There and back again!

Wake at two thirty with a sore hip and take an anti inflammatory tablet and then sleep fitfully until the alarm goes off at six thirty. When I draw the curtains it doesn't seem a bad day and after letting Norman into the garden, I make breakfast. Smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye toast again for me and biscuits for Normy. Over coffee I listen to the news, against the odds the Liberals have hung on to Eastleigh in the bi election and UKIP has pushed the Conservatives into third place. David Cameron is on the horns of a dilemma, move to the right to placate the right and forfeit the election, stay in the centre and bleed support to UKIP. I suppose losing all his right wingers to UKIP would detoxify the nasty party, but the rump wouldn't be capable of winning an election. It is beginning to look like they are stuffed, although it is foolish to write off a party with all that access to money, power and privilege. After showering and dressing, I drive to North Bar Without and collect Louis for half past eight and then continue to Cherry to pick up Dolly and Teddy, before delivering us all to the Westwood shortly after nine. It is a cool, cloudy day, a pale lemon sun occasionally peeping through the clouds and the northeasterly wind blowing steadily across the common. I let Teddy off the lead in the woods and he dashes off to chase rabbits, with Louis running behind him. Norman jogs along behind myself and Dolly, with Teddy showing his face occasionally to check that we are OK and Louis amazed that he keeps bumping into us. Despite being told many times that Teddy always comes back, he insists on chasing after him. Still it burns some energy from them both! I have to keep Louis amused until tea time, so we are walking round the common this morning and circumnavigating the Humber Bridge after lunch. It takes us two, hours to complete our walk round the Westwood, so,it is almost half past eleven when we return the terriers to Two Riggs. I have decided that the Humber bridge is a bridge too far for Norman, so we take him home to Tickton and give him some biscuits and fresh water. The tickets for Hull City v Birmingham have arrived, and also an email offering the last six games at a discount. When I ring the ticket office they tell me that for another £97, Louis and I can have tickets until the end of the season and the right of first refusal for play off tickets and season passes for next year. It is too good a deal to miss, so we sign up and arrange to call at the ticket office at the stadium in Hull to collect them and to return the ones we have just received. First Louis needs feeding and he wants to have lunch at Morrison's cafeteria on our way to the stadium, I discover when we get there, that it is because they sell Premiership footballer swap cards, Louis tells me this over sandwiches and cake, but I don't mind as it saves me cooking. We buy two packs of cards, he is given one for being good in the cafe and promised the other if he behaves well during the afternoon. There is a Halfords next to Morrisons and I buy some new wiper blades for the Chrysler and have them fitted, as the old ones are worn and the car is due its MOT this month. Louis then tells me he has left his coat at my house, so we have to drive back to Tickton and collect it, as it will be cold crossing the river, high up on the bridge. First we drive to the KC stadium via Wawne and North Hull, our tickets are waiting for us when we arrive, and Louis is delighted to find he has a credit card type season ticket, with his name enscribed and the Tigers logo also emblazoned on it. None of his school friends have a season ticket he tells me. It is only a ten minute drive from the KC Stadium to the Humber Bridge Country Park and Sarah calls just as we arrive, to arrange to meet us at the Starbucks Cafe on Saint Andrews Quay, by the river, at four o'clock. She works at a clinic, nearby, on Fridays. It is now half past two and we have ninety minutes to complete our walk, which works out at forty minutes each way across the bridge and then ten minutes to Starbucks. The crossing is about two miles and twenty minutes per mile is normal walking pace, so we should be OK. From the car park we follow the footpath which leads to a steep flight of fifty six steps, (Louis counts them), onto the bridge and then take the landward side, (West) to cross. There are pathways on both sides, which are used by both pedestrians and cyclists. We are separated from the dual carriageway by a five foot banking and crash barrier, but the presence of traffic means that the walk is more than a little noisy. On our right hand side are railings, which are about four feet high and fifty feet below us flows the river Humber. It is low tide and mud banks and sandbars are exposed as the sluggish river flows towards the North Sea. As we pass one of the massive steel cables, from which the bridge is suspended, I explain to Louis how the construction works. Later I tell him when we are in the exact centre of the span and take his picture with my phone. He asks how I am so sure it is exactly the middle, and I point to the support cable, which at this point is horizontal, to the North and South, it rises up towards the looming concrete towers from which it is hung. When we get to the Lincolnshire end of the bridge, we find that we have to walk a further half mile down the approach road to use the steps, (33), which take us to the path that runs under the bridge and up another flight of steps, (33, again), onto the path at the other side. This means an extra mile, so our timings are going to be out and I text Sarah to say our ETA is now twenty past four. The seaward side of the bridge is more exposed but has better views, which stretch away past Hull to the docks, where the two North Sea Ferries, The Pride of Hull and The Pride of Rotterdam can be seen in their berths, standing huge and white above the surrounding buildings. I promise Louis that we will go to see my brother in Rotterdam on one, later in the year. The walk is ultimately about five miles and quite an achievement for a five year old, particularly on the back of a similar walk this morning. Louis won't be six until June, but he is both big for his age and phenomenally strong. He thrives on exercise and can sometimes be a little unruly unless his excess energy is burned off. We meet Sarah in Starbucks at twenty past four and I hand Louis over to her and then stay for a coffee and some shortbread, which she buys for me, before driving back to Tickton. Margaret phones as I approach the village, Leslie is still hanging on, but the doctors have asked for permission to withdraw treatment and are now keeping him sedated and pain free until nature duly takes its course. I will go and sit with him on Sunday, if he is still with us. Norman is waiting for his dinner when I get in and after taking off my coat and boots, I open a tin of dog meat for him. I am starting to feel tired myself now, after ten miles of walking and a day in the fresh air. The trajectories of our relative strength and fitness are about cross over, Louis will get stronger and stronger and I the opposite, but today has been a joy and a privilege. I make a simple dinner, goat cheese bruschetta with sun dried tomatoes and a tossed salad. A letter has arrived from the hospital delaying my appointment until the end of April, it doesn't seem right to keep someone with a diagnosis of recurrent cancer waiting three months for an appointment. I shall ring my consultant's secretary on Monday and arrange to speak with him on the phone. My own research suggests that treatment is not urgent, but I am not a doctor. Around six thirty, I ring Felicity, she has fallen again in the house, but says she hasn't hurt herself, so we arrange to meet at the Poppy Seed in the morning. Later, I crack a tough killer sudoku and have just completed it when Andrew phones. He is driving back from Doncaster Station after a business trip to London, he doesn't seem any further forward in resolving a financial settlement with Sam over their divorce, but he is forty five years old now and more than capable of managing his affairs. To bed around ten thirty.