Old friends in need and Paella

I slept soundly last night and finally stirred around half past eight, when I threw open the bedroom window to let in the fresh air, I had half hoped the sun would be shining from a bright blue sky, but alas, it is more of the same soggy, mild, wet weather. It is cloudy outside, with just a light drizzle, and as I eat breakfast, smoked salmon with cream cheese on rye toast, the weatherman on the radio, says we only need a few more millimetres of rain before New Year, in order to make this the wettest year on record. With four days left to go and rain forecast for most of them, it looks to be a near certainty. Norman isn't enjoying his walks quite so much of late, I think he misses the company of the terriers, so I decide to take him to Burton Bushes, one of his favourite places, and mine. We park in a little lay by, opposite the racecourse and then walk the short distance to the woods across the Westwood. The rain has stopped, but the ground is saturated, even though we are on downland chalk, which drains exceptionally well. I try to find a less boggy way into the wood and carry Normy over a style and then set him down on a dry patch of forest floor, where he immediately picks up a scent and snuffles about amongst the leaves and roots, like a little piglet hunting truffles. The paths through the wood are exceptionally boggy and the trees heavily covered with moss and lichens, which gleam and glow with a lovely iridescent green light on this dim and dank day. We weave our way in and out of the meandering pathways, navigating around the worst of the mire, usually where walkers have churned up the ground, and spend a happy hour or so exploring. A text arrives from William, Leslie's son in law, to say my old friend has been discharged from hospital and is back home. I phone William and tell him I will call round and see Leslie this afternoon and also offer to look in on him tomorrow afternoon, as William and Margaret, who are Manchester United fans, want to travel to Old Trafford for the game. Hull v Leeds, kicks off at 12:30 and so I will be back in good time to call in and see him. We arrive home for one o'clock and I ring Leslie to arrange to visit and to ask if he wants to share a seafood Paella, that I intend to make for lunch, as I know he likes fish. He says he doesn't feel hungry and sounds rather down in the dumps again, so I defer cooking and drive round to his house, taking a fresh batch of oaties for him. When I arrive, I make coffee for us, using the coffee machine I gave him before Xmas and offer him an oatie, but he tells me he has no appetite. We chat for a while and he says he still doesn't feel well, despite the hospital doctors reassuring him that he is physically OK, apart from the normal wear and tear of a nonagenarian. I ask if he has ever suffered from depression and he says he hasn't, but when I explain the symptoms of extreme tiredness and lack of energy, that often accompany depression, he seems to understand that this might be the problem. Since his TIA three months ago, he has been more and more inward looking, and has lost contact with friends and hardly been out of the house. As a consequence of the lack of exercise, his legs are losing strength and a vicious cycle of negative feedback has kicked in. The less he does, the less he wants to do. He cheers up a little after chatting for half an hour and I suggest we walk to the end of the little road that leads to his house. When he asks when, I say now, so he puts on shoes and a topcoat and he walks linked into my arm to the end of the street. A round trip of about a hundred yards, his walking doesn't seem too bad, and the achievement cheers him up a little and he asks me to make some soup for him when we get in, which I do and he eats it along with some crackers. I tell him that I will look in on him again tomorrow evening and suggest we have dinner together, when he asks what we are eating, I suggest I make a chicken casserole and bring it with me and he seems happy with this. I leave around three and let him rest, as Margaret and William are calling round later. Before I leave he gives me my Xmas card, a bottle of wine and some smoked salmon, which he knows I enjoy. I may need to help him to get walking again, and will see if I can persuade him to have a little walk again before dinner tomorrow. Once back home, I make my Paella, with prawns, mussels and a small tuna steak from the freezer, which I fry in butter, oil and garlic and then place in a bowl, while I fry the mixed peppers, onions and rice, before combining the lot and adding some saffron and fish stock and then letting it simmer on a low heat until the rice has absorbed all the fluid. The mild weather means the parsley pot in the garden is still growing, so I cut off a bunch, chop it finely and then sprinkle it over my meal, as a final touch, before serving. Norman gives it his seal of approval, and I enjoy it as well, as it brings back memories of cooking in the garden last summer. Later, after washing up and clearing away, I construct a chicken casserole, using a couple of filets from the freezer and all my remaining onions, potatoes and fresh vegetables, as well as the last of the frozen Mediterranean vegetables left over from yesterday's lamb. This will get the 24 hour special, slow cooker, magic treatment and should be perfect for Leslie's dinner tomorrow evening. Once this is done, I phone Felicity, she has had all her children and grandchildren visiting today and they have hired a room at the Beverley Arms for the occasion, as her house is too small. She is happy, but tired and I promise to call in to see her tomorrow and wonder whether she and Leslie might be good company for each other. There will be ample casserole for three, so if she is well enough, I might just take her to Leslie's house for dinner. I will sleep on this and decide tomorrow. I am taking my son, Andrew to see Hull v Leeds tomorrow and the tickets have not yet arrived in the post, so we will have to collect some from the ticket office at the stadium, and as the match kicks off at twelve thirty, we will need to leave by eleven. This means that I will have to be up at a reasonable hour and take Norman out for a decent walk before we go. With this in mind, I turn in early and listen to my audiobook for half an hour.