October 2020 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

A nightmare

Nothing ever changes, nothing changes at all. Those song lyrics popped into my head on one of our walks this week. But as I later realised, the actual lyrics in the Del Amitri song are: Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all. Both versions are correct at the moment, we’re living a very straightforward, unexciting lifestyle, thanks to the pandemic and the lockdowns and rules and regulations and guidelines and mainly, concern for our own safety.

But there are of course variations on a theme. Sometimes we walk that way instead of this way. We walked to Wythenshawe Park and home again, around a big loop.

It makes a change to walk on grass rather than footpaths and muddy tracks, but it was, let’s say, a bit damp in places. Our very own, local Grimpen Mire: plenty of well-hidden puddles to catch us out and some a bit easier to spot.

We haven’t been to the zoo for a while, but I was delighted to see a Hippo in Northenden.

Online, we watched a couple of events from Manchester Literature Festival. A tribute to Nina Simone, and an interview with Tori Amos, who is currently locked down in Cornwall.

Also online this week, some rascal started a rumour that Woolworths was coming back to our High Streets. This is the good news we Brits have been waiting for, so what a shame it turned out to be a hoax. I still have my faithful Woolies notebooks though, and if your offer is high enough, you could own it!

Walking by the river is always a pleasure, though sometimes tempered by the concern that it might start raining before we get home. The Sun tried hard to make itself visible through the 99% cloud cover, and I did catch it in the river, briefly.

I found these skulls in the window of the tattoo parlour next to Church Lane Chippy, not sure if they’re always there or just for Halloween. I don’t often look in windows of tattoo parlours, but I was waiting for my chips!

We trudged through the Autumn leaves in the woods, and again mourned the fact that William wasn’t with us, exploring the jungle.

The bed of wet leaves on the ground at this time of year always reminds me of cross-country running at school. It was only ever an Autumn and Winter activity, because in the Summer term, we did proper athletics instead. And yes, I have manipulated the colours in that picture.
‘Don’t take that picture, Mick, they’ll think you’re a burglar casing the joint,’ said Liesel. ‘Well, if they don’t want me to take a picture of their house, they shouldn’t put a pretty, red bush in front of it.’

In other news, one day, Liesel baked 48 cookies. What an achievement! We rose to the challenge and consumed them all within three days: well, no need to let them to go stale!
As I write, it’s Halloween and our much-loved and much-missed grandchildren are having a great time in their suitably, spookily decorated house.

As a tangential nod to Halloween, in my radio show this week, I built a body from spare parts found in song titles and song lyrics. After last week’s ‘dreams’ theme, I had a bit of a nightmare this week, when the PC refused to accept that the microphone was connected. The only solution was to reboot. Which meant the show began uncomfortably late. Listen here and listen out for Martha!

Pedalling and walking

Manchester is now in Tier 3 restrictions. This change won’t affect Liesel and me too much: we don’t go out to places, we can still walk around our neighbourhood, we still enjoy the odd takeaway coffee and we weren’t socialising at all. Not even with our grandchildren which is by far the most upsetting thing about this whole crazy situation.

We found more fruit growing in Northenden.

We had quinces in Chessington too, but even though I lived in that house for a third of a century, I never ate one nor made jam with them. I think I was put off partly by not being 100% certain they were real, edible, quinces, but also by the fact that we often saw one with a single bite taken out, by a fox or a squirrel, or whatever. But just one bite? That tells me, they just weren’t very tasty.

Our default walk is along the river, towards Didsbury and back. On one occasion, the following discussion took place.

Liesel: Look, there’s some Queen Anne’s Lace.
Mick: Oh, I thought it was Fox something, not Foxglove.
Liesel: Uh?
Mick: Fox’s something. Fox’s parsley.
Liesel: You mean Cow Parsley?
Mick: Yes, that’s what I said. You call it Queen Anne’s Lace?
Liesel: Yeah.
Mick: Is that the same as Cow Parsley, then?
Liesel: I dunno. Maybe.
Mick: I’ll look it up when we get home.

So I looked it up, and they are indeed the same plant. Other names include Wild Parsley, Adder’s Meat, Devil’s Meat, Bad Man’s Oatmeal, Keck (like the observatory in Hawaii), Wild Carrot, Bird’s Nest, Bishop’s Lace and Anthriscus sylvestris. Or, if you look elsewhere online, they’re not the same thing at all, but very similar. Please don’t trust any botanical information on this blog. Or on the rest of the internet.

As well as the vegetation, we do enjoy seeing our friends, the herons, geese, ducks and mergansers.

It was good to see the Environment Agency cutting back some of the grass, part of the flood protection scheme.

