30th March 2010

A couple of weeks ago, I headed up to Yorkshire to escort Nan to an eye appointment. All was well, no cataracts or surprises, and she came away with a prescription for a new pair of glasses. While the weather was dry, I made the most of it by digging over the garden and planting onions, potatoes, and broad beans. Yorkshire soil and I have an understanding.

On Monday, I phoned Sue to catch up on family news. She was due to travel to Charlotte’s on Tuesday and accompany her to Lincoln for a scan, the big reveal of the baby’s sex. However, school commitments on Wednesday (and a mountain of planning) meant she couldn’t go. I rang Charlotte Tuesday morning and offered my services as substitute bump-buddy. She accepted.

I drove over just before lunch. We picked up Lucas from playschool and tucked into a delicious batch of butternut squash soup Charlotte had whipped up the day before. Suraj joined us, and we all headed off to Lincoln. The hospital was impressively efficient, and we sat together watching the scan unfold. As the title suggests, the verdict is in: it’s a boy. A rather fidgety one. No great surprise, considering his genes.

Back home, I noticed Sue had compiled a list of potential names. Most sound like the kind of trendy monikers you’d expect from a Scandinavian pop group. Apparently, “Ellis” is top of the charts this year. I commented that Ellis was an island with a prison, where Mandela was banged up, wasn’t it? (I was swiftly corrected. That’s Robben Island. Easy mistake.) Robben, that’s a good name!

Later that evening, I returned to Harborough and celebrated with a Special Chow Mein takeaway. Very satisfying.

Last week, having slipped to 10th on the allotment waiting list, I decided to take matters into my own (muddy) hands and build a raised garden bed at home. My solution? Railway sleepers and brute determination. Jamie’s skateboards made surprisingly effective trolleys, and with a mixture of muscle and muttered curses, I moved them from the driveway to the back garden.

Through some deft bartering with a friend (who’s having a house built), I acquired a mountain of surplus soil. After 32 dustbin loads, four per trip over three days, I had enough to fill the raised bed. Their house is just around the corner from Farndon Fields School, and the builder happens to be a rugby mate. As I laboured away, a stream of school-run parents passed by. On day three, curiosity finally got the better of them: “Is this your house?” “Are you working for the builder?” Tempted as I was to spin a yarn about launching a landscaping business, I told the truth. (Wouldn’t have done that a few years ago.)

Next, I sourced eight bins of horse manure from Braybrooke, an odorous but essential addition to my horticultural masterpiece. The new bed now holds onions, broad beans, and some transplanted chard. We’ll see how it fares.

I saw Alice in Wonderland in 3D with Sarah at the cinema. Surprisingly good! On another occasion, I also sat through An Education with Sue, a “true story” and a “gentle drama” (translation: not aimed at men who enjoy car chases or sword fights). I did stay awake, though. Sue had also booked us in to see Julie & Julia… Thankfully, Sarah stepped in. I may or may not have offered her £5 to take my place. She hasn’t invoiced me yet.

Sarah had a surprise visit from Lee the other day. He arrived at 3:30 pm and caught the train back to Nottingham by 7 pm. She’s gone to return the favour today. Sarah also has a new school friend, Amy, who lost her father last year. Amy is struggling a bit, but Sarah is a kind, steadying influence (though I wish she extended that steadiness to her room, which resembles a recycling depot on a busy day). Jamie feels quite at home in there, perhaps due to occupational familiarity.

Sarah’s dropped one of her A-levels (Biology). It was always the plan, but the school had talked her into keeping it on for a year. I think three A-levels are more than enough. She works hard and will stand a better chance of hitting her predicted grades without being spread like margarine.

Jamie’s back to full-time hours: 7:30 am to 6 pm, including Saturdays. He’s acquired a brand-new uniform and seems to be thriving. There’s been some upheaval at his company after a fine, managers out, resignations in, and Harley’s dad has been banned from the site. Drama!

Jamie and Harley are still going strong, though we don’t see as much of her now. She’s putting in extra shifts at the Red Lion and juggling college, too.

David and Genya flew back to Bulgaria yesterday. They were burgled earlier in the year, losing most of their electrical gear. The thief was caught: a builder from a neighbouring village with a sideline in robbing expat homes. They’re now heading back to reclaim their items and check on their house renovations. They’ll be there for three weeks, presumably telling everyone not to hire that builder.

Nan’s fine, albeit prone to knocking her upstairs phone off the cradle and wondering why no one rings. I’ve had to ask Janet to pop in and check on her. Once the weather picks up, I’ll bring her down to Harborough for a bit.

My hospital visits are almost over. At Glenfield, I tackled the ECG treadmill and earned a clean bill of health: apparently, I’m the fittest chap they’ve seen this year. (I suspect their sample size is small.) A specialist from Melton Mowbray also confirmed that all my biopsies are clear. That’s a relief, I’ve always had a camera-shy throat.

One final appointment left to check the other end, and then I’m fully MOT’d and ready for the road.

Sue and I have finished all the admin for our upcoming cruise around Japan. Tickets? ✔️ Visas? ✔️ Currency? ✔️ New suitcases? ✔️ Online check-in? ✔️ We’re staying at the Holiday Inn near Heathrow the night before, just to dodge any pesky train strikes. All that remains is to pick our excursions… and pack, of course. I’m quite looking forward to this one.

Roger and I have also booked our flights to Italy, we’re off to visit Joan and Phil for a week. We fly into Ancona on May 3rd. Roger, freshly bronzed from a solo month in Cyprus, is eager to socialise again. It’ll be nice to see how Joan and Phil’s garden has developed. And of course, we’ll pay a visit to the only local who really bonded with us last time, Wags the dog.