On Friday, 23rd October, Sue took a card round to Paddy to offer our condolences and support following the sad loss of Linda. He was keen to talk, and stayed for an hour and a half while he shared his thoughts and feelings about the circumstances surrounding her death. It was clearly a difficult time for him, and hopefully having someone willing to listen provided a little comfort.

Over the weekend, Charlotte and the family flew home from Krabi, Thailand, while the second in as many days, Storm Boelo, was raging across the country. Meanwhile, I entertained a group of friends in the Garden Room to watch Leicester Tigers take on Northampton Saints in a match full of drama, which ended with an unexpected victory for Tigers. It was particularly good to see Paul make an appearance despite undergoing cancer treatment. I am sure he enjoyed the familiar banter, camaraderie and atmosphere of spending time with his rugby chums, providing a welcome distraction from the challenges he is facing.

Sue attempted to visit her friend Sue in Lutterworth to deliver a birthday present, but the trip proved abortive. On arrival, she discovered that the care home had been placed in lockdown following an outbreak of scabies among both staff and residents. During her visit the previous week, Sue had drawn the staff’s attention to how much her friend was scratching herself, and it now appears that the infection had spread. Sadly, the birthday present would have to wait until circumstances improved.

While Sue was in Lutterworth, I received a call from Lee, asking us to stand by in case we needed to collect Sarah from Leicester General Hospital. On Saturday morning, her knee had dislocated and, despite her efforts, refused to go back into place, causing her considerable pain. Lee had to leave her at the hospital while he took the children to a fancy-dress Halloween party that had already been arranged. Fortunately, the hospital staff managed to manipulate Sarah’s knee back into position and discharged her. She arranged an Uber to get home, and by Sunday she was sufficiently mobile, with the aid of crutches, to join the family for a children’s film at the cinema. An operation on her knee is now in the pipeline in the hope of resolving the underlying problem and preventing further episodes.

On Sunday morning, I met Jamie, Ruth, Nala and a friend in Gumley Woods to continue our annual family tradition of harvesting sweet chestnuts. Despite the prolonged drought throughout the spring and summer, I was pleasantly surprised to find plenty to collect, although they were not quite as large as in previous years. It was a successful outing, with the added satisfaction of bringing home a good harvest for the kitchen.

Jamie and Ruth called briefly at Willow Bank later that afternoon and kindly brought some cans of Guinness for our consumption before setting off on the very blustery journey home. That evening, Sue roasted some of our afternoon’s haul in the wood-burner, marking the occasion with the first fire of the autumn. There was something particularly satisfying about sitting beside a warm fire, enjoying the fruits of our woodland expedition as the autumn weather made its presence felt outside.

On a rainy Monday morning, I joined a packed congregation at the Catholic church to attend the funeral of David Thomlinson. The sombre weather outside seemed an appropriate backdrop to an occasion on which family and friends gathered to pay tribute to a much-loved, unassuming man who, throughout his life, had shown genuine care for others and made a lasting impact on the lives of those fortunate enough to have known him.

As a non-Catholic, I found the inclusion of the Mass within an already lengthy service somewhat detracted from what I felt should have been a celebration of a life well lived, with the focus firmly on the man himself and the memories he had left behind. However, I sincerely hope that the service reflected the wishes of David’s family and provided them with the comfort and opportunity they needed to say their final goodbyes, rather than being dictated by the traditions of the Church. The priest, unfortunately, did little to help matters when he began his address by welcoming the congregation to the funeral of David Thompson, a rather unfortunate mistake on such a solemn occasion.

Following the service, the wake was held at The Swan, where, amid the sadness of the day, I took the opportunity to catch up with several friends with whom I had lost touch over recent years. It was good to renew those connections, even under such sad circumstances, and to share memories of a man whose passing had brought so many people together.

Coincidentally, the following morning Sue and I attended a meeting with a local solicitor in town to review and update our wills, establish a trust to help mitigate potential future care costs, and begin the process of setting up lasting powers of attorney. The appointment had been arranged several weeks earlier, but our recent travels, combined with the sobering reality of recent events, had brought home the importance of getting these arrangements in place without further delay.

As we grow older, it becomes increasingly important to discuss such matters openly and make sensible provisions for the future, however unappealing the subject might be. The meeting proved extremely helpful in clarifying our options and ensuring that we understood the implications of the decisions we needed to make. Once all the paperwork has been completed, Sue and I should be able to sit back with some peace of mind, knowing that our affairs are in order and that our wishes for the future will be respected.

