July 2020 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Steptoe and Son

We’ve been enjoying some walks by the river while the Sun shines; and even when it rains, sometimes. No trips further afield this week, though.

I called it a rowan tree, Liesel said it’s a mountain ash. Who knew those two were the same thing? Probably everybody except me.

Our old friend, the heron, has returned after a few days’ absence. He tends to stand in the same spot by the weir, not bothered by the other water-loving birds.

Sometimes, the simplicity of an ivy leaf draws the eye. I suspect the owner of the garden behind this fence is desperately trying to cut back the ivy as it spreads.

We didn’t see our gorgeous grandchildren this week, but they had a lot of fun in the garden, and visiting Lyme Park and Quarry Bank Mill. Thanks to Jenny and Liam for these photos. Here’s William insisting that the sunglasses are on his ears. He might just have a point.

And here’s Martha rehearsing her rôle as Sister Maria. The hills are alive, with the Sound of Music.

Meanwhile, in a perfect example of rôle reversal, here is a big stick picking up a William.

One day, we picked and enjoyed the first blackberries of the season. There will be a glut very soon. I think that’s the technical word. Unfortunately, we failed to locate the raspberries we’d seen a couple of weeks ago. Maybe we were mistaken, or maybe we were just too late. The apples in the woods aren’t quite ready for picking yet.

It’s fun and funny watching the geese walk up the weir, against the strong flow of water. Just as I’m vocalising this thought, one chap decided to show his wings off, after all. I’ll show you, Mick, he seems to be saying.

I’m no botanist but we think this might be an orchid*. Liesel didn’t believe me when I told her where the word ‘orchid’ comes from, nor what an orchidectomy is. The trouble is, when she doesn’t believe me, I can’t help but laugh even more, convincing her even moreso that I am making it all up. Which makes me laugh even more!

* This is not an orchid, after all. “It’s Himalayan balsam, an invasive plant that can take over river banks. It’s got explosive seed pods that send the seeds far and wide. As a conservation volunteer I’ve spent a few weeks pulling it up before it sets seed.” Thanks for your hard work, Ruth, and thanks for the information.

It was a lovely day to take a boat out. So somebody did. Not us.

Liesel spotted this heron on the golf course. Is it the same one? Or do we have at least two living in the area? As I told Liesel, a heron in golf terms means a score of 5 under par, but I’m not sure she believed me, to be perfectly honest with you.

There have been some fabulous innovations here in Northenden recently. We have a lot of rain, as I may have mentioned once or twice, so it’s good to see that, at last, the local authorities are installing bus shelters for very short, single passengers.

Liesel is making good progress with her crocheted blanket. Next time you see it, the last few rows may have changed. I think she quite enjoys unravelling a row or three and having another go, with different colour yarns.

I really hope this apple tree growing behind St Wilfrid’s Church is bearing Bramleys. Because then, it would be a bit like old man Steptoe: Wilfrid Brambelly. This old character was again brought to mind by a return visit from the local rag’n’bone man.

In other local news: our green, food waste bin wasn’t emptied this week. The new washing machine is doing a great job, and much more quietly than its predecessor. The 24-hour rainstorm proved too much for the gutters, again. The motion-sensored communal lights are again totally insensitive to any movement, staying on all day and all night. Radio Northenden has a shiny new website: watch this space.

Hello and goodbye

We bade a sad farewell to a wonderfully entertaining old friend this week. The book of Sudoku puzzles we purchased in Japan over a year and a half ago is now propping up the world’s recycled paper mountain. All the puzzles were attempted, most were completed successfully and some remain not correctly solved, probably due to misprints in the given numbers, rather then our incompetence. Sayonara!

We witnessed some unusual activity down on the river. A group of kayakers passed through Northenden on their way from Stockport to Liverpool. I doubt they were paddling all the way, but I’m sure the highlight of the trip was gliding down the weir, without falling out

Single kayak, the other one hadn’t fallen out

Most of them carried on towards the Irish Sea but a couple decided to have a break on the island.

One thing we don’t miss from Chessington is the eyesore that is Tolworth Tower. Sometimes, a setting Sun would illuminate it. We have our own version here too. A shorter block is visible from our luxury apartment, and it too is a blot on the landscape. But again, when the Sun sets, it almost glows and doesn’t look so bad, after all.

