Day 11: Sunday 9th April 2017 I was left with strict instructions to finish the job in the garage before Rachel called to check that it was done. So I did it. And polished my halo. Then I looked at what still needed to be done before ‘The Men’ arrived and thought I probably couldn’t do it on my own. Trouble was, just about everyone I knew, and tried to contact, was away. However, after a number of phone calls, I tried Michel and Diana, who divide their year between Paris and Plaigne, near Mirepoix, and had already invited me to dine with them on Thursday evening. They were still in Paris! However, they told me of a couple who run a company called ‘Helping Hands’, who look after their house while they are in Paris, so I rang them, and got lucky ….

Day 12. Monday 10th: Andrew from ‘Helping Hands’ arrived quite early and very soon, with only a little help from me, he had got all the curtains down, removed the TV from the wall, brought the round patio table down from the pool terrace, and packed up the Cadac barbecue into its various carrying bags. We put these into Harry’s garage, along with The Boat, which I didn’t want the removal men to put on the lorry. I felt much better for getting that lot done, and Andrew also took away a number of rubbish bags to dispose of. Later that day Peter the Poolman came to look at the pool; he got it turning and brushed the bottom. Most of what was there was ready to disintegrate and go through the system, so the pool would then ‘just’ need cleaning again later in the week and further water treatment.

Day 13. Tuesday 11th  I made a phone call to the Notaire’s office, and actually got to speak to him. He explained my options regarding the sale, and I had an appointment on Wednesday afternoon anyway, when a power of attorney and other documents could be signed. Later in the morning I called the removal firm to ask if they had any idea where the lorry was, or an ETA, since I needed to go shopping and didn’t want to be absent when they arrived. This wasn’t a grump or a fret, since I knew they weren’t due till mid or late afternoon, but it amused Caroline at Wheadon’s because she’d never been asked that question for that reason before! She couldn’t say just then, but she found out and soon called me back with an ETA of 2pm at the earliest, so I went to Super U at Mirepoix, probably for the last time. A slight disappointment was that my favourite brand of Blanquette (Bubbles!) wasn’t in stock, so I bought a couple of untried ones, intending to ‘top up’ on the way home with Montlouis and Vouvray. The Men – and the lorry – arrived just before 3 and, achieving what the removers who brought the stuff down in 2012 had failed to do, they got the lorry into the parking area in front of the house!:

Then with a ramp set up onto the grass, the big carry out was so much easier:

The Men, Simon and Mark, got stuck in straightaway, and things began to disappear! But on that first day they didn’t touch the bedroom I was using, so that I still had a bed to sleep in and didn’t need to move into Harry till the next night.

You have bed in me!

Wow! Harry! You’ve been very quiet –

This is very sad.

I know …. But when I said ‘I had a bed ..’ I meant I had a bed in the house.

In Ordnung. OK.

Work continued till about 8. The lorry, with it’s sleeper cabin, was to stay where it was overnight, and at first The Men said they had everything they needed , but I put some potatoes in the oven anyway and as the smell of baking potatoes began to fill the kitchen, they thought perhaps they would join me for supper. It was a warm evening, so we enjoyed baked potatoes with sausages and beans on the terrace. The Men were delighted to be sitting out well after dark, and to watch a big moon rise above the hill to the south-east: (and is the bright spot centre top of the photo a star or Jupiter?)

Day 14. Wednesday 12th.

Starting at 8, Mark and Simon attacked what was left in the living room, then emptied my bedroom, the attic room, the garage and the carport. By 12, all was done:

Then:Orf went the van ….

… with me ‘ome packed in it ….

I had a bit of lunch, and began to clean and vac. I mopped the tiles in the living room, but then I had to go to Chalabre to see the Notaire. My options, it seemed, were to wait till June to see if the buyers got their money by then, to ask them to agree to break off the contract, or to serve notice on them, by registered letter, that unless they could provide proof of funding within seven days, I would withdraw from the contract. I explained that any delay would cost me money, so the agreed price would be too low. The lawyer rang the couple; if they would come into the office then and there, we could sign for a mutually agreed separation, otherwise they should expect the letter. They couldn’t come in just then, but agreed to do so the next day. So I signed the document, and the power of attorney to allow the Notaire to act for me in future.

