Skyline Chile Fiveways!

No more vivid dreams in the night and wake around a quarter to eight, to a clear, bright, but intensely cold morning. Norman trots manfully into the garden for his morning ablutions and, once completed, sprints back into the warm kitchen and watches with interest as breakfast is prepared. We always eat together, so he gets his bacon, sausage and black pudding, with some egg white in his bowl, as I sit down to eat mine. We have contrasting eating styles though, mine slow and his really fast, he just wolfs it down. In the tech news there was an item about a vibrating fork, that prompts people not to eat to quickly, I wonder if someone has thought of a vibrating dog bowl? We collect the terriers shortly after ten and park on Newbald Road, next to the Westwood, as usual. A few mums and toddlers are sledging down the hill adjacent to Newbegin Pits woods, so I keep Teddy on the lead, until he is out of site of the sledgers, otherwise he will be off in hot pursuit, barking his head off. Even at ten o'clock, the outside temperature gauge reads minus eight degrees Celsius, but like yesterday, there is no wind and so it feels quite pleasant. The winter sky is pale blue and dappled with light Cirrus strands of cloud, and the snow is hard and crisp as we walk, due to the hard overnight frost. Dolly is swapped for Teddy off the lead by Barbara English's house and runs off to play with a Red Setter bitch called Poppy, her owner is a primatologist at York University, and she and her husband are out for a stroll. We turn for home at Black Mill again, as I have my final luncheon appointment with Leslie at The Grange this morning. He goes home tomorrow. As we walk downhill back to the car, I see that yesterday's snowman has been decapitated and the kids have rolled two giant snowballs to the bottom of the hill, they really are enormous, their diameter higher than a man. We drop the terriers back in Cherry and arrive at The Grange by twenty to twelve, some residents are having therapy in reception and are bouncing a beach ball back and forth, as I make my way down the corridor to Leslie's room. Yesterday's dramatic improvement has continued and we chat for ten minutes about last night's film and then an article that he has been reading in the Economist about Simon Keelingside's Prospero, in the New York Met's production of the Tempest. Leslie recalls that I saw the telecast at Cineworld and asks me what I thought of him. I answer honestly, that it was a tour de force, the sheer physicality he brought to the role, was amazing. We walk down the corridor and back, discussing the new Daniel Day Lewis film about Lincoln and have just sat doŵn when Claire, one of the nurses summons us for lunch. We are seated at our usual table, but Christina has been replaced by Marguerita, who we met last week, I sit next to Barbara and Leslie sits next to Marguerita. Leslie has chosen ham salad for our lunch and the ladies have meat pie, potatoes and two veg. After being out in the cold, the meat pie would have been preferable, but that isn't the point, and the salad is fine. Leslie and I chat about Cincinnatti, where he used to live, and where I used to visit on business, as a result of a joint venture between my company and the telephone company in Cincinnatti, which I negotiated. My American counterpart was a really nice guy called, Dave Cook, who was always promising to take me to the Skyline Restaurant, for their famous, " Skyline Chile Con Carne", but somehow it never transpired. Leslie, it turns out, had been many times, and explains what a "Skyline five ways" entails. Apparently this is Chile, with five side dishes, salsa, guacamole, sour cream, chopped spring onions and grated cheese, served with tortillas. Now it just so happens that I have enough chile left over in the refrigerator, and all the other ingredients to produce a "Skyline five ways", for lunch on Sunday, when I visit after church. Maintaining his improved mobility and mood when he gets home will take a little work, but it is no effort now that he is back to his usual self. The two ladies listen in and then Barbara tells me about working for the Post Office Savings Bank during the war, and I ask if it was in Harrogate then, as it was there in the late seventies and eighties when I lived there. She confirms it was, and I ask her if she ever used the Turkish Baths, and she told me something I hadn't known, that the Post Office Girls used to do their laundry there. Marguerita then chips in to say that she qualified as a teacher of secretarial skills in Bromsgrove during the war, and it dawns on me that my three luncheon companions are all over ninety. Such wonderful, long lives and so much personal history. Our last lunch is really pleasant and I have grown fond of these old ladies, over the last couple of weeks. Back in his room, Leslie tells me that the two weeks respite have been an education for him, and that although he much prefers to maintain his independence, there are no terrors in a place like the Grange, which is clean, friendly and well run. I leave at a quarter past one and call in to thank the manager, Chris, for the help she and her staff have provided in helping my friend get back on his feet. Normy is fast asleep on the back seat of my car and doesn't wake up until we arrive home, where I take off his winter coat and serve up some of the pea and ham pottage from the slow cooker. Suddenly I feel very tired, perhaps the emotional effort over lunch, or possibly the effects of my sinus infection, that the decongestant tablets have been keeping at bay. In any event, I decide to meditate for an hour and feel better for it afterwards. My appetite seems to have deserted me and so I just have some of my home made sultana oatcakes and a pot of tea, at five o'clock, Normy finishes off the pottage, while I ring Felicity, there is no reply. She was OK this morning, and said she was gradually getting over her cold, and in this weather, I can't believe she is out, so I put Norman his coat on and drive into Beverley parking by the Market Cross, before walking up Greyburn Lane to her house. At first there is no reply, her dogs are barking and I start to worry, but then the old girl comes to the door and let's me in. Melissa, her daughter, has been and given her a bath, and she was just too tired to answer the phone. She looks exhausted, and I feel foolish for disturbing her, so Norman and I take our leave after ten minutes and leave her to rest. As we walk back into town, I notice a milder wind from the SouthWest and the gauge on the car says it is now only minus one degree Celsius. Radio Humberside is warning of snow overnight, tomorrow and over the weekend, so I call at the supermarket and stock up, in case I am snowed in. We have just got back indoors when my daughter in law, Sam phones, she wants to know if I will look after Rebecca tomorrow, as she has a meeting. I am glad to help, but am already committed to take Louis to school in the morning and can't be available before nine. After discussing various permutations, Sam says she will cancel her meeting and I agree to call round and see the girls on Sunday after lunch with Leslie. It has been a busier day than I expected, one old friend getting better and the other looking ever more precarious. To bed for eleven.