We went over to see the family again. Liesel had made some face coverings for Jenny and Liam, as we’ll all be compelled to wear masks inside shops from next week. We timed it so that we could spend time with William too, albeit at a safe distance.

Liam trying to retrieve his hat from William

From one William to another. This building is close to where we live. Liesel and I learned a lot about William Morris and the British Arts and Crafts Movement some years ago, during the course of one of out Bicycle Beano holidays in Shropshire. Ah, Shropshire, oh to be that far away from home!

It’s a nice memorial, but what a shame the building is now a carpet showroom. That’s progress, I suppose.

So there I was, ambling around the sordid streets of Northenden, when I came across this Royal Mail van.

Why did I did a picture of a boring old Royal Mail van? Because it’s foreign. Post Brenhinol tells me it’s Welsh. Why do we have Welsh vans in Manchester? According to the postal worker, they just supplied the wrong vans to our local delivery office. Can’t even rely on Royal Mail to deliver their own vans to their own offices, how ironic!

As I was taking the picture, a young man on a bicycle asked what I was doing. He seemed quite upset that I was taking a picture of a van. I said I thought it was interesting. He said it was like him taking a picture of my house. I thought, no it’s not, but never mind. The driver returned, I engaged in conversation with my (sort of former) colleague, and the interfering busybody cycled off. A couple of minutes later, I realised I should have told him that as a share-holder, I actually own the van. Several hours later I realised that what I should really have said was that I was off duty at the moment, but if he wanted to come down to the station later on to argue the toss, I’d be happy to see him there.

Northenden, especially the Mersey, is fast becoming the bird-watching capital of Manchester. Not that we know for certain, rarely going anywhere else at the moment!

One, day I’ll go with a proper camera and get, better, closer-up shots of the heron and the cormorants, if they hang around for a while longer.

We did go further afield. Hello, outside world! We booked a visit to Chester Zoo, having not been since early March. And yes, of course there were roadworks and hold-ups on the motorway. The car park was quite full, which was disappointing. This was by far the furthest we’d travelled since the lockdown and we hoped for a good day, but from the first moment, we worried that it would be too busy to keep safely distanced.

We stayed for a couple of hours and left just in time before the rain arrived. There were a lot of people there, and despite the zoo’s best efforts, with one-way routes, and Keep Left signs, far too many people just weren’t even attempting to maintain a safe distance. There are loads of hand-sanitising stations, though, which is good.

This little chap joined us while we ate our picnic lunch. Yeah, we found a picnic table away from the maddening crowd and felt comfortable and safe for the first time, really.

We found a part of the zoo that was new to us, on this visit. A sunken garden with a magnificent sculpture. How come we’ve never seen this before? Probably because today, more than on any other occasion, we were deliberately walking away from and trying to avoid the larger groups of people.

Noah and the Four Winds Fountain Sculpture

As we were leaving, walking past the elephants, I spotted a large aeroplane. I thought it might be Boeing 747, a jumbo jet. I thought this was a great photo opportunity: a jumbo jet and an actual jumbo in the same shot.

But, no, it was just an Airbus pretending to be a whale, an Airbus Beluga.

Back in Northenden, guess what? Yep: more flytipping outside Barnado’s, despite the wooden hoarding.

On the other hand, there are some pretty flowers around.

And if the zoo, the Mersey, TV, radio, podcasts, books and puzzles aren’t entertaining enough, some of my dreams recently have been absolutely amazing. I’d love to share them, but nobody needs to know that much about the inner workings of my psyche.

PS Thanks again to our aeronautical and botanical correspondent, Helen, for the informative comment below!

Stretching our wings

This week, we got out and about a bit further afield, despite the rain and drizzle in some cases. Wythenshawe Park is worth exploring, and in the current social distancing climate, where I go is often determined by where there are fewer other people.

As I passed by the mushrooms, I thought it would be nice to see an actual real-life Ickabog come along to pick and eat them.

Fireweed known as Rosebay Willow Herb in the UK

Yes, a California poppy, not a fancy buttock-up.

Many thanks to Helen, our horticultural correspondent, who identified these lovely flowers.

