It’s Saturday morning. Sitting here in the dining room of my parents house on the Wakefield/Leeds borders, I’m mulling over my itinerary for this pleasant autumnal day. As I’m easily distracted, though, I don’t envisage this period of contemplation will be overly protracted.
My mum has been in the kitchen updating their fridge magnets with the latest news on her beloved husband, who remains in-situ in a West Yorkshire hospital. It’s an eccentric one-way exchange, although I’m convinced I heard the Paris fridge adornment proffer “Send Mally my love.” as she vacated the kitchen.
Maggie (my mater) is to visit him at midday with her friends Mary and Thelma; I will venture down to engage in conversation with pater later in the afternoon. He has asked if I can take him something nice from the fridge, so I’m taking him the salad tray and the detachable cheese compartment……. No fridge magnets though, as he’s envious of all the attention my mum gives them.
As it stands, I’m not even sure which of the fine Leeds Teaching hospitals my old man will be in residence. Doctors have mentioned about moving him to an oncological ward within another local institute. I asked if it was for him to receive more specific treatment, to which he replied “No, they have bigger bedside cabinets, so he’ll be able to house all the bloody kitchen fittings and utensils you keep bringing him!”
It was re-assuring to see my dad in better health and spirits yesterday. It’s astonishing how much someone can perk up if you take them their favourite fish slice and liquidiser fitting.
If he’s as lucid today, he will be pleased to hear his beloved Yorkshire cricket team eased their relegation worries with victory yesterday. Not to mention during the evening Leeds Rhinos rugby team also prevailed in their Super 8’s match. So his health allowing, if Leeds United also win today he should be as happy today as Tuesday afternoon when I took him his egg whisk.
During Mally’s first spell in hospital he asked me to bring him some music to listen to. When I asked who he wanted to listen to he responded “Frank Sinatra, Anthony Newly, Mel Torme and Bobby Darrin.” Being a doting son, I took him their cd’s in the next day. I was hoping he meant the cd’s of those classic crooners as they’re all long passed, making a personal appearance tricky!
Before I have my little sojourn to engage with Mal the malingerer, I’m hoping his grass dries sufficiently for me to give it trim. Due to meteorological conditions conspiring against me, it’s probably nearly a fortnight since I last treat it to a cut……. Like mine though, my dad’s garden is pretty low maintenance if you provide it with a regular amount of TLC.
My mum has just left for her hospital bound venture with two friends. As she sauntered towards Mary’s car, it struck me how in her dotage she has started walking like a Thunderbirds puppet. Momentarily, I’m struggling to think of which Tracy Island inhabitant she resembles most……. All I do know is that it’s not Brains!
