9th October 2022

On 4th October, I had my third, and hopefully final, Lucentis injection. It truly is a remarkable drug; improvements in vision can be noticed within hours, and any discomfort disappears after a day. With any luck, that will be it for a couple of years at least.

Sue drove me to the hospital in Leicester, though our journey unfortunately coincided with a major fire in the city centre that required the attendance of 75 fire engines. Traffic around the hospital was at a standstill, so I wisely chose to walk to my appointment, leaving Sue queuing in the car park. Due to the chaos on the roads, many patients failed to turn up, and I was seen in record time, just as Sue finally managed to park.

This year’s grape harvest has been picked and is now happily fermenting away in the utility room. Although the yield wasn’t large, the summer heat has ensured the grapes have a high sugar content, which bodes well for the wine.

I’ve finally completed the video of our Madagascar holiday and uploaded it to YouTube. Sifting through hundreds of photos and video clips to create some semblance of order was quite a chore. Though I’m rarely satisfied with the final result, life is too short to strive for perfection.

Thursday night has become Pool Night in the garden shed, but our little group of friends try once a month to reconvene at a local pub or restaurant for a meal. On 6th October, seven of us met at Rio Bravo for a Mexican evening. After enjoying a selection of spicy dishes and some rather expensive drinks, we moved on just a few steps to the Sugar Loaf, and were pleasantly astounded to discover that all the beers on tap were just £1.99 a pint. Cheaper than we could buy the bottled versions at the supermarket! How do they do it?

The following morning, I drove with Sean to the Wharf in Welford for a pleasant but breezy 6.5-mile walk, taking in the remains of Sulby Abbey and the Sulby Reservoir. We encountered just one other walker on the route; he didn’t seem especially keen to chat, but the same couldn’t be said of the lone fisherman we met by the reservoir. His enthusiastic and seemingly endless explanation of the special bait he was using to catch ‘big’ carp could have put Methuselah to sleep. We were rather relieved when we found a gap in his monologue to politely interject and press on towards our destination: the Wharf Inn for lunch.

We had been looking forward to their famous Suet Pie, only to be disappointed on arrival to learn it had sold out. Hoping for better luck, we then ordered the BBQ Rib Combo, also unavailable. Undeterred, we opted for the lamb chops (three), only to be informed these too were no longer on offer. Finally, in hungry desperation, we settled on the lamb brisket, and twenty minutes later were thankfully rewarded with two plates of meaty heaven.

The ‘foody’ theme continued the following day as Sue travelled to Tenbury Wells with Sarah and Alice to visit an old family friend, Sheila, and take her out for lunch. This left me to my own devices and, true to form, I prepared myself a lunch of steak and kidney pie, chips, and mushy peas, a selection surely created in Yorkshire heaven.

The afternoon was spent in the garden room with a few chums watching Leicester Tigers put in yet another dismal performance, losing at home to Sale.

I had planned to round off the day by sampling a few delicacies from the Autumn Food and Drink Festival being held in the town square with Sean. Unfortunately, by the time we met up at 7 p.m., it had just finished for the night. Hungry and disappointed, we opted instead for Casa Nostra. Though strictly Italian, it proved to be a worthy substitute for the anticipated but now unobtainable feast of delights, locked away behind shuttered stalls just around the corner.

Over the same weekend, Jamie, Ruth, Joey, and the dogs went glamping in North Wales. On a beautiful, sunny day, they managed to reach the summit of Mount Snowdon and explored some of the many abandoned slate quarries scattered across its treacherous slopes. The glamping site provided mountain bikes for guests’ use, so Rocky and Nala enjoyed far more vigorous walks than they’re usually accustomed to.

On the 16th (October), Sarah, Lee, and Alice called in briefly to drop Mia off to stay with us before continuing on their way to the Isle of Wight for five days. Unfortunately, they weren’t feeling their best. Alice had been sick during the night and had a streaming nose. Lee was also unwell and had slept for most of the journey to Willow Bank, and Sarah, though clearly under the weather herself, felt well enough to drive to Southampton, where they were due to stay overnight in a hotel before catching the ferry the next day. They had taken a Covid test earlier that morning, which had come back negative, and so decided to travel. They certainly looked like they needed the break.

