Good Blood and Alice in Wonderland

We are up for seven o'clock, no change to the weather, it remains cold and dry, but at least the easterly wind has subsided and its icy fingers merely stroke my bare ankles this morning, as I release Norman into the garden. Today is a fast day, and we will start the day with kippers and toast with black coffee. As soon as the aroma of the fish starts to percolate through the house and out into the garden, Normy sprints back indoors. He is no longer a venerable old guy when there is food to be had and then he wriggles happily on his back in the hallway, just outside the kitchen, as I turn the kippers over in the skillet. He likes his mixed with crumbled rye toast, and once my breakfast is prepared, I place his on the floor, next to his water bowl and watch him tuck in. The only after effect of last night's swim, is a slightly tender left ear, otis media, a middle ear infection, well known to all swimmers, it usually clears after a day or so, without any intervention, other than keeping the ears dry. Over sixty years of swimming, I have never yet found ear plugs that are effective. Around a quarter to ten, after "in our time" has finished on radio four, we drive to Cherry Burton and collect Dolly and Teddy for their run out on the Westwood. They are frisky and ready to go, after yesterday's cancelled walk, due to my flat battery. In the woods it is like someone has pressed the pause button on spring, buds that should be showing new leafs, are still closed tight shut, but the birds are nesting, once the eggs are on the way, they have little choice, but the first hatchlings will have a hard time, due to the cold and lack of insect food. As we walk up the path towards Barbara's house, we meet Angela, one of Felicity's army of volunteer dog walkers, and she asks after the old girl, I tell her she is improving and that I will visit this afternoon. Angela asks me to pass on her best wishes, which I promise to do. By Black Mill there are two teenage boys playing football and Teddy joins in, impressing them with his dribbling and tackling skills, while Dolly, Norman and I sit on one of the three benches and watch the performance. After ten minutes or so, the boys realise that, in Teddy's mind at least, they are playing with his ball and not the other way round. His ability to keep possession is awe inspiring and they appeal to me to intercede, "It's a new ball, we only got it yesterday", they plead. I manage to catch Teddy's choke chain, but before I can secure him on the lead, the larger of the two boys kicks the ball across the common and Ted, with Houdini like powers, slips out of his chain and races off after it. The boys and I agree on tactics, when I get hold of him again, they will hold the ball off the ground until I have him secured, but we needn't have worried, he has become bored, as no one is kicking the ball anymore and trots back to me placidly to be placed on the lead. We say goodbye to the boys, who give the terriers a friendly pat and then make our way back to the car. After dropping Dolly and Teddy at Two Riggs, Norman and I head home. As soon as we arrive, I set about cleaning out the car, while I am still dressed in my warm walking gear. I am acting as taxi tonight, to take Hanne and Thelma to the ballet and the car is filthy, not having been cleaned for at least a couple of weeks. In an hour, the inside has been washed, vacuumed, polished and freed of dog odour, the outside will be outsourced to the Polish hand car wash business, adjacent to Morrisons. I give Norman some Baker's and finish the mug of tea, that I made to accompany my car cleaning and then set off for Castle Hill Hospital to visit Felicity, calling at Morrison's for rye bread, milk and some Oxy White for my washing, and to have the car washed. The usual Bank Holiday shopping frenzy has begun and the place is packed, even though it is only closed for Easter Sunday, but after a short queue, I am through the self service check out, back to the car and in another queue for the hand car wash. The Polish guys have it down to a fine art and despite there being eight cars in front of me, I am finished in a little over ten minutes. They have also changed their payment routine, it used to be pay on entry and now it is pay on exit. The reason becomes obvious, two pretty Polish girls are multi tasking, drying off the cars and taking payment, the tips box lies beside them, a neat move, but unfortunately I have to reserve £1.50 for the car park at the hospital and so my tip is limited to the 20p I have left in loose change, but that is on top of the fiver for the car wash. I drive the newly gleaming Chrysler to the hospital, and after the inevitable queue at the roadworks on the bypass, arrive around two o'clock, park up, and make my way to Ward 21, where I find Felicity lying on her