Back at the house, the internet was still available, so I was able to watch a bit of UK television before retiring for a comfortable – and very quiet – night in Harry.

It is not always so!

Comfortable it is – quiet, no, not always!

Day 15. Thursday 13th. It was only after the removal van had gone, and the estate agent called, that I discovered while explaining which key was which, that the back door of the house, which we hardly ever used, was not only not locked, but couldn’t be locked – the key wouldn’t turn! Another call for help to Andrew! He tried hard to release the lock by unscrewing everything possible, but in the end he fixed the door shut, unopenable from either side. (Leaving a door unlocked and not knowing is one thing – driving away knowing the place isn’t secure is another!) Oh – he also bought the washing machine off me!

The lawyer still wanted documentation about the contract for the solar panels. Fortunately, I’d put all documents about the house – and the flat in Cumbria – into Harry before The Men came, but I had a long trawl through lots of paperwork to find what we needed. Then I had to go to Chalabre again to deliver it, and get copies.

It began to look increasingly likely that I wouldn’t be ready for the final drive away before going to Mirepoix for dinner. I still had to dispose of yet more rubbish, vac the attic room and sweep the garage. Well, I’d set myself the target to leave on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning, so not to worry.

The evening in Mirepoix was lovely, with a good meal at one of the restaurants on the square, in the company of Michel and Diana (he French, she English) and another friend of theirs. Carol and I had met them by pure chance at a restaurant just further along. It was a Monday in July 2014 and the square was very busy (market day). We had to squeeze in to the only available table and I was intrigued by the bilingual conversation beside us, so I joined in! As a result we went together to enjoy Fish n Chips at the night market in Puivert a week later, and they invited us to join in the July 14th event in their village. Carol was just beginning show signs of being seriously ill, but we had no idea why at that time.

Day 16. Friday 14th. I still had loose ends to try to tie up, and while sweeping garage I found some items behind the connecting door that The Men had missed! I’d missed them, too, in a way, because we had been through the house together to be sure everything had been picked up. So that was more stuff to wriggle into Harry’s garage! And a young man arrived from Peter’s Pool company to vac the pool.

I had some picture books of the Lake District in Harry, with text in French, German and Japanese. I thought one of these would be a nice ‘thank you’ souvenir for Marthe. This was an emotional moment, not only because Marthe had been the first person from the village to speak to us in September 2012, but because I wrote a message in the book drawing attention to pictures of Grasmere ….

So, all done at ‘Sunejo, (I hope) I drove out and closed the gates, taking the keys, and the book, to Marthe’s house to say ‘adieu’. She understood. ‘Vous n’allez pas revenir’, she said. (You won’t be coming back.)

Across the road I had to stop once more to offload another rubbish bag at the skip. I couldn’t resist taking this photo; it was Good Friday, and I was leaving:

Day One, Thursday 30th March 2017; A steady drive southwards in Harry from Oakleigh Close, with an extended break at Peterborough services to make some necessary phone calls. 266 kms covered to arrive at Bearsteds Caravan and Motorhome Club site just off the M20.

By quill and by pen, I’ll stay here again! The feather was on the ground beside Harry when I parked up. I tried to think of a way to include it in a photo …

Day 2: Friday 31 March: Up in good time and saw the sun come up on Harry:

All jobs done and off site at 8am. A brief stop at Folkestone services and arrived at Dover at 9.20. A late breakfast on the ferry and off at Calais at 12.45 local time. Headed for Paris – slow as always, but it was moving. Carol was often irritated by my logging journeys, but it paid off this time, as I remembered a nice motorway lay-by not far south of Paris, but I couldn’t recall its name. It was in the logbook, though – Aire de Boutroux – and I found it again for the night (429kms from Bearsteds) – even had my own picnic table for breakfast, had I wanted it, but the weather was not conducive:

In fact, having left Yorkshire on the hottest day of the year and driven through temperatures of up to 22°, it got progressively colder the further south I went! An aspect of this lay-by which I had forgotten, if it was so last time I was here, is that the landscape is windfarms as far as the eye can see:

Enlarge the photo if you can and you’ll see what I mean …

Day 3, Saturday 1st April: No fooling! Using the log from July 2015 again, I knew there was a service area just 15 minutes down the road – BUT this one, like others in the sector, is currently undergoing major reconstruction and parking is especially challenging, even more so because this was the first day of the school holidays and the Parisians were heading south en masse … congested motorways are unusual in France, but this was so significant that for a while the speed limit was reduced from 130 to 110 kph. So the idea that I might have a comfortable café-croissant and use the wifi was a fantasy and I moved on after a loostop.

So we made steady progress through deteriorating weather – certainly not ‘gettinotter’! – and checking the rivers as markers of progress – the Loire, the Loir, the Cher, – white blossom dominating the hedgerows – maythorn or acacia, I couldn’t be sure – with sections of yellow gorse intervening, and cowslips in the verges, so that after 340 kms we got to the old favourite, Briance-Ligourd. It was only 4.40 pm and I could have done more, but I like this place, though Carol wouldn’t overnight here because the loos are awful. I dined on ‘lapin au van’ brought from Meltham and which had been defrosting all day, and enjoyed the changing weather aspects, including an interesting, partly double, rainbow, which had two ends, but no middle!

Day 4: Sunday 2nd  April: I was puzzled yesterday when I needed to look for fuel before reaching the ‘usual’ spot at Limoges. That’s till I realised that we hadn’t usually travelled from Calais to Limoges, but from Rouen – it does make a difference! So when fuel ran low, and not wanting to pay motorway prices, I put satnav to good use (which I’ve only recently learnt to do) and found a nearby Centre Commercial to go and fill up at. (OK, pedants – at which to go and fill up). Today, moved off at 8.45 just to go 15 minutes down the road to the Porte de Correze, where I did have breakfast this time and used the wifi, but not for long, because I couldn’t find a socket and I’d carelessly not charged the computer either at Rachel’s or at Bearsteds. (There were sockets for the purpose, but at ‘stand-up’ positions, not in the café where I was having breakfast …)

The drive becomes increasingly scenic, especially before and after crossing the Dordogne, but the weather was still not playing if the idea was that the journey south was leading to warmth. Leaving Yorkshire at 22°, you don’t expect 14° to be the best the south of France can offer! I had time to spare before meeting Rachel and Shannon off the plane in Carcassonne, and I was concerned by … unpleasant odours in the van (sorry, Harry, not your fault!) So I made time to find the municipal ‘aire de camping cars’ where, for €5 I was able to use the facilities and empty the toilet cassette (too much information? – sorry!, but that’s life!) Then to the airport, where Rachel texted me that it was ‘chaos’ at baggage reclaim, but they came through at about 5.45 and at about 7.20 we pulled into ‘Sunejo’ ….. 454 kms from Briance-Ligourd, 1,160 from Calais and 1,589 from Wakefield, that’s 993 miles … I don’t quite know how I did that!

What an unimaginative title! Maybe I should offer a prize for a better one …

First event since the last entry, and since I was able to drive again, was the annual garden fire party at Oakleigh Court Close – I notice my sometimes mocked confusion between Court and Close goes back some years! There’s an uncorrected reference to ‘Court’ in the Diary from January 2013. As Shannon’s circle of schoolfriends expands, the early part of the event involves ever more children, but later on little ones and parents disappear and adult carousing round the fire takes over. Rachel and Sean provided an ample supply of jacket potatoes etc, as well as sparklers for little people – and me. (Second childhood, you know!)

Harry hasn’t moved for a few months, but he’s been a comfortable bedroom after weekly babysitting commitments.