Actually, the path was supposedly off limits today, but we didn’t realise until we saw the sign at the other end of the closed section.

On at least one occasion this week, I went out for a walk without my phone, without the camera. I am so pleased we didn’t encounter anything unusually photogenic.

I had to pre-record my radio show this week so that I could attend the hospital appointment that clashed.

They asked me to take my mask off and put theirs on. I’m not sure it was better than the cloth one that Liesel had madefor me: it slipped off much more easily and more often.

Still, I enjoyed the 15 minutes on a supine cycle, pedalling at about 65 rpm, increasing my heart rate, while they monitored the performance of my old ticker. I think it’s good news, nothing wrong with the arteries, but I still have no explanation for the sporadic episodes of breathlessness that accompany the most innocuous of activities. For instance, a few days ago, I had to sit down and catch my breath after towel-drying my hair. So, to prevent that sort of thing happening again, I’ve decided to stop taking showers.

We really are in strange times and it’s messing with our minds. Each year, we watch the Tour de France and La Vuelta a España on TV. This year the races have all been re-scheduled for later in the season. Plus, we’ve been able to watch the highlights from Il Giro d’Italia as well. So that’s all three of the cycling Grand Tours available for our viewing pleasure.

But, even more unusually, this year the Giro and the Vuelta overlap by a few days. This makes keeping track a little more difficult.
‘They haven’t mentioned Chris Froome at all today.’
‘That’s because he’s not in this race.‘

Even worse when the commentator says the cyclists are approaching Borneo.
‘Borneo? That’s a long way from Spain.’
‘This is Italy.’
‘Ah. Well, Borneo’s a long way from Italy too. And it doesn’t snow this much in Borneo, I suppose.’

In fact, they were in Bormio, a small town in north Italy, and I’d misheard.

What else have we been up to? We binge-watched both series of the TV drama ‘Liar’. It was quite intense, something I enjoy but Liesel struggles with, sometimes.

The theme of this week’s incredibly long radio show was Dreams and Dreaming. Martha is the star of the show, no doubt!

Bulldog clips and fences

You just can’t find a bulldog clip when you need one.

We enjoyed a few local walks this week, by the river, and beyond. It’s colder, especially when wind fresh from the Arctic comes along.

Of course, it’s not really a croc. We’re not in the Northern Territory any more, sadly, but we’re still on the look-out for dangerous animals. I wonder how far this log travelled? Is it now lodged on the part-time island in Northenden? Or is it a potential threat to shipping in the Irish Sea?

It wouldn’t be a proper walk without encountering mushrooms. Are these liberty caps? Magic mushrooms? We now need a mycologist on our panel of experts, along with the botanist, arborist, architect and historian who can help out with my embarrassing lack of knowledge in those fields.

Liesel went to bed, but as the loyal fan I am, I stayed up until midnight to watch Erin McKeown online. She was performing outside her home in New England, celebrating the 20th anniversary of the release of her first album, Distillation. It was a fun show, and I slept well when I eventually turned in.

Sometimes, we glimpse a half-decent sunset from our living room, it’s just a shame about the intervening buildings.

We wandered over to Fletcher Moss Park and enjoyed a coffee under The Joshua Tree. ‘Not the Joshua Tree’, said Liesel, but I disagreed, pointing out the commemorative sign attached. I never knew Josh of course, but I was moved by seeing the lyrics from an Oasis song.

Elsewhere in the park, tree surgeons were at work. I say ‘surgeons’, but another word came to mind. This was a very nice tree, it didn’t harm anybody.

If it’s Tuesday, it must be time to watch Jessica Lee Morgan online again. So I did.

We don’t see our herons every time we go out, but it’s always a delight to be the first to spot him. Or her. This one was sitting there, surveilling his territory. Sometimes, we see one rooting about in the grass, maybe tracking something, but definitely treading quietly and carefully.

Indoors, Liesel is busy with her crochet and now, some more needle-felting with the WI. This chap with a big hat is very cute on our bookshelves. While Liesel was busy with this, I continued my search for a bulldog clip.

For the first time in a very long time, we walked over to Cheadle Hulme and back. Just because we can’t see William and Martha in the flesh doesn’t mean we can’t give them books from time to time.

This was by far the longest walk of the week, and we both felt much better for it. As we walked over a stream, I looked it up. It’s called Micker Brook, and, look, according to Google Maps, just over there a bit, there’s a bagpiper for hire.

What a shame that so much of our road system is geared up to cater for the worst of the bad drivers. This barrier makes it ridiculously difficult for pedestrians to cross the side road at this point. I wouldn’t want somebody driving into my house either, but that’s what speed limits are meant to be for.

