Jakob is bored - Kate is self-isolating at The Lodge with Peggy (semi self isolating?), leaving Jakob at something of a loose end - he has tidied his desk drawer and taken advantage of Kate’s absence to re-order his wardrobe. As happens so often in the new-lockdown format, he is talking to himself and running over a telephone conversation he had earlier that day with a child, whose pony was limping. Jakob interrogated said child - which foot was the horse limping on? Was there any swelling?
Jakob admitted to himself that Alistair would have handled the situation more sympathetically - indeed, Jakob’s bedside manner makes Doc Martin look like Florence Nightingale - and he further admits that perhaps he shouldn’t have said to the child that limping could have a number of causes, including laminitis, which can be fatal. “Animals don’t require chat - that’s why I like them” he says to himself.
His latest attempt to pass the time is as a guinea pig (or perhaps that should be a guinea-dog) for Kate’s latest idea, which is virtual yoga classes. Kate seems to have taken on board some of Jakob’s customer relations philosophy, as she tells him not to over-think everything and to stop talking. “Switch off your analytical brain” she tells him when he asks which breed of dog he should be envisaging during the downward-facing-dog exercise. In the end, Kate gets so frustrated that she mutes Jakob.
Things aren’t helped when the Internet signal keeps going down. During one of these enforced breaks, Jakob analyses his relationship with Kate - he says she looked very sexy doing the exercises and he misses her. Kate is looking for a USP to differentiate her from Lucy (the manager at Spiritual Home), who is offering a virtual yoga programme. Kate is annoyed because Lucy introduced this when Kate was away in South Africa recently and she (Kate) thinks that Lucy has stolen her thunder somewhat.
The Internet connection is restored, only to be halted by a piercing scream from Kate; apparently Hilda, the killer feline, brought her a present of a live rodent, which was not appreciated. Peggy thinks that it was a field mouse, while Kate is convinced it was a rat and starts sanitising the Persian carpet and the room in general. Now I know that Kate’s knowledge of the animal kingdom is limited, but there’s a considerable size difference between a rat and a field mouse. Kate is further exercised when Peggy uses bare hands to pick up the rodent - she’s an old lady and Kate is trying to keep her safe; she already has to stop her chatting to neighbours and others.
Peggy tells Kate to call the doctor, as Kate has been acting oddly - she’s moody and sleeping badly (sounds like normal for Kate, if you ask me). For herself, Kate is concerned - what if there is something seriously wrong with her? “Who’s going to look after Gran if I’m not here to do it?” she asks herself.
To save you worrying, I’ll tell you now that Kate’s health is fine and her symptoms are due to early onset of the menopause, or as Kate puts it “I’m now officially past it” and “I’m never going to be pregnant again.” She is worried about how Jakob will react - she recalls how pleased he was when they both thought that Kate was pregnant - perhaps will he leave her now?
Kate canvasses the thoughts of some female relations, though strangely not from mother Jennifer, nor sister Debbie, who has herself experienced early menopause. Auntie Lilian is all for getting stuck into a course of HRT and has horror stories of women who didn’t do so, but Kate is reluctant to fill her body with chemicals and is determined to stick to natural remedies. Lilian’s pro-HRT advice is given because Jakob wouldn’t like it “if you turn into a sweaty, balding, emotional mess.”
Peggy’s reaction is that the news makes her feel really old (newsflash Peggy; you are really old), to which Kate asks her Gran how she thinks it makes Kate feel? Jakob, it turns out, thinks that it is a perfectly natural human process - “Of course I still love you” he tells her over the phone, prompting her to wish that she could be with him, as his advice is much more helpful than that of her female relatives. Even better - Kate has a light bulb moment and says excitedly that she has found her next niche and her USP: “Yoga for the menopausal woman!”
Lilian’s answer to the menopause (assuming she can remember that far back) can be summed up as ‘G&T’. In fact, she takes part in one of Kate’s virtual yoga lessons - somewhat unsteadily, it has to be said - leading Kate to muse that most people tend to take their refreshment after the exercise is finished, not before. Still, maybe Lilian is a bit depressed, as she reflects on the fact that Dan phones Shula at least once a week, whereas Lilian has not heard from her son James since lockdown began. OK, I know that any right-thinking person with an IQ larger than that of a retarded gnat would fall to their knees and thank God that they hadn’t heard from James, while reflecting that lockdown is not all bad news, but there’s no accounting for a mother’s love, I suppose. Whatever, there’s always the G&T therapy for Lilian to fall back upon.
