27th February 2015

Back from our high seas adventure and spoiled by an endless buffet of delights, Charlotte, sensing our return-to-reality blues (hello, beans on toast), took pity and treated us to Sunday lunch at Zizzi’s with her family. I was stunned to see it so packed, pasta and pesto reigning supreme on a day that once belonged to roasts! Are the modern family’s Sunday roast days truly behind us? Either way, we enjoyed a brilliant meal, and to keep that “freshly pampered” vibe alive, we stopped by the ice cream parlour for dessert. Later that evening, I found myself cheering Jamie on in his Sunday league football match at the Leisure Centre. It ended in a 2-2 draw, a respectable effort!

The next day, Nan’s flat tenancy finally came to an end. After a last look around and a bit of a tearful goodbye, I handed the keys and fobs over to the warden, then caught up with some of the residents. The newly done-up flat that she was due to move to looked wonderful; such a shame Nan isn’t here to see it herself, she’d have loved it, I’m sure.

On the 11th, Sue, Charlotte, and I went to Kettering Odeon’s Silver Screen. As usual, it was packed, but thankfully I’d had the foresight to pre-book the tickets online.

Then, on the following Sunday, Jamie texted to let me know he’d “done his knee in” at footy. Great timing, as he’s off skiing next week! We saw him the next day hobbling around on crutches. This was also the day our temperamental boiler had yet another engineer visit. The poltergeist within was having a grand old time clanking about, but finally, the engineer tracked the culprit down to a blockage in one of the pipes and exorcised it. Fingers crossed, we’re hoping it stays gone; we’ve even left a Bible next to the controls for good measure. In the afternoon, to give Charlotte a chance to catch up on housework, Sue and I took Lucas and Ellis to see the film ‘Shaun the Sheep’. There was a brief ‘Silence of the Lambs’ joke at the start of the film, but I wouldn’t recommend it for adults, though the boys loved it, and Sue seemed to enjoy herself too.

On Friday, we gathered for Curry Night, and I showed the video I’d made of our cruise.

Then, the following Sunday, Charlotte cooked a lovely roast for the family, after which we went for the annual ‘Snowdrop Walk’ in Harrington. It was a delightful day, finished off with a sampling of Harrington Gin at the farm where it’s made, a perfect way to cap off the week!

A couple of days later, the phone jolted us awake at 6:30 am. It was Jamie, sounding ill and absolutely miserable. I hopped in the car, collected him, and brought him back to the sanctuary of a warm bed and a hot water bottle, thoughtfully prepared by Sue. Later, I took him to the cottage hospital, only to be told it was “just a virus” and that he should go back to bed, which he did, looking none too pleased. Meanwhile, Sue met up with Lynne for coffee and later showed me her supposedly “sprained” wrist. It looked decidedly wrong, so it was back to the cottage hospital for me, where an X-ray confirmed it was, indeed, broken. They rang ahead to Leicester, and we dashed off to The Royal to see the specialist. The bone had begun healing but was misaligned, so they gave her some painkillers and, with a grimace-inducing crunch, reset it. After £8 in parking fees, we returned home to find Jamie still shivering and looking as if he’d been hit by a tank.

The next day, Sue and I had planned a trip to York with the boys by train. But with Sue needing to stay in Harborough in case the hospital called her back, Charlotte and I took the reins and set off with the boys. It wasn’t exactly a postcard-perfect day, more of a drizzly, grey affair, but we made the most of it. Thankfully, we’d reserved seats on each leg of the journey, as some of the carriages were packed, and we had to gently nudge a few cheeky squatters out of our seats a couple of times.

When we arrived in York, we braved the drizzle and headed to the Jorvik Viking Museum. Just like last time we had visited years ago, there was a winding queue snaking around the square, filled with damp and disgruntled faces. Fortunately, I’d booked tickets online, allowing us to stroll right in while feeling the silent wrath of everyone waiting outside. Once inside, the boys were thrilled, eyes wide with excitement as we drifted past the exhibits on our little moving settee. Afterwards, of course, the gift shop was a must, with much longing for swords, shields, and all manner of Viking gear.

We’d packed lunch with high hopes of a scenic riverside picnic, but wet benches and a steady drizzle soon washed away that plan. Our clever alternative was to hop onto a riverboat cruise, where we could lunch in warm comfort, watching York’s riverside glide past while a guide narrated the history and geography between our sandwich bites.

