Lions and Tigers and Clam Shells

We wake to a cold morning with a gleam of orange sky between the eastern horizon and the low grey clouds. Norman dashes back in from the garden, as he has been promised a return to the full English breakfast this morning. We have a busy day ahead, the Poppy Seed for morning coffee at ten thirty and then a trip over to West Yorkshire to meet my sister, Jackie and her husband, Gino, for lunch at "The Mermaid Cafe", which probably serves the finest haddock and chips on the planet. I have also promised to call in and see Leslie at Hull Royal Infirmary, on my way home, this evening. After breakfast we adjourn to the Garden Room, to drink coffee and listen to the news on Radio Four, outside the sky has darkened and snowflakes begin to fall, a white barn owl is flying to and fro across the field, suddenly it swoops down and a mouse or vole has become it's breakfast. The snow is becoming heavy, but it may well blow over and I watch it as I prepare some red cabbage for tomorrow in my slow cooker, the cabbage comes in frozen chunks but needs additional TLC, to convert it to authentic German Rotkohl, so I fry some Bramley apple chunks, lardons of smoky bacon and a chopped onion, which I add to the mixture, plus a generous helping of artificial sweetener. Afterwards, I shower and dress, ready for the Poppy Seed, but the snow continues to fall, we have a couple of inches on the ground already. A quick check on the BBC weather website says that showers are expected all morning but should die away by late afternoon. In the circumstances I decide it will be risky driving over the wolds to the motorway and West Yorkshire, so try to ring Jackie but get no reply, it is only nine thirty, so she may be still asleep, so leave a message on the answerphone and text Gino just to make sure. I had hoped to dry my shirts in the garden today, but the snow has put paid to that, so take them to the garage to hang on a line I have put up for winter. On my way back I notice the side lights are on in the Chrysler and my stomach sinks, did I forget to turn them off when I came in last night? My remote key fails to work, so I have to unlock the door manually and my worst fear is confirmed, the battery is flat! Retreating through the snow indoors, I call the AA and they promise to have someone with me for half past eleven, it is now a quarter past ten. I ring Hanne and ask her to let my friends know that I won't be at the Poppy Seed and she says most people have probably been put off by the snow anyway. The AA patrolman arrives just before eleven thirty with some jump leads and a portable battery, with these attached, the car starts first time, I ask how far the snow extends and he says it was snowing in South Cave, about ten miles to our West, which was his previous call, but that the main roads are passable with care. I let the engine run for half an hour and then put Norman into his winter coat, load him onto the back seat and drive as far as Norwood. The village has a couple of inches of snow, but the main road is clear and the sun has come out. We walk into town and buy some rye bread, fruit and vegetables on the Market, but the cold soon drives us back to the car and we are back home for shortly after one. The Rotkohl smells enticing so I fry a pork chop with some onions and make a gravy and then boil some potatoes in the microwave, while that simmers. We eat at two, pork chop, onion gravy, mashed potatoes and red cabbage. Norman has a pork sausage with his mash and veg and then falls asleep on my knee while I read my book and watch the snow, which has started to fall again, out of the window. At three o'clock we switch on Radio Humberside and listen to Burnsy and Swanny commentate on the Tigers against Millwall at the New Den. The first half is fairly even but David Meylor puts us ahead before half time and despite dominating the second half, the score remains at 0:1 for Hull when the whistle blows. This means we stay on joint second place, with Leicester and means that Louis can maintain his belief that Tigers are Stronger than Lions. At six o'clock I get ready to visit Leslie, Norman runs to the door and waits, wagging his tail, so I let him come along for the ride. We call at the Tesco store down Beverley Road to buy Leslie some grapes and bananas, which I know he likes and then drive to Linnaeus Street and park by Mark's flats. I tell Normy that I will only be an hour and leave him asleep on the back seat, before walking the hundred yards to the hospital. Leslie is on the seventh floor and there are signs everywhere asking people not to visit if they have had sickness or diarrhoea in the last 48 hours, Norovirus is still rampant in the area. I wash my hands before entering the ward and find Leslie in a four bed roomed side ward, he is fast asleep, lying flat on his back, without a pillow. He looks every one of his ninety years, thin, frail and very vulnerable, a saline drip attached to his arm and a clam shell back brace on a cupboard behind his bed. After a few minutes he stirs and his eyes open, I hold his hand and tell him I have come to visit and he asks for a drink of water, pointing at a closed beaker with a straw protruding from it. I pass it to him and he drinks a little, but water escapes from his mouth and runs down his neck, he asks for a tissue and I dry the spill, then raise his head a little, when he asks me, to make drinking easier. He is very weak, but lucid and tells me how the accident happened, his home help was washing his hair in the shower and he slipped backwards and caught his back. Apparently he was standing when it happened, although he has a seat for the shower. His lower back is painful he tells me and he hopes the operation on Monday will alleviate this. I make conversation about the film, Lincoln, and the Super Bowl, which is taking place tomorrow in New Orleans as Leslie likes to talk about America. Ward 70 is the geriatric ward and the last time I visited, several years ago, it was a grim place, but it has been transformed, it is now clean, bright and airy and the staffing levels look to have doubled. I talk to Leslie until his painkilling medication is delivered and dissolved into his drinking cup and then support his head until has managed to get it all down. A nurse appears five minutes later, not by accident, and apologises as he has to be rolled over and moved to prevent bed sores developing. I squeeze his hand and take my leave, promising to visit again on Tuesday, explaining that I have Louis on Monday. Norman and I arrive home for half past eight and after giving him a short walk I make some bread and Camembert for supper and then read until bedtime.