One of the great benefits of retirement is that one's mornings are not ruled by the clock. I can still remember when I felt like a white rat in a laboratory experiment. Every morning the alarm triggered the same reaction. Doze a little bit longer listening to the radio then "Up!". Ablutions. Get Dressed. Race Downstairs. Swift breakfast including scalding tea. Kiss wife. Grab keys and bag then out into the morning where it was always 7.52 when I turned the ignition key.
Nowadays I tend to get eight hours sleep no matter what time I go to bed. I rise in a leisurely manner, don my dressing gown (American: robe) and drift downstairs to make a pint of tea and whichever breakfast I desire - perhaps mini wheats, porridge, toast with a banana or boiled eggs. Then it's on to the computer to check blogs and what not. I might not take my shower until ten or eleven.
Today it was different. After waking at six, I went back into the nether land that we call sleep and when I next opened my eyes it was 8:42. 8:42! Oh dear! I was up and into overdrive as in the not-so-good old days of work. Ablutions including shower. Dressed. No time for breakfast then out to my pal Clint who was surprised to be stirred so early. I was parked outside Frances's house at bang on 9.00.
I was driving her to the hospital.
When I dropped her off, I told her that I would be in a nearby pub until 10.30 and if her appointment was short she should come over and join me. The pub in question was "The Francis Newton" - part of the nationwide Weatherspoon chain. I ordered a traditional breakfast and tea which I consumed before dipping back into the book I am currently reading - by Raynor Winn.
Frances didn't arrive. She was in the hospital for almost three hours and as you might imagine she had to have more blood tests and meet with the head honcho in the haematology department.
Fortunately, the platelet count had risen significantly - almost reaching a "normal" score. Immediate panic over but she will be back for another blood test next week. Platelets are clearly an issue for her in pregnancy and she bled a lot when Phoebe was born.
In the meantime, it was all a big relief for Shirley and I so we took that beloved brave daughter to "The Rising Sun" on Abbey Lane for lunch. It was quite busy in there - mostly retirees - but we didn't mind waiting.
Later, Ian sent over the latest scan of the baby that he and Sarah will be meeting for the first time in October. He really looks like a proper baby now. He was smiling at me with his little fist clenched in the manner of a revolutionary. He will be called Zachary or more often Zach for short and he will be loved and cherished as all babies should be.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/SuirJVg
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