July 2024 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Croeso i Gymru! Part 2

Before setting off in a westward direction, we thought we’d explore the area around Mermaid Quay in Cardiff. We were delighted to see a postage stamp size area of blue sky, but definitely not yet enough to make a pair of sailor’s trousers. But it expanded and we were blessed with a beautiful, sunny and later on, warm day.

Cardiff Bay looked more appealing today: well, we didn’t have to view it through mist. There was a group of male singers to entertain us down on the dock, deliberately performing songs that I couldn’t sing along to. We passed by a guided tour group, and briefly thought about joining, but I think we would have been hampered by the Welsh narration.

We spotted some TV cameras near the Welsh Parliament building, and assumed that wasn’t unusual. Well, today was the day Vaughan Gething resigned as First Minister so there was a lot of coverage on TV. Later in the evening, we failed to spot ourselves wandering around in the background of news reports.

We’re invited to hold the torch and make a wish for peace. Cardiff Bay is historically one of the first multicultural ports in Britain. Many people from across the seas of the world have come here, bringing with them their cultures and histories, their hopes and dreams. Cardiff welcomed them and now welcomes YOU.

Well, thank you very much, we did indeed feel very welcome here in Cardiff.

This memorial commemorates the Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration and in particular Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s Scientific Expedition of 1910-13. The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.

The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.

Designed and created by the sculptor Jonathan Williams, the memorial depicts Scott and the faces of his four companions, Wilson, Oates, Bowers and Evans, who died with him on the return journey from the South Pole.

Torchwood‘s HQ is accessible by a secret lift secretly accessible via a paving stone next to the water tower in Roald Dahl Plass plaza. I never knew Roald Dahl was born in Cardiff. So of course, we had to visit the water tower along with many other visitors, fans, pilgrims even.

Barry Island is the setting for another TV series, Gavin and Stacey and as we drove past a road sign pointing in that direction, we thought, why not? It’s not really an island any more, not since the 1880s, but that fact doesn’t detract from the fun we had here in the resort. And the Barryians(?) are very proud of Gavin and Stacey.

Liesel and Leslie had an ice cream but I chose to have that most Welsh of delicacies, a cheese and onion pastie. And we walked the length of the beach along the promenade. The funfair attractions weren’t in operation, so there was no debate about whether or not to have a go on any of the rides.

Nor did we have a go on the climbing wall, but we know Martha and William would love this.

The beach looked very inviting and by now, it was very warm. I’m sure it will be chocker once schools have broken up for the Summer holiday. Today, though, we just came across groups of children from three different schools, and they were all very well behaved.

I do like shop names that are good puns, and to see two so close together in one location, well, it made my day.

I think after our relatively long walk, we could have relaxed here in Barry all afternoon, but we had a bit of a journey ahead of us. Liesel drove us to our next port of call, in Haverfordwest, and I was surprised that our route included a bit more of the M4. We stopped just one more time en route. Our b&b was above a now non-operating launderette and after unloading the car, we had to park a bit further along the road.

We had a wander around town. Let’s just say, it was challenging being incredibly hilly. Again, it reminded us just how flat Northenden is!

There seems to have been an outbreak of yarn-bombing here in Haverfordwest. Many lampposts, fences, pillar boxes, bollards, trees brightly and brilliantly decorated.

And after walking up a long, steep hill back to our b&b, we were all hot and sweaty. Liesel did some work on her laptop and even had a chat with her boss, Amrit. No, of course I wasn’t in the background heckling…

After a rubbish night’s sleep, we drove to St David’s, the main reason for visiting Pembrokeshire at all, really. We explored the cathedral, and the lady who welcomed us there was repeating ‘no entry fee but donations are always welcome’ in such a way that we couldn’t not make a donation.

I admired the organ but I wasn’t allowed to have a go. I just wanted to hear the 32-foot long pipes making a very low note.