The timing of the hip replacement made me think again about joining in the Meltham G & S group’s “Sorcerer”, but I agreed, when asked, to be a programme seller on the Wednesday evening, then saw the show again on the Friday, as a paying customer with Chris. They’re very good. Instead of a last night party they have a post-show Sunday Lunch at the golf club, so I went to that. A good do, and a superb venue. Sorry no photos.

I saw an advert for last-minute deals on pre-Christmas river cruises and thought – “why not?” I’ve always fancied a trip on the Rhine on a floating hotel, and I’ve never been to a German Christmas market, so I booked four nights on the Regina Rheni, seen here moored at Dusseldorf and Cologne:

There were a few ‘unfortunately’s about this, but I did enjoy it overall. The first ‘unfortunately’ was that the coach transfer from Folkestone was fully booked, so I had to take the ‘fly from Heathrow’ alternative, which put the price up of course, but the worst part was the walking, both at Heathrow and at Amsterdam. I felt as if I’d done more walking than flying! But all travel plans went smoothly, including driving down to Surbiton, parking at Heathrow next morning and the (mini) coach transfer to Arnem. And it was good to spend the night at Porton Court (Yes – Court!) and enjoy a Cafe Rouge meal with Christine and Carol.

Unfortunately, any thoughts of vineyards and fairy-tale Rhineland castles making for scenic cruising were quickly dispelled! The section of the Rhine from Arnem to Bonn is flat and uninteresting, with much of the riverside given to industry and power stations:

Ports of call were Dusseldorf, Bonn and Cologne – nowhere near Berlin, and the news of the tragic outrage there came to us late on our last evening – and I visited the markets in all three places, but again, unfor …… , there was so much walking from ship to market that I was really too tired to enjoy them, and Gluhwein and Bratwurst on your own isn’t all that ‘festive’, so I didn’t bother.

(Click on the pictures to enlarge) There’s always a big wheel! A gingerbread house (centre right) and, in Cologne, a group playing Alpine Horns.

Back in England, a drive straight, well, sort of, to Yokshire from Heathrow, to be ready for a full day’s Shannon-minding the next day. She played happily all morning and slept most of the afternoon!

If only babysitting were always that easy!

And so to Christmas! I’d invited Chris, Michelle and the family to the flat for dinner and tea (rash!), and got up early on the 25th to be ready for them.

After dinner and presents, the flat was switched to ‘disco’ mode:

Chris and Michelle enjoy a brief moment of relaxation; Grandad dances with N., who then persuades her brother to have a go, before doing a ‘spooky one of her own!

Curiously, my little twiggy tree makes for the only festive window in the close!

Four days later, there was a present exchange at Oakleigh CLOSE

followed by a family meal (10 of us: 4 parents, two teenagers, two children, a toddler and a grandad) at a Toby in Huddersfield.

It’s New Year’s Eve … 2017 could see big changes, personally and nationally; this time next year I might be cancer-free, have a new home and two good legs, who knows? As for Brexit (and Trump), again, who knows, but my thoughts on such issues belong on my other site, not here. I’ll end with a ‘Ghost’ of Christmas past (it’s not Grasmere, but you get the idea):

Three events worth mentioning, that is, two pre-op and one post-op. (I’m assuming anyone and everyone reading this knows I had my first hip replacement on September 22nd 2016.)

The previous weekend, Saturday 17th September, I took Harry up to Cumbria –

Was it not I who took you?

Oops! Sorry! (didn’t know you were there!) Let’s say we went together.

In Ordnung. Ja – why did we go, other than that we keep going?

We went so that I could see one of the AmOp companies I used to perform with – Staveley Amateur Operatic Society – do ‘Ruddigore’. As it happens, that was the last show I was in with them when they last performed it in 2009. This year’s was a very good production, helped enormously by two outstanding performances from ‘Rose Maybud’ and ‘Mad Margaret’. People seemed really pleased to see me, and I stayed for the last night party. (I had been invited, didn’t gatecrash – honest!)

