The sun shone on two ‘outners’ in Cleethorpes yesterday.  As immigrants to Cleethorpes we will always be ‘outners’.  Even so we took advantage of the blue sky that shone down on us yesterday morning and made a really good start to the day.  Our first port of call was Maureen’s bank to deposit her recent very small winnings from Premium Bonds. The cashiers were really supportive, and eased her through investing her winnings.

We walked further down Sea View Street in pursuit of more LP’s but to no avail.   What we used to call Glad’s Shop in memory of Clarice’s friend seemed to be out of stock. However, our luck really changed as we made our way through the Market Square.  I eased Maureen into a hairdresser’s salon for a facial with a ‘cunning plan’ in mind.  While the Beauty Therapist carried out her work I chatted to the owner of the salon.  I wanted to find out how her husband had faired with his appointment at a Teaching Hospital near Sheffield.

Pete, Margaret’s husband had a stroke at the same time as Maureen.  He was fortunate to be red lighted to the Stroke Unit in Scunthorpe for treatment.  Pete has similar problems with his vision to Maureen.  Margaret was full of praise for the approach of the Neurologist at Sheffield, and was optimistic that help was at hand.  She encouraged me to seek a referral for Maureen: Lemony, who commented yesterday, wouldn’t expect me to do anything else!

I made the classic mistake in the afternoon, and evening, of forgetting the toll that stroke has taken on Maureen’s energy levels.

We returned home from our trip to Cleethorpes and stuck to our usual routines. I rustled up lunch, with Maureen busying herself around the house.  Our siesta went well with an hours rest for me longer for Maureen.  Then I suggested that we deliver a piece of haddock we had bought for Maureen’s Aunty Clarice.  As always Maureen’s compassion outweighed her own best interest, and my naivety.

We were well received by Clarice but were soon overtaken by events.  This meant that conversations about the day before were elongated.  Reflections on the funeral took place around assisting in furniture removal, from Clarice’s house to the next door neighbour’s. Therefore, we were with Clarice far longer than expected.  Not content with this misdemeanour I went even further in the evening.

Following tea, as the music session was underway I interrupted my Songbird in full flow. She was accompanying Nat King Cole as I encouraged her to take a phone call.  Not an unsolicited call but one I had encouraged.  Maureen returned from the call exhausted, and took to the sofa shortly afterwards.

I got my just reward for my misdemeanours as I tried to prise Maureen off the sofa at 10 pm.  She was grumpy, almost hostile, from being woken from her slumbers.  Once upstairs she struggled with her night time routines. As she stood looking dazed in the bedroom, she said she was: ‘asleep on her feet’.  Not at all surprising after the day I had subjected her to!