We loved eating a pile of Welshcakes for lunch thanks to Mamgu’s little place right next to the Cathedral.

We drove the short distance to St Justinian’s, the idea being to walk along a short segment of the Welsh and Pembrokeshire Coast Path. The views over the sea were of course spectacular and I’m sure some of the many islands we saw don’t even have names.

We found the path and followed it for a mile or so. Two of the reasons I enjoyed this hike were that I never once felt short of breath, my intermittent but chronic and annoying condition, plus, even though we were at times close to the edge of high cliffs, I didn’t have sweaty palms. And I even get sweaty palms even when I see certain views on TV. By now it really was a hot, sunny day, no sign of rain at all.

This lifeboat launched at some point while we out on the path, having walking around a couple of headlands, so we didn’t see nor hear it go out to sea.

We passed many other hikers, and their dogs, on the path and I’m sure some of them were walking a long distance. But I am glad I wasn’t wearing a backpack as heavy as some of theirs looked.

The Pembroke Coast Path is 186 miles in length while the Wales Coast Path is 870 miles in total. Today, I think we managed a bit over a mile before turning round and walking back. Still, it’s a start, maybe 0.11% of the whole.

Another night’s, let’s say, challenging sleep, up in the attic of our b&b above the erstwhile launderette. The place was lovely and comfortable, in a quiet(-ish) area. I say (-ish) because we did hear people walking by and talking late at night, and then we heard the refuse collectors in the morning.

Liesel was still working so I went for a solo jaunt around town. Of course, I smiled at the newly enhanced church gates as I walked by.

And the stone-built houses are very attractive. I wonder if they keep warm and cosy, or are they old and cold and draughty?

‘Seen one river, seen ’em all.’ Well, maybe, but it’s always good to walk beside a waterway for a while. And I’m glad I did because I came across a very good guitar player on the bridge.

Busker, or not? He wasn’t expecting cash from passers-by for his entertainment, he was just promoting his guitar lessons.

And if you haven’t yet been convinced of just how steep some of the roads are in theis lovely town, this is a good example.

It must be great living here, with gorgeous views over the countryside, but I wouldn’t want to have to carry too much shopping up that slope every day.

Today’s excursion took us to Pembroke Castle. And, following our experience with Dyffryn Gardens a few days ago, I double, triple and quadruple checked that I had set Google Maps to take us to the actual, real Pembroke Castle, in Pembroke, and not, say, a pub in Yorkshire named The Pembroke Castle.

We could have hired boats and rowed around the moat, but we didn’t need to risk any interaction with the swans. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it. Instead, we walked up the hill from the car park and wandered around the castle, not joining the official guided tour on this occasion. There’s a lot of history here, including some familiar and a few unfamiliar characters, some familiar historical events and some new to me. Ask me to tell you about the history of Pembroke, Wales, England, the kings, the wars, the battles, and I don’t think I’d be able to give you a coherent story.

Many battles have been fought in this castle and beyond, of course, not forgetting numerous invasions fought off with skilful swordsmen and archers and so on. But the main deterrent to any future incursions must surely be this, the simplest of obstacles.

We climbed a few of the towers, and I was pleased to see that from such high vantage points, you could look down on the whole of Wales.

After lunch in the large courtyard, we bade farewell to the fish in the moat and made our way back to the car.

Our downstairs neighbour at home had recommended a beach in Pembrokeshire, and now was our chance to visit as it’s not too far from Pembroke.

Barafundle Bay is a 20-minute walk from the car park, but the trek is well worth the time and effort. And it’s not until you’re right above the beach that you see it.

The sign said: You may be on your way to the beach for some sunshine, but Wales has been heading north for hundreds of millions of years. The rocks here tell the story of its incredible journey. And don’t worry – we still get plenty of sunshine!

The only sounds we heard were the wind whistling and the sea crashing on ricks below. And even the few sea birds were having a sponsored silence day.

