Taxi duty

We wake at seven and after letting Norman out to yet another cold, grey day, I make my way to the kitchen and make breakfast. Today is the first day of intermittent fasting, I will try it two days a week for a month, to see if it helps my arthritis. I have decided to split the 500 calorie allowance between breakfast and dinner, so limit myself to a giant boiled egg and two small pieces of rye toast, scraped with butter and cut into soldiers. Norman is distinctly unimpressed, he greatly prefers the full English, but has to put up with Bakers for seniors, again. We are showered, shaved, shampooed and on the road by nine o'clock, collecting Dolly and Teddy and then driving on to the Westwood for our morning walk. The northeasterly wind persists, and is straight in my face as we make our way back from Black Mill to the car, shrinking the skin against my face. It has been stuck in this direction for a week now. After dropping the terriers back in Cherry, we drive to Sarah's house and collect Clement for his trip back to Doncaster and onwards to London. I give him a pair of Barker's Oxford shoes in oxblood, that I have just had resoled, but which are rubbing across my toes and three good work shirts and a set of cuff links to accompany them. He has an intensive three day assessment at Price Waterhouse Coopers after Easter and hopes to secure an internship for the summer recess. The trip to Doncaster station is uneventful, we arrive fifteen minutes before the departure of his train, he gives me a hug, says goodbye to Norman and then disappears inside the station. We drive back to Hull, I am visiting Leslie at two o'clock, but have an hour to kill, so stop at Sainsbury's in Hessle, which is the first exit off the A63 dual carriageway, after the Humber Bridge. I walk Norman along the edge of the car park for ten minutes and then give him some water, before leaving him on the back seat again while I read the Yorkshire Post over coffee in the cafeteria. At a quarter to two we complete our journey, parking in Linnaeus car park, as usual and then walking to Hull Royal Infirmary and taking the stairs to the seventh floor. After washing my hands, I make my way to Leslie's bedside, to find him lying in a foetal position on his left hand side, a glucose drip attached to his wrist. He is sleeping, so I fetch a plastic chair and sit down at his side, his face seems to have lost definition in some way and without the animation of his personality, he looks very, very old. After a short while he comes round but seems a little groggy, "Where are you?" he asks. " I am here Leslie," I say. "No, where are you?" He repeats. I fetch his glasses and gently slide them on to his nose, asking if that is better? " Where are you?" He repeats, more urgently this time, and I realise that he means to say, who are you. "It is David, I have come to visit you." I tell him, but he doesn't know me. " What do you want from me?" He demands, "Nothing Leslie, I just wanted to make sure you are alright", he makes it very clear that he wants me to leave, then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. I find the nurse who looks after Leslie in the office and ask to speak to her, she has been on holiday for two weeks and tells me she was quite shocked to see how much he has deteriorated during her absence. I tell her about his chest infection, but she already knows about this and then ask her when the confusion started, and am informed they noticed it first thing this morning. The doctors have seen him, she tells me and his observations are otherwise within range and the chest infection has responded to the antibiotics, they put him back on a drip, just in case he was dehydrated. There is nothing further I can do, so I thank her and leave. As I make my way down the stairs, I have this fear that he has had a stroke. We drive back to Tickton via Wawne, on the windy country road and when we return home, I feed Normy and give him some fresh water, before meditating for an hour. Around five I call Leslie's daughter, but her husband William answers and I tell him about the deterioration in my old friends condition. William is visiting tomorrow and promises to keep me informed. As soon as I put the phone down Sarah calls, Louis has a Baker day on Friday, the teachers are undergoing some training, so I agree to look after him. Sarah also has a client after work tomorrow, so I offer to collect him from the after school club at five thirty and take him home. As it seems to be my hour for phone calls, I ring Felicity, who tells me she can't make the Poppy Seed in the morning, as her physiotherapist is calling at eleven thirty. I arrange to call in for a cup of tea with her, after taking the dogs out in the morning, around half past ten. It is now seven O'clock and time for my other 250 calories, which I consume as brown rice with steamed peppers and garden peas, with a vegetable stock cube added to the boiling water. It seems to take forever in the microwave, but tastes surprisingly decent when it eventually emerges. Later I read Ian Rankin's new thriller, "The Impossible Dead," which keeps my mind occupied until bedtime. I turn in at eleven, my prayer for Leslie is that he doesn't suffer.