That evening, having booked our train and theatre tickets the previous day, Sue and I caught the 6.34 pm train to Leicester for a performance at the Little Theatre. We were looking forward to an evening of murder, mystery and entertainment, although we had no idea that the real drama would begin after the final curtain!

The play, Night Must Fall by Emlyn Williams, revolves around the embittered Mrs Bramson, who discovers that her young maid, Dora, is pregnant and summons the presumed father to her bungalow. The young man, Dan, is charming but decidedly mysterious. Could he be responsible for the recent murder and beheading of a local woman? And, more worryingly, might Mrs Bramson herself be his next victim?

Armed with front-row seats and suitable refreshments, including the obligatory ice cream during the interval, we settled down to enjoy two hours of well-acted hokum. It was great fun, and, predictably, neither of us correctly identified the murderer. So much for our powers of deduction!

Unfortunately, the evening began to unravel as soon as we left the theatre. I discovered that I was one glove lighter than when I had arrived. Leaving Sue at the street exit, I retraced my steps to our seats and, with the assistance of one of the ushers, searched fruitlessly for the errant article of clothing. Having failed to recover my missing glove, I rejoined Sue, who explained that she had been rather alarmed when a vagrant approached her demanding £3.20 to buy a burger. He was still loudly accosting other theatre-goers when I arrived, so we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and hurried off towards the station.

Things did not improve. As we approached the ticket barrier, my mobile phone, which had been switched off during the performance, was taking its time to power up and connect to Wi-Fi so that I could retrieve my train ticket. This little technological drama resulted in us joining the back of an increasingly lengthy queue. Fortunately, one of the station staff noticed our predicament and, taking pity on us, kindly ushered us to the front of the queue and through the barrier.

We hurried through the station, only to discover that the train standing at our designated platform was the service to London and was about to depart. We scrambled aboard, the doors closed, and the train moved off. Then came the announcement that this was a direct service to London and would not be stopping at Market Harborough.

The words landed like a theatrical dagger through the heart! How on earth were we going to get home? Would there be a train back from London to Harborough that evening, and, if so, would we have to pay for another ticket? Our enjoyable evening was rapidly turning into an expensive logistical nightmare.

As we made our way through the carriage in search of seats, we encountered the ticket collector and explained our predicament. She kindly promised to see what she could do, leaving us to contemplate our fate. After what seemed an age, she returned with the welcome news that the driver and station staff had agreed to make an exception and stop the train at Market Harborough for us.

Feeling both extremely grateful and more than a little sheepish, we waited until the train pulled into the station and descended the steps onto a darkened platform. There, we were greeted by an amused stationmaster, who explained that the Sheffield-to-London service, which normally stops only at Leicester, had never stopped at Harborough before. We had apparently made railway history!

To add to the irony, the train we should have caught was due to depart from the very same platform just ten minutes later. On the bright side, our unexpected adventure meant that we actually arrived home earlier than anticipated. I can only imagine what the other passengers thought when our train made its unprecedented stop, and two rather embarrassed passengers made an impromptu exit. Perhaps they assumed we were VIPs, although I suspect the reality was rather less glamorous!

The following morning, Tuesday, Sue attended a dental check-up, which suggested that she might need some repair work at her next appointment. Afterwards, we drove to Corby for a spot of shopping before settling down to watch the excellent film The Uprising.

The film centres on the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, featuring John Ball, Wat Tyler and the march on London. The immediate trigger was the imposition of the deeply unpopular poll tax in 1380, which brought to a head years of growing economic hardship and resentment dating back to the middle of the century. The story is told through the eyes of a ploughman and his fellow insurgents as they make their way towards London, culminating in a dramatic, surprise face-to-face confrontation with the young King Richard II, who was just fourteen years old at the time.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable account of a fascinating period in English history, and one that appeared to remain as faithful to the established historical record as could reasonably be expected in a dramatised film. The only questionable element was the final scene, which prompted some speculation that the filmmakers were attempting to reinvent the story as an origin tale for Robin Hood.

Our return to Willow Bank coincided with the arrival of Charlotte, who, having worked all day in Harborough, called in to see her parents and enjoy a coffee. Naturally, she didn’t leave empty-handed, departing with the customary bag of home-grown beetroot and carrots.

