(10+(9+8*7)*6)*5+4*3*2*1

I was hoping the the cough I’d been suffering from would clear up before Liesel returned from Anchorage. But it didn’t. It persists even now, a week later, although it is much better. It’s not Covid, so you’re not going to catch anything too bad by reading this, if you need any reassurance.

The river was high and flowing fast and at least one local golf course was completely submerged. The greenkeepers were definitely feeling below par.

At home, I could have fed the 5,000, if I knew that many people. Purely from the crumbs I managed to shake out of the toaster. What a messy process that was.

Liesel’s flight landed early at Manchester Airport, and I parked the car nice and early too. The grey Manchester murk was very welcoming, although Liesel did admit that it was much warmer here than in Anchorage.

Both of our sleeping patterns were less than ideal this week. Liesel’s jet-lag didn’t help, but then, neither did my nocturnal coughing fits.

Knowing I had to get up early to go the the airport, I had an early night in bed. Compare with our grandchildren who were both very excited to stay up until midnight to welcome in the New Year: Martha told us several times that they didn’t get to bed until ten to one!

It was a bit of a wrench dragging my carcass out of bed early on a second occasion, I must admit. But it was worth it. Liesel and I travelled into Manchester by tram and we met the family in the foyer of Aviva Studios in good time. We’d all come to see Lost and Found, the magical stage show of Oliver Jeffers’ story, adapted by renowned children’s TV and theatre producer Will Brenton. We also enjoyed original music composed by Gruff Rhys, guitarist and vocalist from Super Furry Animals.

What would you do if a lost penguin rocked up at your front door? You’d help him by taking him home to the South Pole, right? That’s what the boy in the story did, too. At one point, his boat was breached on a sandbank, so a volunteer from the audience was invited to help. William’s arm was up faster than a Tory minister giving a lucrative contract to a BFF.

On stage, Liam tried and failed to push the boat, but young William showed us how it was done.

He was very pleased with himself. It was a very good, entertaining show, Martha and William both enjoyed it.

We ate lunch at Albert’s Shed, which isn’t a shed, but a restaurant built on the site of a shed once owned by a popular local man, named Albert.

The excessive rain recently also affected the local canal network. Lock 92 on Rochdale Canal, in Castlefield, was overflowing copiously.

From our flat, we can see when the car has misted up inside, even though there’s nobody breathing in it. We’re both upstairs and unless someone’s squatting in our vehicle, why would it steam up like that? Well, Liesel went out one day and sent me a message: The car was misted up inside because the rear window was cracked. How did that happen? Did I slam the back door too hard onto a suitcase or something? Had someone driven into the back of the car? How big a crack, I hadn’t noticed?

But no, Liesel didn’t mean the glass was damaged. What she meant was that of the rear windows was very slightly opened, letting cold air in. It’s easy to blame the children, they often wind down the rear windows, but we usually check afterwards and close them. So, even after all these years, Liesel and I can still have linguistic misunderstandings. Separated by a common language, as they say. Cracked ≠ cracked open!

I would like to describe our lovely, long, Winter walks in Northenden and beyond, but the new year has begun in a much more sedentary manner than we would normally enjoy. In other words, we’ve pretty much stayed indoors.

In the radio show this week, on the occasion of what would have been David’s 77th birthday, I played two hours of songs by people who have worked with or who have been associated with him. Happy birthday David! Celebrate with David here.

The good news is, there are now over 100 Mick’s Music Mix shows on Mixcloud, so you can spend over eight days listening, without interruption, without sleep, without food, at the end of which you might not feel very well but at least you will have achieved something.