Next on the list was the National Railway Museum, which had grown impressively since my last visit. The boys were in their element here, especially enjoying the simulator of the ‘Mallard’ on its record-breaking run. Then, we decided to tackle the city walls. Charlotte and I fully expected this to be a yawn-fest for them, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. They took off at top speed, darting up steps, vanishing into turrets, and forcing us to call them back every few minutes. It turns out history and adventure go hand in hand when you’re under twelve!

With time slipping away, we grabbed a quick bite in a pretty little café before heading back to the station. We fully expected the boys to nod off on the journey home, but once again, they proved us wrong. Ellis finally surrendered to sleep just as the train pulled into Harborough Station, typical timing! Given that the earlier drizzle had now transformed into a monsoon-level downpour, walking home was out of the question. A taxi it was, as none of us fancied re-enacting a soggy trek back like we’d braved that morning!

The next day, I got a call to see the doctor, with an appointment set for the following day. Previously, while Nan was in hospital, I’d suffered a dreadful bout of cystitis. When it got to the point where “relief” was neither frequent nor pleasant, I left Nan’s bedside and made a beeline for Harborough Surgery, demanding to see a doctor on the spot. Luckily, they obliged. A nurse at the hospital had mentioned the wait at Kettering’s A&E was six hours, so my own GP was the quicker choice. On the way, I stopped at home to prepare the inevitable “sample,” and was taken aback to see it was bright red! The GP prescribed antibiotics, and miraculously, within two hours, I felt right as rain.

Fast forward to this week’s call from my GP. It turned out he was concerned about my sample from January and decided on a comprehensive round of tests. He even escorted me to the appointments desk, made all the arrangements himself, and solemnly shook my hand, saying, “I’ll see you again.” I assured him it was likely just the cystitis, but his seriousness left me slightly on edge. The hospital followed up later with two appointments booked for the 25th.

Meanwhile, Jamie, still feeling grim, migrated from the bedroom to the downstairs sofa, saying the isolation at the far end of the house was no fun. Charlotte took him back to the cottage hospital while Sue and I were busy with our own health circuits. A couple of days later, I took him to the doctor and insisted on antibiotics. By the 22nd, Jamie was en route to Andorra with a friend for skiing. Judging by the snow-filled Facebook photos, I can only hope it’s very, very soft snow!

That Saturday was set for a Council walk to Billesdon, but we gave it a miss as the stiles were a step too far for Sue in her current condition.

On Tuesday, the snow arrived overnight. Earlier that day, I chauffeured Sue back to the Royal to see her specialist. The day was lovely and sunny, which made the rural route home all the more appealing. The x-ray showed things were healing as they should, with no need for additional “persuasion,” so she’s due back in three weeks for another check. We took the scenic drive back and decided on a leisurely lunch stop in Gumley, which proved a very pleasant detour.

The next day, I attended my two appointments at Leicester General. Ultrasound and X-ray first, then across what felt like the entire hospital for the next ordeal: the cystoscopy. Let’s just say when they warn you it’ll sting, it’s a bit of medical understatement; it was more like “grin and bear it and think of England” levels of discomfort. Thankfully, the results came in quickly, with all key organs (liver, kidneys, prostate, and bladder) given a clean bill of health, though some bladder inflammation confirmed cystitis. Two weeks of antibiotics, then, and I’m sorted. People keep saying the NHS is under strain, but from my experience, things moved along smoothly, tests and all. I’m back in March for the results of my recent sigmoidoscopy, so fingers crossed for that. They’ve checked almost every organ now, except the brain, though I’m sure there’s not much to see there, eh?

Yesterday, Sue and I went to see ‘The Imitation Game,’ the Alan Turing biopic. Absolutely brilliant and a timely reminder of justice sorely ignored for far too long. On the way there, we popped in to see Charlotte, then stopped by Roger Woolnough’s on the way back. He had Fran over, and they’re both off to Northern Cyprus yet again on Monday for a month. Naturally, we covered all the usual suspects: politics, rugby, and Sepp Blatter!

Today, I saw on Jamie’s Facebook that he’s ‘done’ his knee in, again. With his return flight on Saturday, I’m beginning to think we’ll be welcoming home a one-legged son. Only time will tell!

Sarah’s been a bit scarce lately, busy with Lee sorting out paperwork and finances for their new house. Our garage is creaking under the weight of their white goods and various bits of furniture, plus both cars are squeezed in. She did get offered a job in Leicester recently, but had to turn it down since they couldn’t guarantee it’d stay permanent beyond September due to funding issues.