Friday 26th December 2014

The calendar says it is a Friday, but it could be any day of the week. I have been off nearly a week now, and the days are beginning to blur together. My back has been painful all the way through, some times worse than others. I have said if it is still bad in a week I will go to see the quack, we shall see.

Christmas Day.



We slept in until nearly eight. We had switched the heating off so the boiler switching on would not wake us, on the downside the house was chilly of course. We have a coffee then we get dressed and put on our walking shoes as we have decided to go for a walk around the harbour. Dover port is very busy, one of the busiest in the world, and there is always traffic queuing to use it, except on Christmas and New Years Days. And as the sun was shining down from a clear blue sky, no better day for a walk.



We drive to the Duke of Yorks, where there is no traffic, turn down Jubilee Way which is just as empty. Small barriers had been set up at the entrance to the port, but there was no one trying to get in, we carry on and park along the sea front, get out our coats and cameras, and off we set towards East Cliff.



We cross over and take the footpath the other side of Athol Terrace, heading up underneath Jubilee Way, taking the steps leading to the edge of the carriageway. We see there is a gap between the barriers to allow us to walk down beside the road instead of back down the path. And this meant having a birds-eye view of the port below, which was all now silent and still. The occasional car goes past us turning down onto Townwall Street, but what is this: a lorry? Yes, the first of three lorries we see slow down on approach to the port to find it closed. They would have to wait until 6 on Boxing Day morning.



We walk back to the car, go home for a cuppa. And a large piece of Christmas Cake.



We do some visiting, off to Whitfiled to see the old folks, all is well, but then the rum has yet to be opened. It is all very pleasant, the food is nearly cooked, and they would be eating at half two. We were not eating until evening, anyway, as dinner time approaches for them, we say goodbye and brace ourselves for a visit to Nan. Not that we don't like Nan, its just we are so powerless to change anything for her. As we enter her room, we see her head propped up on three pillows, but as she is now so thin, her blankets hardly change shape where her body is, what we can see of her arms looks like pipecleaners. She is low, but happy to see us. She can hardly see us, but her TV is fixed, but she cannot see the screen as it is the other side of the room, and the volume is not loud enough for her to hear. She says again that her wish for Christmas is just to fall asleep and never wake up. We hope for the same thing, really, as at the moment she is just waiting for death, but death does not want to come. I think she is getting a little stronger, but I could be wrong.



We give her a drink as she is thirsty, but her cup and bottle of Lucozade are out of reach, so unless someone would come in, she would just go thirsty. She does have a call buzzer, but it is mostly ignored, and it is her belief that the button as the nurse's desk is switched off. We have to leave as lunch is being served, so it is back home to pop the turkey in the oven. It was too big to weigh on our scales, so I have to guess, and decide three and a half hours should do it I cover it with silver foil, set the over to mark 5, and sit back and wait for the smell of cooking to appear. It takes 90 minutes, but once it does, oh wow, smells amazing. But it would be four hours from start until carving time.



I prepare the vegetables, mix the Yorkshire pudding batter; all is in control. Serving time is just past half five, it looks wonderful and we have a bottle of champagne to wash it down with. We are stufffed, and are fit for nothing else than settling down to watch Dr Who before we begin to clear up.



And that was your Christmas Day at Chez Jelltex.