This is the ever evolving ricketty fence in Gatley. The elderly gentleman can often be seen repairing it, introducing new branches, planks and, as you can see here, a couple of wooden pallets on this occasion. Apparently he’s always refused any help in repairing the fence properly, once and for all.

As we wandered through Gatley, I spotted this shop. Hooray! I went inside and asked for a bulldog clip. ‘Sorry,’ was the reply, ‘we don’t sell bulldog clips.’ But you have loads in your window, I pointed out. I was glared at, so I still don’t have a bulldog clip. Oh well.

Ah, this fence looks much better, especially now with its new Autumn colours.

And, sorry, but here’s the oblogatory weekly photo of fly-tipping here in Northenden. This time, a carpet and lots of garden waste.

Anyway, never mind that, here is some much more uplifting (I hope) family news.

Helen and Adam have been together now for fifteen years, and it don’t seem a day too long. To celebrate, they went for a balloon trip over the vineyards and the curious kangaroos of New South Wales. What an adventure!

Nearer home, Martha is doing very well at school. The first parents’ evening revealed nothing embarrassing, and the teacher is very happy to have Martha in her class, very interested, very observant, even to the point of noticing something that’s lined up for a surprise later on.

William told his Mummy one morning ‘I can’t get the puff out of my nose.’ A wheat puff, a vital component of his breakfast. Mummy and Daddy looked up the orifice but couldn’t see anything. Was he joshing? Hovering between laughing and sheer panic, a solution was found. I’d never heard of a ‘mother’s kiss’ or ‘parent’s kiss’ before but it’s very effective. So here’s a tip for parents of little ones with foreign objects rammed up the hooter:

Tell the child they will be given a ‘big kiss’
Place your mouth over the child’s open mouth, forming a firm seal as if performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
Close the unaffected nostril with a finger
Blow until you feel resistance caused by the closure of the child’s glottis
Give a sharp exhalation to deliver a short puff of air into the child’s mouth, which passes through the nasopharynx and out through the unoccluded nostril
Repeat if necessary

In William’s case, the wheat puff shot out and ricocheted around the room. But if not, you might shift the object enough for it to become visible.

The following morning, at breakfast: ‘Mummy, I can’t get the Rice Krispie out of my nose.’

And finally, if you’d like to hear two hours of fabulous music about my desires to be a spaceman, listen to the show here on Radio Northenden.

Ammies and mushrooms

It’s been a wet week weatherwise. So much rain, so many deep puddles. The only good thing about the torrential rain is that, when it peppers the living room windows with millions of raindrops, we can’t see the leaden grey sky behind.

Again this week, we didn’t venture far afield, we just walked everywhere, in all directions, mostly avoiding the rain.

We haven’t seen the geese for a while, we thought they’d migrated, but apparently not.

Wythenshawe Park is a nice big space, and there’s always something interesting to see.

No, of course I didn’t laugh when the little dog tried to carry the huge stick through a gap that was too small. I did laugh though when it looked at me as if it were my fault.

I’d forgotten there were tennis courts in the park, and a few people were having a good game, but the girls weren’t grunting like they have to at Wimbledon.

Liesel and I might take up tennis one day, when ‘this’ is all over. My worst ever tennis related injury, years ago, was blisters on my hand from gripping the racquet too tightly.

Mushrooms are taking over the world, or at least, our small corner of it.

Another day, we watched a couple of people playing golf on one of our local courses.

I suggested to Liesel that she bury the ball in the sand, just for a laugh, but she declined the offer.

Liesel and I might take up golf one day, although my GP advised me not to while I was having back issues when I was a postman. Sarah and I used to play Pitch and Putt when we lived in Peterborough. My claim to fame is that one day I pitched the ball so hard, it hit a passing bus.

It was my turn for a flu jab this week, so I walked to the GP surgery, hoping it wouldn’t rain until at least I was on my way home. Did I mention we’ve had a lot of rain recently?

It looks like this small, bright yellow, protective barrier wasn’t up to the job after all.

I had a fantastic idea as I passed by this residence:

Rain panels. There must be a way of harnessing the energy generated by falling rain. And, as I may have hinted, there’s a lot of rain about at the moment. I just need to work out a few technical details.

I walked through Hollyhedge Park, another peaceful place, although you can still hear the hum and rumble from the nearby motorway.

Northen Etchells Bowling and Social Club bowling green

Liesel and I might take up bowls one day: we had a go in Chessington a few years ago and apparently, I’m a natural. A natural what, our host didn’t say.

We’re looking forward to the time when we can once again take William and/or Martha to a playground. Or anywhere, really.

