5th May 2013

Nan has recently embarked on a course of Vitamin B12 injections, required thanks to her diabetes. Because her body isn’t absorbing it properly, the only option is to send it straight into the bloodstream, six jabs in two weeks to get her going, and then one a month for life. With all the eye checks, foot checks, and assorted other diabetes reviews, it feels as if we spend more time sitting in waiting rooms than on the sofa. If this is what “growing old gracefully” looks like, I’d like to see the ungraceful version.

Jamie and I brightened things up with a trip to see Derren Brown at the Derngate Theatre in Northampton. Having been hooked on his TV shows, we couldn’t resist seeing him live. He didn’t disappoint, mind-bending, spooky, and brilliant all at once. His ability to manipulate people is downright eerie. No wonder casinos won’t let him through the door. Frankly, he could probably hypnotise the doorman into handing him the keys to the place anyway.

The following day, Suraj, Charlotte, Jamie, and I zipped off to Bedfordshire for a Segway adventure. The Rothwells wisely stayed the night before, as we had to be up at a time that barely counts as morning. Sue nobly volunteered to look after Lucas and Ellis, making sure Lucas got to school while we played at being futuristic forest rangers. Unlike our previous Segway outing, the weather was dry and relatively kind. After the obligatory health and safety lecture (“don’t crash, don’t fall off, don’t sue us”), we were let loose at a blistering top speed of 12mph. Naturally, we tested the limit at every opportunity. Just as we were really getting the hang of it, time was up; fun always ends too soon. We’d planned golf in the afternoon, but duty called: Sue and I were off to a funeral.

David Jarvis’s service at Little Bowden church was a true celebration of life. The church was packed, and his son delivered a eulogy that had us all laughing. Combine that with the music and the superb buffet in the church hall, and the event felt uplifting rather than sombre. We even caught up with old friends, including Janet Lord from my schooldays.

The following Saturday saw us at a wedding rather than a funeral, Samantha Brown’s reception in a converted barn in Ashley. Elegant, lively, and a good excuse to see familiar faces. We left around midnight, chauffeuring Robin Blades and his wife home. A different sort of send-off, but equally memorable.

A few days later, Sue, Nan, and I made the trek to Wales for my cousin’s funeral. We stayed the night beforehand at the Bryn Howel Hotel in Llangollen, after failing to secure a room at the De Vere near Chester. By sheer coincidence, the Bryn Howel turned out to be where Sue and I had first met at a Christmas ball 40 years ago. Standing on the little bridge in the garden, it suddenly clicked: this was the exact spot where it all began. We strolled through the grounds in disbelief, marvelling at what had changed, and what hadn’t. (The Gents hadn’t, for one. I could still point them out blindfolded. All they’ve done in four decades is change the loo roll.)

After a hearty Welsh breakfast, we went on to the crematorium, where the service was beautifully attended. Thelma’s life was celebrated in style, and the packed cricket club afterwards was proof of how much she had meant to the village. Then came the long drive home, heads full of memories.

For my birthday, the children had arranged a belated Murder Mystery evening on the Great Central Railway in Loughborough. Wartime costumes, a four-course dinner, a steam train, and a murder to solve, Agatha Christie would’ve been proud. Inspector Bauls introduced us to the “murder” of farmer Forage, and we set about grilling the suspects as the train rolled through the countryside. The setting sun over a lake provided a suspiciously perfect backdrop for the mystery. We nailed the poisoning method (strychnine) but dismissed the actual delivery, via his gas mask, as “too obvious.” Shows what we know. Still, we’d had so much fun, I’m already eyeing up the next murder to solve.

 

 

Spring has also brought back the Council walks. The first outing to Lyveden New Bield was memorable for the weather alone. Bitterly cold, hailstones pelting down, and a wind so strong it decided which ear froze on the way out and which one froze on the way back. At the end, Sue and I bravely unwrapped our picnic on a bench, while everyone else cowered in their cars with heaters on full blast. Soft lot.

On the domestic front: a trip to the opticians has gifted me new reading glasses, cue Johnny Nash’s line: I can see clearly now. Ellis, meanwhile, has caught chicken pox and is busy dotting the furniture. Sarah has been juggling essays while plotting a European adventure with an InterRail ticket. Charlotte and Suraj have ripped up their lawn and replaced it with smart slate (one less thing to mow). Jamie’s been sprucing up his flat with a mirror disguised as a window and stencilled quotes on the walls. Suraj’s laptop repair skills are paying off, though our golf outing with him ended in a drenching. He’s also dragged me to see Oblivion, an excellent film, even if the rain outside tried to compete with the special effects.

Next on the agenda: the new Star Trek film. Let’s hope Captain Kirk handles the weather better than we did.