A great day for Norman

Wake at a quarter to eight, outside, what promises to be a fine day is dawning, a lovely clear sky with a golden hue bathes the fields to the east. After breakfast, I hang out my whites, there is a slight breeze, so hopefully they may dry, despite the lack of sun, due to the shade. The washing machine is reloaded with coloureds and then I settle down with my coffee to read the paper, it is full of the massacre in the USA, one damaged person killing many and creating many more potentially damaged people in the process. The karmic consequences ricocheting into eternity, on this subject, at least, Simone Weil has a point, by absorbing suffering, however innocent we may be, the transmission of evil is ended. Related to this, is her contention that pure evil reveals pure goodness and transcending this apparent dichotomy, reveals divinity. Very deep, and extremely difficult to put into practice, but for those parents of murdered toddlers, perhaps the only path through agony to peace. Weil's mystic Christianity is austere and hard in the extreme, but has to be better than the Old Testament eye for an eye. After showering and dressing, Norman and I drive into town, parking opposite Minster Cycles, down Norwood and then walking into town through Saturday Market to the Poppy Seed. It is much warmer today and the sun is shining out of a clear blue sky, Beverley is packed with Xmas shoppers and the market traders are doing brisk business. Felicity is waiting for us in the cafe and we are soon joined by her daughter, Melissa and granddaughter Ruby. After drying Normy on a towel from my bag, he sits on my knee, gazing longingly at Ruby's bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon. When she has finished eating, there are a few scraps of salmon left, which she feeds to him, that is two days in a row he has tasted salmon, he is acquiring expensive tastes! Joy, Felicity's sister arrives and then Sylvia, Barbara, Jill and John Geechie and his wife. We have to pull two tables together, in order to seat everyone. Soon there are three simultaneous conversations taking place, the fight to save Beverley from the predation of developers, Melissa's boyfriend's potential new house down York Road, and arrangements for the telecast of Aida from the Met this evening. Norman lets it all flow over his head and gradually the group disintegrates, as people head to the market to shop. Melissa asks if I will walk her mum home, so Norman and I accompany Felicity to the market, where she buys a few bits and pieces and then accompany her back to Albert Terrace. She is painfully slow and we need to help her rest twice in a journey of less than two hundred yards. Nevertheless, she has enjoyed her morning and the company of friends and family has raised her spirits, but by the time she gets to her front door, she is desperately tired. Once we have seen her safely home, Norman and I return to the car at Norwood, pausing only to buy a loaf of polish bread on the market. We arrive back in Tickton just after midday, Hull City are playing Huddersfield, and in order to avoid fan trouble, the kick off is at twelve thirty. I switch on the radio, give Norman some dry dog food and then retrieve my Caprese, (tomato,Mozarella and Basil salad), from the fridge where it has marinaded overnight, then cut some thick doorsteps of fresh Polish Bloomer and pour a glass of Chianti and listen to the match, while I eat a leisurely lunch. City win 2:0 and go third in the league, at least until the other sides play at three. Later, I roast the brisket of beef, with some parsnips, and then gather in my whites from the line, they are almost dry and air quickly on the radiators, before being stored away. With luck the coloureds may also dry tomorrow. When the beef is ready, I am still too full of Caprese to attempt a roast dinner, so cut a few slices and make sandwiches and a pot of tea. The balance of the joint will provide dinner tomorrow. I should do some ironing this evening, but lack the motivation and give my brain a work out instead, attempting impossibly difficult killer sudoku for an hour or so, before taking Norman for his evening walk. It is a mild evening, even though the skies are clear and packed with stars, a gritting lorry rumbles through the Main Street as we approach the Post Office and Normy catches a spray of sand and salt. A frost must be expected later. I let him off the lead as we emerge from the snickett onto Green Lane and he waits for me to pat him before scooting off towards home, his tail wagging madly. We repeat the game a few times before arriving back indoors and after I have dried him, he lies on his back and wriggles with happiness on the hall carpet. Norman has had a good day, lots of attention, smoked salmon and roast beef. It doesn't get better than that for an old dachshund. To bed around eleven.