Monday, April 12, 2010

Vines and Tonsils

The Easter school break is dragging on for another week. There is absolutely no need for it: Easter sunday was over a week ago - we have celebrated accordingly, and now it is really time to get back to our daily routines. And teachers bemoan their lot!
Actually, Daughter #3, having competed in a race on the River Weaver near Runcorn in Cheshire, has gone down with a very nasty bout of tonsillitis. In fact, she was so poorly yesterday (Sunday) that I took her to the walk-in NHS clinic where we waited for nearly two hours, only to be told that she had a viral variant of the disease that would not benefit from antibiotics. When we emerged, the lovely sunny day had dissolved into a cool and blowy grey one. We had spent the best part of the day surrounded by the city's drug users who seemed to have all run out of their prescriptions at once!

The Husband is back at work today, mute with misery and apprehensive of a thankless day of stress and chaos. he seems to be missing his spring dose of foreign travel and, to that end, has been browsing the budget airlines for cheap fares and trawling Europe for city-break destinations. Valencia seems promising, but there is a dearth of reviews upon which he likes to base his decisions. By the time he decides we're going, I imagine the cheap flights will have been snapped up. Still, half the fun comes from the planning, and I'd be quite happy to go back to Rome again, or Barcelona, or Venice, or anywhere....
Because the girl was poorly, we failed to make it for the intimate meal we'd promised ourselves (no-one wants to look after a germy kid, nor would we expect them to) or have a fun day out on our last day together. We ended up spending the day pruning the grapevine back severely and spending a good couple of hours chopping the branches up into small enough lengths to fit in the green wheelie bin (they didn't all go in). I kept thinking of the passage in John's Gospel 'I am the true vine and my father is the vine-dresser: every branch that beareth not fruit in me he taketh away, and every branch that beareth fruit he purgeth that it might bear more fruit.' Well, if that's anything to go by, it'll be bearing grapes a-plenty! Still, it's done now and the whole area is a lot lighter and airier, as is next-door's garden, which fell into its shadow. It's one of my pleasures to sit under the vine in the summer and read, with a glass of wine to hand (not from our fruit, unfortunately), something I hope to do into extreme old age.

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