This is why you found – eventually – a site near Staveley instead of the usual one south of Kendal. Also why you left for the evening by taxi …

Yes, and came back in a friend’s old Land Rover, … an old friend’s Land Rover …. an old friend’s old … never mind.

Gut geschlafen? – Did you sleep well?

Yes, thank you.

Hmmm … And when you eventually managed to stir yourself, we went on, of course, to Grasmere, where we parked by the lake, you had lunch, but did not get out to go down to the water.

No, weather wasn’t ideal, and hip was hurting.

Tut mir leid.

‘s OK. It’s fixed now – I hope!

I also hope. Maybe we go some other places soon ….?

Who knows? 

Some weeks before that – this is all topsy-turvey – but with a G & S element I suppose it’s OK – towards the end of the school holidays, Franky and I took Chris and the children out for a day.

We did an’ all. Fust up, we went over the ‘ill to Holmfirth and you lot had a fish n chip lunch at Compo’s Cafe.

(Just in case any reader doesn’t know, ‘The Last of the Summer Wine’ was filmed in and around Holmfirth. Sid’s Cafe is an authentic location, though Compo’s is a later arrival, but it’s full of photos and other ‘summer wine’ memorabilia. The trouble is, you’d have to lean across tables where other folk are eating to have a good look at most of it. Need to go at an unbusy time.)

After yer lunch (you didn’t half tek yer time, eh?) we went tut Kirklees Light Railway, an you all had a ride:

 It’s a nice little outing, with an activity sheet for the children. The Emley Moor Tower – the tallest freestanding structure in Britain – is a prominent feature during the ride.

Aye, well. It were nice to ‘ave a different day out, anyroad.

Now then! You’ve had your share of trips to Grasmere.

Aye, ‘appen. Seems like you an’ Big ‘arry are plotting summat else, though.

We’re not plotting owt – anything!

Hmmm …

Don’t you start!

(My boys are getting paranoid! Or just feeling neglected.) Anyway, to come up to date, two days ago, Thursday Oct. 6th, Rachel came with Shannon, and in late afternoon sunshine – fine but chilly – we went down to the nearest playground. Unfortunately, not quite near enough for me to walk, yet, so a little car ride was needed to get there – in Rachel’s, of course. – Say nothing, Franky! You know I’m not allowed to drive.

….. (that’s Franky saying nothing.)

We, that is, Rachel, took a suitable chair and cushion from the flat, so that I could sit and watch Shannon play, but there was a little walk from car to the ‘park’. (Shannon doesn’t recognise the difference between a park, and the children’s playground which may be part of it.) 

Time to go:

And back at the flat:                         

“I think I’ll just pop down to the shop”

“No, Gaia*, No! You mustn’t … Mummy, don’t let him!”

Nor she did!

*Based on an early attempt of Shannon’s to say ‘Grandad’. I thought being the Earth Goddess was better than being ‘Gaga’….

So as I whiffled my way back through the Tulgey Wood, I did hear a cuckoo, but caught neither sight nor sound of the flame-eyed jabberwock, so there was no call for the vorpal sword (or folding walking stick as some (without imagination) might have perceived it) to do any snicker-snacking, which is probably just as well as I don’t do much galumphing these days, and Harry’s not big in chortling  ….

Ich verstehe nicht!

I’m not surprised….. What happened next?

We went back to the campsite – what was that smell all around?

You mean that fragrance filling the frangled air? That pungent aroma pervading the parkland – yes the whole site is carpeted with wild garlic, and it’s currently in full flower:

The park is on the site of the former gunpowder factory bside the river Kent, just south of Kendal (I think there was another one at Milnthorpe):

The Caravan Park covers a huge area, but pitches are just a few at a time in little clearings in the wood, or maybe indivdual spaces, like ours:

However, I was a bit late organising this trip, and I didn’t really realise it was a bank holiday. The site was full for the weekend, so we had to move on.

We did – and you didn’t really have a plan, did you?