Later that afternoon, Charlotte and Lucas arrived with Harry, who would also be staying with us during the Rothwells’ holiday in the Dominican Republic. The family are flying from Manchester the following evening. Their late choice of holiday destination has turned out to be very fortunate for a couple of their neighbours who are already on the island.

The husband of one of Charlotte’s friends, who lives on the same estate, is a type 1 diabetic and wears a machine that regulates his blood sugar levels. Unfortunately, he tripped and fell into the hotel pool, destroying the device. He is currently being monitored in a medical facility. There is no replacement available on the island, and both the manufacturer and the NHS are prevented from sending one out from the UK. The couple’s parents managed to acquire a replacement, and Charlotte and Suraj agreed to take it with them when they travel.

In a worrying twist of fate, the family had decided to head to the airport early and stop for breakfast at a hotel. Unfortunately, Ellis was sick in the reception area, casting some doubt on whether he would be fit to travel. Thankfully, he was.

Their flight was delayed by an hour, but thankfully, the medical device, carefully stashed in their hold luggage, made it safely through both British and Dominican security. It was successfully handed over to a very relieved wife who met them at the airport. Had the machine been impounded, her husband would have needed to be medevacked home.

Amazingly, Charlotte and Suraj had only booked their holiday a few days before flying and had been considering several different countries. Ryan is a very lucky man, not only that his wife somehow knew Charlotte’s destination and dates, but also that his parents managed to source a replacement device and get it to them just in time for their flight from Manchester.

Meanwhile, after spending the night in a hotel in Southampton, Sarah and her family were feeling much better the following day and caught an early ferry to the Isle of Wight.

Despite being over 4,000 miles apart, both families enjoyed good weather, although the temperatures in each location were vastly different.

On the 21st, Sarah and her family returned to Harborough to collect Mia before heading home. It was also the day I was due to leave Willow Bank for an overnight trip with three rugby chums, and the day did not start well.

We had planned to set off at 10 a.m., picking up two of my companions before driving to Derbyshire, where we’d meet the fourth member of our group at the Makeney Hall Hotel. But the plans began to unravel at 6:30 a.m., when Sarah rang to ask if Mia still had her GPS locator tag on her collar. A quick check confirmed she didn’t.

Still half-asleep, I dressed in record time while Sarah sent over a photo of the location where the tag had last pinged. Coffee hastily gulped, I headed off to Welland Park, silently grateful the tag hadn’t fallen off miles away during one of our longer walks.

I took the dogs with me and began the search, but with autumn leaves thick on the ground, finding a small silver disc felt like hunting for a needle in a haystack. A couple of sympathetic dog walkers joined in after noticing my odd, zig-zagging routine. Between us, we found nothing, and after they left, I continued solo until finally giving up. And naturally, that’s when I found it, lying squarely in the middle of the tarmac path, plain as day. All that meticulous searching around trees and leaf piles had been in vain. Sometimes the obvious is the last place you look.

Relieved to have found the GPS tag, I decided to give the dogs a short walk around the park before setting off for the Derbyshire hills. About twenty minutes later, as I stopped the dogs to clip their leads on for the road, I made a disheartening discovery: I’d dropped Mia’s lead somewhere along the trail. I could have cried (but didn’t). Setting off at a slow sprint, I retraced my steps and, after a tense search, finally spotted the rogue length of rope. Now running late and still not packed, we hurried back to Willow Bank.

While changing into my travel clothes, I realised my reading glasses were missing, the same ones I’d used earlier in the park to check the GPS location on my phone. I let out a scream! They must have fallen from my pocket during the frantic lead rescue. Rather than take the dogs or risk running, I grabbed my bike from the shed and shot off to the park, again. Weaving the same route for the third time that morning, I attracted curious glances from suspicious passers-by, who, once I explained the situation, promised to hand in any found glasses to the Park Café. Despite covering the area twice more, no luck. Defeated, I returned home to pack. Surely, things couldn’t get any worse. Sue promised to check the café later in the day.

Since Sue’s Mini is larger and more comfortable than my little Fiesta, I chose it for the trip. After loading the boot with everything I’d need for the overnight stay, I pressed the starter button, only to be greeted by a warning on the car’s computer: one of the brake lights had failed! “Tough luck,” I muttered. “You’re going, whether you like it or not.” The car cooperated and behaved itself, and I set off, no longer in the mood for any nonsense.

Jim Crawford had already been holidaying with his family for a week in Derbyshire in a nearby cottage and was waiting for us in the hotel carpark when we arrived. He joined my two passengers, Jim Hankers, Sean Perry, and me in the foyer, where we swapped our footwear for walking boots before making our way a short distance uphill to the 17th-century Holly Bush Inn, reputedly a haunt of the highwayman Dick Turpin during his travels. There, we enjoyed a light lunch and refreshments before setting off on a 5.5-mile ramble.

Our route took us over the moor to Belper, then down into the town, across the picturesque River Derwent, and finally up the wooded hillside on the opposite side of the Derwent Valley for our return.

Despite a gloomy weather forecast, we were fortunate; the rain held off until we reached Belper. However, the walk wasn’t without incident. While crossing the moor, Jim Hankers slipped on the muddy path, landing on his side and tumbling down the slope. Thankfully, he escaped serious injury but was left shaken with a sore shoulder. This was especially concerning as he was due for major knee replacement surgery the following week. Understandably, he decided to leave our group in Belper and return to the hotel by road.

As the rain finally arrived, the three of us crossed the Derwent via a narrow access bridge that led straight to a rather ‘pongy’ sewage works. Following the watercourse upstream, we passed Belper Rugby Club on the opposite bank before beginning a steep climb up the hillside. The mud and stone path quickly turned into a rushing stream beneath our boots, we were thoroughly soaked.

At the very top, we entered a woodland stretching the full length of the ridge, offering a welcome respite from the downpour. Though the murky views over the Derwent Valley would have been spectacular on any other day, today it was the sweet chestnuts carpeting the forest floor that captured our attention.

Reaching the end of the ridgeway, we descended back toward the river, traversing a golf course. The rain had ceased, allowing us to loosen our clothes and release the stifling heat of exertion. Crossing the river by a bridge next to an old wool mill, now being converted into apartments, we were briefly waylaid by a confused couple emerging from a small Baptist church attached to the King William pub. They mistook us for guests booked at a party in the hall featuring tea, jelly, and cakes. After politely declining our offer to partake in the party fare, we moved on to the hotel.

I was sharing a room with Jim Hankers and found him fast asleep when I arrived, but he soon woke and insisted on joining the rest of us in the bar. There, we sampled several of the ales on offer and spent a pleasant hour chatting with fellow guests doing the same. Later, we moved on to a very enjoyable three-course meal in the hotel restaurant.

With our stomachs full to bursting, we made the climb back up to the Holly Bush Inn to sample more of their liquid fare. The pub proved to be the perfect place for meeting people and spending an evening in friendly banter. We got on so well with the locals that we were treated to several drinks and, of course, had to reciprocate. By the time we left for the comfort of our pillows, it was rather late, but we all slept very soundly.

Jim and I were the first to breakfast at 8 am, with the others joining us about half an hour later. By half past ten, we had checked out and were driving over the moors under a gloriously sunny sky to the former mining village of Eastwood. There, we visited the D.H. Lawrence Museum, an authentically recreated miner’s cottage and the birthplace of the world-renowned Nottinghamshire author. Sue and I had been there before, and I thought the others would enjoy it too. After watching a video on his early life, we wandered through the rooms at our leisure, reminiscing about the decorations, fittings, and equipment that brought back memories from our childhoods. We wrapped up the visit with coffee in the little café across the road.

It was while paying for the museum tickets that Sean realised he still had his hotel room key. Rather than heading straight back south to Harborough, we made a quick detour to drop off the key at the hotel. We were home by 1:30 pm.

On the 24th, Sue and I met Joan and Phil in Oakham. It was their first visit to the UK since before the start of Covid-19. The pandemic had been a traumatic time for them both, as Phil was diagnosed with bowel cancer soon after it began. Thankfully, due to the efficiency of the Italian health service, he pulled through and has since been declared clear. We picked them up outside their rented accommodation in the town centre and drove to the Old Buttercross, an estate pub on the outskirts, for lunch. Both Sue and I were quite surprised at how well Phil looked; he had been very ill, and we had expected the worst. Yet we both agreed he appeared fitter than before his illness. After a pleasant meal, we relocated to their rather plush apartment for coffee and a chat before having to leave to attend to Harry, whom we had left at home.

The following Friday, we attended a screening of the film JoJo Rabbit at Harborough Cinema Club. Adapted from Christine Leunens’s 2008 book Caging Skies, it tells the story of Johannes “Jojo” Betzler, a ten-year-old Hitler Youth member who discovers his mother is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic. The film offers excellent entertainment, blending deliciously dark humour with thought-provoking themes. In the not-too-distant future, I hope to see a similar film featuring an equally comical Vladimir Putin, perhaps after his demise and failure at subjugating the free world.

Charlotte and Suraj collected Harry from our care the following afternoon. They had flown back from the Dominican Republic earlier that morning but needed a short nap at home and a spot of food shopping before picking up their pet. Lucas and Ellis were still asleep at home, exhausted from the long-haul flight. They stayed for a while, chatting about some of the activities they had enjoyed. It certainly seemed to have done them a lot of good, they looked much more relaxed than when they left two weeks ago.

The following morning, I woke to an email from Trainline informing me that due to an ongoing rail strike, the train I had booked on the 12th of November to Twickenham to watch England take on Japan had been cancelled. After several exasperating phone calls to Trainline and Midland Mainline, and a visit to Harborough train station, I ended up cancelling the original tickets and rebooking a journey starting from Northampton. Four hours of trying to find a solution to a problem beyond our control, explaining repeatedly to Indian call centres who refused to deviate from their scripts, nearly broke my patience and nerves. Fortunately, suggestions from my five companions accompanying me led to the solution. Now we are left with the challenge of getting to and from Northampton station, assuming, of course, that the train doesn’t get cancelled.

As I was having breakfast at 7:30 am on the 2nd of November, I received a phone call no parent wants to get. It was Jamie, in a lot of pain, telling me he had just been involved in a car crash. I quickly ascertained his location, dressed, and drove through early morning rush hour traffic toward Church Langton. As I reached Langton Road, I pulled over to let an ambulance with sirens and flashing lights pass. It was a reassurance that I was heading in the right direction, but dread filled me at what I might find.

Within a quarter of a mile, I saw a group of emergency vehicles and pulled up in front of a police car parked across the crossroads, diverting traffic left and right. Informing the officer that my son was involved, he allowed me to park alongside. I trotted the 100 metres to the accident scene. Jamie was already lying in the ambulance, with paramedics deep in discussion. To my surprise, Jamie’s Meat Link boss stopped me and handed me my son’s wallet. Not recognising him at first, I said thank you and gently pushed past to reach Jamie. Although he seemed unharmed externally, when I touched his hand to reassure him, he screamed in pain.

Four vehicles had been involved, but the worst damage was to Jamie’s Audi and a pick-up truck. It was a head-on collision, with the fronts of both vehicles destroyed. That anyone survived was a miracle, thanks to the safety features of modern cars. Jamie recalls hearing two huge bangs, checking whether he could feel his legs, then crawling out of the car, standing briefly, before collapsing in pain. He was the only one seriously injured enough to require paramedic attention. After confirming which hospital the ambulance was headed to, I waited for its departure and then followed, stopping briefly to fill an empty fuel tank.

Providentially, as I arrived at Kettering Hospital, Ruth also arrived and parked her car alongside mine. Together, we made our way to A&E and found Jamie lying in a small room reserved for ambulance arrivals. He complained of pain in his wrist, lower back, and leg. We waited with him until the doctor came to examine him. After a brief check, she sent him for an X-ray.

We remained in the room until Jamie returned. A little while later, the doctor came back with the results. His wrist didn’t appear to be broken, but there was a fracture in one of the vertebrae in his lower spine. A scan would be necessary to assess the severity. Shortly after, Jamie was transferred to the trauma ward and given painkillers. There, he was moved onto a special mattress designed to ease pressure on his spine, and we waited.

Late in the afternoon, Ruth left to collect Joey from school, and I followed suit, returning at 6 pm after having tea at home. Meanwhile, Jamie had been moved to Barnwell Ward, still awaiting his scan. Due to Covid restrictions and hospital regulations allowing just one visitor per patient each day, I was fortunate to be admitted to the ward as a lady who came in with me was turned away. The scan hadn’t been performed yet and was scheduled for the following morning.

I brought Jamie some headphones for his iPhone, which I’d collected from Charlotte on my way into the hospital. Despite the painkillers, he was still in considerable pain, and by 7:30 pm, he was so drowsy that he couldn’t stay awake. He asked me to let him sleep, and I quietly left him to rest.

The scan was performed the following morning, and we had to wait for the specialists at Leicester Royal Hospital to review the results. The diagnosis was not encouraging. His wrist was broken, and surgery on his spine was initially deemed necessary. However, much later in the day, the plan changed. Given Jamie’s age, the team decided to conduct another scan the following morning to assess whether the tissues and ligaments in his lumbar region were sufficiently intact to stabilise the spine without surgery. If so, they would fit him with a special back brace.

Sue visited him that evening, and although he was very drowsy, he seemed more positive.

After the second scan, it was decided that surgery was not required. Later that day, Jamie was given a back brace to wear while in bed, and his mood continued to improve. Ruth also visited, bringing a bag of items he had requested from home.

Saturday, 5th November, was a huge day for rugby, and fittingly, with it being Guy Fawkes Night, there were plenty of fireworks both on the pitch and around bonfires throughout the country. With Jamie still in the hospital, Sue and I stayed at home, just in case we were needed.

My day began at 3 am when I woke to watch the Women’s England Rugby Union Team narrowly defeat a strong Canadian side down under in New Zealand. By 6:30 am, I was still awake to see an entertaining game where New Zealand edged out France in the same World Cup competition. During the afternoon, I remained resolutely on the sofa, watching several Rugby League World Cup games taking place in the UK. It was satisfying to see both the England men’s and women’s teams easily overcome their opponents.

In between sofa surfing and rugby matches, Sarah and Alice arrived first, quickly followed by Charlotte and Ellis. They were meeting up for some shopping in Harborough, followed by lunch at a pub in Great Bowden. They stayed for an hour or so, chatting and enjoying the warmth of our wood burner on a damp, chilly day. After lunch, little Alice stayed with Charlotte in Rothwell while Sarah went to visit Jamie during his strictly controlled afternoon visiting session.

I visited on Sunday evening and, as requested, took along my old electric shaver. I hadn’t used it for at least twenty years, and Jamie wasn’t impressed with its performance; he promptly ordered a new one online. I also gave him a copy of the Sunday Times, hoping that the variety of supplements would provide enough interesting reading to keep him occupied for a few days.

Though he was still experiencing quite a lot of back and leg pain, Jamie was optimistically hoping to be discharged on Monday. However, the doctors and physiotherapists discounted that possibility, concerned that the pain might be caused by a pinched nerve and that surgery could still be necessary. Despite this, he was very pleased that on Monday morning, he managed to walk the length of the corridor and back. It seems recovery will take its own time.