17th December 2017

Why is it that the month before Christmas always brings with it a wave of bugs, infections, and NHS shortages, along with the usual horror stories? This year has been no different, though I suppose I can be blamed for kicking off this season of ‘infestivities’ with a dose from my Italian ‘tic’ list. The day before I was due to travel to Market Bosworth for a jolly with some rugby-minded friends, I found myself summoned to the doctor’s office. After a thorough examination, I was deemed ‘still alive’ and in fairly good shape. As a precaution, the doctor arranged for a blood test and a blood pressure monitoring session in a few weeks to ensure I stayed that way.

The group accompanying me to Bosworth Hall Hotel in Market Bosworth was made up of Jim Hankers, Jeremy Brown, Paul Bissell, Sean Perry, and Robin Blades. In the past, we’ve all been guilty of playing rather mediocre rugby, but somehow, we always seemed to excel when on tour. We met up in the hotel car park around 10 am on a Saturday. After a coffee in the hotel bar, we took a leisurely stroll through the rather quaint but petite centre of Market Bosworth. Once we’d finished window shopping, we returned to the hotel, laced up our rambling boots, and set off on a pleasant 3.5-mile walk through the fields to The Rising Sun Inn in Shackerston, where we were due for lunch and to watch the England v Australia game. The lunch was excellent, and with a few locals equally keen to watch the match, we all sat and cheered another victory for the boys in white over those in yellow. The atmosphere was fantastic, and I’m sure we would have preferred to stay longer if our pre-arranged taxi hadn’t arrived to take us back to the hotel.

After checking in and discovering our rooms (some faster than others), we met up in the bar for much-needed refreshments before heading back into town to visit the excellent Simla Peppers Indian restaurant. With our stomachs full of delicious food, we made our way back via a few local pubs, eventually arriving at the hotel around midnight. We spent a bit of time in the bar with other guests, watching a boxing match on TV, before retiring to our rooms.

The next morning, we set off through the town to the railway station to catch a train to Shenton on the Bosworth Battlefield Line. This steam train line is run by enthusiasts, but not surprisingly, given the time of year, we had to make do with a diesel engine and very few other passengers. Upon arrival at Shenton, we climbed the hill to the Bosworth Battlefield Centre, where we perused the information boards and discussed similar past battles fought on ‘our’ field of play, with the ‘odd-shaped’ ball. We eventually retired to the Centre café for hot chocolate to escape the chilly elements. A three-mile stroll back to the hotel, followed by handshakes, marked the end of another successful foray into foreign territory before heading back to the comfort and sobriety of Harborough.

On Friday, 24th November, Sue and I more or less enjoyed a double bill of films at the Harborough Theatre. Watching back-to-back films requires a lot of concentration, and not all of our fellow cinema-goers were up to the challenge. ‘Jackie’ was followed by the much better ‘Churchill’. Perhaps if the films had been shown the other way round, more people would have stayed?

Earlier that day, I received an invitation from Sean Perry to watch the Tigers play Worcester on Saturday at Welford Road. Both the England men’s and women’s teams were playing that day, and I had initially planned to watch the matches at the Angel with some friends. However, I reluctantly decided to join Sean instead. What a good decision that turned out to be!

Unbeknownst to me, we were guests of Peter Howard, a sponsor of Leicester Tigers, and the match included lunch and prime seats. We picked Peter up from Marston Trussell Hall on the way to the ground and parked in a reserved bay outside the Tigers’ office in the main stand. I sat next to Peter’s friend, Barry, who happened to live in Great Bowden. A more miserable character you couldn’t hope to meet, but I had been warned and had been placed next to him on purpose! Miserable though he was, Barry turned out to be a very interesting man. A portrait artist, his sitters have included President Mitterrand, most of the Royal family, and all of the Prime Ministers since the 70s. His knowledge of the game and the Tigers in particular was impressive, but always from a pessimistic standpoint. He was right about the result; the Tigers lost the game.

After a very good three-course meal, we were entertained by a question and answer session with Manu Tuilagi and Luke Hamilton, both injured and therefore unavailable for international duty. Manu came across as a bit dull and not very bright, while Luke was exactly the opposite. One is a forward, the other a back, and they certainly don’t follow the usual assumption on their playing positions.

After a depressing first half, more food and drinks were served, which we took full advantage of. Then, at full time, even more food appeared, and we were joined by the management and teams of both sides. They mixed and chatted with the supporters, as is often the case in the ‘corporate’ world. It was generally felt that the Tigers could have won the game, but I had to admit that I didn’t think so, nor did Barry! In my view, the better team on the day won, and the Tigers’ management didn’t help the team’s continuity by making too many changes in critical positions at crucial times. But hey, what do I and Barry know?