Someone sat on this tree too long and bent it

According to the annotated sign, this beech is the oldest tree in Wythenshawe.

The notice board has been neglected lately, for obvious reasons, but when things get back to (more) normal, I’m sure we’ll be following up some of the activities on offer.

I suspect we’ll be cycling over to the park so we can play baseball in the glasshouses.

Back at home, Liesel continues with her latest project, crocheting a blanket, using many colours. I often hear her counting the number of stitches in a row, and I try not to interrupt too much.

For the first time since the lockdown, and for quite a while before, come to think of it, we walked to Jenny’s house. We walked the long way round in order to avoid the local, very smelly, recycling centre.

A gorgeous flower bed in front of someone’s house

We sat in the garden for a while, enjoying watching Martha play on the swing and count and do sums with the large plastic numbers from her floor mat. Sadly for us, William was taking his nap. The previous day, they’d all been to Reddish Vale for a walk.

William fell in the water but he was alright, so he fell in again later on.

It was a beautifully sunny day, we should have been drinking beer in the garden, really. Well, not Martha, I suppose.

The clouds were fascinating to watch, I guess it was more windy at the higher altitude.

Exciting news in Mick and Liesel’s household. We have a new washing machine and after installing it, one of the engineers thanked us for all the stairs. There’s only 32 of them, but I wouldn’t want to be lugging heavy white goods up and down those, either.

A new tray has arrived for the dishwasher, to replace the old one with its broken wheels. The new one is grey, not white, but I think we’ll get used it.

In the repair department, I successfully reinstated the knob on the waffle-maker. It now rotates between ‘off’ and ‘max’ without going round and round forever. Previously, we had to temporarily remove the knob and use pliers to turn the control inside.

I also reattached the lampshade to the ceiling in the living room, after it spontaneously succumbed to the gravitional pull of planet Earth.

We went to Dunham Massey again, and we noticed the car park was much busier than it had been last time. A lot of the grounds were roped off, to protect the deer and their fawns.

It was a while before we saw any deer at all, so I wonder if they’re retreating further away now that more people are turning up each day. I suggested to Liesel that she start a stampede and I’d film it,while yelling ‘Liesel, Liesel, LIESEL, LIESEL, Jesus Christ, LIESEL, LIESEL…’. She could be the new Fenton. But she said ‘No’.

For a moment here, I was taken back to New Zealand where the ferns are numerous and very pretty, especially the new, undeveloped ones. At some point in today’s walk around Dunham Massey, I took my 23,000,000th step since I first acquired a Fitbit all those years ago. I now use a mechanical pedometer, and I’ve missed a few days due to dead batteries, and being locked down and locked in, but I feel that this week, at last, my daily walk is getting back to normal.

These are the only badgers we saw today, but sadly, neither of them is a real one.

I had to take this picture of the silver birches, Liesel’s favourite trees, and again, I wondered whether we should have bought one of Teri Landseth‘s stunning paintings while we were in Anchorage.

There is a one-way system in the garden, with some paths completely roped off, and it works quite well, until someone is walking really slowly and somehow occupying the whole width of the path!

Another day out, this time, the default loop to the river Mersey, in the drizzle.

Some Dads are really good. This Daddy duck was showing his ducklings where to shelter from the rain: underneath the motorway, of course.

This week, we continued with our re-watch of Doctor Who on TV. I watched another play from the National Theatre, The Deep Blue Sea by Terence Rattigan. And we watched more from Glastonbury.

Ah, this is the section you’ve all been waiting for: the exciting, local news from Northenden.

The Barnardo’s shop has had its shopfront hidden by the installation of black hoarding. This is to deter people from ~~kindly leaving donations~~ flytipping outside the shop.

The bus stop has been cleaned and at last, we now know for sure that we’re supposed to wear masks on public transport, and that we can pay with a contactless card or phone.

This is the season for insects, which is OK, but these clouds of midges are annoying, especially when they won’t keep still so I can get a decent photo.

The smell of newly cut grass is pleasant, but often leads to a sneezing fit. This happened by the river the day they cut the grass by the river.

One morning this week, I was woken by what I thought were hundreds of geese flying round and round our house. I’ve no idea how many there were, really, but a couple of days later, we saw quite a few had set up camp on the island in the stream.

