a visit

Today was earmarked for a visit to my father's cousin, recently widowed.  That left time before and after the trip for some more housework and an hour's worth of ironing.  Now that the beeswax polish has dried on the dining table, I can see where I missed a few little patches.  It has recently collected a large number of short clawmarks at the far end, testament to the cats' increasing age and decreasing ability to make a clean jump.

My poor cousin once removed certainly can't make the jump, because his hip is giving him severe grief, a sad decline for a man who has always remained a healthy weight, and used to be a keen walker and skier.  He declined the offer of a lift from his flat to the restaurant where we were having lunch, saying that he could walk as long as we didn't mind walking at his pace.  Having a bad hip sharpens your perception of your locality, and by now he knows which side of the road to walk on, to avoid stretches of pavement with a camber, since walking across a slope is worse than being on the level.  Two years ago we were striding along the beach.

He made me the incredibly touching present of his late wife's wedding ring, saying that he didn't know who else in the family would like it, or had the right hands.  Her's were incredibly tiny.  It won't fit anywhere near over the knuckle of my left ring finger, and is a touch loose on my right little finger.  I could keep in a box and look after it, as I have promised to do, but rather like the idea of adopting it, signet ring style, for my pinky.  It is on my finger as I type, while I test within the safety of the house whether it will slip off, but I suspect that to feel secure it would need taking in very slightly.

Aldeburgh was surprisingly quiet.  I'd thought it would be heaving, during the Festival, but my cousin explained that during the day the festival goers were all at Snape Maltings.  We ate in The Lighthouse Restaurant, which I thoroughly recommend.  The front window is almost obscured by awards from Hardens, Michelin and others dating back years, but it deserves all the plaudits it receives.  It was almost a waste to be going there for lunch rather than dinner, since my system is not geared up nowadays to large lunches, and I was full up after my fish and chips despite foregoing bread, starter and puddings.

My father's cousin is waiting to hear whether his general health will permit him to have the hip done.  I hope it does.  He had his heart done at the age of eighty, and got five years' of active use out of that.  Reading the East Anglian Daily Times website over a cup of tea I saw that Ipswich Hospital was over two million in the red two months into the financial year. so I hope that whether my father's cousin gets his hip depends only on his clinical circumstances, and not the state of NHS finances.