Another thought crossed my mind today, too. The seaside doesn’t smell like the seaside any more, not the same as it did when we were young children. That odd mix of the sea, ozone, fish and chips maybe, it’s just not there any more. Barafundle was no different. Maybe there are just too many other chemical pollutants in the atmosphere.

We sat on the beach for a while watching the water and the people. We should have brought a picnic. And a blanket to sit on: that would have been more comfortable that the scratchy marram(?) grass we plonked ourselves down on. Oh well, we’ll plan better next time.

I walked up and down the beach, spotting only two jellyfish just above the water line. It was approaching high tide, so I suspect the young girl trying to rescue the jellyfish was wasting her time. I’m sure there are days when the beach is much more crowded. Under these circumstances, it must be hard to find your family and friends if you become separated. But they’ve thought of everything here. In the middle of the beach, there is a prominent meeting point in the form of an old, dead tree trunk.

We returned to the car, and back to our place in Haverfordwest. Being our final night here, our evening meal was mainly finishing stuff off. No need to take food back home with us.

In the morning, Liesel and I again discussed our rotten night’s sleep. But, you see, neither of us have slept on a water bed before so it’s been a bit of an adventure. Every time one of us moved, so did the other. It got to the point where we had to issue tsunami warnings whenever we needed to roll over. Or even scratch an itch. So altogether now, to the tune of Split Enz’s Six Months in a Leaky Boat: 🎶 Three Nights in a Water Bed… 🎶 Even climbing on and off was difficult. Why was it so bouncy, we wondered? Because they filled it with spring water, said Liesel.

After packing in the morning, we set the controls for a 5-hour drive home. A long journey, yes, but uneventful. We passed through a town called Bethlehem. And we passed by several opportunities to buy produce. The range eggs were free, but we didn’t stop. We could also have bought potatoes (Pembrokeshire potatoes are the best), straw, fish and chips, oil paintings, interlocking concrete blocks, budgies and more eggs.

The nice open, empty roads gave us beautiful views of the Welsh hills and valleys. Until we gained some altitude, and then we were almost in the clouds.

We stopped for lunch at a great place, Dolwen Valley Café. Liesel and Leslie’s first choice was fish and chips, but they had no fish left. My first choice was the vegan burger, but they’d run out. But, it was a great place, and the staff, well, she was very friendly enough and the coffee was good too. And I had exactly the right amount of chips and salad to keep me going for the rest of the day.

Welcome to England, said the sign, as we entered Shropshire. Seeing raod signs in only one language now seems weird. Shrewsbury was within a short distance, a place where Liesel once fell off her bike, an incident that she’s still trying to blame me for!

This visit to England was short lived, as we found ourselves back over the border, approaching and then bypassing Wrexham. The second time we entered England, there wasn’t even a welcome sign, just a small embarrassed sign telling us this was Cheshire.

Back at home, we unloaded the car, unpacked, and opened our mail box. Guess how many letters were delivered by Royal Mail while we were away for a week? That’s right: zero. Just the way we like it.

And I can’t tell you how much we loved being back in our own bed. So comfortable, relaxing, and… stable. A good night’s sleep was much appreciated by us both.

Croeso i Gymru! Part 1

Earlier in the year, we spent a wonderful couple of months in New South Wales. Now, it was time to visit old south Wales, but only for a week.

Our long drive to a small village near Cardiff included a stretch on the M5. The gantry displayed a warning: Reports of Pedestrians, and the speed limit was reduced from 70 to 60mph. And I thought, how thoughtful: it’s so much kinder to hit pedestrians at 60mph than 70.

The reason for visiting Wales at this time was determined by the scheduling of Jessica Lee Morgan’s one and only live show this year. So imagine my disappointment when, halfway to our destinations, I received messages telling me the gig had been cancelled. Jessica’s bass player and partner Chris needed emergency surgery, and of course, people’s health has to come first. Still, I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed at the news, but we were determined to have a good time in Cymru.