Whilst on holiday in Thailand, Ellis unfortunately suffered quite a nasty scratch from a feral cat. As a precaution, he was given a rabies vaccination, but this is not a one-off injection, with three doses typically administered over a 28-day period. Charlotte is therefore currently busy trying to arrange for Ellis to receive the remaining injections, adding an unwelcome complication to the family’s return home.

To celebrate Lee’s new job, which he is due to start in November, Sue and I travelled to Newbold Verdon on Wednesday. Our first stop was to visit his parents, who had relocated from Cotgrave to the village to be closer to their son and grandchildren. We spent a pleasant hour catching up on family news and putting the world to rights before moving on to collect Lee, Sarah and Archie for a celebratory lunch.

They had chosen The Gate Hangs Well in Carlton, and it proved to be an excellent choice. The pub had a lovely community atmosphere, with the added attraction of an incorporated village shop. It also appeared to be a popular stopping-off point for walkers, who presumably appreciated the opportunity to rest their feet and replenish their energy levels.

Afterwards, we returned to Newbold Verdon for a brief coffee stop before setting off back to Willow Bank, arriving home as the evening gloom began to descend.

Suraj was recently fortunate enough to enjoy a Mercedes Road and Track Experience, where he had the opportunity to try out a variety of vehicles. His clear favourite on the day was the G-Wagon, a rather imposing machine that obviously made quite an impression. I suspect he would have happily driven one home, had his bank balance been quite as impressive as the vehicle itself!

During our visit to Newbold Verdon, I came away with a temperamental petrol strimmer that refused to start. On Friday morning, while Sue was visiting Doreen and Paddy, I set about stripping the machine down, cleaning it and adjusting the spark plug gap. After checking that current was reaching the plug and fuel was entering the cylinder, it thankfully fired up. Now Lee can give the lawns their last cut before winter sets in.

Halloween can trace its origins back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, a tradition which, over the centuries, has evolved from its pagan beginnings into the colourful celebration we recognise today, complete with fancy dress, parties, carved pumpkins, jack-o’-lanterns and the familiar ritual of trick-or-treating. It is an occasion enjoyed by children and adults alike, and one the family has always embraced as an opportunity for a little tongue-in-cheek frivolity and harmless mischief.

For many years now, Sue and I, perhaps recognising that our days of bouncing around in fancy dress are largely behind us, have left the merrymaking to the younger and more nimble members of the family. However, perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss our own involvement. A photograph of Aunt Josie recently appeared on Facebook, finally confirming what I had long suspected: there has been a witch lurking in the family all along!

At 92 years of age, she certainly looks the part and appears more than ready to join in the Halloween festivities. Clearly, age has done little to diminish either her enthusiasm or her sense of occasion. I can only hope that, having reached such a grand age, she remembers to check that the broomstick’s MOT is up to date before taking to the skies and, more importantly, that she manages to stay on it!

On Sunday, the family gathered in Rothwell for a Sunday lunch, lovingly prepared by Charlotte. Sarah and her family had an early appointment in Kettering, organised through the Air Cadets, where they were offered free heart scans and health checks. Having received the reassuring news that everything was fine, they made their way over to Charlotte’s.

Alice soon threw herself into the preparations, taking responsibility for making the Yorkshire puddings, an important contribution to any respectable Sunday roast. Sue and I arrived shortly after Jamie and Ruth and, having handed over the strimmer to Lee, I turned my attention to Charlotte’s chickens. I had collected a tub of chickweed earlier that morning, thinking I was providing them with a particularly welcome treat. Sadly, my generosity was not appreciated, as they promptly turned their beaks up at my offering. Clearly, they are unaware that the rest of their species love chickweed.

Lunch was superb, with plenty to go round and several highlights, not least the minted lamb, delicious cauliflower cheese and, of course, Alice’s Yorkshire puddings, which completed the meal perfectly.

By mid-afternoon, Sarah and her family set off on the long drive home, soon followed by Jamie and Ruth. With the house gradually becoming quieter, Sue and Charlotte settled at the kitchen table for several competitive games of Rummikub. Suraj, Ellis and I opted for a rather less cerebral form of entertainment, remaining in the lounge chatting and putting the world to rights until it was time for Sue and me to make our way home.