Sick Friends

I wake at half past seven, still feeling tired and aching, but get up, grab my dressing gown and let Normy into the garden. To the East, across the fields, the clouds are salmon pink, grey and blue, the strong Westerly wind that chilled my bones yesterday, has backed to the south and eased. After breakfast, I toy with the idea of ringing Pip to say that I am not up to taking the terriers out, but defer the decision until I have taken a couple of paracetamol and had a shower. Shaved, showered and shampooed, I feel a little better, so dress Norman in his blue, fur lined winter coat and drive to Cherry, where I collect Dolly and Teddy, drive to the Westwood, parking in the space where Roy normally sites his sandwich van at weekends. I struggle to change out of my moccasins and into my Wellies, when you are under the weather, small tasks become more difficult. The dogs sense that I am unwell and are patiently wait until I am properly shod, before releasing them onto the common. It is a couple of degrees warmer than yesterday and the Southwesterly wind is little more than a breeze, so it feels much less cold. The boys from the Grammar school are out running again and pass just in front of the dogs and I, their PE master is a little grey haired man, who is dressed in the same kit as the boys, he looks older than me, but is clearly in charge, marshalling his squad down the muddy slope into Telly Tubby Land. I stop and rest on a bench in front of Black Mill, that is dedicated to Angela's husband Bill, who died five years ago, Dolly jumps up next to me for her lead to be reattached and then the four of us make our way down the hill and back to the car, where I swap my Wellies for shoes again and then drive home, dropping the terriers off en route. Back in Tickton, I make some tea and biscuits and then decide to have a quiet day convalescing at home. Miraculously the laptop manages after two months trying, to download the new iTunes software and I am able to sync my iPhone and iPad, for the first time in ages. Felicity phones about two o'clock to tell me I have Norovirus, it takes a few moments to register that this is also known as the winter vomiting bug, and although I have a runny nose and a temperature, so far at least, no upset stomach. It transpires that she has Norovirus, confirmed by her doctor, and has been violently ill and she has assumed it is the same bug that she has passed on to me. Hopefully not! It seems highly unlikely, however, that she will be able to go to the cinema tomorrow to see "Lincoln", but I shall reserve a final decision about myself, until I see how I am in the morning. I am due to drive Hanne and Thelma to the cinema as well, but at a push, if I am not well enough, Hanne could take her car. My slow cooker makes excellent rice pudding, so I dig out some rice and add a half litre of milk, and put it on its low setting. It takes an hour or so, but it keeps the temperature below the boiling point of the milk, so there is no risk of spills or burning. Around four, I dish out a bowl, adding sweetener, and it is the perfect comfort food and I don't feel like much else. Norman has the leg of lamb bone, which lasts him hours, as he only has his front teeth left. I spend the rest of the day sat in the garden room in my armchair, reading a thriller, it takes no mental effort whatsoever, but keeps me quietly amused until bedtime. Margaret phones, with news of Leslie, but the signal is poor and I have to call her back on the landline, William answers, they have just returned from the hospital, Leslie is in a bad way, he has become quite severely demented over the last twenty four hours, apparently he was OK last night, the consultant neurologist also spoke to them at length, it seems the old chap has cracked a vertebrae, C3, but when they X rayed him, his bones are so depleted by osteoporosis, an operation seems unwise. Fortunately he is not in any pain, William is visiting again tomorrow and says he will ring me. I will say a prayer for Leslie and Felicity tonight. To bed around eleven.