Rebalancer rebalanced

We are up early, as Friday is my day to walk Louis to school, and I need to leave the house by ten past eight. It is a fine, sunny morning, so I take my breakfast, smoked salmon with cream cheese on rye toast, into the garden. Norman's taste in fish extends from kippers, through cod and haddock to smoked salmon and may even include caviar, if he ever got the chance. We park at Sarah's house at a quarter past eight, Alice is still eating breakfast and smiles at me through her cocoa/orange, fake tan disaster, although it seems to have faded just a little. We take our usual route, along North Bar Without, keeping to the north side of the street, because it is separated from the road by a boulevard of trees on this side, where North Bar becomes New Walk, and then make our way down Bleach Yard, where the stable girls are mucking out the horses and preparing them for riding, before passing through the snickett that links to Eden Road and Saint Mary's Primary School. Louis has his usual million questions, "who is better, Wayne Rooney or Christiano Ronaldo?-", and "are wasps harder than bees?" I give him a hug by the school gate and he runs off happily into school. His teacher, Mrs Wildbore, must have the patience of a saint! Norman and I walk back the way we came, at a pace that befits two retired gentlemen, I biting on an apple that I had forgotten was in my coat pocket and saying hello to several harassed mum's, as they speed from the school drop off on to work, or some other task. We are walking with Betty and Nellie again at ten, but that leaves me half an hour when we return to Tickton, which is long enough to hang out some white washing and to put on a load of coloureds. Betty and I walk the dogs slightly further than the bridge, turning left and continuing as far as the end of the field, I think Nellie would have liked to stay out longer, but Norman has already walked to school and back. We chat about this and that as we walk and it emerges that Betty was brought up in an orphanage in Lincolnshire, her husband, who I believe died fairly recently, was a policeman. Norman is getting used to Betty and lets her stroke him when we get back to our street. We agree to walk the dogs together on Monday, as there is a little over two weeks until my holiday. The clouds are building to the west and look ominously dark, but I decide that there is probably time to bring in my whites and mow the lawns before the rain hits and run out the extension lead from the garden room. I have just completed the both lawns when a squall arrives, so help my next door neighbour, Kath, to bring in her washing, from the line. "Do you mind me handling your smalls?" I ask, " At eighty five years of age, I couldn't give a hoot what you handle!" She laughs. She is a fine old lady and a good neighbour. The squall passes and the sun reappears, so I ride my bike to the leisure centre and get caught in a light shower, fortunately I have my cagoule and hat with me, which keeps off the worst of the rain. Terry and his wife are booking into the pool as I show my card, but they are in a hurry and have changed and swum several lengths before I enter the water. They only have their lunch break. I warm up on 400 m mixed medleys again, but stretch the distances, swimming 100m of fly/breastroke and then the same on freestyle/backstroke. My intention is to gradually build stamina on butterfly, as I step up from the 200m Individual Medley to the 400m IM. The first stage will be next week, when I will add some 300m repeats and see how they go. Today, I feel a little stale, so limit my main session to 4 x 200m IM, but ease back a bit, to around seventy percent of race pace, and focus on trying to swim really loose and relaxed. It works, but I don't find yesterday's flow state, there again, I hardly expected to! Afterwards, I warm down with really slow and relaxed 4 x 100m IM and then have a tea and scone in the cafe. The scones are fairly flat and average and fortunately, before I can comment adversely, Sarah says she has made them, they taste OK, but are not the light, fluffy masterpieces that delighted me on Thursday. Around three o'clock I cycle into town and buy a few groceries, before calling in at Chequers, the micro pub. The landlord, Barry, I believe he is called, turns out to be a neighbour and lives a little further down Green Lane than me. He confesses to having seen me walking Norman and my various grandchildren, past his house. The great thing about his pub is that the real ales are always changing, he remembers that I liked the Holderness stout and recommends a similar beer from the Great Newsome Brewery. I try it and it is a lovely, creamy, nutty stout, almost a meal in itself, he also has a lovely amber Old Kentish bitter, so I have a half of that as well. The bitter has a light, but very hoppy, flavour, and where better to get hops than Kent. The two halves last me an hour and I cycle back to Tickton somewhat cautiously, as the weekend getaway has already started. My swimming togs and groceries are in the basket on my pannier, that usually contains Normy, a French Baguette protruding skywards. As I cycle away from the footbridge over the river Hull, Sarah phones, to say that she will be arriving at my house in ten minutes. She is going to treat a  big toenail on my left foot, that is starting to ingrow and needs to be sorted out before it gets any worse. I arrive home five minutes before her, let Norman into the garden and hang out my coloured washing. Louis is with her when she arrives, having collected him from Hector's House on the way. As ever, he is starving and has spotted the baguette, so I suggest I make ante pasta and that we all eat together in the garden, as the sun is shining and another shower does not seem imminent. First Sarah examines my feet, sorts out the ingrowing toenail and then tells me I have a more serious problem, both toes adjacent to the big toe, on either foot, have hard calloused skin on the ends. She tells me, that because of my flat, flexible, feet that I have had all my life, I am pushing off on my second toe, rather than my big toe and the stress is causing them to float upwards. She then asks me to stand while she looks at my feet from behind and then to walk in bare feet, too and fro. "Your left leg is longer than your right and the pain that you think is arthritis, is actually caused by the distortion to your gait this is causing!" She tells me with professional authority, after checking my feet for crepitus, which is a signature of arthritis and finding none. She pops out to her car, produces some orthotic soles in my size, 10 1/2, and then raises the heel on the left one until my legs are balanced. "Wear these in, an hour a day to start, and within two weeks, your so called arthritis, down the left side of your body will be gone." I am deeply grateful, this problem has been getting worse for years and has stopped me running. Sarah tells me she sees at least ten patients a week with the same problem. Afterwards, we eat dinner in the garden, I open a bottle of wine, but Sarah only takes a small glass, as she has to drive. Before she leaves, I thank her again and arrange to collect Louis after nine o'clock Mass on Sunday, so that she can take Alice shopping for her dress for the school prom next week. By the time I have packed everything away and washed up, it is half past eight, I feel too tired to start my new book, so I check my email, then do a little research for Gino and go to bed.