The following day, Sue and I drove up to Manchester to see Uncle Stan. The weather was awful; the closer we got, the heavier the rain became. Stan was in a similarly grim mood. He was having his breakfast when we arrived, which may have contributed to his grumpiness. As soon as we arrived, he asked to speak with Sue about his funeral. We stayed for about three hours, enduring random bouts of impatience and rudeness. By the time we left, he was in better spirits and apologised for his behaviour, which was quite out of character. I think his worsening eyesight and growing frustration are a big part of the reason behind his mood. I also learned that one of his neighbours had taken advantage of him and that he’d parted with a large sum of money. This, too, seemed to have contributed to his bad mood. I couldn’t help but feel angry at the lady involved.

It was still raining heavily when we waved goodbye and made our soggy way to Gisburn, near Clitheroe, and the White Bull Inn, where we were to stay for the next two nights. Throughout the journey, the conversation was mainly focused on Stan’s situation, and we came to the obvious conclusion that we should see if he would consider moving to Harborough. He can no longer look after himself and needs to accept some sort of support.

We arrived at the Inn in the dark but still managed a short walk up and down the village before settling into the bar for what turned out to be a superb meal. The restaurant was full, and with such spectacular food, I could see why. After a bit of TV in our cosy room, we retired to bed, and I quickly drifted off to sleep, while outside, the rain clouds cleared and the stars twinkled on what would be a very frosty night.

Our room was in a row of cottages at the back of the pub, and negotiating the icy stairs and path on our way to breakfast proved to be quite tricky. Appropriately, we were welcomed by a lovely fire and a spread of wake-up grub laid out in the bar. The chef here is an absolute gem.

We had chosen to stay here due to the Inn’s proximity to Pendle Hill and the Pendle Witch Trail. The trail begins (by car) at Barrowford, and later that morning, that’s where we started. It was sleeting when we entered the small museum dedicated to the history of the area, housed in a medieval manor next to the river, which is, of course, where some of the witches once lived. As the first visitors of the day, we found it just as chilly inside as outside, but it was definitely worth the visit. The museum was packed with fascinating exhibits and plenty of information to help us on the rest of our journey.

Our route took us through the Trough of Bowland, a beautiful and, for me, unknown part of the UK. Despite the inclement weather, it was a true pleasure driving along the mostly deserted road that the unfortunate herbalists and witches once walked on their way to Lancaster Prison, where they faced trial and hanging. The scenery and views were as good as any I have seen, and I would love to revisit this route in the summer, though I suspect it won’t be as quiet as it was that day.

Next, we came to Barley, another picturesque village, but this one had a particular distinction: it lies beneath the foreboding Pendle Hill itself, which today was capped with a dusting of snow. Our route then took us through Newchurch, where we stopped to find the grave of one of the witches, before continuing to Downham, Chatburn, and then Clitheroe. We climbed Clitheroe Castle, admired Pendle Hill once more, now in the distance, and did a spot of shopping in the High Street. I think Clitheroe is worth another visit.

Continuing, we passed through Waddington, Newton, and Dunsop Bridge before reaching our final destination, Lancaster Prison, in the dark. We were fortunate to park next to the castle, which now houses the prison. We entered the ticket office at 3:15 pm to be greeted by a sign indicating that the last tour of the day was, indeed, at 3:15 pm. It was cold and raining, and I don’t think they had many visitors that day; perhaps we were the first, but we were certainly the only ones for the last tour.

Our tour guide, a part-time opera singer, was slightly hesitant when we told her we were very interested in the Pendle Witch Trials. She admitted to knowing little about them but promised to do her best. And she was brilliant. Since we were her only clients, she showed us parts of the castle/prison not usually visited by groups. We explored the cells where the prisoners would have been held, as well as the actual room where the trial took place, which now serves as the barristers’ changing room before entering the new courtrooms. We also visited the civil and criminal courts, the latter of which was used to film a depiction of the witch trial. We also discovered the armoury.