The route took us along some very narrow roads with passing places. And in most places, the hedges on both sides were very tall, so obscuring what we feel were some spectacular views. A couple of people riding horses in front of us pretty much blocked the road, there was no way we could overtake them. They pulled over into a driveway by a gate to let us pass, for which we were grateful. A little further along the road though, we realised that actually, that was the gate to our b&b, so we returned once the horses had passed by us.

Unusually, the b&b had no milk in the fridge, so I set off to what we thought was the nearest supermarket. And, as if to rub salt in the wound, this small shop was opposite what would have been the venue for the gig the following night! What are the chances, eh?

In the evening, we watched the Tour de France highlights on TV with, unusually, a screen even smaller than our own TV set at home.

In the morning, breakfast was accompanied by the rural sounds of, well, the smoke alarm beeping, because it needed a new battery. I disposed of a cluster of what we believe to be spiders’ nests. And I repaired the broken window blind in one of our rooms. Not having a gig to go to tonight, we could have explored further afield, but in the end, we stayed fairly close to our accommodation.

First stop: Dyffryn Gardens. Liesel was driving and I set the destination in Google Maps. As we approached, within the last mile or so, we commented on not so far having seen a sign to the gardens, but also, this is a very residential area, how can there possibly be a large National Trust property here? Well, there wasn’t. Instead, we laughed at the Welsh sense of humour, having a small road in a housing estate also named Dyffryn Gardens. I’m sure the locals are kept entertained by visitors making the same basic mistake with modern technology. I reprogrammed the thing, specifying Dyffryn Gardens National Trust. Well, it was a long but pleasant drive, and we saw more tractors than any other vehicles.

Apart from mopeds, that is. I suspect there was a moped rally somewhere. I wondered what fans of mopeds are called? Liesel told me: mopedophiles.

The gardens are well laid out, and we enjoyed our saunter around the various beds and displays. It was quite busy, but relaxing in the sunshine.

It was good to see lots of insects too. For lunch, I had a coronation chickpea sandwich, which was nice, but it was really hot inside the restaurant.

Not having any grandchildren in tow today, Liesel took it upon herself to enjoy the adventure playground to its fullest, bounding from log to log like a gazelle.

We stayed clear of the giant hogweed, but of course, really, it was just giant, Chilean rhubarb.

We enjoyed the wide variety of cacti and succulents in the very humid greenhouse. And as for wildlife, the only wild mammal I saw was a shrew, looking for a hole in the brick wall.

Some mysteries you can explain, some mysteries you can’t explain, and then there are mysteries that you didn’t know were mysteries until one day, you see something and begin to wonder:

Why is Spot the Dog called Smot in Wales? I really hope ‘spot’ isn’t a naughty word in Welsh.

St Fagans Museum of Welsh Life is a fascinating place, too. It’s a bit like the Weald and Downland Living Museum in Sussex, in that there is a collection of old, rebuilt houses and buildings from years and even centuries ago.

Pigsty, built in 1800, reconstructed 1977

We watched a couple of iron age men at work in the foundry. Well, working iron, anyway, I don’t really think they were that old. We could feel the heat from the fire, I can only imagine how hot it feels when you’re working right on top of it.

Slow walking gets to us all after a while and we have to sit down for an ice cream. So we did. We visited an old shop where the items weren’t really for sale, but still priced in old, pre-decimal money. I had a nice chat with the man behind the counter. We shared stories of how we used to go and buy cigarettes for our Dads and pick up a small treat for ourselves. Innocent days.

When I was growing up in Guildford, we lived close to a set of prefabs, buildings prefabricated and built after the second world war, as a temporary measure to house many people. My parents’ friends Pearl and Eddie lived in a prefab and we visited a few times. I think they were finally demolished in the 1970s. The prefabs, that is, not Pearl and Eddie, I’ve no idea what happened to them, nor Eddie’s very loud motorbike. But I felt that Proustian rush today when I walked around an old prefab here at St Fagans.

