A damp, non apocalyptic, solstice

We sleep in this morning, probably the after effects of the extra butterfly during yesterday's swim, and it is eight thirty when I eventually let Normy out into the Garden. It is still raining, but not with the same intensity as yesterday, I dry him on his towel when he returns, which I have warmed on the radiator, before serving us breakfast. Dry dog food for Norman and my usual Friday breakfast of smoked salmon on cream cheese and toast, with strong, black Italian coffee, the old guy doesn't even get a sniff! After breakfast I read the Guardian on my iPad, but most of the topics have been covered on radio four news already, and I am seriously considering cancelling my subscription, in favour of either a Cineworld monthly pass, or an audio book subscription to audible.com, or perhaps both. Audible have offered a free audio book trial, and I have chosen CJ Sansom's new novel, "Dominion", having read all of his previous books. My favourite English teacher at Batley Grammar School, Peter Quinnel, would always read to us on a Friday afternoon, and I can still remember the pleasure in listening to his lovely, rich, baritone voice, as he read Arthur Grimble's " A pattern of Islands", to us twelve year olds. A real boy's own adventure, with spirit visitations and attacks in the lagoon by a great white shark. Motivation through inspiration! Peter must have been in his sixties and near retirement then, God know's what he would have made of the National Curriculum and the "cover your arse, box ticking bollocks," that masquerades as education now. After a shower, I walk Norman down to the little wooden bridge over the dyke, it has finally stopped raining, but the land is saturated with water, the ditches at the side of the road are overflowing, the fields have puddles as big as lakes, and the path just before the bridge is blocked by another puddle, that interconnects the two overflowing drains on either side. We turn round here, as otherwise I would have to carry Norman over the water, and we make our way home. When we return indoors, Normy's winter coat is coated with black, peaty, mud underneath, and I rinse it under the kitchen tap, after I have dried him on his towel, and then put the towel and his coat to dry out on the radiator. My sheets and underwear are still in the washing machine, and it is so damp outside, that it is beyond hope that they could dry on the line, so I hang them in the garage on lines I have strung from the roof beams. They won't dry quickly, but at least they will be out of sight. Then a thought occurs to me, I could buy a tumbler dryer and install it in the garage for these dark, damp, winter months. I put this week's shirts and socks on to wash and then drive to the leisure centre, determined to complete three swims before Christmas. The pause in the rain means it is slightly busier than yesterday, but three of us manage to share a two lane section, the others to either side and I in the middle. It isn't prudent to warm up on backstroke in these narrow circumstances, so swim a 400m freestyle instead. By the time I have finished it, one swimmer has already left and I am able to swim 400m butterfly, breaking it into 50m repeats as usual and then following it with 400m's on backstroke, breast and individual medleys. Afterwards, in the cafe, I drink tea and eat some oatmeal biscuits, whilst I chat to the catering staff, who are eating their lunch after the midday rush. They are all looking forward to Christmas, quite a few breaking up this afternoon. I return to Tickton for a quarter to three, put fish fingers and chips from the freezer, onto a tray and, once the oven has warmed up, pop them in for fifteen minutes to cook, boiling some garden peas in the microwave at the same time. Normy has his tin of dog food, while I eat my fish and chips. after lunch, the effects of the food and the swim take their toll, so I decide to rest for an hour, which turns into two. When I get up I have a missed call from Leslie and so call him back. He is not in a good way, the cardiologist is reviewing his medication and his pacemaker, but he is still not sleeping well, and when I say I will come round, he tells me I have woken him up and was in bed. He called to wish me a happy Xmas. He sounds weaker every time I speak to him, and I fear he is losing his will to live and that this may be his last Xmas. I shall call round and see him this weekend. After a cup of tea, Norman and I set off for our evening walk, it is a dry night, the sky clearing and a half moon showing in the eastern sky, despite the improvement in the weather, Norman puts the brakes on a hundred yards from the house, he deposits his "treasure", and then turns for home, so I indulge him, let him off the lead and start to play "praise and pat", on our way back, but he has a surprise in store, at each pat, he reverses direction and then runs back the way he has come. At first I think he has just lost his direction, but after the seventh shuttle, the penny drops, he wants to play the game, but he doesn't want to wander far from home. Eventually, when I have had enough, I put him on the lead and take him back. Who says old dogs can't learn new tricks, he is also getting more and more affectionate, and he will leave a big hole when he eventually shakes off the canine coil. Let's hope he is good for a few more years, but at fifteen, his days are surely limited, all I can do is make them as happy as possible. Hull City are playing away at Derby County this evening, and I use the opportunity to complete my ironing. At least in principle, because this weeks shirts are clean in the washer, so I hang them to dry on coat hangers in the bathroom, before ironing the last eight shirts, whilst listening to the match. Robbie Koren puts us ahead, against the run of play, in the first half, before Derby equalise with a Jacob's goal in extra time. In the second half Abdulaye Faye gets the winner for Hull and we go equal first with Cardiff on points, but second in the table due to inferior goal difference. Normy and I celebrate with a post match supper of goat's cheese and salami on rye bread, and the balance of the bottle of German, Warsteiner beer, that I had been drinking during the match. The rain is due to return tomorrow, but already the river Hull has burst it's banks at Wansford, up river, and the fire brigade are pumping out the lake on York Road, at the eastern edge of the Westwood, adjacent to Willow Grove. The frequency of these events seems to be increasing and the most probable candidate is climate change, as the amount of moisture carried on the prevailing southwesterly winds increases with temperature. Nevertheless, I find the hysteria around the subject counter productive, in the first place, because global warming is infinitely less destructive than another ice age, which would otherwise be imminent and the lack of balance in the coverage. The largest frozen land mass on earth, that covers large parts of Canada and Eurasia, will become suitable for agriculture as the temperature increases, but this is seems never to get mentioned. Political correctness and media hysteria, inhibit sensible discussion and debate. There is an opportunity for sensible, scientifically moderated, dialogue on the Internet, that needs to be realised. Problems can only be solved when they are capable of being sensibly discussed. On a more positive note, the solstice didn't usher in the end of the world, but to be fair to those followers of the Mayan calendar and other apocalyptic nuts; one day, you will be right, but hopefully not any time soon! To bed at eleven.