3rd July 2012

Since my last post, it has done little else but rain. Honestly, if Noah had popped by with a half-finished ark, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Jamie found himself in Birmingham during one of the more biblical downpours, where the streets turned into canals. He managed to paddle his car to safety, but not before capturing some excellent footage of other, less fortunate, motorists floating gently towards disaster. Closer to home, Newtown Linford suffered a tornado that rearranged a few rooftops, and Leicester had hailstones the size of golf balls, ideal if you fancied a spot of crazy golf without leaving your garden. Harborough, meanwhile, got away with a thorough soaking but mercifully avoided its usual centre-of-town swimming pool.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at Nan’s flat, mainly armed with a paintbrush and a pasting table. Charlotte and Sarah selected the wallpaper for the bedroom, and I bravely applied it after they’d stripped the walls bare. I had my doubts about their choice, but I’ll admit it does look rather good. Charlotte also added a splash of glamour to the bathroom, painting it a stylish shade of blue-green and accessorising with a matching shower curtain and bathmat. Very Homes & Gardens. A new cooker arrived on Tuesday, and by Wednesday, my trusty electrician friend, Dave Creighton, had it wired up and ready for action.

Sue and I joined a council walk to East Farndon for a picnic. The weather threatened mischief, but by some miracle, the rain held off until we were safely home. Then, true to form, the heavens promptly opened and carried on as though auditioning for The Perfect Storm.

Jamie spent the weekend at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, invited along by his boss. He had a fantastic time, although I’m still waiting to see photographic evidence that he didn’t just spend the weekend at the pub.

Sarah and Lee had a busy one: Friday saw them in Leicester before heading to Nottingham, and by Sunday, they were in Thurcroft, where Nan treated them to lunch at the Royal Elephant. Lee returned to Nottingham afterwards, while Sarah stayed behind to help with the packing for Nan’s impending move to Harborough.

With no rugby to watch and Spain facing Italy in the Euro 2012 final, I opted for a walk with Jim Crawford, from Gumley to Laughton and back. His wife was away on a pilgrimage in Lourdes, so we did the next best holy thing: visited a couple of pubs. Spain went on to beat Italy with a masterclass in passing, movement, and reminding the English what football’s supposed to look like.

On Monday, Sue helped out at Church Langton School. It rained all morning, so the children were shuffled across the road into the church, sensible, since it was the only building in the area guaranteed not to spring a leak.

Yesterday, the Olympic Torch Relay came through Harborough. Charlotte brought the boys over, and we joined the crowds on Coventry Road in the pouring rain. All the schools had closed early so the children could watch, though I didn’t spot any from Farndon Fields. Perhaps they’d already been marched back to class, soggy as drowned rats, while the headmaster popped out to say hello to the dryish grown-ups.

Nan’s phone has finally been connected, but the much-anticipated BTVision kit, which should have turned up alongside it, was nowhere to be seen. After several fruitless hours playing detective with lost packages, I rang BT to complain. They reassured me it would arrive the following day. Though, given their track record, I half-expected it to be delivered by carrier pigeon.

Meanwhile, back at Willow Bank, our television reception has been sabotaged by the trees. The leaves have decided to moonlight as signal blockers. I’ve booked an engineer to install a FreeSat dish, which will hopefully give us a signal strong enough to survive autumn, spring, and any rogue branches that fancy getting in the way.

On a more personal note, I’m feeling rather smug with myself. Just a month ago, I was suffering from reflux, nodding off every afternoon like a pensioner after Sunday lunch, and stepping on the scales to be horrified at the sight of 13 stone 8 pounds glaring back at me. Desperate times called for desperate Googling, and I ended up consulting an herbalist. I came away with enough potions to open my own apothecary: fenugreek, liquorice, ginger, apple cider vinegar tablets, and an aloe vera drink. I also cut back on food and cranked up the effort on my daily bike rides.

Three weeks later, I’m a much trimmer 12 stone 1 pound. At first, I was constantly hungry, glaring at the fridge like it had personally wronged me, but I soon got used to it. I’ve set myself the goal of losing another nine pounds before I declare victory. The crowning moment came last Wednesday, when I managed to fit into my favourite walking trousers, something that hasn’t happened in years. They’re not exactly fashionable anymore, but after this effort, I’d wear them to a wedding if I had to.