The slow lane to Birkenshaw

Tuesday dawns cool and cloudy, but so far without rain, although some is forecast around lunchtime. After breakfast, Norman and I walk with Nellie and Betty round the fields, which are sown with wheat, the ears quite well formed now, but still very green after the cold spring, everything remains about a month behind the normal schedule. When we get back, I work on Gino's file at the desk I bought from Leslie. I am driving over to Birkenshaw this afternoon, for a meeting with my youngest brother, Andrew, to discuss how we might progress matters. It is a while since I have done anything analytical or clerical in nature and it takes me longer to pull things together than I anticipated. On the other hand I have had plenty of time to think things through and have a pretty good idea now of what is relevant and important. Around two o'clock, I break for a pot of tea and a sandwich, which I eat in the garden, as the threatened rain has still not yet arrived, although dark clouds are massing to the west. At three o'clock, I load Norman into the car and then pop back into the house, in order to fetch a dog tin, in the event that the old boy's dinner time takes place in Birkenshaw. I drive to the M62, via Cherry Burton, Market Weighton and Howden. It is the shortest route, but also one that can be prone to delays, due to slow tractors, as it is very much an agricultural landscape. As we descend from the top of Arras Hill into the Vale of York, I can see the rain marching across the fields to meet us and by the time we reach Holme on Spalding Moor, the windscreen wipers are working hard. Fortunately the road is fairly clear, but I am driving "speed aware", and also cost consciously. My Chrysler has a two litre Volkswagen Diesel engine and at a steady 55 MPH it will deliver over 60 miles for each gallon of fuel. We join the motorway at Howden, where the bridge spans the river Ouse, before it merges with the Trent at Goole to form the River Humber. The motorway isn't too busy and as I am not in any particular hurry, I settle into the slow, inside lane and maintain the same 55 MPH speed, positioned safely a hundred yards behind a group of lorries. Occasionally someone pulls in in front of me, but I just drop back to re establish my safe distance. It is very relaxing driving this way, and as the statistics from the course last week showed, Motorways are the safest places to drive, as all the traffic is travelling in the same direction. When we get to Castleford, I have to slow down to 50 MPH, as that is the speed limit, there are continuous roadworks from here for the remainder of my journey on the Motorway. Despite enjoying life in the slow lane, I arrive at Andrew's house by four thirty, where it is still raining heavily. So, tucking Norman under one arm and with my umbrella in the other, I make my way to his door. Andrew has just got in from work, and is ready for a pot of tea, which he makes for both of us and gives Normy a bowl of water. After chatting about his cricketing activities and the chances for Bradford City after their promotion to League one, we settle down to discuss Gino's case. It seems clear to us both that our brother in law has been subject to very unfair treatment, but the legal case for a claim to a tribunal rests on a single issue, whether his recurrence of depression can be classified as a disability under the 2010 UK Equality act. To do so the illness must have lasted, or be likely to last twelve months and be sufficiently acute to affect his everyday ability to function. After checking the medical records we believe he qualifies, but neither of us are employment lawyers and we both feel that it is time to seek expert legal advice. Through his union, Andrew has secured a recommendation for a good local firm of solicitors, with expertise in this area, and it is agreed that I will contact them on Gino's behalf, after first seeking permission from him and Jackie to do so. We also agree that I should try to collate all the relevant evidence, in order to save the lawyer time and my brother in law unnecessary cost. The work done, we celebrate with another pot of tea and then I feed Norman with his tin and set off for the return journey, around a quarter to seven. It is still raining heavily, but by the time I rejoin the Motorway, the rush hour traffic has subsided, so I settle back into the inside lane and use the time driving home, to think about our next moves. We arrive home, around a quarter past eight, after a wet, but uneventful journey, I don't feel motivated to cook, so eat some bread and Camembert accompanied by a large glass of red wine and then turn in around ten.