Flashing down the pool!

We have no deadlines to meet today, so we lie in until a quarter to eight and then I make kippers for breakfast, these are fast becoming Norman's favourite breakfast, he has half a filet crumbled up with rye toast. After breakfast I try to read the paper online, but the children are back to school today and are probably hammering Facebook before they leave, so the BT Internet is down and will stay down until after nine. We leave the house for ten and then drive to Cherry Burton, where we collect the terriers to take them for their walk on the Westwood. The east wind is still casting its malign influence over the landscape and the blackthorn bushes, which should be in full bloom are yet to show a single flower, but high in the trees, magpies are nesting, so spring might return soon. We meet Elaine Julien and her Jack Russell, Milo, by the edge of the woods and she tells me it was her late husband's birthday last Sunday and she and his family, went to Fraisthorpe beach, which was a favourite spot. She is looking much better and says she has run a few races with the athletic club and is also going to Robin Hood's Bay tomorrow for a few days holiday. We complete our walk by half past eleven and I return Dolly and Teddy to Two Riggs, noting that the lawns will need to be mowed before the warmer, wetter, weather, that is forecast for the end of the week, arrives. I have packed my swimming gear in the car and so drive directly to the leisure centre, leaving Normy with a bowl of water on the back seat of the car, while I go to train. The changing room is full of buggies again, so there must be a mother and baby session in the training pool, I change quickly pulling on my new swimming trunks, which are a perfect fit and suitably modest for the older athlete, but the draw string on the left hand side has slipped back into the waistband. Despite several attempts, I fail to retrieve it and decide that the elasticated waistband is probably sufficient tight to keep them up. The fast lane is free when I emerge from the showers, so I slide into the water and push off on the first 100m medley, swimming butterfly, the trunks hold up, I hope to complete a hundred lengths today, as a dress rehearsal for the Swimathon. At the end of the first length I flip over and push off on my back and immediately I can feel the water on my bare buttocks, the trunks have slipped, I use one hand to pull them back up and at the end of the length, I fold the waistband over to provide more support. I muddle along like this for four hundred metres, even pushing off slowly from turns to try to keep them up, but in the end have to admit defeat and climb out of the water and return to my locker. In the cubicle, with my glasses on and trunks off, I eventually hook out the end of the drawstring with my car keys and am then able to fasten them properly. When I get back to the pool the fast lane is still empty, but as I put my water bottle on the lane end a young woman ducks under the rope and takes possession. There is a sign saying that swimmers in this lane must swim anticlockwise, so I agree this with my new companion and explain what I am doing and that I will make sure that I will time my butterfly so as not to collide with her. She is swimming freestyle, but is not very quick, so I wait until she is about eight metres from the turn before I push off underwater and pulse half a dozen kicks before surfacing beyond her and starting the arm stroke. This arrangement works fine, but means I have to take more frequent rests than I will be allowed on the sponsored swim, as I have to adjust to her speed. By the time I have completed eighty lengths she has left, so the last twenty lengths of medleys are more relaxing, as I am not constantly having to monitor where she is, or adjust my pace. After completing the hundred lengths medley, I warm down on 200m easy freestyle and backstroke and then shower and change and make my way to the cafe, for tea and a toasted teacake. Norman is asleep on the back seat of the car when I return and has left a little water in his bowl, which I toss out, before driving home to Tickton. I have saved some spring greens and jacket potatoes from Sunday, so decide to make bubble and squeak and fried eggs, as a late lunch. I haven't eaten bubble and squeak for fifty years, but it isn't exactly rocket science, although I modify the recipe slightly. The jacket potatoes are cut into slices , which I fry in a little butter and olive oil until they are nicely browned, then I fry the greens and sprinkle them with black pepper and Parmesan cheese, before topping them off with a couple of fried, double yolk, pullet eggs. After a very long swim I guess anything tastes good, but I think the modification to the recipe works well. Later I get a text from Hanne to say Felicity is being discharged and is going home. Norman spends the evening sitting on my knee while I read my book and then we turn in around ten thirty after a supper of bread and cheese.