Lilian and Justin were at the centre of one of the major stories of last week; Lilian is pleased that her animal weight loss programme is going so well, and Amir, Aziz and even Ruby are slimmer and fitter. However, she fears that this does not apply to herself, as Justin has taken over the kitchen and is regularly producing highly-calorific meals from a variety of cuisines. If she cannot find a way to stop him, thinks Lilian, she will be a dress size larger by tomorrow teatime.
Her cunning plan involves buying matching his-n-hers purple tracksuits (or sweatsuits - both phrases were used) and dropping unsubtle hints about how the grass needs cutting. Justin is incensed - he will wear the tracksuit only over his dead body - plus he is angry because Lilian has dug out a family tree tracing book that James bought him for last Christmas. The irony of this is that Justin and his family are not exactly close - his relationship with his sister involves sending a Christmas card (what? Every Christmas?) - and could best be summed up as ‘not giving a toss’.
Lilian shouts out of the window (Justin is mowing the lawn sans tracksuit) - does he fancy a tipple? The answer is an inaudible growl; “That’ll be a ‘no’ then from Grumplestiltskin” Lilian says, smugly and goes back to her in-depth examination of her collection of box sets - both DVDs and chocolates.
Lilian is encouraged when Justin begins to get interested in his family’s history. Indeed, Lilian hears him in his study, chortling loudly; it appears he is reading Parish records and came across notification of a cousin being declared bankrupt, which tells you a lot about Justin’s character.
Lilian then goes to see to the horses and gives Aziz some exercise. As she leads him round in circles, she thinks how good it is that he and Amir are losing weight and keeping fit. She goes further, resolving to lose some weight herself. “No carbs, no chocs and slimline tonic in the gin” she promises, but more of this later.
As the saying goes, ‘be careful what you wish for’, as Justin’s genealogical interest quickly turns to obsession. He has found a long-lost (female) relative and is spending a lot of time on the phone to her, with much laughter on both sides. If truth be told, Lilian is getting a teeny bit jealous and she is looking for a way to distract Justin from his family - perhaps Kate might be able to help? So it is that Justin hears the doorbell ring and realises that Kate has left him something on the doorstep. What could it be? I’m afraid I am going to keep you in suspense a little longer.
Justin is perfectly aware of how Lilian is feeling and, when she returns from the horses, he decides to tease her about his relative. Her name, it turns out, is Justine, but when he was younger, Justin could not pronounce this properly and referred to her as “Tinny”, and the name stuck among the family. The reason he is spending so much time with her is that he is advising her on her business - she bakes celebration cakes and Justin is formulating a revised business plan for her.
He is surprised that this is giving him as much of a buzz as working for Damara. Lilian, he thinks to himself, just doesn’t get it “but this is me; this is my work and my play; it’s what I’m good at - what makes me tick.” It gets worse for Lilian, as Justin has discovered Kate’s present, and it is an interactive game of golf on the TV. While Justin is practising his swing downstairs, a dejected Lilian lies awake, dressed in her special nightie, but all to no avail - Justin shows no sign of coming to bed any time soon.
“Well done, Lilian,” she says to herself, “hoist by my own petard once again.” She debates whether or not to go downstairs and get stuck into a box of chocolates, but she couldn’t face the look on Justin’s face. What makes it even worse is that Justin is playing the game, in front of the TV, dressed in his purple tracksuit, which he describes as definitely the most comfortable attire he has ever worn for golf. Poor Lilian’s day is now complete.
The Lilian Bellamy Diet: How to Lose Weight, the Lilian Bellamy Way
1. No carbs
2. No chocolate
3. Only slimline tonic to go with the gin
The theory works like this: 100ml of ‘ordinary’ tonic contains approximately 41 calories, while 100ml of slimline tonic only contains 1 calorie. Therefore, every time Lilian takes a drink, she is saving 40 calories.* Consequently, a (for her) modest 15 single gins in a session, each with 100ml of tonic, means a total saving of 600 calories, or approximately one-third of the Public Health England recommended daily calorie intake for women in the UK.
This takes no account of the calorific value of the gin which, let’s face it, is the same colour as water, so it cannot be that much, can it?
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