No, but I think we got lucky. One idea was just to go home, then I thought of wild camping in Mosedale – a frequent picnic spot over the years, but the facilities of a camp site are useful, and I remembered the caravan park at the Westmorland services on the  M6, so headed there – didn’t even go in – ‘RESERVATIONS ONLY’ said the sign at the gate. Left the motorway at Shap, and wandered down to Ullswater, crossing the new, temporary (?) bridge at Pooley Bridge – the centuries old one was washed away in December – then turned up towards Dalemain and, just in case, pulled in to Waterfoot Park. At first they said the were full, but they made some calls to other sites, also full, then had a little discussion and offered me a pitch on grass, but dry and hard, and a bit ‘uneven’, but if it was just for one night or two, I could have it. There was even a fish & chip van came on site at 6.30, so no need to cook! (Though the walk UP to where it was parked was a bit challenging!)  

So gut – I did not know to where you had disappeared!

Next day was Sunday, and M’sieur was interested to find the traditional Sunday lunch. He remembered the Pub at Stainton – just up the road, where many times have we been (I also have stood outside there before), so we went there. It was good, ja?

It was spot on. A lovely roast lamb dinner, and a cheesecake dessert, taken al fresco – Languedoc, nothin! And then – up Mosedale! 

Ah, dass war ein Bischen dumm – this was a bit silly, no? Holiday Sunday, lovely weather, popular valley, but single track road ….

Well …we managed.

Yes, but we couldn’t park anywhere, and turning round was very difficult; you didn’t even take any photos!

No, but I did at the next spot – Carrock Beck, another one time favourite, especially from Plumpton –

Where?

Before your time!  Finding the beck was a bit tricky, partly because there was very little water so one couldn’t hear it till very close and also – the gorse! Head high in places and in full flower. But I did find it, then sat beside Harry for an hour or so, enjoying the sunshine and doing a puzzle or two. Then back to Waterfoot via Troutbeck and Aira and the drive alonside Ullswater.

On Monday we packed up – including the ‘water’ jobs and left Waterfoot having not had breakfast, but we drove through St. John’s and along the newly re-made road past Thirlmere and got to Grasmere Garden Centre (it’s the only place I can park without having to pay – and/or walk!) with just a few minutes to go before they stopped serving breakfast!

This is a great time to be in Grasmere and other spots nearby! Banks of rhododenrons and  azaleas are a blaze of colour, added to the the wisteria, lilac and laburnum. Once that display is over, everything turns an increasingly tired and uniform green, until autumn livens things up again. Still, I think another visit is called for in July, question is, can I retrieve the boat from France before then ….. ?

We can go together – see how is Lady Lucy.

A nice idea, Harry, but there and back is a lot of driving, and there’s only me to do it …

… and other (less important) matters.

Yes, Rachel had to be away from home on Wednesday, May 4th, and Sean, though at home, had to be in his office working, so couldn’t be in charge of Shannon full-time …. and the child-minder’s was closed. So even Grandads have their uses – or ‘Gaia’, as I am known at 14, Oakleigh Close.

I went over on Tuesday evening and found Mike, another Grandad, already in residence. Shannon was quiet once in bed so the evening was peaceful. Mike slept in the lounge on the convertible, and I slept in Harry, as usual, though his water pump is awaiting repair, but that’s another story.

Mike left soon after breakfast, so I was i/c Shannon – or was it the other way round? Her current preferred viewing is ‘Lion King 2’. We watched it through twice, or rather had it on while Shannon spread an assortment of toys and things over the lounge floor. She also gave me a lesson in ironing.

We decided to go out after lunch – or ‘dinner’ as I’m supposed to call it in Yorkshire, – and having driven past Pugney’s Country Park quite often I though we’d go there. Shannon doesn’t say ‘Are we nearly there yet?’, she just just keeps saying ‘Are we here?’. I tried to explain that we’re always ‘here’, but not yet where we’re going, which is ‘there’, until we get there. Hmm ….. might as well have been using subordinating conjunctions….. (Political rant on grammar for six year olds on my other site.)