Northenden: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

As mentioned previously, we’re re-watching old series of Doctor Who, one or two, sometimes three episodes a day. I know how he/she feels when she/he encounters the Daleks yet again. I have the same feeling whenever I some across bindweed out in the wild. At least I no longer have to fight this particular alien invasion in my own backyard.

Many, many years ago, when walking through the woods in Guildford, we would pop the little white flowers off, like miniature shuttlecocks. Granny-pops-out-of-bed, we called them. Who knew that such an innocent, childhood pastime would result in total world domination by this weed?

Much as we love Northenden and the surrounding areas, the local authorities are never going to win an Oscar for best supporting infrastructure.

Potholes on roads are just annoying, a result of too much traffic and not enough investment, maybe. On the other hand, dumping your rubbish in the woods is not acceptable.

Looking on the bright side: at least this rubbish wasn’t ‘donated’ to the local Barnardo’s charity shop, as is often the case.

I wonder if the perpetrator of the fly-tipping was also responsible for this. Someone was desperate to get onto the golf course, by the looks of it.

And here they are: golfers having a good time

As an antidote to the black bin bags blighting the landscape, I was desperate to see some colourful flowers but in the end, I just thought, thistle do.

The river Mersey was flowing quite fast in the aftermath of a lot of rain. I’m not sure whether this bloke was fishing was food or trying to pull up an old tyre for his car.

After the rain, you can see the water’s just a little higher than usual, due to its incursion onto the island.

My phone installed a new update this week and I didn’t realise at the time, but some of its operations have changed. That is the reason I have no footage of the geese having a good time. One was walking up the weir then sliding down on his belly. I filmed him a couple of times. Except I didn’t. But I do have some mad footage of me moving about in between those attempts, featuring some nice shots of my shoes and the grass and the sky.

I’ve mentioned the rain a couple of times. But you ain’t seen nothing yet! It rained all night again, and when we retraced our steps next time, this is what we encountered. Remember that baby pothole? Well, see what it’s grown into.

Remember the island? After a whole night’s torrential rain, the river was flowing as fast as we’ve ever seen it, and it had risen significantly.

Plans for scrumping in Kenworthy Woods have been made: we’ll just give these little beauties a chance to fully ripen.

Bin day is always exciting. Are we going to be woken up really early or not?

Despite walking around Northenden for several hours this week, we didn’t see a single person doing the hokey-cokey with their rubbish. I wonder if the fly-tipper was dancing under cover of darkness?

It didn’t take more than 24 hours before the river began retreating, revealing the island once again from its watery depths.

In fact, it was a Spring-like day, the Sun was out, you could feel its heat on your back, but it was ridiculously cold in the shadows. The insects seem to like it though, having been hiding and cowering away from all that precipitation. Flies, bees, butterflies, ladybirds, midges, you name it. No, not locusts.

Liesel joined in a Zoom call with her old WI chums from Chessington. I wasn’t eavesdropping, honest, I was just finishing my breakfast. But my ears pricked up when I heard Liesel ask if they were all doing penance? I was hoping to hear salacious details of the ladies’ sinful, sordid activities. But no. To mark and commemorate the current pandemic, they’re all making pennants.

In other, local news, Radio Northenden has received funding from Manchester City Council’s Neighbourhood Investment Fund! So it looks like our local, parochial, isolation station will continue broadcasting beyond the lockdown.

Thanks to and RIP Ennio Morricone who wrote the music for the film that inspired this post’s title. He composed over 400 scores for cinema and television, as well as over 100 classical works. This makes my 300 blog posts seem incredibly insignificant.

Repairs

We paid a return visit to Lyme Park, where the gardens are now open too, but not the house. Again, it wasn’t too busy: maybe the rain kept some people away.

We had a very pleasant walk around the gardens, admiring the plants and the views.

Yes, I am still wearing that tatty old titfer that travelled with me a couple of years ago, much to Liesel’s consternation. One day, I’ll go shopping and buy a new one. One day. When this is all over. When it’s safe to go shopping. Meanwhile, we spent some time watching the squirrel. It made no attempt to climb up for the bird food. Instead, it waited nearby for birds to come along and shake the feeders, then it would pick some food up from the ground.

