Preparing for departure.

We sleep until seven and rise to a cool, cloudy, morning, the wind has swung to the Northeast and brought the haw from the sea again. I feed Norman with some Bakers and then make two boiled eggs, with rye toast soldiers, for me. I am shaving in the bathroom later, when the door bell rings, it is Betty, her trip with her daughter to the Great Yorkshire Show has been cancelled and she wants to know if I wish to walk Norman with her and Nellie. I tell her to give me ten minutes, and then shower and dress, before walking round the village with them. It has to be a foirly short walk, because I am due at the doctor's, down Manor Road, for ten o'clock. Betty's daughter, Sarah, has been to Krakow for the weekend and didn't feel up to the heat and queues of the show in Harrogate. We return for a quarter to ten and then I load Normy in the car and drive to the doctor's, arriving five minutes later. The practice Nurse, Sally takes the blood from my arm, we are old acquaintances, she has been doing this for me for almost twenty years. There was some confusion about the last reading, when I saw my consultant, so I ask Sally to check my records, and then write down the readings and dates. It shows my PSA has been rising very slowly since October 2011, when I had my annual MOT. climbing from 0.07 nanograms per millilitre then, to 0.9 a year later, when the alarm bells started to ring and since when I started to have quarterly blood tests again. Between October 2012 to January 2013, it rose again to 0.12 and rose a little further to 0.14 in March. The tumour, wherever it is, is minuscule, and at the moment undetectable, according to my consultant, the probability is that it lies in the prostate bed, from where the original tumour was removed, many years ago. If, or rather when, the PSA readings rise to 0.6 Ng per Ml, I will need radiotherapy, however at the current rate of progression, I should have two years grace, before this is necessary. In the meantime, I am healthy and well and intend to enjoy life to the full. Once my blood has been taken, Sally slaps a dressing over the needle mark, and Norman and I drive to North Bar, where we park and then walk to the Poppy Seed. Felicity is there already and as soon as we sit down the girls bring me a pot of strong tea. The artist John Geekie comes in with his wife and stops to chat and pat Norman. John is a Quaker, and I tell him that I like the idea of silent meetings and then ask him about his paintings. He tells me that he also has a blog and to check John Geekie Art, which I promise to do. John did the portrait sketch of Norman, last year. Annie arrives, shortly followed by Jill, who looks well but says she is missing her son, Tim, who flew back to Sydney on Monday. Hanne also appears, fresh back from her holiday in Denmark, and she is also looking happy and well, although she confesses that she has brought visitors back with her and says she could do really do with a little peace and quiet. Norman and I leave at a quarter past eleven, either Jill or Hanne, or perhaps both, will walk back with Felicity. We go to the bank to withdraw cash for my holidays and then go to Thomas Cook to buy Euro's, as my bank has exorbitant exchange rates. Beverley is quite busy, as it is the Wednesday Market, and traditionally people come to town for it, although Wednesday Market place is tiny and there are rarely more than half a dozen stalls. But that is the way Beverley is, traditionally people come to town on Market days, the big one on Saturday and the little one on Wednesday, and round here tradition rules! After completing our business, Normy and I walk back through town to the car and then drive home. I give the old chap some fresh water and biscuits and then pack my swimming gear and cycle back into town, to the leisure centre, travelling by the river and along Beckside. The pool is quiet and I find an empty lane, but resist the temptation To train strenuously as I still have quite a bit to do before my holiday. accordingly I limit myself to a gentle 2,000m, reprising last week's programme. Afterwards, I enjoy tea and a cherry scone in the cafe, guessing that Paul has baked the scones. Sandra asks how I know this and I tell her that Paul hates sultanas and therefore tends to make cherry or cheese scones instead. I cycle home for four o'clock, the sky remains overcast and the weather cool. When I get in, I check the weather forecast for Rotterdam and Lippstadt, they are both predominantly fine and warm for the next ten days, so I shall pack shorts and tee shirts, mostly. After feeding Norman, I mow the lawns and clear away the worst of the weeds, the hedges need trimming, but my heart isn't in to gardening tonight, so they will wait until I come back. Gino has sent me a copy of his appeal letter for me to check, which I do and then email my comments back, and later, Liliane updates me on events in Holland, and I tell her I will see them tomorrow. I also email my brother, Andrew, in order to thank him for finding such a good solicitor for Gino and then make dinner. I marinated a couple of small chicken breasts this morning in garlic and ground coriander, with some fresh coriander leaves, mainly for decoration, so I make a chicken Paella, with the addition of some Medditteranean vegetables from the freezer. While the rice is cooking, I fry the zucchini, I made last night, using the courgettes from Betty's garden and eat these as an Hors D'ouvre. The Paella is very filling, but Norman lends a hand and between us, we clear the plate. My daughter Sarah phones, to confirm arrangements for Norman, and I check to make sure she and the family are all well. When I get back, they will be in Portugal for a further week, so I shan't see any of them until then. Around eight o'clock, I wash the pots and then settle down with my book, "Suite Francaise", until bedtime.