Stuck in the lift with Leslie

It is a cold, clear, morning, the lawn white with frost, as I let my dog out to perform his duties before breakfast. Our routine is slightly altered today, as I have volunteered to cook lunch at Leslie's house after church, he expressed an interest when I told him about spaghetti with white asparagus and so I have bought the ingredients and will make it for him later. After our usual full English breakfast, I read the Observer over coffee and then shower, dress and walk Norman down to the bridge over the drain. It is a glorious morning, clear blue skies, with the sun low to the southeast. The ground is still frozen and the breath from the Alpacas at the farm, comes out like clouds of steam and when I let Normy off the lead, he jogs all the way home, his little tail wagging happily. Before leaving for church, I load all the ingredients and cooking utensils that I will need for lunch into the back of my car, including a chilled bottle of Riesling, it will stay cold in this weather. I arrive in good time for ten thirty mass, a later service than my usual one, and find an empty pew, where I settle my mind and pray before the service starts. This service has the full choir and organist, who lead us in our hymns and sung portions of the mass, the sermon is a reflection by Father David Pick on his experience with prisoners and their families. Today is prisoner Sunday, the theme is breaking the cycles of abuse that lead to offending and recidivism. My mind is turned to Gaza and other places where this tragic pattern in human affairs is endlessly played out. Faith is a better response than despair. After communion I drive the short distance to Leslie's house, unpack my cooking gear and knock on the door. Leslie is waiting for me with his coat on, he tells me he has just called the ambulance as he is unwell, I return my pots etc to the car and sit with him until it arrives. He seems OK, but says he felt short of breath and unsteady on his feet this morning. He has a blood pressure monitor, so I suggest it may be useful to check his pulse and BP while we wait. Both are normal, and ten minutes later a paramedic arrives, a pleasant, competent woman, called Alyson. She spends a full forty five minutes giving Leslie an ECG and a thorough examination and when it becomes obvious that this is a panic attack, I phone Leslie's son in law, William and ask him to come. Once the checks are completed the paramedic asks Leslie what he wants to do, there is nothing apparently wrong with him other than being old, frail and frightened. The options are hospital, which she doesn't recommend, someone to stay with him, or respite care in a nursing home. He and I have discussed the possibility of a short convalescent stay in a nursing home and I have the number for the care home in Cherry Burton and he asks me to ring to check the availability of rooms. They have rooms and say we are welcome to view them should he wish and I thank them and say we will call back after discussing this with William, who arrives shortly afterwards. The paramedic completes her paperwork and leaves a copy for Leslie's doctor and he asks me to post it through the surgery letterbox later. After she leaves William asks Leslie what he wants to do and he decides that he would like to see the rooms at Cherry Burton, so I phone ahead and then drive the three of us the two miles to the home. The staff are waiting for us when we arrive, the home is an old mansion in extensive landscaped gardens, and we are shown a double room adjacent to the entrance, and then the lounge and dining room on the ground floor. There are two further rooms available on the first floor, one overlooking the garden, so we are conducted to the lift and conveyed to the first floor. When we arrive, the lift door fails to open, and it fails to respond to the button that would take us back down. There are four of us stuck in a space one metre wide and two long. Fortunately we are able to raise the alarm and another member of staff calls the fire brigade, who arrive within ten minutes and free us in a further five. Fortunately no one in the lift was claustrophobic and spirits are soon repaired with a cup of tea. The room overlooking the garden is very pleasant, and after our tea, we are given the prices and I take Leslie and William back to Leslie's bungalow. Leslie seems undeterred by the experience and seems inclined to return tomorrow, for one or two weeks respite. I have to leave, as it is now almost four o'clock and need to get back to Norman, on my way, I post the report for the doctor. I think my old friend has lost the confidence to live alone. When I get in, Norman is waiting for me, his tail wagging in anticipation of dinner, which I promptly serve. I put my shirts and socks on the line to dry this morning and recover them from the line in the gathering dusk. They are dry enough to iron, which is a result for this time of year. Lunch becomes dinner and it only takes a few minutes to prepare the asparagus and pasta but it is sad that I didn't get to make it for my friend. After dinner we walk round the village, it is a cold evening, the crescent moon is thickening towards the half and swirls of fog are rolling down the lane, above us the cries of pippistrelle bats sound out and the stars twinkle through the mist. I am glad to return indoors to the warmth of my room, Norman sits on my knee and snores gently while I read my book, which I put down after a while and then close my eyes to take in the events of the day.