We were just a little too far away, so I didn’t manage to get pictures of the robin, various tits and other birds.

It was raining very lightly, not enough to be uncomfortable. But the Park suffered from huge floods a few years ago, and parts of the park are still recovering.

If I’m going to get Lyme Disease, I suppose it makes sense to pick it up at Lyme Park. I felt a pin prick on my leg, saw a black thing, brushed it off before I had time to interrogate it. Apparently, depending on what you believe, you can only catch Lyme disease from female ticks, and only if they’ve recently been on board a deer, and only if they stay attached for three days. As I didn’t ascertain its gender nor its recent history, I just hope that Germoline does the trick. But I shall be taking pictures every day to see whether the bite mark is getting worse.

We followed a track that we thought would take us back to the car park. Unfortunately it didn’t. This cow and nocow else in the herd bothered to tell us that we were on a road to nowhere. And, by the time we reluctantly turned around, to retrace our steps, my phone had died and we couldn’t even look at a map. On the way back, several cows were blocking the road, so we climbed over them to get by.

Liesel’s becoming more crafty as the (now voluntary for us) lockdown continues. This week, she did some fabulous needlework.

I like this, because it looks as though it’s floating.

On one of my local walks, I had a close encounter with Uri Geller.

As you can tell, there has been a lot of rain recently. Liesel woke me and asked me to take the car in for its MOT. ‘Of course, darling,’ I said. It was raining again and Liesel quite rightly didn’t want to walk home in it. So I took the car in, but there was nobody at reception. Our time was 9.00 but another man there was booked in at 8.30. The car-wash people next door told us the car mechanics are usually in by this time.

Someone did eventually roll in. He took down all our details in very slow hand-writing and I thought, this doesn’t seem like the nice helpful mechanic Liesel had spoken to a few days earlier, when he’d repaired something on the car.

I walked home in light drizzle, not bothering to go via any of the local coffee shops, as they weren’t yet open. At home I said that the guy wasn’t very helpful, I shouldn’t have had to give him all the details all over again. My reward was sausages in a baguette with lashings of English mustard, thanks Liesel. After further discussion, we realised that I’d only gone and taken the car to the wrong place. I should have gone to a garage a bit further along the road. Liesel phoned the correct place, apologised for her husband’s incompetence and admitted she didn’t know where the car was currently located. I asked Liesel why she’d chosen Oakfield Autos. ‘Because it contains every vowel, of course.’ ‘Oh, don’t start that nonsense again,’ I said.

I walked back to retrieve the car from the, as it turns out, nameless place where I’d left it. With profuse apologies, I got the key back and drove the car about 30 feet to the correct venue. The guy behind the counter here tried very hard not to laugh and yes, this place did seem much more professional, and he was very helpful.

Again, I walked home in the rain, again choosing not to visit a café. Later in the afternoon, the mechanic called, the car was ready, so I traipsed back, in the rain, and brought the car back home.

In a wonderful government initiative, pubs and restaurants were allowed to reopen on 4th July, a Saturday. Locally, the light rain seems to have kept most people away, and I was pleased to see there was no large crowd outside our local pub, as I’d expected. Even the main road was deserted, although there was a pre-lockdown volume of traffic. Liesel and I have no desire to visit such places until we feel the coronavirus is much more under control.

The world famous Northenden heron against a gllomy grey sky

Liesel’s at it again. This morning, she knitted (knat?) a pair of fingerless mitts. Any colour you like as long as it’s white, at least until yarns of other colours are delivered.

Fingerless Mitts (not to be confused with the 1980s group of the same name)

This was lovely to see, our Martha making up a story based on a book sewn together by her talented Granny, Sarah, over 30 years ago.

Today’s highlight, after Martha? The dishwasher repair man. He couldn’t fix the broken parts, but we will get a whole new tray, which seems an unnecessary waste of resources when a couple of little plastic wheels would do. So that’s the car and the dishwasher that required repairs. What’s the third item? Well, sadly the washing machine is beyond repair, so we’ll be investing in a new one soon.

Oh and as I write, of course it’s still raining! Sideways, the wind is so strong.