An ill wind

Wake after a sound night's sleep around seven and after releasing Normy into the garden, I fry the smoked mackerel bought from Morrisons for breakfast, with rye toast and strong, black, Italian coffee. We don't have to rush this morning, so we can enjoy a leisurely breakfast. The mackerel are slightly more oily than herring but this makes them more succulent and tasty. In addition to a fillet, Norman also receives my skin, with all the oily fish we have eaten during lent, his coat has taken on a glossy shine. After breakfast I drink coffee and read the paper on my iPad in the Garden Room, outside a late hunting barn owl takes a young rabbit in the field beyond the garden. I am attending ten thirty mass, so shower, dress and then take Norman out for a toilet walk, before driving to Saint John's and parking by Seven Corner's Lane at a quarter past ten. From the car I phone Felicity, in order to see how she is feeling and to arrange to call in to see her after church. There is no reply, so I leave a message to say I will ring again after church and then turn my phone off before the service. The children are taking first communion today, so the church is full, with lots of young families, but I manage to find a pew, one row back from my usual place. After praying, I sit and think about the new pope, Francis, he was profiled on radio four's Sunday program and it seems my prayer last week for a more catholic and less Roman pontiff have been answered. A church for the poor is precisely what the world needs right now and he seems to be leading by example, which, quite frankly, is the only way to lead. It is a beautiful service this morning, Father Roy's sermon is a good humoured and good natured dialogue with the children, he is trying to elicit the answer, "Passion Sunday" to the question "what day is it today?" He gets a variety of answers, ranging from "Saint Patrick's day", which it is, to Palm Sunday and Good Friday, which it definitely isn't, but like the great showman he is, it doesn't matter and he leads them gently to his point, that Jesus hates the sin but forgives the repentant sinner. Not bad, when the scripture was about the woman taken in adultery, and you are speaking to seven year olds. After communion we all sing "Fight the Good Fight" and emerge afterwards feeling better people, at least for a while. I switch the phone back on and ring Fliss, but get her answer phone again, which is unusual, so I ring her daughter Melissa to check she is OK, as Melissa was with her yesterday. Her phone also goes straight to answer phone, so I leave a message to say I am going round to check on her mum and drive round to Albert Terrace. The front door is locked, which is unusual, but her dogs, Sam and Molly, bark when I try the door, so I go round the back to see if  she is in the kitchen. The back door is also locked, but the kitchen light is on and her bed is unmade, she has to sleep on a single bed in the kitchen, as the stairs are too much for her. Clearly no one is home, she may have gone to her sisters, or perhaps Melissa has picked her up. I drive back to Tickton and take Norman for a proper walk round the village, the sky has become overcast and drops of rain start to fall as we approach home, it is still quite cold and a suspicion of a wind is blowing gently from the east. Once indoors, I give Norman a few biscuits and then make a pot of tea and settle down to some admin. I phone Margaret to tell her and William what a good job they did for Leslie's funeral and arrange to call at Leslie's bungalow to collect the espresso maker I gave him, as they don't want it and it will be one less thing for them to get rid of. Next comes the road taxing of Pip's car and mine, it is very easy online, now that the cross referencing with the insurance companies and the DVLA is done automatically. The government website invites me to become an organ and tissue donor, I have been a kidney donor for over forty years but fill in the online application anyway, if any of my remains can help someone else, then they are most welcome to them. There are a few other odds and ends to sort out, but within an hour they are all done, and I am just settling down to read my book when a text arrives from Melissa, to say that her mum has been taken in to Hull Royal Infirmary with an acute urinary tract infection, and that she is comfortable and that she will ring me later, after she leaves the hospital. I text back my best wishes and enquire if she is on ward 70, the geriatric ward, in case she needs me to visit. Later Melissa phones to say that her mum had become delirious overnight with the infection and so she called an ambulance and they took her into hospital, where she is being given antibiotics. Melissa asks if I will visit tomorrow afternoon, and I say I will, but have to text her back later, as I had forgotten that I have Louis on Mondays after school. I say I will go on Tuesday instead. I finish my book, an historical fictionalised account of the siege of Fort George, in what is now the state of Maine, during the American War of Independence. Today is a fast day, so later in the evening I eat some brown rice with the last of the vegetable chilli and a little salad, and then crack a tough killer sudoku before bedtime. Leslie had a urinary tract infection that got onto his lungs and failed to respond to antibiotics, I pray that Felicity fares better, but she is quite frail and her health has been declining these last two years. Sufficient to this day is the evil thereof! To bed around ten thirty.