This is the home of Wythenshawe Amateurs Football Club aka the Ammies. Which is confusing, because nearby Salford City FC is also known as The Ammies. There’s a lot about football that I’ll never understand.

Liesel and I might take up football one day but, no, actually, it’s very unlikely. My games teacher at school knocked any real interest in football out of me, and Liesel doesn’t like being out in the rain.

But, if Martha or William take up any of these wonderful sports, or anything else, we’ll definitely be there to support them, whatever the weather!

Ooh, exciting: here’s Northenden’s latest tourist attraction.

If you need a three-piece suite, it’ll be in Homewood Road for a few more days.

We didn’t quite make it all the way to Didsbury this week, guess why?

Liesel and I might take up jogging one day, it looks so much fun, we just love running with shoes full of water, although I do realise that’s not compulsory.

Listen to Mick’s Multi-lingual Music Mix on Radio Northenden, very nearly three hours of music from 6 continents, 29 different languages, OD on DB, plus, enjoy my Album of the Week: Where Does It Go by Denise Johnson.

Mushrooms mushrooming

It’s a thin line we’re treading at the moment, all of us, during the coronavirus pandemic. We’re fighting off the mubble-fubbles, that feeling of despondency and sense of impending doom. A word brought to my attention this week by Susie Dent, and as I promised myself at the time, I have now used it. Yes, it’s a thin line between staying safe and staying sane. I think Liesel and I are managing OK, but the sudden change in weather conditions can so easily affect our mood.

This week, we stayed local, walking as far as Gatley one day, and driving as far as the GP in Benchill one day. It’s flu jab time. Liesel’s had hers, I’ll have mine next week.

One of the trees nearby, on our default walking route by the river, has decided to grow some mushrooms. We watched their progress during the week.

For a change one day, we walked in a westerly direction beside the river, on the south bank on the assumption that there would be fewer people on that side.

But we’re never too far from some rubbish being dumped in the river, of course.

We haven’t seen these ducks before, and we’re not sure what they are. They have the brown head of a pochard, the long bill of a merganser and the grey back of a widgeon. And in flight, the silhouette of a cormorant.

This was a nice clear day, the river was low and as still and calm as we’ve ever seen it.

Online entertainment this week included Jessica Lee Morgan performing her ma, Mary Hopkin’s, gorgeous album Earth Song/Ocean Song in its entirety.

I didn’t count them all individually, but I’m fairly certain I generated as many goosebumps as I did the first time I heard the LP, nearly half a century ago.

I also watched Terra Naomi online, and she was kind enough to give me permission to play one of her songs on my radio show this week. Which one? Listen here to find out. The theme was Medical Complaints, hosted by me, Doctor Mick. There’s a David Bowie song for every occasion, and I always play a record from my Mum and Dad’s collection. That’s the plug for my show this week. No more adverts.
Our Ocado order was delivered and as usual, I went straight for the bread. Quite expensive, but it was very nice, very tasty, thanks for asking. So what was wrong with it? The packaging. So much packaging. It arrived in a paper tray, like you would usually expect to find a cake in. This paper tray was inside a wooden crate. I’ll say that again. We had a loaf of bread in its own wooden crate. Which was made in and imported from France. This whole was enclosed in a paper bag, which, on its own would be quite adequate.

All we can do is apologise to the planet, and move on. ‘Look up, look down’, they say. But if I do that, all I see, mostly, is battleship grey clouds where the blue sky should be! Oh well, mustn’t grumble. Sorry.

We walked to Gatley again, for the benefit of Liesel’s eye-lashes, which to me, now seem darker, longer and thicker, but they were really just tinted.

While waiting for Liesel’s treatment to finish, I got my kicks at Lounge 66, the coffee shop just a few doors along the road. I sat outside because I felt there were too many customers inside.

It started raining, absurdly loud on the awning above: I was worried about having to walk home in the shower, but it only lasted a minute or two. The newly washed blue sky with its clouds was reflected in my coffee.

Hang on, blue coffee? Well, it was the correct colour, but I played with the hue in my phone’s photo editor.
Northenden is rapidly becoming the fruit capital of north west England. Believe that and you’ll believe anything. We’ve had blackberries yes, and we missed out on the apples in Kenworthy Woods. But walking home a slightly different way, guess what we found?

Grapes growing in someone’s garden, just round the corner from where we live.

And pears.

How are the mushrooms coming along?

They are bigger, more numerous, and spreading up the tree.

By the river, we passed some yellow bobble plants. Small yellow balls against the green foliage. Again, my Masters in botany has let me down.
Finally, it’s conker time! I really want to play conkers with Martha and William, but we still have to maintain social distancing, and I don’t think playing conkers with string two metres long is very practical.