A blue necklace for Beverley

We wake to a cloudy cool morning and after breakfast, I dress in jeans, shirt and sweater, wearing a lightweight rainproof over the top, in case of a shower and collect Louis at half past nine. When we arrive at the Grammar School he is eager to run off and join his friends, but I persuade him to place his lunchbox and bag, with wet weather gear, in the corner of the locker room first. Having seen him safely to football, we carry on to collect Dolly and Teddy from Cherry Burton and then park up down Newbald Road for our walk on the Westwood. The trees in Newbegin Pits Woods are magnificent, the hawthorn is full of May, the chestnuts showing large white candles and a solitary copper beech providing resplendent contrast to the prevailing greenery. Whilst I was away, the insurance company contacted me to say that Pip's car insurance is due for renewal, Swinton have an office in Beverley, which is why I use them, even though there is a small broker's premium I find it less stressful than dealing with call centres and auto attendants. This is especially true on the rare occasions it is necessary to make a claim. After our walk, we return the dogs to Two Riggs and then drive back to Tickton, where I bathe Normy's eyes and treat them with drops, before leaving him with some Baker's and fresh water, and heading off to the pool. I manage to repeat yesterday's, 2,000m session, despite the arrival of the ladies aqua aerobics at twelve thirty, there are not many people in the other half of the pool and I manage to squeeze a channel against a lane rope. After some tea and a toasted teacake, I drive into town and conclude my business with Swinton in less than ten minutes, even managing a slight saving on the previous year's premium. On Saturday my cousin Beverley will be sixty and her family are throwing a party, to which I am invited, so I set off in search of a card and a suitable present. I don't always go for Birthday Cards, quite often choosing the cards that are blank, with the most beautiful or original designs. A company called Paper Chase, down Toll Gavel stocks these and I find one with a blue motif, almost the colour of my cousin's eyes, which she inherited from her dad, my uncle Benny, who was my mother's younger brother. He has been dead over twenty five years now. The card gives me an inspiration for a present and I search the antique shops in search of some jewellery in a similar colour, finding a necklace in Lapis Lazuli that is within my budget. It is the sort of necklace that can be worn during the day and I hope Beverley will like it. It is now time to pick up  Louis, so I drive to the Grammar School to collect him, arriving, as usual, ten minutes early and watching the end of the game, with which they always conclude the session. I notice that he has been demoted, back into a group that are his age and consequently he towers head and shoulders above them all but still in goal. After they are finished the coach brings Louis to me and tells me he has been bad tempered and made one of the girls cry. Louis dissembles and tells me he was only trying to high five her and accidentally caught her in the stomach. Of course I tell him his behaviour is unacceptable and promise the coach that I will deal with the matter, before loading Louis into the car. My mind flashes back to my childhood, the person who was always most effective in correcting my behaviour, was my grandmother, she would use phrases like, " I can't believe that a nice boy like you could do something like that", or " and usually I am so happy when people say good things about you". It is a kind of moral coercion, but better than physical or verbal violence, so I give Louis a short dose and tell him how sad I feel that the coach had to tell me bad things about my Chuggy Boy. He cries and promises to behave differently tomorrow. I suspect his aggressive behaviour mirrors the way he is treated by the older boys, with whom he usually plays, and that he has dished out the same to his smaller friends. When we get home, I bathe him, make him extra lovely, with baby lotion and then let him play on my iPad, while I make dinner. After we have eaten, we take Norman for a walk around the village, and I gently reinforce the message about bullying, by telling him that bullies have no friends. I take him home for seven and am duty bound to tell Sarah about the problem, she tells him off again, in no uncertain terms and warns him that if he isn't good tomorrow this will be his last football course. I leave him, thoroughly chastened and drive home to read more of Geza Vermes book about the evolution of Christology from the crucifixion until the Council of Nicea. Much of it is a rehash of earlier work, but it is well written, beautifully researched and very interesting. To bed for ten.