It’s been a long time, of course, but it certainly felt the same inside, as it was decorated in 1950s style, with plenty of old artefacts that I remember growing up with.

In the evening, we didn’t have a gig to go to (best wishes, Chris!) so the three of us sat around and looked at each other. A football game was on TV in the background: the Euros Final: England 1 Spain 2, but ‘we’ll always have 1966, eh?’

We were expecting lots of rain in Wales and on just one day, the weather met our expectations. We drove along more narrow lanes on our way to spend a day in Cardiff, starting off at the Castle. On the way into the city, we passed by some stunning Victorian houses, and wondered as we often do, whether the people that live here really appreciate how lucky they are to live in such a gorgeous place?

My first attempts at taking a picture of the castle keep were thwarted by big signs for the toilets and, from another angle, all the fast food outlets. We joined a guided tour which was interesting, and not only because the nearly 2000-year old Roman wall is still there. Well, some of it.

Inside the castle, each room was different, and the text written on the walls is in many different languages, English, Welsh, Latin, Hebrew, Greek. One previous occupant learned 27 languages because he wanted to read the Bible in as many different languages as possible.

There are many animals decorating the walls too, the occupants were great animal lovers, even going to the extent of banning hunting at some point.

This coal from The Lewis Merthyr Colllery was donated by Rhondda Heritage Park Museum to commemorate all those involved in the 19th century Welsh mining industry. Their labours transformed the fortunes of Cardiff and its Castle. It reminded me of Sarah and me taking Jenny on her very first march, aged 1 or 2, in London, in support of the south Welsh miners about to have their communities thatchered. Walking along Piccadilly chanting ‘Close the Ritz, not the pits’ is still a fond memory.

After the official tour, I braved the drizzle and walked up to and around the keep.

On a clearer day, I suspect there are better views but I just enjoyed the challenge of walking up stairs and steps with an ever increasing gradient.

Wandering around Cardiff afterwards, we couldn’t help but notice the many graduates in their gowns. There were also people from many nations and tribes, it felt more like London than it did Manchester. Having read about it in a few places, we found our way to Uncommon Ground Coffee Roastery, where we enjoyed the best coffee imaginable. I even had a second cup here, something I don’t do very often.

Liesel and Leslie drove to the car park while I enjoyed a walk to the Millennium Centre, in the very light drizzle. It was good to see some fantastic signposts for the National Cycle Network, Route 8. This is the sort of thing I buy lottery tickets for.

It wasn’t really a surprise to see that the Millennium Centre was the venue for the day’s graduation ceremony. Lots of grads and families milling about inside and out. Despite the weather, many young women were dressed for an all-nighter, in their Summer frocks or party dresses.

The poem inscribed on the outside of the building is very difficult to photograph. You have to get the right angle, try to avoid people and obstacles, try not to stand in the middle of the road and then there’s the contrast of a dark building against the bright cloudy sky.

Words by Gwyneth Lewis. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a pilgrimage to this place, but it is somewhere I’ve wanted to visit since we saw it featured in the TV series Torchwood all those years ago.

I met up with Liesel and Mom in the car park at Mermaid Quay and we drove back to our place, in the rain. I like the dual language road signs, I’ll probably pick up some Welsh that way. But the word for ‘miles’ seems to vary between ‘filltir’ and ‘milltir’. It seems the inital consonant migrates depending on the preceding vowel. Liesel pointed out that, during the pandemic, when I was learning Māori pronunciation, maybe my time might have been better spent learning Welsh. She might have a point.

I would like to register a complaint. My Google Maps normally has a young, Aussie Sheila telling where to go and what to do. But sometimes, a harsh, bristling American woman jumps in with a fierce instruction. Why? I’ve got nothing against American women, obviously, I even married one. But what manner of bug is this, eh, Google?

