First aid, medleys and Paella

It is light when I wake in the warm bedroom, the central heating comes on at six. After a stretch and a yawn, I look across at Norman, who is already awake and wriggling happily on his back in his basket, probably thinking about sausages. "It is time to get up and do it all again, old fellow" I tell him and start to consider the imperatives of the day, today is......Friday...my day for taking Louis to school, and I need to be at Sarah's house down North Bar by eight thirty. A quick glance at my watch tells me it is twenty minutes to eight, so I have half an hour to wash, dress, eat breakfast and leave the house. No great stretch for working stiffs, but a hell of a rush for someone who normally takes an hour and a half to ease into his day. Radical compromises have to be made, no shower, I will swim later anyway, no cooked breakfast, just toast and apricot jam, (sorry Normy), no newspaper, but the radio and my second coffee taken on the go, while I wash and dress. It is deeply unsatisfying, but I arrive washed, dressed and fed, with Norman, (who has had Bakers again), only five minutes late, to take Louis to school. He is playing on his tablet computer, so five more minutes elapse, while his shoes, coat, hat, scarf and gloves are found and fitted to his constantly mobile five year old body. Nevertheless we are on our way to Saint Mary's primary school by twenty minutes to nine, but as soon as we cross the road, Normy slams on the breaks, and starts to do his connoisseur, of precisely the right place to crap routine. "You can explore the pleasures of olfactory geography later", I tell him, as I pick him up and tuck him under my right arm and grasp Louis' hand in my left. Half way down Bleach Yard, I have to swap arms as Normy weighs the best part of eight kilos, but somehow, we arrive at the school gates slightly before nine. Louis gives me a hug and a kiss and runs happily into school, we have been discussing tomorrow's FA cup match against Barnsley and he has remembered that I promised him hot dogs. The panic is now over, and I set Norman on all four paws again, as we take a leisurely stroll back towards the car, allowing ample time for him to dump treasure, wherever he feels is best, but he refuses, somewhat in the manner of some great diva who has been denied her performance, and walks with great dignity and in a huge sulk. In the rush, I have forgotten my hat, and it is very cold, minus three degrees Celsius, but fortunately there is no wind chill, so it isn't too bad. We collect Dolly and Teddy and drive across the Westwood towards Newbald Road, to our east there is a band of salmon pink, beneath a familiar sky of grey and white, the Minster is silhouetted against this stripe of colour. We park in our usual place and then make our way through the woods, a Great Dane trots across to inspect Norman in Telly Tubby Land, but is seen off by Teddy, who bullies the big chap mercilessly. Terriers never see other dogs as bigger than themselves. As we make our way up the path towards Barbara's house, we encounter Sue and Merrion in some distress, Merrion has slipped on the icy path, grazed her face and possibly broken her wrist. After administering first aid, basically, checking for shock and concussion and supporting the damaged arm, we walk her downhill to the level ground next to York Road, she lives just across the road. Sue goes with her and I attempt to call her husband, but only get the answering machine. She will be home in five minutes, but needs to go to casualty for an X-ray. The rest of the walk unfolds without incident and the dogs are returned to Cherry for half past ten. On my way home, I call in to see Felicity and am offered Madeira cake and tea, which I accept gratefully, my ears burning and stinging from the hatless cold of the Westwood. Felicity has good news, the East Riding Council has relented and the ancient stone setts are to be relaid, with appropriate crossing points for disabled people. A sensible compromise and a victory for the people of Beverley, the civic society and especially Barbara. Felicity has seen the publicity about the Manet exhibition at the Royal Academy and would dearly like to go, but it isn't possible, so she says she will order the catalogue as a compensation. Norman has got over his sulk, having found a better place for treasure in the woods, and has also been sweetened with Madiera cake, whilst perched on my knee. We leave before noon and drive home to the warm bungalow, where I resist the temptation to snuggle down with my book and pick up my swimming gear instead. No letter has yet arrived from the urologist with an appointment, so they may not consider it urgent, but just in case there has been a cock up, I will ring next week to enquire. Driving to the leisure centre, I decide that I will do the Marie Curie Swimathon this year, last year I did the 2.5k challenge and so fancy doing something different this time, and plump for doing 2.5k again, but as a continuous set of 25 X 100m individual medleys. Well not really continuous, the pool is too hot for that and without water you are likely to cramp up after half an hour, so say, split into five blocks of 500m, with a pause for fluids between each. It is a good decision, there is likely to be a lot of waiting and uncertainty until this prostate thing is resolved, and having something to focus on will help. Ian is just getting dressed as I arrive and tells me the pool is fairly quiet, not surprising in view of the cold and the heavy snow forecast for later. I find a clear lane and push off to test my plan. The main problem with medleying a hundred lengths, is the butterfly it implies every fourth length, but by breathing every stroke on the fly and switching from three to two stroke breathing on freestyle, (which precedes the butterfly), I manage the first block of 500m OK, take a drink and then complete another three blocks to make 2,000m in total. Despite being out of the water for two weeks I feel good, so warm down with 500m easy freestyle and backstroke. Afterwards I drink tea and eat some wholewheat biscuits and chat to John, the centre manager, about my plan for the Swimathon. The major logistical problem, is that I will need a lane to myself, but last year there was a great rush at 9:00 am, and by half past ten most swimmers were finished, the pool is booked until midday. So it is agreed provisionally, that if I start later, when it is quiet, I can have my lane. I squirrel two sachets of ketchup and two of mustard from the cafe, for tomorrow's hot dogs and then drive to Wednesday Market and park, before trying to buy a wide mouth flask to put the sausages in for the match. Eventually I find one in Wilco's, that isn't too expensive, and as I walk back to the car, I spot a catalogue in a charity shop window, of an exhibition of paintings from the Louvre in Paris, a quick examination confirms the quality of the product, it is in pristine condition and would have cost £50 new, so I stump up the three pounds being asked and take it home. I will give it to Felicity tomorrow, snow permitting. John told me the council had phoned him and advised that people who lived away from Beverley should be sent home by four, as heavy snow was already falling in Leeds. I arrive home just before four and while the skies look threatening, there is no snow yet. We are having Paella for dinner, so I dig out some mussels and prawns from the freezer and sautée these with a trilogy of chilli, ginger and garlic, before adding some Mediterranean vegetables and a few peas, again from the freezer. A mug full of Paella rice, some fish stock, and a bunch of fresh parsley to garnish from the garden and Bob's your uncle. Actually I cheat and use yellow food colouring instead of saffron, you lose the subtle saffron flavour, but when you are using chilli and ginger, you would miss it anyway. Norman likes Paella almost as much as Spaghetti, later I bake a Bramley apple in the microwave and serve it with custard for dessert. In the end the snow doesn't start to fall until seven, but then it is heavy and relentless. A thaw is due to start Saturday night and much milder weather is forecast for next week. I suspect the floods may be back!