bed. She is delighted to see me and asks if Melissa is coming, I answer truthfully, that I don't know and then enquire whether she is up to walking to the hospital restaurant, which lies opposite the entrance to Ward 21, calculating that a change from the medicalised ambience of the ward will do her good. Felicity likes that idea and we are just making adjustments to her clothing before sallying forth, when Melissa arrives, bearing clean nighties, underwear and a new dressing gown. Melissa likes the idea too and takes over the dressing routine, insisting that her mum wears the new dressing gown, to protect from the drafts in the corridors. After five minutes preparations are complete and we set off on the expedition, Felicity with her wheeled Zimmer, Melissa helping to navigate doorways and me as a Voortrekker spotting problems and obstacles and shouting encouragement. It is slow progress, Felicity has been mostly in bed for two weeks and her muscles are wasted, she is also every ounce of eighteen stones, but we arrive safely in the cafeteria after about ten minutes. The place is light and airy, the staff busy clearing away after lunch, but helpfully find us a place to sit, adjacent to the serving counter, where there are cakes and Starbuck's coffee. I act as waiter and return with coffees for Melissa and I, and chocolate for Felicity, accompanied by two slices of Bakewell tart, from which I abstain. While we eat, Stuart phones, and Felicity chats to him for a moment, while Mel gives me her email, in order that I can send her the link for the Swimathon sponsorship. After ten minutes or so, Felicity is feeling tired and we make the return journey to her room, outside the sun has broken through and baby rabbits are playing tag across the lawn, which delights the old girl. Once we are safely back, I say goodbye, as Melissa wants to cut her mum's toenails and needs the privacy. On my way back, I call at the Doctor's to collect my PSA results, and have mentally categorised my expectations, if the count has more than doubled, that would indicate an agressive tumour, little growth , less aggressive and a reduced reading more benign. In the event the reading is down slightly from 0.16 ng to 0.14 ng, which indicates the tumour is stable or perhaps even shrinking! Better news than I anticipated. This increases my options, if maintained, as I can now watch and wait, rather than having to take early drastic interventions. Whether it is the no meat, no alcohol, Lenten fast or the two days a week fasting, or the swimming, something is agreeing with my system and I would be foolish to change much, although I still intend to eat lamb and have a glass of wine with Easter Sunday Lunch. I call at Sarah's to say goodbye, before they set off for Scotland and she gives me Easter eggs for Laura and Rebecca and a present for Laura's birthday and a card, and asks me to deliver them when I call on Sunday. I have forgotten Laura's birthday, which was on the 22nd, confusing it with Alice's which is on April 12th, I will have to make amends when I see her on Sunday. I arrive home for four o'clock, where Norman is waiting expectantly for his dinner. I feed him and then meditate for an hour, before making a bowl of porridge with water and sweetener, as I don't want a rumbling tummy to punctuate the ballet this evening. After washing and changing, I drive to the wall by the doctor's along Albert Terrace and collect Hanne and Thelma for six thirty, before driving to Cineworld at Kingswood. We are in good time and so Hanne buys ticket for Verdi's, Guilio Cesare, but as it is being shown on April 27th, I have to decline, as I am baby sitting Louis and Alice, while Sarah and Richard are in Portugal. Screen Four, where the telecast is being shown, soon fills up, and for once, everything goes like clockwork. "Alice", is a new ballet, with choreography by Christopher Wheeldon and music by Joby Talbot, with Sarah Lamb and Federico Bonelli as principal dancers. The sets are amazing and the production alternatively dark and Freudian in its symbolism and light and zany, almost bipolar in its structure. The best way to describe it is "Trippy", combining both "good" and "bad" trips. Zenaida Yanowsky, who plays the Red Queen, is inspired and there are great performances from the leads and other dancers. In short it is great, but if there is one tiny criticism, it is that Christopher Wheeldon, the choreographer, indulges his dancers, being perhaps too generous with the time allotted too them. A less generous direction would have shortened the ballet by ten to fifteen minutes and made it tighter and, in my opinion, better structured. Nevertheless it closed to rapturous applause and everyone goes home happy, I drop the ladies off around eleven and return home to let Normy out for the last time, before turning in at eleven thirty.