Sunday at the seaside

Norman and I are up for half past six, which gives us time for a full English Breakfast, eating half the free range sausages Gino donated on Thursday and then showering and dressing, so that we can be at Saint John's for nine o'clock Mass this morning. I leave Normy with Louis, after letting him have a quick toilet walk down North Bar first, and then make my way to the church. My usual pew is occupied, so I sit on the opposite side of the aisle and once I have located the opening hymn in the Missal and today's Mass, kneel down and say my prayers, before the service starts. Father Roy conducts the Mass and gives the sermon, which relates to the complimentary nature of the inward journey of the spirit and its outward manifestation in the way that Christians should relate to other people, showing forgiveness and loving kindness. The true greatness of Christianity, as a religion, is recognising and asking for forgiveness of our trespasses and then forgiving others for the trespasses that they commit against us. It is a religion of deep spiritual humility and very challenging for someone with a tendency towards arrogance, like myself. After communion, I walk the few paces to Sarah's house, to find my daughter and Alice dressed and ready to go. Louis and I walk Norman round Seven Corner's Lane and just about make it back, before a heavy shower comes down, dashing for the door under the pocket umbrella I have fortunately brought with me. Louis wants to go to the Leisure Centre in Bridlington, where the fun pool has a wave machine and some slides, as well as an adjacent 25 metre swimming pool. We drop Normy back in Tickton and leave him a full bowl of fresh water, before driving to the coast, which is just over twenty miles from Tickton. We make use of the park and ride facility, at South Shore, arriving just before midday, but unfortunately I haven't enough change and the little office is unmanned as are both the cafes near the bus stop. After asking about a dozen people if they can change a tenner, a kindly chap gives me a parking ticket, he tells me that he has a caravan nearby and buys a parking ticket for the bus fares to town and back. I thank him, put the ticket in the window of my car and then wait for the bus with Louis. It arrives within minutes, I explain to the driver what has happened and try to pay for two return fares into the resort, he refuses to take my money and gives us a complementary return ticket, saying that the office should have been open. Two kindnesses in as many minutes! The bus only takes five minutes, before dropping us off opposite Bridlington harbour, the driver tells me that this is where we must catch it when we return and that they leave at a quarter to and a quarter past the hour. The leisure centre is about half a mile from here, so Louis and I set off to walk, I am wearing the prosthetics that Sarah made for me on Friday, and wore them in around the house yesterday. As I walk, I can feel that I am now pushing off from my big toe, instead of the one next to it, but it feels somewhat alien and unnatural, after a lifetime of doing it the other way. On the other hand the pain in my left knee, hip and shoulder, has definitely diminished. Bridlington Leisure Centre is run by the East Riding Council, so my monthly pass works here as well, and I only have to pay £2.50p for Louis, before making our way to the changing rooms. He is desperate to get into his trunks and off to the pool, but I insist that he slows down, folds his clothes neatly and wait for me to change and put our clothes in the locker. Louis is always operating at one hundred miles an hour and just needs to slow down and develop a little patience. The fun pool is packed, the bad weather having driven people indoors, and there is a queue of about ten people waiting for the slides. The lifeguard is monitoring them to ensure that there are no collisions, releasing people two at a time, there are two slides, once the previous pair emerge into the splash down pool. I am seated in a chair at the poolside, with other parents and grandparents, watching proceedings. Louis is like a man with ants in his pants as he queues, hopping from one leg to another, and then taking the plastic toppers off the posts that support the chains that demarcate the queues from the pool and then replacing them. During the course of the afternoon, he must have had about thirty trips on the slides and each time he displays this extreme impatience, almost hyperactive. Nevertheless he has a great time, I accompany him in the wave pool and give him a ride on my back in the big pool, but mostly he is happy playing with the other children and I am happy to watch him from the comfort of my chair. Around half past three, he tells me he is hungry, so we retire to the cafeteria, where I order Aberdeen Angus beef burgers, chips and salad for us both. The menu here is identical to Beverley and the food and service equally good. We both clear our plates and then change, before making our way back to catch the quarter to five bus from the harbour. As soon as we leave the pool, a heavy shower comes down, so we walk together, sheltering under my little pocket umbrella. It manages to keep our head and shoulders dry, but our pants are soaked through. The rain stops as suddenly as it had started, when we are within feet of the bus, which is waiting at the stop. It is the same driver, and he notes our condition and then asks us if we have enjoyed our swim! I laugh and say yes, and then Louis dashes off to secure a place on the back seat of the bus. There is another shower as we drive back to Tickton, where we feed Norman, before loading him into the car for another walk round Seven Corners Lane, when we get back to North Bar. Normy duly obliges and produces "treasure", for me to collect and later deposit in a bin, Louis chattering away as we walk on his preferred subject, Football, "is Peder Czech a better Goalie than Joe Hart?" Alice and Sarah return home at a quarter to seven, piled up, with shopping, and after chatting with them for a few minutes, I excuse myself and take Norman home. I am too tired to start my new book, "The Facts of Life", by Patrick Gale, so read my emails and check the news on my IPad, before turning in around half past nine.