A busy, busy, day!

We are up early, before the alarm rings, at a quarter past six. After a breakfast of soft boiled eggs and rye toast, I shower and dress, before taking Norman for a quick spin around the village and then setting off for Hull, just after eight. Jordan's garage is on Witham, and I drive there via the winding road through the village of Wawne and the North Hull estates. When I arrive in reception to hand over the keys to the Chrysler, it resembles a doctor's surgery, with a young man and an Asian family of young girls, sat on the sofas waiting for work to be finished. There is a spare chair between them, so I sit down and take my library book out of my shoulder bag and settle down to read, after first ringing Right Car, where my vehicle failed its MOT. The failure certificate states, that there will be no charge if the car is re-presented within ten days with the fault fixed. It is dated March 6th at 17:30 and today is the 16th, so my call is to arrange a re-inspection, which they are able to conduct at half past twelve. This means that I don't need to pay Jordan's £40 for another MOT, and therefore I cancel that part of the work, the fitting of the new shock absorber is scheduled to take an hour, so with luck, it will be finished for ten o'clock. I phone Felicity to see how she is and she tells me that she is waiting for the doctor as she is still in pain. I promise to call in to see her tomorrow. Hanne also texts to ask if I am going to the Poppy Seed, so I tell her that I am too busy and also explain that Felicity can't make it either. The work on the car is completed on time and £180 later, I am on my way back to Tickton and congratulating myself for saving £40 on an unnecessary MOT, when a bus pulls out from the kerb, where it had been picking up passengers. This road is a dual carriageway, that narrows to a single lane in order to go under a bridge, about a hundred yards further on, so I accelerate to overtake the bus and then get flashed as I pull back in, by a speed camera. When I look at my speedometer, it reads 35mph and I am in a 30mph zone. Goodbye to my MOT savings! It is my own fault, I have a lot to do today, but there was no real need to get past the bus. I arrive back in Tickton for eleven, and an envelope is lying on the mat, it is the appointment for my MRI scan, and it is scheduled for Monday April 8th at twelve noon. With a bit of luck, I might have an appointment with Mr Cooksey within two weeks of this, and then, hopefully, the diagnosis, prognosis and recommended treatment. I am taking Louis to see the Tigers against Nottingham Forest this afternoon, so in the hour before I am due at Right Car, I make our half time picnic, smoked cheese and Chorizo on rye for Louis and the same for me, ( but without the sausage, as it is Lent), an orange, banana, some oaties and a flask of tomato soup. Somehow all of this fits in my shoulder bag, along with a kitchen roll for spillage and his "magic blanket", as it can be cold sat up in the "Gods", just under the roof of the KC Stadium. Before leaving, I let Normy into the garden and then leave him fresh water and some Bakers and then drive the two miles down the river bank, to Right Car. The re-inspection, is the testing station's last job before the weekend and I have hardly started to read my book, before they are calling me to say the job is done. Now that both cars have passed their MOT's, I can renew their road tax online. Louis is waiting for me when I arrive and Sarah is making a sandwich for his lunch, so I have a word with Alice about not washing his face yesterday morning. She tells me she wiped it with a wet wipe, because of his bruise, which he incurred from a fall in the playground. When I look carefully at him, what I had assumed was dirt, was actually a dark bruise, which I had tried to rub off with my handkerchief and a little spit. No wonder he howled a bit! Richard, Sarah's boyfriend for the last couple of years, is coming with us to the stadium, he is meeting a business colleague there in the hospitality suite. We retrace the route I took this morning and park in Linnaeus Street, outside Mark's flats, where a workman is fitting a pair of electronic gates, we will need the entry code the next time we park here. Mark hasn't yet arrived, he is collecting his son, Jamie, who is at Manchester University, from the station, so we set off and walk to the KC stadium, passing through the grounds of Hull Royal Infirmary on our way. I can't help but think about Leslie as we go past, but Louis' infectious cheerfulness soon dispels any black clouds. He must have asked a thousand questions of Richard and myself, before we arrive at the turnstiles and part company. Louis proudly presents his season ticket to be scanned, I follow and then we begin our long climb to the upper West Stand, the weather has brightened and the sun is shining on the pitch momentarily, as both teams go through their warm up routines on the pitch. Our seats are on row X, just one further row separates us from