keen on crackling, so he will probably get it all through the course of the week. We finish eating at half past four and I take Norman for his evening walk down as far as the farm, as we pass the stables, the horses are also enjoying their evening meal. It is a clear evening and the sun is shining low in the sky to the West. This has been the first really wintry day of the autumn. I get back and have ten minutes in which to bring in my whites, which have also dried, change, make a flask of coffee and put some oatmeal biscuits in a container, and then it's off to collect Barbara. She is waiting for me when I arrive at her house, which overlooks the Westwood, and we arrive at the cinema with ten minutes to spare. The young guy collecting the tickets in the multiplex directs us to screen nine, where the opera from the Met in New York is being beamed. The auditorium is being cleaned and so we have to queue, opposite us is another queue for the new Bond movie, Sky Fall. Our queue is, on average, thirty years older than theirs! The performance is in HD and the production first rate, Johan Botha, sings Otello and Renee Fleming, Desdemona, but both are upstaged by Falk Struckman's Iago, which is a tour de force. During the interval, Barbara brings out some white wine, which we share, some quails eggs from Waitrose and bread and butter. I eat one egg out of courtesy, but my dinner is too recent to attempt more and then give her one of my oaties and drink a little coffee. The performance finishes at nine thirty and after dropping Barbara back at her house, I am home for ten. Norman wags his tail in greeting and I let him into the garden and then reward him with a small piece of pork and crackling, before pouring myself a glass of milk and taking a couple of biscuits into the Garden Room. The broadband is working again and Hull City have won away at Bristol, two goals to one, quite a good day.