Allez allez allez

I don’t like spiders and snakes
And that ain’t what it takes to love me
Like I wanna be loved by you.

Well, that’s how the song goes and, actually, personally, I don’t mind spiders and snakes. And neither does William. He went away on Beaver camp and received a Certificate of Achievement in recognition of his amazing animal-handling skills. Yep: he wore a snake like a scarf.

We are very proud of our grandson!

The Tour de France continues to entertain and enthrall us, especially on the day when they had to ride on fourteen stretches of gravel. The megatonnes of dust reduced visibility, and at the end of the day, we had to give our TV set a really good wipe.

Who won that stage? I can’t remember, I’m just pleased that they all finished without feeling the need to cough their lungs up.

We were invited to babysit while Liam and Jenny socialised with friends much later than originally planned. Its still a fun challenge putting the children to bed at a reasonable time while letting them believe they’ve stayed up later than usual.

It’s that time of year again: my annual visit to the optician for a checkup. Everything’s OK, and I was able to see the wonderful mural round the corner. I don’t mean I could see round the corner, it was located round the corner from the optician’s in Didsbury and that’s where I saw it.

A family member who shall remain nameless asked if I was the ‘Man who slipped in puddle of Baileys on way to BA flight could get £4m.’ No, not this time. But I am planning such an ‘accident’ for my next visit to an airport since investing in the National Lottery seems to be a waste of time. And money.

We looked after the children again a couple of days later, picking them up from school and taking them to the nearby park. On the way, we crossed a bridge over a small stream, and William had to demonstrate just how waterproof his shoes are.

We had an ice cream and lots of fun in the playground before taking them home. William’s other achievement was running around the whole of the BMX course. If only that were an Olympic event in its own right.

The regular walks were back on this week, Wednesday’s attracting over twenty people. The drinks are now sponsored by a local firm of solicitors and I was interviewed by one of their reps, asking about the benefits of these walks. And then on Thursday, there were just the three of us. Still, nothing wrong with a bit of light exercise in what passes for fresh air around here!

Liesel joined a couple of organised walks without me, one to Alderley Edge which was much longer than anticipated and one for ‘ladies only’ to Fletcher Moss Gardens. Yes, ‘ladies only’ but they stull let Liesel in.

In local news, there is a big pothole in Gatley and a few nights ago, we managed to not avoid it. One tyre punctured so it was replaced as was a second because its tread was well worn. I don’t think we can claim back from the local council, but whenever I visit this garage, I always enjoy having a quick chat with the fishies.

Good News Week

Well, the big news this week was of course the UK General Election. No spoilers here, but I will say more about it later.

The other big event was Martha and William’s school Summer Fair. It was a typical Summer’s day, blue skies, scorching sunshine, the stench of sunblock fighting the stink of burnt offerings from the barbecue.

We met up with the other grandparents, Alan and Una, and we all enjoyed the perfomance of Matilda indoors, starring the one and only Martha. As she and the others sang, sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.

I mentioned the barbecue, and the best thing on offer there were the homemade samosas: I think we all indulged. Plenty of fun at all the stalls, although I did forget to buy a raffle ticket before we left.

Liesel needs a new computer so on the way home, we visited John Lewis where we had a look at the current generation of laptops. Lots of info from a very helpful sales assistant but as usual, almost too much information to process. So, for now, Liesel continues to work on a laptop that is the same age as Martha, and that sounds like it’s about to take flight with its Rolls Royce aero engine.

This was also the weekend of the Glastonbury Festival. We didn’t go, but we watched some of the performances on TV, such as Coldplay and Idles, Shania Twain, Cyndi Lauper, Dua Lipa, Avril Lavigne and Paloma Faith. Guess whch two of these artistes Liesel and I have seen performing on stage? No prizes, just for fun. I was disappointed that Frankie Archer’s set on the Acoustic Stage wasn’t shown in full, not even online. I should demand a refund on my TV licence.

