March 13th 2009″

The hamstring I pulled has kept me off refereeing duty for a few weeks, so I’ve been reduced to the role of sideline spectator, watching Harborough’s 1st team when they play at home. Thankfully, the enforced rest worked, and I was able to return to the pitch for a mid-week fixture, albeit moving with all the grace and agility of a reluctant shopping trolley. Still, the whistle worked fine, and I hobbled through it with minimal embarrassment.

To maintain some semblance of fitness, I’ve been out and about on the bike. Sadly, all those adventures across fields, fences and ditches proved too much for the old girl (the bike, not me, although it’s a close-run thing). The bearings gave up the ghost, just like mine, and with some reluctance, I had to part ways with my trusty steed. In her place, I’m now the proud owner of a Saracen Mantra 1 mountain bike. It’s a real upgrade: disc brakes, front suspension, 24-speed gear shifters, a padded saddle and, for the first time, lights! I’ve even got a helmet, a hand-me-down from Aunty Hilda, who once had ambitions in extreme sports.

Charlotte and Lucas came to Willow Bank for my birthday weekend. Unfortunately, the weather was bitterly cold, so most of our plans were shelved. We did manage a trip to a local pub on Saturday night, where, unexpectedly, they were hosting a Thai food evening, and the food was surprisingly authentic. Lucas mastered the art of Cheese Skittles, while Jamie very nearly lost his phone, sparking a brief panic. After much flapping, we found it on the very table he’d been sitting at. Classic Jamie.

On Sunday, we ventured to Corby for a spot of shopping. At some point, and under unclear circumstances, Lucas managed to acquire an umbrella. No sooner had he done so than it began to rain. Either he’s psychic, or he’s finally cracked weather manipulation. I’m keeping an eye on him.

Back on the home front, the economic downturn has taken a bite out of Jamie’s job. He’s now only working Monday to Thursday, finishing at 4 pm. To help support the firm, I commissioned them to fit a new front door for us, a small job perhaps, but one more invoice than they might not otherwise have had. Ironically, most of Jamie’s mates are now jobless, so unlike me, who has retired friends still plugging away at work, Jamie has a gang of free-range friends to help him fill his Fridays.

I also spent a few days in Thurcroft with Nan, mainly to escort her to yet another hospital appointment. I wasn’t expecting much, but she saw a different optometrist this time, a Mr Zahir Patel, standing in for her usual doctor, who was off visiting Iraq. She thought he was excellent: kind, professional, and clearly determined to get to the bottom of her double vision. And he did. Remarkably, her post-treatment eyesight appears to be better than mine; I may soon have to borrow her specs. We celebrated with lunch at our regular haunt in Ulley, where she could read the menu unaided, a small victory, but a joyful one.

The route back home included a detour via Newark to drop off Easter eggs and Jamie’s dead laptop for Suraj to investigate. Sadly, the diagnosis was terminal. One quick phone call later, and Jamie became the proud owner of a brand new laptop. Every crisis has a silver lining. I also came away with the leftover ale from Suraj’s recent poker night. As he drinks lager (still young and misguided), I gladly relieved him of the “real” stuff. I did explain that lager is milked from the rear ends of Scandinavian sewer rats, whereas beer is the noble drink of gods and heroes, brewed from nectar, nourishing body and soul alike. I’m sure he’ll come to see sense, eventually.

A planned walk along the disused railway line from Willow Bank to Husbands Bosworth had to be cancelled, as I instead accompanied Sue to the funeral of a family relative, Derfel Williams, who sadly passed away on Monday. I only met him briefly years ago, when Charlotte was a bridesmaid at his daughter’s wedding, and I remember thinking what a kind and interesting man he seemed. Hearing the tributes at his service only confirmed it. A life well lived, and by all accounts, someone deeply missed.