Is that a patch of blue?

It feel as if the clouds have lifted somewhat. Nothing much has changed – MTL still has numbness in his hands and feet but I feel we have turned a corner. The other day I blind-folded him (courtesy of some old air-line mask) and guided his hand to touch:

a/ A metal grater.

b/ A silk scarf.

c/ A rough towel.

d/ The bristles of a clothes brush

e/ My flesh.

His reactions were:

a/ A rough pan scrub.

b/ Silk.

c/ A pan scrub

d/ A piece of cloth

e/ A kind of cloth.

Not very scientific but at least I know he does feel something and when he sees his doctor and consultant later on they can do their own testings. Of course it may be nothing to do with the chemo.

He continues to eat and sleep well and has got a tan from sitting in the garden. I seem to have lost the gift of sitting, soaking up the sun but do lots of pottering in the garden.

Good news - our eldest grandson has at last passed his driving test, has a car and is all set to drive the 24 miles to his new permanent job which would be very difficult with public transport. Another ray of sunshine – my dear friend Margaret is coming to spend three nights here so we can celebrate the ‘girls’ August birthdays. There’s been some wilting since she left for Cheltenham.

Writing – other than blogging - is going well and I’m following Daisyfae's idea of doing something for thirty days. This should ensure I complete the present project in good time. Below are some shots of The Northfield Hotel where we lunched last Sunday and I met an interesting woman in the Ladies Cloakroom. I hope to continue our conversation when she comes to coffee this week.

My regulars may remember some time back when my younger son and I spent a week-end at the Duke of York Inn in Iddlesleigh. I now learn from an article by Nicola K Smith that a regular of the pub (now up for sale alas) is Michael Morpurgo. Not only did he used to listen, spell bound to his friend the late Ted Huges, but he also met a Captain Budgett a First World War veteran:

“He talked in this moving way about how it was to be there as a young man of 17, leaving this tiny place and going to the horror of the trenches, and he said the only person- he used that word- he could talk to about how frightened he was, was the horse. I was very touched.”

Morpurgo wrote a book about the village which tells the story of the boy and his horse. This resulted in War Horse and Steven Spielberg has just finished filming the big screen adaptation. Who knew?