Fine weather and bad news

This morning is brighter, the cloud has broken and there are patches of blue apparent in the gaps. I open my bedroom window to let in the cold, fresh air and pull back my duvet to air the bed. Norman is lying on his back on the carpet, wriggling happily, "let's do it all again, old Boy!" I tell him, before walking to the Garden Room and opening the patio door to let him run out for his morning toilet. The farmer must have been and cut the hedge yesterday, which is now uniformly level and neat, apart from a single bramble stalk, that has somehow evaded the carnage and stands proud and alone, like the hair on the head of Alf Alfa, a boy on the old black and white films that my father used to like. Surprisingly, after my fast day, I do not feel particularly hungry, but fry a kipper filet in the wok and eat this with a few slices of rye toast for breakfast washed down with black, Italian coffee, as usual. Norman has Baker's again, as a whole kipper is too much for him and I can't eat another half. We leave the house by a quarter past nine, our only deadline today is to call and see Felicity before her physiotherapist arrives at eleven thirty, so we are in no great hurry. The sun has burned off the early clouds by the time we arrive on the Westwood and it is now a lovely winter's day, cold but not too bad as the northeasterly wind has diminished to the merest whisper. Dolly goes off first again and perhaps due to the lovely weather, is reluctant to come back, but eventually she is persuaded to do so and Teddy gets his turn to run. We meet Sofia, the Bulgarian lady and her husband with their two retrievers and walk towards Black Mill together, they are going to Helsinki next week and I tell them of my visits there in the 1990's. Suddenly I realise that Norman is missing, he was a few feet behind us when we fell in with Sophia and her husband, but he must have wondered off, so we say goodbye, turn round and start to look for him. We find him after a few minutes, being carried by an old lady and reclaim him, thanking her for looking after the old boy. I realise that it must have been the bright sun, which is quite low in the sky, causing the light to scatter from his cataracts, and has confused him. We make our way towards the car and encounter Claire Trainer and baby George, being pushed in his buggy, she is accompanied by another young woman with a baby, who is introduced as Helen, her baby is called Elizabeth and is only six weeks old. She asks if I know her husband, Rob Byass, and of course I do, Rob was one of the first members of Beverley Athletics Club, when we started it in 1990. He lives on Westwood Road and is friends with Felicity, he is also a very skilful amateur silversmith and had an exhibition of his work and other local artists, in his house last year. Helen was there and I met her briefly, but the house was full of people that day, so it is unsurprising that she doesn't remember me. I tell Claire about my upcoming Swimathon and she says she will sponsor me, as does Helen and I agree to pop a sponsorship form through her post box. We still manage to return Teddy and Dolly to Two Riggs and drive to Albert Terrace, where Felicity lives, for a quarter to eleven. She is watching TV when we arrive and asks me to make tea for us both, while she switches it off and joins us in the kitchen. Norman nestles in my arm while I sip tea and chat to Felicity, she tells me she has been gardening in her tiny yard at the back of the house and shows me the flowers she has planted. The physiotherapist phones to apologise, because she has been called to an emergency and reschedules her appointment for March. We leave around noon. Felicity wants to walk with her friend Pat, as far as the Westwood to enjoy the fine day, it is less than a hundred yards from Albert Terrace. En route home we call in at Morrisons, where I buy some fresh herrings, salad and a little cream cheese, as well as a bunch of pristine white asparagus, which is begging to be sautéed in butter and served with spaghetti, black pepper and freshly grated Parmesan cheese. We arrive home at a quarter to one and twenty minutes later I am tucking into my pasta, which tastes wonderful, even without a nice glass of Orvieto. The garden is in full sun, so I take a pot of tea, some oaties as dessert, and my Ian Rankin book and finish the last three chapters sitting outside. Albeit with a scarf round my neck and a travelling rug upon my knee. When I return indoors, at three thirty, I have a text from Margaret, telling me that Leslie is very ill and that William is visiting. I had a bad feeling about Leslie yesterday when I saw him. She phones within the hour and tells me her dad is not expected to live through the night. I give her my condolences and best wishes and she says she will keep me informed. After Margaret rings off, I pray that my friend will go quickly now and that his suffering is soon ended. I have promised to collect Louis tonight at five thirty and it is now half past four, so I call at the library on my way and exchange my books, before driving to the after school club. Louis is happy to see me and after we have driven to North Bar Without, wants to take Norman round Seven Corner's Lane for his evening walk. It is a lovely evening, the sun is setting, crimson and gold, behind the racecourse, as the shadows lengthen and the winter chill returns to the air. Louis says that he is missing Clement, but that he may be coming back for Mother's Day, which is a week on Sunday. We return to Sarah's house around a quarter past six and chat to Alice for a while, before Louis insists that I watch a recording of the highlights of the recent FA cup matches with him. Norman and I leave around seven and drive back to Tickton, where I give him a tin for his dinner and then boil some brown rice, which I serve with the mussel sauce, which I had left simmering in the slow cooker. I had made this at the weekend, so it really has been cooked slowly, nevertheless it tastes fine and I have some brown rice left over, which I can make into a salad tomorrow. As I have Louis on Friday and Saturday, tomorrow may well be another fast day, I will see how I feel in the morning. I pray for Leslie agaIn and go to bed early around nine thirty.