Archive for April, 2015

Resurrection guinea pig

Eliza and Robin

The story of Easter was of Mr Skittles, the one-eyed guinea pig, and his grave illness. On Good Friday, he was found immobile in the hutch. No better after a couple of hours, Eliza, Robin and I took him to a Bank Holiday vets in Cheadle. A vet pulled his limbs, stretched him and scrutinised him. Trauma or brain injury, she suggested before injecting him with antibiotic and muscle relaxant. This set Mr Skittles gasping and he was rushed away to be given oxygen. ‘We should think about his future,’ the vet cautioned. Eliza and Robin understood.

With nothing pressing and the weather wet, we decided to give it an hour and we went to a cafe. The kids were subdued, but realistic. An hour later, prepared to say our farewells to a chronically sick guinea pig, we were back at the vets. ‘He seems a lot better’, we were told. Back home, we kept him in a box in the hall, fed him some red pepper and tried to give him water. Eliza took on the task of administering his antibiotic course.

I woke first the next morning and lifted the cover of the box to find him looking up at me. Back to the vets where they discharged him. By Easter Sunday he was back in the hutch with Dandelion – risen again.


Gabe has joined the local gym. He has completed the induction, which has warned him against using the weights. He has been there twice – he rides the bike, runs, uses the rowing machine and the upper body exercise machines.



Easter Sunday walk

Kids in pyjamas, watching TV: “What are we doing today, Daddy?”

“We’re going for a walk.”

Cue complaints, arguments, insubordination. Then, Robin: “I don’t mind. Where are we going?”

We arrived in Bollington in bright sun. While I orientated myself, the boys played with a tennis ball and a basketball hoop and Eliza scaled a climbing frame. We set off, up to a Viaduct and noisily along a disused railway line. The noise was chat, not carping. Gabe set the question: “Money no object, where would you go on holiday?” Then, “if you could have three second homes, where would they be?”

“One would be under the sea,” said Eliza. 

We completed our outward stretch, then headed back along a canal. Holding my hand, Eliza went through a detailed description of one of her non-sub maritime second homes. 

As we came back into Bollington, Gabe moved onto ‘your favourite three course meal’. L had two – an Indian and another meal. From that it was a straightforward step to a pub for lunch and a group of, if initially reluctant, then ultimately satisfied, walkers.