This was also the weekend that the Tour de France started, so we’ve been watching that on TV this week. We didn’t expect to see Sir Mark Cavendish at the Tour again, yet here he is, hoping to win a 35th TdF stage and beat the 34 stage wins of Eddie Merckx, a record held since 1977. And he did, at the end of a very exciting, fast day’s racing.

We joined the family for a meal at Gusto late in the afternoon: I think William wanted to be home in time to watch England’s football team play in their next game in the Euros.

Fletcher Moss was the destination for our only organised walk this week. It was a big group, nearly 30 people, and amongst all the Himalayan balsam was some delightful bindweed, with pink rather than white flowers. As rare as a four-leaf clover, apparently.

Afterwards I continued walking into Didsbury where I had some errands to run, while Liesel went to the pub with some of the others. A fair distribution of labour, I feel.

A visit to Quarry Bank resulted in another very enjoyable jaunt through the woods. We were blown away by the number of hydrangeas in bloom here.

In fact, there was a lot of colour, thanks to the poppies, dandelions, marigolds and there was plenty of produce in the kitchen garden. We took the volunteers up on their offer and took home some rhubarb.

The regular Thrive Manchester walks were cancelled this week due to illness (get well soon!) so Liesel, Leslie and I went for a walk along the river instead.

It wasn’t that warm, there was hardly any wind, so ideal conditions for insects to be flying about, but we encountered hardly any at all, which is very sad.

And so we come to July 4th, Election Day, the day we’ve been waiting for for over four years. For the first time, I had to take ID so that I’d be allowed to cast my vote. I took three forms of ID, just to be on the safe side. But the clerk hardly looked at mine. Probably because of my totally honest looking physiognomy.

I was accompanied by Liesel and her Mom, who I think appreciated the short stroll. I came back the long way, via Rose Hill Woods, where I’ve not been for a long time. I’d forgotten that when you emerge from these woods on the other side, there’s a golf course. I wasn’t wearing a hard hat, but I wasn’t bothered by low-flying golf balls.

Liesel and Leslie went to bed and I set myself up for a long night in front of the TV. I don’t think I’ve stayed up all night to watch election results since 1997. But I thought history might be made tonight.

The exit polls at 10pm looked good, and as the night progressed and the results came in, I cheered silently. Those of you who know me personally will know that I’m not the biggest drinker in the world. In fact, until tonight, I’d only consumed one beer since I returned home from Anchorage. But tonight, well, I marked the occasion in style.

By the time I retired to bed at 6.50am, I had collected plenty of glassware for the recycling bin. We have a Labour majority in the House of Commons, some prominent Tories have lost their seats, and things are looking up again. While watching so much politicking on TV, mostly Channel 4, but also dipping into BBC, ITV and Sky, I realised just how many dinosaurs there are still in positions of influence, and relatively few young, inspiring politicians there are. The best couple of minutes was watching Carol Vorderman not holding back her opinion on the last fourteen years of “corruption and lies and gaslighting.” And now, a couple of days later, our new Prime Minister Keir Starmer has dared to appoint actual experts to his Cabinet, people who know about the ministries and departments that they’re now responsible for. What a novel idea! So, let’s hope to see some real changes soon.

Whinges of the week: (1) When you’re wasting time on Instagram watching loads of stoopid little videos, and then you click on the option that says ‘I’m not interested in this crap’, why does it then give you the option of watching it again? (2) When I have occasion to put a plaster on my fingertip, my phone can no longer recognise my fingerprint. The phone’s not that smart, after all.

Did you guess? Liesel and I saw Shania Twain perform one year in Hyde Park as part of Radio 2’s Festival in a Day. She’s just recovered from Lyme Disease. And we saw Paloma Faith in 2010, one of the guests in Rob Brydon’s TV chat show. It was the first show to be recorded, but not broadcast for a few weeks. Other guests on the show were Ronnie Corbett and Lucy Porter. It seems a long time ago now.