Friday with friends and family

As is always the case when I set an alarm, I wake up half an hour before it is due to go off, this morning is no exception and I rouse myself shortly before six thirty. Norman sleeps on and doesn't stir until breakfast is ready, unfortunately there is insufficient smoked salmon left to share and so he has to revert to Bakers dry dog food. Despite being up early, it is twenty past eight when we set off for Sarah's house, the traffic is heavy and consequently it is almost twenty to nine when we arrive. Louis is ready to go and we depart to walk the half mile to Saint Mary's Primary School. Norman won't be rushed, bladders can't be emptied, nor treasure deposited, without finding precisely the right location. This takes intense sniffing and repeated bow legged shuffling too and fro, before the duty can be fulfilled. But hey! I am nothing, if not philosophical, and if Louis misses assembly, it is not the end of the world, so we let Normy go through the full ritual. As a reward for observing and respecting, time honoured Dachshund practice and tradition, he trots along without problem, once his power to weight ratio has been improved. It is a damp, but less cold, morning and low grey clouds hang over our heads. Louis skips along happily, wanting to talk about tomorrow's match between the Tigers and the Owls, it is amazing how quickly he has adopted the "footy", culture. He is certain the Tigers are going to win, because who would back an owl against a tiger? His logic seems impeccable, until I point out that owls are famously wise and Tigers can't fly, so it might depend on how the game is played. We arrive at the school gates for five to nine, he gives me a hug and then runs into the school, oblivious to his cracked right toe. Normy and I turn round and retrace our steps back to Sarah's house and the car, before collecting Dolly and Teddy from Cherry, for our walk on the Westwood. Due to last nights rain, the parking on either side of Newbald Road is muddy and messy, I park as close to the road as I can, and open the back door onto the Tarmac to let the three dogs out. If it is humanly possible, I would like to restrict the amount of mud the dogs import to the car, having cleaned it yesterday,  the blanket over the back seat only provides partial protection. The woods are a quagmire again, no frost to firm the paths this morning, but it gets better as we venture from the meadow onto the common, by Barbara English's house. Barbara, who is a retired history professor, was on radio four this morning, making the case for saving Beverley's historic cobbles in Saturday Market Place. She is a leading light in our civic society and fights tirelessly against the faction in the East Riding Council, that appears to be in cahoots with the property developers. We have a democratic deficit in Beverley, our town council can be over ruled by the East Riding Council, and often is. I see I have missed a call from Felicity and ring her back on my mobile, she answers straight away and tells me she is looking at care homes with her daughter Melissa, but not Beverley Grange, as it is outside Social Services, price range. I promise to try to call in later. We complete our walk by ten thirty and I have time to return the terriers, drive home and knock up a Chile con carne for the slow cooker, before driving back to Molescroft to visit Lesley. When I arrive, the staff tell me he has been walking with his Zimmer frame already, and I find him sat in the chair in his room. It is not a particularly nice day, today, so we opt to exercise indoors and walk from his room to the other end of the building, about fifty feet, he takes my arm, but I ask him to try walking unaided, as there is a rail along the wall and I promise to be there to catch him if he slips. He walks OK, losing confidence, a little, when a care assistant comes towards us with a trolley full of cups and saucers, but we stop, let her pass and continue, until we reach the restaurant. The Friday aroma of fish and chips is drifting from the door, but it is too early yet for lunch, only eleven forty five, so we turn round and walk back. He is better on the return journey, and we sit in the lounge, adjacent to his room, until it is time for lunch and then we retrace our steps. Sitting at the same table, Barbara is there again, but Marguerita is not and has been replaced by Christina, who seems to have suffered a stroke and only has the use of one hand, but is perfectly pleasant, despite her disability. Barbara smiles and is obviously pleased to see us again. Lunch arrives in a few minutes, perfectly cooked, haddock, chips and mushy peas, but in portions suited to the elderly clientele. A care assistant, Madge, cuts Tina's fish into bite size portions, but is then called away, as we all start eating. All except Tina, and, after a moment or so, I ask if she needs help and she nods, so I feed the two of us alternatively, a piece of fish for me, then one for her, and the same with the chips and peas. It actually works out quite well, as I can use the pauses in my own eating in order to conduct a conversation with my three co-diners. Leslie's appetite is improving and he eats most of his fish, but declines rice pudding with a dollop of jam, in favour of yogurt and a banana. Madge returns half way through the meal and takes over Tina's feeding, but continues the conversation, telling Leslie and I that she used to work in manufacturing, making steering columns for Jaguar, before making the switch to Nursing.  When I ask which job she prefers, she says this one, although it pays less, and when I probe further, she explains that steering columns don't say thank you for your efforts. She clearly has a vocation and Tina finishes all of her lunch by the time Leslie and I are ready to leave and walk back to his room. The world at one, is about to start on radio four, so I ask Leslie if he would like to listen to it, but he says the TV isn't working again. It is, but requires one to wait for a minute, while it boots up when you switch it on. I pass him the remote and he switches it on and off a couple of times, in order to satisfy himself that I don't have any magic powers that he might lack, and then settles back to listen to the news. I promise to call in tomorrow, there is still a way to go before he will be fit to go home, but we are making definite progress. His confidence and mood are  improving. I drive back home, collect my swimming gear and arrive at the Leisure centre shortly after two. The schools are in, so I am sharing a double lane with a few swimmers, but manage a 2,200m medley program, without much inconvenience. A quick cup of tea in the cafe and then it is back to Tickton, where I feed Norman and then load him in the car, before driving to Hector's House to collect Louis. I am waiting for him when the school bus pulls in and he is delighted to see me, gives me a hug and then jumps into the Chrysler. Sarah, won't be home until six and it is not quite five yet and Alice is not around, so we walk Normy round Seven Corners Lane and then deposit his treasure in the bin on York Road, before walking into town. It is already dark, but Beverley has a Friday night feeling to it already, Pizza Express is full of young families, as we walk down North Bar Within, Louis wants to go to "The Works" down Butcher Row, near Wednesday Market, and asks me to advance his pocket money, which his mum gives him on Saturdays. He argues that he won't be able to spend it tomorrow, as he is going to the football, the footy doesn't start until five twenty, so his case isn't quite watertight, but I agree anyway. His experience of toy shops and mine are very similar, although separated by sixty years. However much money you might have, what you want is always a little bit more. I stand tough on this though until his ambitions subsides into reality and he settles for some toy dragons, just before the store closes at half past five. We make our way back through town and Louis asks for a bag of chips, from Sullivan's in Toll Gavel, and I agree, a kind chap holds Norman while I pay the assistant and then pass the polystyrene container to Louis. He promptly sits down on a little table and proceeds to enjoy his chips indoors, he is clearly very hungry. I collect Norman from the kind man, and then he and I stand outside until Louis finishes his meal. In reality it is only five minutes and you are never stuck for company with a little dachshund. After the chips we head back home, agreeing what a great place Beverley is. As we approach the house, Sarah is just getting out of her car and I hand her son into her safe possession, before Normy and I drive home, calling at Tesco for bacon and Louis' favourite soup, chicken and sweetcorn, for the match tomorrow. You probably think that I spoil him, but what are granddad's for? Tea is crusty bread, Camembert a d a glass of wine again. To bed for ten.