While in the cells, our guide locked us in and turned off the light to give us an impression of what she thought was a unique experience. However, when she released us, I mentioned that we’d had similar experiences before, on ghost tours in Sydney and Derby Gaol. This sparked her to share a few ghostly experiences of her own. Once, while in the castle, she saw a figure climbing a spiral staircase in one of the rooms. Thinking it was her colleague, she was shocked when moments later he entered the room. They both searched the top of the staircase but found no one. On another occasion, while telling the tale of a ghostly child said to haunt the corridor in which the group was standing, one of the group gasped and revealed that her young daughter had just described a raggedly dressed boy walking past them. Later, when the guide quizzed the little girl, she was bemused to learn that the child could also see two elderly women standing behind her, who apparently had followed her throughout the tour. Spooky indeed.

By the time the tour finished, it was very dark, and the rain had stopped, and we nervously ventured out to find our car. The drive back to Gisburn was awful, with driving rain and spray all the way. On such a night, I opted not to reverse our journey through the now, rather bleak and scary Trough of Bowland and instead took the busier roads.

That evening, as it was the chef’s night off, we walked a few hundred yards down the road to a very Italian restaurant called La Locanda. Luckily, having recently visited Joan and Phil in Marche, we still had a bit of Roman influence about us and managed to order some suitably authentic dishes from a menu brimming with authenticity. The food was wonderful, though I regret opting for beer and not wine!

Returning to the White Bull, I further washed down my meal with some further local ale and chatted to a few very friendly locals, one of whom turned out to be the chef.

After breakfast, we drove to Pendle Hill. Thankfully, the sun was shining, but it still felt very chilly. We parked below the hill, donned our walking gear, and set off up the very challenging hill. There was still snow at the top, and quite a few other intrepid ramblers were about, but on reaching the summit, no one lingered; it was far too cold. It took us a couple of hours to conquer the hill, but it was well worth the effort. Afterwards, we drove into the village of Barley for refreshments and a snack by a welcoming log fire in the local pub. Around 1 pm, we reluctantly continued our leisurely drive back to Harborough, passing through the northern towns of Burnley, Rochdale, Oldham, and others. I half-expected to come across the grey characters of Coronation Street. However, today, there are no Hilda Ogdens or Enid Sharples anymore, shopping bags in hand and scurrying off to the corner shop with wrinkled tights. They have been replaced by citizens of a much darker complexion, tightly wrapped in bright Eastern clothing to shield themselves from the harsh northern weather. A bit of colour against such a drab backdrop.

 

 

On the way through Leicestershire, we stopped by to see Sarah and Mia for an hour, and to enjoy a warming coffee before returning to a cold Willow Bank, left empty and chilled for three days.

On the 30th of November, we were due to have lunch with Joan and Phil, who were on their UK Christmas visit. However, that day, their rented car refused to leave the car park after shopping in Sainsbury’s until the RAC managed to persuade it otherwise. We rescheduled for the following day, and they duly arrived for coffee and biscuits at Willow Bank. It was lovely to see them again and catch up on news, though much of the conversation centred around medical matters, perhaps an age-related topic. The following day, they flew back to a snowy Santa Vittoria.

December 1st kicked off with a Late Night Shopping spree in Harborough. For the first time in ages, both Sarah (with Mia) and Charlotte (with the boys) joined us. It was the busiest I had ever seen the town, with crowds, entertainers, and retail stalls occupying every inch of road and pavement. Within minutes of being swept into the throng, I found myself separated from the rest of the family. A phone call later, and we were reunited. It reminded me of Nan doing exactly the same thing a few years ago, oh dear! Mercifully, the rest of the evening went without a hitch, and we managed to see most of the activities, and Mia avoided being trodden on too often. Sarah stayed the night as she and Charlotte had organised tea together the following day.

On the 4th, I received a phone call from Lee around 11:45 pm. It was unusual for me to still be awake, as Sue had gone to bed hours earlier. Sarah had been feeling unwell, and when she began vomiting uncontrollably with severe pain in her side, Lee immediately took her to the hospital. It was suspected Sepsis, and the  Sepsis nurse had been called, but she couldn’t be located. I asked to be contacted when the nurse arrived, but after half an hour, I rang Lee and asked him to read out the data on the clipboard attached to the end of the bed. It seemed to me that they highly indicated the onset of Sepsis, so I instructed him to speak to any nurse or doctor and request that antibiotics be administered intravenously to Sarah asap. And, he was to inform them that her father was a paramedic and was on his way, and if she wasn’t on an antibiotic drip when I arrived, words would be said. If it were sepsis, early antibiotic administration can be life-saving, and the staff should be aware of this without the need to fetch a specialised nurse.