the journalists, who are situated under the roof, around the half way line, to commentate and report on the match. The players retire, the pre match music, excerpts from Nabucco's "Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves", booms out, with the intent to intimidate the opposing fans, but it doesn't seem to work, Forest have brought four thousand fans and they completely fill the North Stand to our left. Since their previous manager, Billy Davis, returned, they have won their last five games and they don't intend losing today either. The match kicks off on time at three and it is a sizzling encounter, with both teams straining every sinew to win. The tigers have the best of the early encounters but Forest gradually claw their way into the game and are marginally getting the best of things, before George Boyd scores, three minutes before half time. He celebrates by miming a pair of spectacles over his eyes, the significance of this is that he was supposed to be signed by Nottingham Forest under their previous manager, but after he was sacked the deal was cancelled at the last minute, on the pretext that Boyd had failed an eye test. Hull City have never lost this season after scoring first, so it is two happy and confident Tiger's fans who tuck into their picnic during half time. The second half is even better than the first, as Nottingham throw everything, bar the kitchen sink, at the Tigers, to try to even the score. The game flows end to end but Hull create the better chances, before Forest equalise from a cross and a shot that bounces off the crossbar, before Darius Henderson puts it away. It seems impossible, but the intensity of the game increases, as both teams go flat out for the win, City have shots hit the bar, cleared off the line and the Nottingham Forest keeper makes three world class saves, but in the end, luck intervenes on Forest behalf and they score again with ten minutes to go. Steve Bruce makes two substitutions, bringing on extra strikers in Jay Simpson and Nick Proschwitz and the last ten minutes are like "Saving Private Ryan", as the Tigers lay siege to the Forest goalmouth. Yellow cards are flying everywhere, and with a minute of extra time left, Gedo is through on goal with only the keeper to beat from six yards out, but blazes his shot over the top. The referee blows his whistle on the best game of the season, City have lost after being in front for the first time and Forest have won six games on the bounce for the first time since Brian Clough was manager. Before we leave, Louis reads the announcement on the video screen, which says the next home match is April second, against Watford, at a quarter to eight. I tell him that, as it is the Easter Holidays and he has no school the next day, he can come. It is only later, after we have driven back to Tickton, fed Norman and then taken him for a walk round Seven Corners Lane, that Sarah reminds me, that Louis will be on holiday in Scotland during Easter Week. Louis now says he doesn't want to go to Gleneagles, so I am in the dog house for a while. I leave about seven and arrange to drive back and pick up Alice at a quarter past nine, to do the video shoot for the Swimathon at the Leisure Centre, although after a long day, I could well do without it. Back home, I fry half a dozen sticks of white asparagus in a little butter, sprinkle them with black pepper and grated Gran Padano and eat them with freshly cut slices of rye bread, mopping up the melted butter and juices as I go. I had intended to make spaghetti, but time constraints forced something simpler. I put on my swimming shorts and last years Swimathon tee shirt and then slip a track suit over the top, before collecting Alice and driving to the Leisure Centre. The pool is empty, apart from another group who are also making a video, theirs is of a girl in a flowing white dress immersed in the water, but as they are on the opposite side to us, they are easy to keep out of camera shot. Alice takes a clip of me wearing my tee shirt explaining what I am doing and then she videos me swimming the four lengths in each stroke, that constitute the 100m Individual Medley. She says she will edit this down to a few strokes of each style, and then the final shot is my appeal for sponsorship in the water at the lane end. After I have dried and replaced my track suit, she says she isn't entirely happy with the sound levels on the first shot and so we repeat it, with me standing in front of the pool window in reception. Alice says she will do the first edit over the next few days, some of her friends are going to help and once I am happy with it, post it onto the Marie Curie web site and also Facebook and Twitter. I tell her that I don't have a twitter account, but she says not to worry, as she will use hers. I drop her off around ten and then drive home, where I drink a glass of milk and eat a couple of oaties while I read another chapter of my book, in order to unwind, before turning in around eleven thirty. It has been a busy, busy, day.