Shannon’s concept of a ‘park’ is limited to a playground with swings and things; she hasn’t quite got the idea of an open space which may include the playground. But anyway, Pugney’s looked like a good choice, with a lake, boats, ducks, swans, Kaffee und Kuchen had we wanted them, and a wonderful playground.

We enjoyed all that, BUT – when we got to the playground, it was all shut up and fenced off! (Possibly not quite finished and ready for the season.) Park!! On the way back to the car, there was some compensation in that the swans – all six of them (collective noun, please?) – took off as a squadron (that’s not it, surely!) and “flew right over there”! Sorry, no photo.

‘Park’ now became a prority. The only one I knew for sure where I could ‘park’ close to the playground was back in Sharlston, so we set off back the way we had come. “Are we here?” was asked every minute or so, but then, quite suddenly, the questions stopped ….. Madam was asleep!  So I overshot Sharlston and did a circuit incuding Nostell and Featherstone – twice, incuding a 20 – 30 minute rest in Featherstone second time round, at the end of which Shannon woke up, quite happily, and we went to the park.

Back home, a message from Mummy told us she was on her way, and Shannon could stay up till she arrived – Sean having left to drive to Cardiff for a meeting next day. So I was saved from having to ‘do’ bedtime ….. probably just as well!

Was there something else? Dunno, really. Franky got hammered by a hailstorm:

– Put yer ead back inside, yer daft bat! It’s too soft to be oot i this!

Well, thanks for that – Pal!

Monday 14th March 2016  Saw the orthopaedi … orthopedia …. the hippy man. Yes, both hips are knack …. er – worn out! Which is worse? was the question he kept asking and I couldn’t answer because it varies from day to day. Certainly with more walking in Manchester on Sunday than I had bargained for, I’d have said ‘the right one’. Anyway, he sent me for a further x-ray there and then and confirmed from that, and from manipulation, that the right one (which was treated in France!) was in greater need of replacement. But prostate cancer can move into the bones, apparently, so a bone scan is the next step. But after that there are still issues – hip replacement and radiotherapy do not go well together, even with a ‘decent’ interval between, and brachytherapy doesn’t suit someone on Tamsulosin ….  I’m going to have to decide what to have treated first, indeed, whether to treat the cancer at all ! My current preference goes against the general opinion of those who’ve expressed one!

Tuesday 15th March  ‘New’ bed delivered! Chris was here to help move stuff around and assemble it, but a call from N’s school led to a change of plan and we went together to pick her up and take her home – nothing serious, in the end, I think. Back at the flat, two men brought the bed up the stairs, but it wasn’t their job to put it together. I tried, but it was a bit challenging (to the hips), and anyway I found I needed an allen key which I didn’t have. So later in the day we went down to collect Chris – and a key – again and came back to do the job. Let’s hope it’s comfortable ….

It’s been a long time since the last entry to this photo-journal. For obvious reasons, I think. But having ‘escaped’ from Facebook, I thought maybe I would try again. Today, Sunday, 6th March 2016, I came back from a weekend in York to my flat in Meltham, between Huddersfield and Holmfirth, in Yorkshire. The York weekend included a visit to Cousins Chris and Beverley Jaques, to whom thanks for the hospitality, and an Esperanto Group meeting in York itself. Also two nights in Harry – new readers please remain puzzled for a moment or two!

Harry had to be returned to his (temporary?) home on Sean and Rachel’s drive in Sharlston Common, Wakefield, so I was treated to Sunday lunch (“evermore thanks”) before carrying on to Meltham in Franky. (Franky, or Frankie, if you think he’s a ‘she’, is my car!)

But before lunch (I believe as a Yorkshireman, I’m supposed to say ‘dinner’, but I’m not, am I? Someone asked me that yesterday, in Esperanto, – ‘do you feel like a real Yorkshireman now?’ I replied that I thought that took at least 10 years, so in the meantime I remain a Lancashire-born Cumbrian!) where was I? Before lunch, when I arrived at Oakleigh Close, Shannon came to see me in Harry; we did some drawing and played hide-and-seek: