The 17th of October found me in the dentist’s chair, enduring a filling for a tiny cavity that, according to the dentist, would “cause trouble down the line.” Personally, I’m sceptical. That cavity and I have coexisted peacefully for years, and even when the dentist jabbed at it with medieval enthusiasm, there wasn’t so much as a twinge. I can’t help but suspect the filling was more about filling the practice’s coffers than my tooth.

Later that day, Sarah made a brief appearance to drop Mia off for a weekend of rest at Willow Bank while she and the rest of the family escaped to the Presthaven Beach Resort Sports & Leisure Camp near Rhyl. The weather behaved itself for once, and they had a marvellous time. Alice and Archie adored the dunes and picked some delightfully eccentric costumes for the fancy dress party.

After their three-day break, on their way back to Leicestershire, they stopped at Caergwrle Castle to pay their respects to Nan and to visit Aunty Josie, Nan’s sister, whom the children hadn’t met before. Rather than driving all the way to Harborough to collect Mia that evening, they decided she could enjoy an extra night with us, and we returned her home the following morning. While in Newbold Verdon, we seized the opportunity to browse the shoe warehouse in search of boots for Sue. Alas, nothing caught her fancy, but I somehow managed to leave with a new pair of trainers and some Crocs.

Meanwhile, over the same weekend, Jamie and his friend Tommy treated themselves to a meal at Gordon Ramsay at Royal Hospital Road, the celebrity chef’s flagship restaurant in Chelsea. With a bill totalling £883, I sincerely hope every mouthful was transcendent.

Not to be outdone, the following day, Suraj and Ellis caught the train to London for a day of sightseeing, rounding it off with a rather more modest meal. In a show of family solidarity, or perhaps coincidence, Lee, Alice and Archie also ventured to London soon after, taking in the sights and enjoying the London Eye among other attractions.

On the 25th, Jamie, Ruth and Tommy paid a visit to Uncle Sam’s Great American Circus in Grantham, proudly billed as “the extraordinary show that brings you star-studded acts from around the globe.” Judging by the photos and videos shared on the Family Messenger, it certainly lived up to the hype, a dazzling spectacle by all accounts, complete with enough sequins and spotlight to make Las Vegas blush.

The following day, Sue, Charlotte and Sarah headed to IKEA in Nottingham, having first dropped Lucas back at Leicester University after his weekend at home. Sue went with the noble intention of finding a new log basket for the woodburner, but was nearly tempted by a pair of chairs for the sun lounge. In the end, she showed remarkable restraint, quite unlike her daughters, who raided the store with gusto and emerged triumphantly laden with all manner of flat-packed treasures.

The decoration of the lounge had taken a rest after I had wired up the new ceiling and wall lights, as we waited for the curtains to arrive.

On the 27th, I attended a follow-up appointment at the surgery and emerged clutching a phial for another glamorous ‘poop’ test, along with a booking for a blood test. Clearly, the NHS must be running out of blood,

That afternoon, after much debate, we finally settled on a colour for the lounge walls: Egyptian Sand. Feeling rather pleased with ourselves, we headed to The Range and returned with a 3.5-litre tin, hoping it would be sufficient.

The next few days were devoted to a full-time decorating marathon, 9 to 5 sessions of stripping wallpaper, scrubbing down the walls, scraping off the last of the glue, and finally rolling on two coats of paint. By the end, I’d developed a deep personal connection with the paint pad and a newfound respect for professional decorators.

I was still on painting duty when it was time to take Sue to Leicester General Hospital for her operation. We arrived bright and painfully early, just after 6 a.m., and were the first in the Theatre Waiting Area. As with her previous visit, Sue was hopeful of being first into Theatre, but alas, fate (and the surgical rota) had other ideas. She ended up last on the list and waited patiently until late afternoon before being wheeled in for keyhole surgery, a three-hour procedure carried out by three surgeons.

She’d expected to stay overnight and come home the next day, but her blood pressure had other plans, so she was kept in for an extra night under observation. Meanwhile, that very same afternoon, Alice went into Leicester Royal Hospital for a delayed operation to remove the rods in her legs. Unlike her grandmother, she was allowed home that evening, clearly made of sterner stuff!

Not to be outdone, and in true Palmer solidarity, I cycled to the surgery that afternoon and donated my own contribution, a phial of blood, requested earlier in the week by the doctor. All in all, quite a family effort in medical productivity!

I got the call to fetch Sue at 5.30 p.m. on Friday, the 31st, Halloween, no less. Battling rush-hour traffic worthy of a horror story, I eventually found her waiting on Ward 31. Unlike last time, when a wheelchair was required, and I played chauffeur in the hospital corridors, Sue was on her feet and walking!

The journey back to Harborough was made all the more entertaining by the passing parade of tiny monsters, witches, and zombies, all clutching bulging bags of sugary loot collected from obliging doorsteps.

Meanwhile, in Newbold Verdon, Sarah, Lee, Alice, and Archie were also out in force, suitably attired for the occasion and amassing a respectable haul of confectionery, enough to power a small village for a week.

Once we arrived back at Willow Bank, Sue headed straight to bed. She’d had precious little sleep during her hospital stay, not that wards are famed for their tranquillity. Over the next few days, I busied myself swapping out light switches and power sockets in the living room, planting the last of the tulip bulbs for next spring’s show, and, of course, playing nurse to the temporarily grounded Sue.

Charlotte popped in with Harry on Saturday to check on her mum, and on Sunday, Ellis took to the skies, gliding in Nottinghamshire,  clearly taking the “up and away” approach to weekend relaxation.

They say it never rains, but it pours, and that certainly seems to be the case with Sue’s health. Still delicate after her operation on the afternoon of Bonfire Night, she began to feel an intensely itchy rash behind her knee. Checking the written advice provided by the hospital, we discovered it mentioned that such a symptom could be an early sign of Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT).

When she showed me the rash, I noticed that, confusingly, there were also a few angry-looking spots, which I felt warranted investigation. After a twenty-minute drive to the Corby Urgent Care Centre and a three-hour wait to see a doctor, the diagnosis was shingles.

Shingles is a rash caused by the varicella-zoster virus, the same virus that causes chickenpox. After a chickenpox infection, the virus lies dormant in the nerve cells and can later be reactivated, resulting in shingles. Surprisingly, Sue doesn’t recall ever having had chickenpox as a child. Fortunately, we caught the infection early and returned home with the appropriate medication to ease her symptoms.

Only a few months ago, I had received a preventative shingles vaccination, though Sue had not. We had assumed that her medical records indicated she’d never had chickenpox and therefore wouldn’t require one. Hmm.

On the 6th of November, I paused during my morning bike ride through Marston Trussell Church to admire the poppies knitted by the villagers in readiness for Armistice Day. A cascade of bright red poppies flowed from the base of the tower to its castellated top. It seems that quite a few churches around the country have adopted this idea to honour those who gave their lives for their country and for freedom.

Later that day, a new log basket arrived, the final touch to complete the decoration of the living room.

On the 8th, England played Fiji in the Quilter Nations Series at Twickenham (I refuse to call such hallowed ground the “Alliance Stadium”). Jamie had invited me to join him on a corporate freebie to watch the match, and we duly caught the 9:57 a.m. train to London to ensure we arrived in good time for the pre-match meal (kick-off at 5:40 p.m.).

The journey to St Pancras Station was disgraceful. The wholly inadequate five-coach train was so overcrowded that every seat was taken, and the corridors were jammed with standing passengers. We could barely squeeze as far as the doorway, where we joined twenty-one other tightly packed souls in a space clearly never designed for such numbers. We stood for the entire 55-minute journey, unable to move. It was a nightmare and downright dangerous.

Yet, unbelievably, the official response to overcrowding is as follows:

“There is no legal limit on the number of passengers that can travel in any given train coach, as trains differ from other modes of transport, most notably buses and aeroplanes, because of the heavy engineering design involved. This permits trains to operate effectively and safely even when fully loaded to maximum capacity. In an accident, which is when it counts, a full-and-standing train is actually safer than a train with only a few standing passengers, as nobody will be able to fly the length of the carriage. When there is not an accident, each passenger has the choice as to whether the conditions are acceptable to them or not. If they feel they are not, they should leave the train or not board it.”

This is madness! What if someone is seriously ill? Or, as I once discovered in Rome, such cramped conditions are ideal for pickpockets.

The usual frenetic dash across the city on the Underground was, ironically, a welcome respite. From Twickenham Station, we made our way to the River Thames and the White Swan pub, where we sat in the sunshine on a raised verandah overlooking the river, which still showed signs of recent flooding, and enjoyed a couple of local beers to recover.

By 2 p.m., we had made our way to the stadium, where we met a representative from Go Markets, who provided us with passes for the Green Room and engaged Jamie in a lengthy conversation about trading on the money markets. Once inside, we were shown to our table and welcomed with a glass of champagne and a pack of goodies, which included a couple of hats and a referee’s microphone for the match, among other things.

We were eventually joined by six other fortunate guests and enjoyed lively conversation over an excellent three-course meal. The event was hosted by a very capable compère and featured several international rugby legends, including Lawrence Dallaglio and Joe Marler, fresh from his appearance on the TV show The Traitors. A free bar added greatly to the atmosphere.

During the meal, guests were provided with the opportunity to support several charitable organisations by choosing one of around 50 options to place a ‘Silent’ bid. One of the lots took my fancy and I placed a bid for the match shirt of Marcu Smith, the England and Harlequins fly-half/ fullback. To my surprise, a few days later, I discovered that I had placed the winning bid.

The match itself was fairly mediocre, though England eventually triumphed 38–18, avenging their earlier defeat to Fiji. As soon as the final whistle blew, we joined the crowds streaming back to the station and made our way to Vauxhall, where I left Jamie to catch a different train into the city. He was meeting Ruth later at a hotel; she had travelled with a friend from Grantham who was celebrating a birthday and had enlisted Ruth for a spot of shopping.

I continued to St Pancras and, thankfully, found a seat on a half-full train back to Harborough. I was in bed by 10:30 p.m.

The following day was Armistice Sunday. Alice took part in the parade with her Rainbow troop, and Ellis also took part in the ceremony with the Air Cadets.

Sue’s health remains a concern. Her immune system is low, and the after-effects of her operation, combined with the shingles, make any quick movement difficult. In contrast, I received the results from the bi-annual FIT test I provided a month ago, and reassuringly, the results came back as normal, and I can look forward to another in two years’ time.

Over the next week, thankfully, Sue’s health began to improve and, in between showers, she managed to get out of the house for short walks and to visit friends. Jamie and Ruth jetted off to Lapland for the week to enjoy the snow and see Santa. While there, they embraced the full Nordic experience; camping out in the snow to watch the Northern Lights, enjoying the thrill of a dog-sleigh ride, powering through the Arctic wilderness on snowmobiles, and feasting on reindeer meat (hopefully not Rudolf).

Alice’s leg is causing some concern, as the operation to remove the rods has left a wound that has become infected and is being treated with antibiotic cream.

A greater worry for the family emerged when Charlotte posted on Family Messenger that she had been feeling unwell after catching Covid some ten weeks ago. On Thursday (20th), she woke at 1 am to find she had a mouthful of painful ulcers, swollen glands in her neck the size of golf balls, and was utterly exhausted. She saw the doctor on Friday and was prescribed antibiotics before being sent to Kettering Hospital, where she received an X-ray and a blood test. These came back clear, apart from indicating an infection. A CT scan was scheduled for Monday, and she was then sent home.

Over the next few days, things worsened. Her inflammation marker rose to 74 (very high), tests ruled out glandular fever, and the mouth ulcers made swallowing anything solid extremely painful, so her diet has been limited to smoothies and drinking through a straw. Constantly exhausted, she is now on her second course of antibiotics and is becoming increasingly desperate. She is also taking an antihistamine in the hope that it may be an allergic reaction. Rheumatoid-related blood tests are ongoing, but they take time to process. She has no appetite and has been unable to eat anything solid for several days. It is thought that staying at home is safer than risking a possible hospital-acquired infection, as her immune system is so low. The whole family is very worried.

A day after returning from Lapland, Jamie jetted off to Prague and its Christmas markets for a few days with his friend Tom. Sue continues to improve slowly. She is being careful not to exert herself, managing to get out of the house for an hour or so on a daily walk, although the freezing temperatures of recent days have meant wrapping up well. She is now making her own cups of tea and spends much of her time on her laptop. Present-wrapping has also become an activity, though where the presents appear from remains a mystery. We have even managed to visit Lidl a couple of times, where I was shocked to discover the price of things.

Between updating and editing past blogs, I’ve settled into a rigid domestic routine of housework, as well as feeding Sue, four badgers, one fox, a pheasant, a muntjac, and several hundred birds. I still manage to get out for an hour on my early-morning bike ride, which I greatly enjoy.

Roll on Christmas.