Aftermath

We get up at half past six after a poor night's sleep and draw the curtains on a beautiful morning. Crisp, white snow has fallen overnight and sparkles in the early morning sunlight and to the east clouds recede, to reveal a clear blue sky. Norman trots down the garden path, making little tracks in the fresh snow, which is little more than an inch deep and explores his transformed winter garden, but as soon as the kippers hit the skillet and the aroma percolates, he runs back indoors and stations himself by the hall radiator. I share the spoils, half a fillet for him and one and a half for me, accompanied by rye toast, which I have to crumble and mix with Normy's fish. We eat companionably while listening to the news, I quite like the new pope, Francis the first, although he is unlikely to change much about the church's obsession with sexuality, which to be fair only mirrors society at large. The Prime Minister seems to have backed off a minimum price for alcohol and is starting to show structural weakness in the face of vested interests, which manifests through the threat of rival cabinet colleagues. In this case Theresa May, the Home Secretary, who is modelling herself on Margaret Thatcher in order to garner support from the conservative right. It is starting to look as if the Tory party is starting to unravel, under the pressure of being in coalition government with the Liberal Democrats. Not an easy time to be in government, and not a good time for political uncertainty. After breakfast we take the terriers on the Westwood, the wind has dropped and is now coming from the northwest, the windchill is significantly reduced and it feels much warmer. In the woods we meet an old lady, she must be nearly ninety and lives down Waltham Lane, quite near Mary Hodgeson, she pats the dogs, who take a liking to her and she wants to chat, so we stop and talk for a while. Later as we approach Black Mill, I spot Marion Bean, it is the first time I have seen her since she fell and broke her arm, and I want to thank her for the bottle of wine she left for me on Saturday. I thank her for the gift, which was for helping her after she fell, and enquire as to her arm. She tells me she is seeing the consultant tomorrow and should have the last brace removed, I wish her luck and then we continue on our way. I feel tired today, perhaps the poor sleep or a reaction to Leslie's funeral, I am due to swim at half past two this afternoon, but will see how I feel nearer the time. We take a leisurely stroll from the Mill back to the car, load everyone in and then deliver the dogs to their respective homes. When we return indoors, I give Norman some biscuits and then make lunch, using the last of the vegetable chilli, which I load into two whole meal pitta bread, that I have toasted and cut in half to make four pockets. I top these with grated cheese, guacamole, salsa, sour cream and tossed salad. As I have said before, this is healthy, tasty food, but more than a little messy, a large dollop of chilli escapes from a pocket and lands on the floor. Norman performs sterling work as a cordless vacuum cleaner and I hope that the spicy food doesn't have unfortunate repercussions. After Lunch I lie down for an hour, setting my alarm for two O'clock, so that I can drive to the leisure centre for a swim. I sleep soundly until the alarm goes off and then decide that the swimming can wait until tomorrow and turn over and sleep until half past four. When I get up, I still feel tired, but Norman needs his dinner, so after letting him out, I open a tin of food for him and then toast some rye bread, which I eat with apricot jam and strong tea. Later I reply to my emails and send a photo of Leslie's window to my sister in law, Liliane, who asked for it and then ring Felicity, who tells me her daughter, Melissa and Partner, Nick, have bought a five bedroomed house down Marlboro Avenue and she has been invited to stay with them at Christmas. She sounds unwell and tells me she is having problems with her bowels, so I advise her to phone the doctor tomorrow and say I will call in to see her after I have walked the dogs tomorrow. The afternoon nap has had a delayed effect and suddenly I feel more energetic, so I dig out a basket of shirts and iron them while I listen to podcasts of "In our Time", one is about the Industrial revolution and the second about Lord Byron's Childe Harold. Having read Eric Hobsbawm's definitive history of the period being covered, I find the discussion a little slight, but what can you do in half an hour. The Byron discussion is better, but barely scratches the surface, so I will find a good biography of Byron from the library later. After the shirts are folded and stored away, Normy and I listen to the ten o'clock news before going to bed. David Cameron has pulled the plug on the multi party discussions on the implementation of the Leveson report and will table his Royal Charter proposal to the House of Commons next week. Whether this is clever political manoeuvring, or weakness in the face of powerful vested press interest, is unclear, but it could be the beginning of the end for the coalition. I am walking my grandson, Louis, to school tomorrow so will need to be up by six thirty.