An Orange Wednesday

After a good nights sleep, we stir around seven thirty and breakfast on smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast, outside it is mild and damp, but as yet, not raining. I read the Guardian over coffee and then shower and dress, before taking my shirts out of the washing machine and hanging them in the garage, where they will eventually dry. After removing a pound of lamb mince from the freezer, I fry it off and then put it in the slow cooker, along with the lamb gravy and vegetables left over in the Romertopf and topped up with the remaining fresh vegetables and potatoes from my veg rack. Slow magic will have turned this into a casserole by this evening. We drive to Norwood and park across the road from the cycle shop, before walking into town. It starts to rain just as we cross the road by Asda, but fortunately, I have my brolly in my shoulder bag and we are only another five minutes, or so, from the Poppy Seed cafe. Hahne, sails past us on her bike, heading for the same destination, as cheerful and determined as ever. She is seated at our usual table, already in receipt of a caffe latte, when we arrive, the waitress brings my usual tea while I am drying Normy, who then takes station on my knee, and eavesdrops on the conversation. Like me, Hahne has spent the festive period with children and grandchildren, and is quite relieved to be able to slip back into her normal routine. Felicity arrives shortly afterwards, accompanied by Annie and her daughter, Sarah and is soon followed by Thelma, who it turns out also attends Saint John's. The conversation is soon flowing, Felicity having everyone in stitches with tales of how her family are trying to organise her, but failing, because of disagreements on decor. They are minimalists and Fliss likes clutter, it seems to go with creative people, the most talented software guy I ever knew was called Alyn Ashworth, his office was like a junk yard from Star Wars, with bits of computers and hard drives buried under reams of print outs, post it notes, mouldering cups of coffee, wires and screwdrivers. We nicknamed him Alvin Trashcan, because he was so untidy, but he could always find what he wanted and when the need arose, was phenomenally productive. John Geekie and his wife pass our table and say hello, and our party continues laughing until twelve o'clock, when Sarah gives Felicity a lift back home in her car, as she and her mum drive back to Walkington. Norman and I walk back to the Chrysler, buying a baguette en route from Asda, and then drive home. The casserole is already giving off lovely smells, but it won't be ready for hours yet. Fortunately I have a Tupperware dish of pasta sauce left in the refrigerator, and in twenty minutes Norman and I are tucking into spaghetti with sauce and grated Gran Padano cheese. I make the mistake of opening a bottle of nice Rioja and pouring myself a glass to help wash it down, the combination is so seductive that temptation wins and a second glass is necessary, in order to finish off the pasta. The inevitable happens, I start to doze off whilst listening to the one o'clock news and then lie down properly and sleep until four. Norman wakes me, the aroma of the casserole is driving him crazy, but I make him wait until five, before ladling out a bowlful for his dinner and afterwards walking him round the village. The rain has stopped and the sky is starting to clear, tomorrow may be a fine day, it is also incredibly mild for January. I try to call Leslie, twice, but he is engaged both times, when I call Felicity she answers immediately and is upset because her daughter has put her dog, Molly, into the vets overnight, against her wishes. I am taking my granddaughter, Alice, to the cinema at eight o'clock and so arrange to call in to see Fliss on my way. She is taking antibiotics when I arrive, the doctor has prescribed them to try to prevent suspected cellulitis in the leg she bruised in her fall last week. I look at it for her and it seems to be healing nicely, and not as swollen as earlier in the week. Her health is really precarious, and I don't know how much longer she will last, but her spirit and optimism keep her going. I have great sympathy for Melissa and her other children, as they must be worried for her, but they need to leave her enough autonomy to keep her spirit alive, because without that she wouldn't last long. On a positive note, her older sister, Joy, is being very good to her and Felicity and I are invited for tea on Friday morning to view Joy's new kitchen. I leave her in better spirits and collect Alice from Sarah's house at eight, she wants to see" the life of Pi" in 3D, so we have both brought our glasses and are doing an "Orange Wednesday". We arrive at Cineworld, in Kingswood, ten minutes before the start of the performance and when we enter screen seven, the auditorium is nearly full, and fills completely before the film starts. After the usual adverts and trailers, the main feature begins and we put on our glasses, it is a film by Ang Lee, based on the best selling novel by Jan Martel, which Clement has given me, but I have not yet read. The cinematography is wonderful, particularly the opening sequences in India, and the film absorbing and fantastical, although I am no great fan of 3D and It leaves me with plenty to think about afterwards. It's theme is both existential and postmodern, it turns Sartre on his head and says, "God is alive, if you chose! Welcome to your freedom to interpret your existence. I suspect the book is better, imagination beats 3D and CGI any day. Alice has enjoyed it and if our Orange Wednesday's become a regular thing, I may take out an annual Cineworld membership. I drop her off at a quarter past eleven and arrive home just before half past. The casserole smells really good, but it is too late for cooked food,an so I eat some Camembert and the rest of the baguette, let Norman out for his final toilet and then turn in at one o'clock.