Ironing in the sun and cooking with Laura

We are up early, by six o'clock, to a warm sunny morning and as soon as we have eaten breakfast, hang out a line of white washing. I am still feeling more than a little stiff and achey in my lower back, whether a consequence of the adjustment to my new orthotics, or to the increased distance swimming butterfly yesterday, I don't know. After a shower, I start to move a little more freely, so set up the ironing board and run the iron on an extension into the garden, and start to work through my back log of clothes that need ironing. I listen to the news on radio four as I work and this is followed by Melvyn Bragg and "In our time". This morning they are discussing a Chinese, fifteenth century, classic novel, "The Romance of The Three Kingdoms", set in the distant past, around the first and second century BCE, and dealing with the tensions between the loyalties owed to state, family and personal friendships, during a time of civil war. It is fascinating and by the time it has ended, I have a neat pile of shirts folded on the garden table. I break off at this point, as Norman and I are due to walk with Betty and Nellie, but leave the ironing board, etc. still set up in the Garden, as I haven't quite finished and will pick up where I left off, when I get back. Betty and Nellie are waiting at the end of the cul de sac and Nellie runs over to give Normy a sniff and say hello. He pretends to ignore her, but a twitch of his tail gives him away, and so we set off for a walk around the fields. The morning has developed into a warm, bright, sunny day, with occasional clouds prompting breezes, that are pleasantly cooling and riffle the leaves on the trees in Carr Lane. We meet the man who lives in the end house on our street, returning from walking his dog, I know him by slight, but he and his wife are long time neighbours of Betty's, so he stops for a chat and tells us that someone has been shooting pigeons in his garden, either late last night or very early this morning. The evidence for this is a pile of feathers and a handful of pellets on either side of the fence, that separates his back garden from Carr Lane, which have fallen out of someone's pocket, as they climbed over, probably  in order to recover the dead bird. There are a plethora of pigeons around and country folk have no particular qualms about shooting them for the pot, but trespassing on someone's garden in the small hours, is a different matter. It makes me glad I brought my bike in last night, although Tickton is the most peaceable place I have ever lived. We walk all the way round the fields, taking it slowly, so that Norman can keep up, but he manages it easily. Betty tells me it is three years since her husband died of leukaemia, he and her were keen walkers in retirement and walked a lot of the places that Allan Ralph and I walked along the coast last year. We return home for half past eleven and after making a fresh pot of tea, I resume ironing, which I intersperse with computer tasks, downloading a copy of the 2010 Equality Act, printing my online boarding passes for my trip to Holland in two weeks and finally deleting some audio books, so that I can finally synch my iPhone and free up space for my camera again. By two o'clock I am ironed up, so put everything away and bring in my whites, before making a snack of marmite on toast, which I eat outside. I have decked the garden table in the red and white checked tablecloth, in the hope that Laura and I can cook and eat outside, we are making Calzone pizza today, but to the west dark clouds are gathering. I leave home at two thirty, calling at Tesco for some mixed ante pasta, with which to top the pizza and also buy some wholemeal bread, peaches and fresh yogurt, for dessert. I park my car down Woodall way and walk the short distance toMolescroft Primary School, putting my small umbrella in my back pocket, as rain now seems imminent. It starts to fall, very gently at first, just as Laura emerges from her class. She holds my hand, but then breaks off to show me a "gold medal", on a ribbon, that she has won for being first in her year for gymnastics. I am duly impressed, but also concerned, as she has a sore nose and a persistent cough. She tells me it started with a migraine on Sunday and has just got worse today. When we get home, I make her a drink of cider vinegar, sugar and hot water, in the hope that it will help her coughs and sneezes, but it doesn't. After washing our hands thoroughly and providing Laura with a clean handkerchief, we set about making the pizza dough, first mixing sugar, water and dried yeast with a little flour to make a "sponge", to activate the yeast, before setting this aside to do its  chemical magic. Meanwhile we prepare a mixed salad, I show Laura the "living salad", that I bought from the green grocer's near her school, yesterday. " I don't like those kind of lettuce leaves", she tells me, but agrees to try the salad when the leaves have been mixed with chopped tomato, cucumber and spring onions and dressed. We also finely slice a clove of garlic, which I explain is the worlds finest natural antibiotic and also keeps vampires away. "The only real vampires are bats!" She tells me and then proceeds to test the salad once it is dressed. The "sponge", seems to be taking forever to activate, so I let Laura eat the salad first, she finishes the lot, except for the lettuce leaves, which she says she really doesn't like, so I eat those, risking the contamination of her infection. Her forehead is warm and her nose sore from continued wiping. Her mum is attending a conference at the Spa in Bridlington and due to arrive at five, so we decide that the "sponge" has had long enough and mix in the rest of the ingredients and flour and then take turns to knead it, until we have a springy stiff ball of pizza dough. After giving the dough a coating of olive oil, we cover it with a wet cloth and leave it to rise in a cool oven. By a quarter to six, Sam still hasn't arrived and the dough hasn't risen, so I accept the inevitable and make Laura some Mozarella cheese and salami toasties on the sandwich maker, that Sarah bought me last year. While she eats these, I check my box of dried yeast and read the instructions carefully, it is not quick acting and the yeast should have been activated in warm water and sugar for an hour first. Sam arrives and shares the toasties that I had made for myself, these had sun dried tomatoes and roasted peppers as well, which Laura didn't quite fancy. We chat for half an hour over our sandwiches and I suggest Laura may benefit from a duvet day tomorrow, as she really seems under the weather. Her sister, Rebecca, is away for a two day camping holiday, with her school, at Hatfield near Doncaster, and I can tell that Laura would really like some quality time with her mum. Rebecca is autistic and also suffers from epilepsy, consequently family life has to fit around her disability to a certain extent. Laura is always exceptionally kind and caring towards her older sister, so I can understand the need for a little one to one with her mum. They leave at around a quarter to seven, and I arrange to collect her from school on Tuesday, after gymnastics, as the psychologist is calling in to see Sam and Rebecca again, only to remember later that I am already committed to go to Birkenshaw, to see my brother, Andrew. I have to text Sam later and apologise. After they are gone, I wash up and clear away, by half past eight the yeast has finally woken up and the dough is ready to roll out, but it is too late, so I grease a plastic bag with olive oil and store it in the refrigerator, for use later, perhaps at the weekend when I am looking after Alice and Louis. Before turning my laptop off, I print directions to Ropery Hall, in Barton on Humber, where my safety course is taking place, tomorrow afternoon and then catch up on my blogs. At half past ten, Sarah texts to say that Alice is taking Louis to school in the morning and asks if I can collect him from Hector's House, before six. I text back to say that I can't guarantee this, as I am not entirely sure when the course will end and will have to drive back through the Friday evening rush hour, on the A15 from the Humber Bridge. Sarah texts back to say that Alice will get him and I reply wishing her a lovely weekend in London. To bed for half past eleven.