A spring in the step

I woke several times in the night to the sound of high winds and rain lashing against the windows and it is still raining at seven when we get up, but the wind has died down again and the rain is light and forecast to clear by late morning. There are still remnants of last night's snow on the path, but Norman successfully navigates his way through them, as he trots down to the garden. It doesn't feel quite so cold this morning, although I am glad to close the door when Normy runs back inside. We are having scrambled eggs for breakfast this morning, so I crack four of the giant eggs into a bowl, and am pleasantly surprised to find that every one has a double yolk. After whisking them briskly, they are fried in a little butter and olive oil. It works out about one egg for Norman and three for me, they are creamy golden yellow and taste delightful. After breakfast we adjourn to the Garden Room, where I drink coffee and listen to the news. We are stood down from walking the terriers today, as Andrew has a few days holiday, in order to spend time with Laura and Rebecca, so I will just take Normy for a walk through town, as there is little point in getting him caked with mud unnecessarily. I shower and dress before nine and then listen to Melvyn Bragg on "Ice Ages", it is a fascinating program, with a good panel of experts who seem rather sanguine about global warming, probably because they believe that without it, we would be heading into a new glaciation, as one is due in the next fifteen hundred years, and that would be far worse than any of the current predictions about the consequences of warming. While I am listening to this, I prepare this evening's dinner, as the rain continues to fall from leaden skies. We are going to have a sort of spicy sea food paella, I say sort of, because there is no chicken or chorizo in it, it could equally be called a spicy risotto, as I am going to use arborio rice. First a handful of frozen seafood cocktail is put in a bowl to defrost, (essentially this is just prawns, mussels and squid rings), then a trilogy of chile, ginger and garlic paste is stirred into a little olive oil, this will form the marinade for the fish. A couple of onions are peeled and chopped and some frozen mixed peppers and a handful of garden peas are taken from the freezer and left to defrost. The rain continues to fall, so I take the opportunity this offers to do some housework, that is long overdue. By half past ten the rain has finally stopped, so the fish, which has by now defrosted, is mixed into the marinade and along with the other ingredients, covered in foil. A load of white washing is put in the machine and then Norman and I drive to Norwood for our walk into town. It is only a five minute drive, but by the time we arrive, the sun has come out, the sky is blue and it suddenly feels almost like spring. The bitter wind has gone and it is ten to fifteen degrees warmer, and the streets are soon filling up with people determined to take advantage of the welcome, fine weather. After calling at the cashpoint to replenish funds, we walk through Saturday Market, which is being refurbished, now that the row about the sets has been resolved, and then we take a leisurely stroll down Toll Gavel and through Butcher's Row into Wednesday Market, which is bathed in warm sunshine. Walking at Normy pace, means adopting the air of a "flaneur", sauntering along, without a care in the world. We pause to window shop here and there, but as I haven't brought Normy's towel we don't venture into any of the premises, as I don't want to carry him because his paws and legs are so very muddy from the recent snow and rain. We both enjoy the exercise and it is pleasant being out in the fresh air and welcome warm sunshine, as we make our way back to the car and then drive home for noon. As the sun is at its zenith, I take the opportunity to check the garden and am delighted to find that the northwest corner is in bright sunlight, in few short days and I will be able to reclaim my favourite place in the house from the dark grip of winter. To celebrate this event , I erect the washing line, intending to hang out my freshly washed whites, but Then remember that they were put on a pre wash programme in order to ensure complete stain removal, so they aren't yet quite finished. there is an hour to spare before it is time for me to leave to visit Leslie, so I sit quietly in my chair intending to meditate, but Norman insists that I serve him lunch first, so I give him the last two inches of Louis' Polish sausage, chopped into small pieces and a bowl of fresh water. after returning to my chair, I meditate for a while and then feeling refreshed, drive towards Routh and take the bendy road through North Hull again. This way is about two miles further, but turns out to be ten minutes quicker, so there is just time to return my books about Jefferson and Lincoln to Hull Central Library, before making my way to the "Eye Hospital", to visit Leslie. The hospital car park is empty, so I take the lazy option and park there for £2:50p, rather than parking without charge at Marks block of flats in Linnaeus Street and walking the half mile back to the hospital. There are notices on the ward doors, which say, "ward closed, due to an outbreak of vomiting and diarrhoea", but a nurse tells me that visitors are in fact allowed, as it is only one patient who has contracted the illness, and has been placed in isolation. So, after washing my hands in the alcohol gel provided, just outside the door, I am allowed inside, but to help to keep the quarantine, I have to take the scenic route to Leslie's room. When I arrive, his bed is empty and for a moment I fear he may be the victim of the outbreak, but then a student nurse leads him from the bathroom back to his bed. He is still very frail and thin, but he has had a bath, his hair has been washed and he has also been shaved by the student nurses, who are quite pretty. This has cheered him up, although he tells me that they had to use a hoist, in order to lift him in and out of the bath. He is being very well looked after, and says his urinary infection is starting to clear and that he is looking forward to being able to go home. We chat for an hour and while we do, one of the nurses gently chides him for not eating and drinking enough, whilst she does his observations. Leslie has always been a faddy eater and says he only eats the starters, soup or fruit juice, and the desserts, usually ice cream and fruit, but refuses to eat the main courses which he says are awful. I tell him, jokingly, that if he had served in the army, like me, rather than the RAF, he would have learned to eat anything! He needs more proteins and fats to regain weight and muscle strength, so I say I will arrange for a bag of mini cheeses to be brought in for him and a cranberry juice drink, which will also help his bladder. I notice his nails are long and ask the nurses if they can cut them, as his skin is so fragile and paper like, that he is likely to scratch himself, but they say they are not allowed to do this and usually ask relatives to bring in some nail clippers. this is another task on the list for Margaret. Because of the restrictions, the visiting hours have been limited to one hour and so I have to leave at three, but promise to visit again as soon as I am able. I have Louis and Alice on Friday and Saturday and my cousin Irene and her husband are driving over to see my on Sunday, so it could be Monday before I see Leslie again. I return home by the scenic route and call in at Northpoint shopping centre for a few bits and pieces and unhindered by Louis, manage to have a look round the indoor market. There are butchers and green grocers, but no fishmongers, however there is a dress maker and when I enquire about the cost of taking the waist in on some trousers, the seamstress, who seems Polish, says it will cost £5. The last pair I had altered in Beverley cost me £15, so I promise to return with them. Sometimes shopping down market can pay off! While I am there I buy some more clothes pegs, as I keep using these to close coffee bags and freezer packets, and I also find a scrubbing brush on a stick, which will help to spring clean the more stubborn stains on the bathroom floor. Driving home, between tall hedgerows, as the evening sun casts long shadows across the fields and reflects in the numerous large puddles and ponds from the recent snow and rain, I marvel at the transformation to both landscape and mood that the change in the weather has wrought. Home once more to Tickton and old Norman greets me, his tail wagging furiously, as I come through the door. The washing machine has finished its cycle hours ago but it is now too late to hang out my small, however resplendently white they may be, so they will just have to wait until tomorrow, Normy tells me he is starving and after a quick sprint into the garden, he runs back into the kitchen for his dinner, which is only another dog tin. " How,come you are Usain Bolt at mealtimes and a total tortoise on the lead?" I ask, " am I being conned here". Using his Jedi mind powers Normy lets me know telepathically, " that it is all a matter of motivation!" The local free sheet has arrived, and is lying on the mat, so I read this and drink a glass of cream soda, while Norman eats, before starting dinner around six. It is just a matter of frying the onions and peppers, then adding the marinaded seafood and rice then afterwards pouring in the half a pint of fish stock. The dish simmers for twelve minutes and then is left for a further five, with the heat switched off, so that the rice has time to fully absorb all the stock before it is served. I have never made it to this recipe before, but it is remarkably good, the spices giving it a slight kick, but not so much as to drown the delicate taste of the fish. If it wasn't Lent, a nicely chilled Chardonnay wouldn't go amiss either. A small portion is reserved for Norman, who gives it his seal of approval. Later I phone Felicity and then Margaret and pass on to her the requests from Leslie, before reading until bedtime. To bed at ten.