Walking with the dogs in a July sun (how long ago we saw that glow), I took the path through the fields, ending at the church yard. There, sitting in the warmth on a graveyard slab, I jotted some lines that I have just refound, and I have put them here as a reminder of how moods fluctuate. Following the brain scan on Tuesday (Whisky, scans and phones), every time I forget a name or word, or do something silly, I immediately say: "it's in the brain!". However, we received a phone call from the hospital telling me an appointment has been requested for a whole body (from "eyes to thighs" as the woman put it) PET scan at Addenbrookes. So now we wait upon another test, searching for possible secondaries, but this is good news as we think they would not bother with further tests if the brain scan had shown extensive spread.
In Clare, the Bell Hotel has reopened after two years of closure, so on Thursday we went in for a drink to see what it was like. They greeted us at the door with a glass of prosecco, and plied us with trays of canapés, which was all very welcoming, so yesterday we booked a table to test the food. We were the only people in that restaurant. It was not good. The chef told us they had refurbished the kitchen, and invested in a smoker he wanted, so much of the food was offered as smoked. I opted for the grilled sea bass, unsmoked. It came with a smokey smell and a mountain of salad, and was very dry. Ann had the only vegetarian option: a strange mix of mangled vegetables like a weird coleslaw without the mayonase. We were the only people in that resaurant. Afterwards the chef came to see how we'd enjoyed it. He boasted that he liked to add some smoking to 'improve' the flavour. We left much of the meal, but being their first night did not like to complain. However, they virtually complained about us, saying 'did we not enjoy it', or 'was it too much?' Even the coffee was undrinkable. I asked for a latte, but their machine had not arrived so they made it with Nescafe and half and half milk. But they didn't warm the milk, so even the coffeee was cold. Afterwards, we retired to the Swan, our favourite haunt for post-prandial drinks.
