Beware of sleeping friends.

It is eight o'clock when I wake up to a lovely spring morning, the dogs run out into the garden, where I feed the terriers, with Baker's dog food, before pouring Norman's into his bowl in the kitchen. I make rye toast and a Yorkshire Kipper fillet for my breakfast and carry this into the garden, with a large mug of black, Italian coffee. As I drink the coffee, after breakfast, my eyes wander to all the little jobs that have been awaiting the arrival of spring and warmer weather. The windows and paintwork that need washing, flower beds to weed, and the hedges and bushes to prune. In good weather this is pleasant work, as I like being outdoors and I should be able to make a big dent in it over the weekend. At nine o'clock, I phone Felicity and apologise that I won't be able to see her and our other friends at the Poppy Seed, as I still have the dogs to walk. She has her son, Richard, staying with her for the weekend and tells me she has already been out on the Westwood. I promise to call in later in the day and ask if she needs anything from the market, and am told to bring sausages and a few bananas. After a shower, the dogs and I set off for our walk round the fields, Dolly and Teddy pulling on their leads, eager to be off the leash and chasing rabbits and once we are over the little wooden bridge, I unhook Dolly and Norman, before taking the path into "almost straight wood". A young pine tree has blown over during the high winds and lies across the path, I step over it, Dolly and Teddy leap it easily and Norman runs underneath. Being low slung has its advantages. There is still a cooling breeze from the southwest, but the weather is ideal for walking, in the woods several trees have been bark stripped by deer and the bales of fodder placed at the corner of the plantation favoured by them, has been well eaten down. By the next dyke, I sit on a fence and wait for Dolly to come back to me, as we have reached the half way point. She sees me waiting and continues hunting for a moment, but then her conscience gets the better of her and she returns, obedient and submissive, to be reattached to her lead. Teddy dashes off at high speed once released and Dolly and I follow, with Norman jogging along happily behind us. The old boy likes walking with the pack and seems to find extra energy from the companionship, it reminds me of middle distance racing and the universal truth for runners, that it is easier running in a group. If you drop out of the group, you are quickly left behind. As social animals, people and dogs must share some common group psychology. I call Teddy back to the lead, as we complete the loop and approach the little bridge from the east, he comes back immediately and the four of us walk down Carr Lane, past the farm, where the small flock of alpacas are chewing their cud. As we approach the stables, a young girl of eight or nine emerges, astride a sturdy brown pony with a lovely bushy black mane and tail. She is in full riding gear, hat, jacket, jodhpurs and boots, her back straight as a ramrod, hands loosely holding the reins and her young face a study in concentration. I pull the dogs off the path and quieten them, allowing her to walk past at a stately gait, she gives me a nervous smile and whispers, "thank you", I suspect it is her first solo ride out. We return home around a quarter to twelve, I give the dogs some fresh water and then leave Norman in charge, while I drive into town to the market. I park on Sample Avenue, on the Swinemoor estate, a few yards from the level crossing which leads into town and then walk the quarter mile to Saturday Market, which is packed with shoppers, brought out by the fine weather. It feels strange to be on the market without Norman, but it is also somewhat of a relief, as I don't have to be alert to the constant risk of him being stepped on. The farm shop has sold out of pork and mushroom sausages when I arrive, so I buy pork and Bramley apple instead and then pick up a small hand of bananas from the fruit stall at the end of the row, before making my way through Turner's Yard and up Greyburn Lane, to Felicity's house on Albert Terrace. She is resting on her bed in the kitchen, talking to Richard, when I get there and tells me she has walked all the way to the Poppy Seed and back again. A feat that was beyond her last Saturday, slowly but surely, she is regaining her mobility, but it has obviously taken quite a bit out of her, and after a few minutes she closes her eyes and appears to have dropped off to sleep. Her son, Richard, works for Heinz and is a business process expert, flying round the world trouble shooting, we have met a couple of times before, but never had the chance for a chat, so I try to put him at ease by asking about his job and we end up comparing our experiences of implementing Total Quality Management systems, these are accredited under ISO 9,000 international standard. We are laughing and agreeing, that unless and until, the people within the process, take ownership of it, it achieves little, when Felicity opens her eyes and tells us both firmly, that we are boring the pants off her. Clearly she isn't asleep and equally clearly she is somewhat tired and more than a little grumpy. I take