I woke Sue, and we drove to Leicester to see our daughter. She looked extremely unwell and was in a great deal of pain, but thankfully, she was on a drip and receiving intravenous antibiotics. Morphine was also being administered. It was a deeply worrying time. Results from her urine and blood samples came back at 4:30 am, and indicated that the pain may be caused by gallstones, and she needed to be transferred to the General Hospital across town, which had a specialised unit. We watched her leave in the ambulance, before Sue and I returned home, while Lee followed the ambulance to ensure she was settled into the correct ward. He called an hour later to update us.

Over the following days, we made regular visits to see Sarah, who was very unwell. Anything she ate wouldn’t stay down. She was being given 1.2g of Amoxicillin. Unfortunately, the morphine didn’t seem to be providing much relief from her pain. Worryingly, an ultrasound scan didn’t show gallstones, and a subsequent MRI scan revealed a possible infected kidney.

Around the same time, Ellis was scheduled to be in the hospital. A year earlier, he had developed a large, painful lump behind his knee after falling at school. After much procrastination, it was eventually decided that surgery was needed to remove the internal fluid, and the operation took place on the 5th of December. He was a brave little soldier and seemed unfazed by the whole surgical process, and was soon up and running around, proudly showing off his bandaged knee. Young bodies certainly heal quickly.

Sarah continued to be a concern. Despite being given large quantities of morphine, she still couldn’t keep anything down and was suffering from persistent pain. However, after a week, the hospital allowed her to return home.

On the 8th, I drove to Stansted Airport. Earlier in the year, I had spent a week in Cyprus with Jim Hankers to look at properties he and his wife were considering buying. The process of selling their current home and purchasing the one they liked turned out to be quite complicated, but eventually, everything fell into place. That morning, I transported Bridget and two large dog crates in a transit van, with Jim, both dogs and his daughter following in a car. Unbelievably, the cost for transporting the two dogs by air to Cyprus was £2000, yet the fare for Jim and Brigitt was just £140. They must really love their dogs.

The trip almost ended in disaster. Travelling on the A14, I noticed an unmarked police car rapidly approaching in the fast lane. I signalled to move over into the slow lane to let it pass. Just as I began the manoeuvre (I had just overtaken another transit van), a Mercedes car flashed past on the inside, instantly followed by the chasing police vehicle on my outside with siren wailing and lights flashing. I assume the Mercedes was a stolen vehicle. The two disappeared so quickly, I dread to think of the speed they were travelling, as at the time I was doing 70mph.

The rest of the journey was uneventful in comparison. Eager to return home in time to watch the Tigers on TV, I left the Hankers outside the cargo terminal at Stansted with their dogs. I was later informed that their flight and further transportation to a rented villa in Polis went smoothly, but the expected moving-in date three days later to their new home didn’t happen. The latest news is that everything should be ready by the 21st. Fingers crossed.

The 10th was Lucas’s birthday. The Rothwells came to Willow Bank that afternoon after celebrating his birthday with friends at home. Lucas had requested to end the day here, playing games in front of the log burner and having one of his mum’s chillies. Lee brought Sarah to the celebration, but she looked unwell, and I’m not sure it was the wisest of decisions. They unfortunately had to leave before we started the meal, as Sarah couldn’t tolerate the smell of food cooking.

Despite much of the country being blanketed in heavy snow a few days earlier, Sue met up with Philippa in Tenbury Wells to exchange Christmas presents. They stayed overnight at Sheila’s, returning the following day in heavy rain.

On the 12th, I had the privilege of accompanying Charlotte to Rothwell School for a surprise party for Ellis. As a reward for his outstanding progress and being a thoroughly nice child, the school had organised a surprise party for him and a few others. Parents had been invited, but it had to remain a secret from the children. Unable to attend, Suraj had to work, and Sue was in Tenbury.

The look on Ellis’s face, as well as the other children’s expressions when they were escorted into the party room and saw the people gathered there, was priceless! It was a wonderful initiative by the school, one that the children involved will surely remember for a long time. I’m sure the parents will too. I wasn’t quite sure why the Head decided to dress up as an Elf for the occasion, though!

Unfortunately, Sue has not been feeling very well over the past couple of weeks. What started as a sniffly nose quickly developed into a cold, followed by the shivers, then a hacking cough, and chest pains. A visit to the doctor today led to a diagnosis of pneumonia, along with two courses of antibiotics, an appointment for a chest x-ray, and several fluid tests. She spent the last two nights sleeping on the settee in the lounge, as it’s by far the warmest place in the house. It seems that, in the run-up to Christmas, quite a few members of the Palmer family are feeling rather run-down!