this as my cue to leave, say goodbye to them both, Richard mouths a silent, "sorry" and then I make my way back to the market. My next door neighbour, Kathleen, was cleaning her windows with a telescopic mop and squeegee as I left and I look in vain on the hardware stall for one, but am out of luck, so decide to wander through town to Wednesday Market, in order to see if Beverley's answer to Harrod's, (Boyes department store), has one. Down Toll Gavel, a South American Indian quartet are playing salsa music, that makes my hips want to sway, and just beyond them, the Methodist Chapel has a bring and buy table set out to raise funds for the church. Mooching about to music, in the sunshine, on a lovely Saturday afternoon, what could be better? The only thing that I remotely need, is a canvas belt in navy blue, that can be worn with jeans or denim shorts, so I buy it for a pound and continue on my way to Boyes. The pavement cafes in Wednesday Market are packed with people having a snack or lunch, the sudden onset of fine weather has put people in a bit of a holiday mood, and the happiness is infectious. In the store, I quickly find what I am looking for, a small telescopic window cleaning tool, and also a khaki baseball cap, to protect my head from too much sun, when I work in the garden. As I am queuing to pay for these, my phone rings, it is Sam, my daughter in law, enquiring if it is OK to call in with my granddaughters this afternoon, they usually spend Saturdays with their dad, at Pip's house in Cherry, but he is on his way to Las Vegas and Rebecca wants to see Teddy, who is her favourite. I tell Sam that I will be home for half past three and that they are most welcome to visit. On my way back to the car, I bump into Tracy Belotti and her daughter, she is looking after Felicity as a mobile care worker and is also baby sitting Molly, the older of the two dogs. I enquire whether she may be interested in looking after Molly longer term and perhaps taking her to see Felicity from time to time. Tracy explains she has four children and another dog, so it really isn't practical, and also that Melissa, Felicity's daughter, has asked her not to take Molly back to her mum. I tell her that I understand, and that Richard has a possible alternate home for Molly with some neighbours, and then make my way back to the car, stopping to buy some beef tomatoes and buffalo Mozarella en route. I return home for five past three, let the dogs out and just have time to prepare a Caprese, Mozarella and tomato salad with olive oil and basil dressing, before Sam and the girls arrive. We sit in the garden and drink cream soda, Rebecca has orange juice, and then plays naughty puppies with Teddy, while Sam, Laura and I sit and chat. Sam wants to change the arrangements for tomorrow and wonders if she can bring the girls for breakfast and a walk with the dogs, before they set off for the day. Originally I had a agreed to call at their house after church, but I can easily change my plans and go to Mass this evening instead. The girls leave around a quarter to five and ask if I can make pancakes for breakfast? I tell them to rely on it, wave goodbye and then feed the dogs and take them for a walk as far as the little bridge. It is a lovely warm afternoon and people are outside gardening and chatting to neighbours, as we make our way back home. Once indoors, I wash and change, before driving to Saint John's for the six thirty service, arriving ten minutes early and making my way to my usual pew. I have a little ritual of opening the hymn book at the first hymn and then finding the appropriate service in the prayer book, today's service is the fourth Sunday of Easter, before composing myself and saying prayers for friends and family, with a special mention for Aunty Dorothy. I ask that her courage and optimism can be sustained in the last few months of her life, and that I too may be saved from that cancer of the soul, known as self pity, the most deadly of all diseases. The service tonight is conducted by Father David, and when I look up from my prayers, I notice the hymn numbers have now been removed, singing is off the menu for tonight. He conducts the service at a fair old clip and it is all over by ten past seven, the sermon having been replaced by a letter from the bishop regarding vocation. I emerge from church feeling somewhat deprived, I have grown used to the sung Mass on Sunday morning, and feel that the communal singing of hymns and the singing of the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus and Agnus Dei, are only surpassed by the beautiful mystery of communion. In a very deep sense, all life is sacrificed for each other. It has been a long and eventful day, and I decide to eat my Caprese for dinner, as It is too much effort to cook the schnitzels, that are wrapped in cling film on a plate in the fridge. To this end, I call at the Asda store down Norwood and buy some ciabatta rolls and a bottle of Shiraz. Back home, I let the dogs out for the final time and then settle down to dinner. Eating the salad and mopping up the juices with bread, as I sip a glass of wine. We all turn in around ten and I set the alarm for six thirty, in order to be up and ready before the girls arrive for breakfast.