mickandlieselsantics

Swimmin’ and women

It’s been mentioned before, I’m sure, but sometimes our flat feels colder than it is outside. We open the fridge and the light comes on, inviting us into the warmth. Venturing outside, I exclaim, ooh, it’s warm out here. Not this Saturday though. It was cold, but at least I didn’t have to scrape ice off the car. Martha and William both have swimming lessons on a Saturday morning now, and I drove over to watch them. It was warm inside.

It’s a nicely heated venue of course, and upstairs in the viewing platform, the Sun was streaming it. It felt fantastic on our backs as we watched the children ploughing up and down the pool. Martha earned her 10-metre certificate today.

After the lesson, I drove back to Jenny’s, walked back to the pool and accompanied Liam, Martha and William on their walk back home. My reward for all this exercise? Jenny cooked up a gorgeous roast dinner for me. Well, for all of us, thanks, Jenny!

William asked me to help him build his Lego police car. He really didn’t need my help. Dozens of very small parts, and he managed very well.

While I was watching William not needing my assistance, Martha went out with Liam and came back with dessert. I think William enjoyed his chocolate cake.

Later in the week, I saw this.

There’s not much more likely to cause a panic attack than seeing this on a screen, like we’ve gone back to the 1990s or something. Anyway, all sorted now. It also took way too long to get the printer working. It went ‘offline’ but I could find no easy way to put it back ‘online’. I ended up reinstalling it as if it were a brand new device. I think this is something I’ll never understand about technology: why does something work flawlessly for two months then suddenly stop? I wonder how many printers have been thrown through windows in frustration?

I’ve said this before and I’m sure I’ll say it again, to myself at least: Do the shredding little and often. Don’t save it up for years and years. I spent several hours this week shredding old, unwanted but confidential paperwork. One thing I realised though is that once it gets going, our shredder puts out more heat than the actual heating system in this flat.

But I’m not the only one having major issues this week.

Someone had a slight altercation in Palatine Road. There’s a bit of a mess here. I don’t know whether the torrential rain that we had affected his driving ability. Torrential? At times yes, but there was just a lot of rain over a few days. The river was high again.

Walking around Northenden and Wythenshawe this week was uneventful. Rain was threatened a couple of times but we stayed dry, just a bit of drizzle.

There was more rain to negotiate when I drove to Darwen. I’d never been before, so I left really early so I could see some of the town. Good job too. There was a long hold-up on one of the motorways, so I went a different, longer way, but quicker, if Google Maps is to be believed.

This artwork celebrates the proud industrial heritage of Darwen. Please help us to look after it by not touching or climbing it. The edges may be sharp to touch and falls can cause injury. What a shame the plaque didn’t credit the actual sculptor.

I was delighted to see The Weaver Bird because five minutes earlier, I was very nearly locked inside the market. After parking up, I went downstairs to a deserted market, glad to find a public toilet. When I came out, the Men were walking around locking all the doors. I followed them round like a hungry puppy until they let me out.

This India Mill Chimney is one of Darwen’s most famous landmarks, the last remaining chimney standing as a memorial to the local cotton industry.

Supper was taken in a bank. Yes, really, it’s a pub called The Bank and it really was a bank, once. The barman asked a few times whether my meal was good. Well, yes it was. In the end, he admitted that this was something new on the menu. I can recommend their sweet potato and chilli curry, if you’re ever in Darwen, and hungry.

I was here to see Martha Tilston in concert. We’ve not seen her for about five years, and Liesel and Leslie should have been here too, but are still over there in Anchorage. So, I had three seats to choose from. One minute before show began, in came the inevitable tall man with a big head and I knew exactly where he was going to sit.

Teri Birtwistle, local to Darwen, supported Martha beautifully. I had a quick word with her in the interval, promising to play her music on my show.

I also spoke to Martha’s accompanist Matt in the interval, passed on my regards to Martha and her Mum Naomi, whom I got to know, crikey, thirty years ago now, when we were on the same creative writing course. St Patrick’s Day came up in conversation and I boasted that I was playing Martha’s song Over to Ireland in my radio show this week. So imagine my delight when she played that song on stage, even though it wasn’t on her playlist originally. Matt just went with the flow!

The drive home was much faster, the motorway had been unblocked. But a long drive, late at night, isn’t something I’m used to, so I woke up far too late the next day to go for a walk with the usual group. Instead, after another spot of shredding, I went back down to the river here in Northenden: it was still flowing high and fast.

I’ve mentioned it already, and this week’s Wythenshawe Radio show marked St Patrick’s Day, mostly Irish singers and songs about Ireland. Catch it here.

One more thing

It’s been on the to-do list for a long time, and with the luxury apartment to myself for a few weeks, this is the perfect opportunity to sort out the paperwork. I can leave piles of paper all over the floor. Organised chaos for a while! Literally thousands of sheets, mostly A4 size, have been sifted, sorted then retained, recycled or shredded. The shredding process is quite time-consuming, noisy, messy but ultimately satisfying. Maybe this could become my new money-making side-hustle. Anyone need something shredded? 10p a sheet?

There is a mountain of cardboard to be chucked out too. Sadly, some of what I thought were empty shoe boxes contain precious possessions of Liesel’s, so I’m not recovering as much space as anticipated.

Getting out for a walk has proved more challenging this week, as Winter is once again getting the last word in before going away completely. On Wednesday it started snowing, just a flurry, a smattering of snowflakes, but we still walked along the river as far as Simon’s Bridge and back. The new shops and flats in Palatine Road will, I’m sure, be nice when they’re finished, but right now, it just looks like someone is playing with oversize Meccano.

I thought I’d drift off to sleep listening to a radio drama. How long was it? According to BBC Sounds: 1339 mins! Well, it was really only 19 minutes. Three people find themselves trapped in a pitch black, flooding mine. Is this the end? ‘Danger’ or ‘The Mine Play’ is regarded as the BBC’s first ever radio drama. Originally broadcast live in February 1923, when the audience was invited to listen in the dark for maximum effect. This version was re-recorded to mark the play’s 50th anniverary. Written by Richard Hughes.

I did listen in the dark, and It was quite spooky, so it probably didn’t help me fall asleep.

In Anchorage, Liesel has been working in the office a couple of days. How she gets any work done with a view like this is beyond me.

Speed skaters encounter a moose while the mountains compete with blue skies for your attention.

I picked Martha and William up from school and both told me it had been snowing earlier in the day. We went to a different soft play place this time, Let Loose. Apart from the slides, the main attraction is the slushies. Both wanted one, a mix of Red and Blue. ‘Oh you mean slushies?’ queried the sales girl. ‘Yes, what did I say?’ ‘You asked for smoothies.’ I realised I’d probably never asked for slushies before, anywhere.

I know it’s there for safety reasons, but it’s really hard getting decent photos through the mesh. But this really is Martha and William up there.

Whingeing about the weather is what makes the world go round. While I don’t mind the cold, and I don’t mind wind, one thing that really makes me cross is cold wind blowing in one ear and out the other. But that’s what was on offer in Wythenshawe this week. Two days in a row. Cold wind blowing from left to right, regardless of whichever direction I was walking in.

The snow was never really heavy enough to show up in a photo, so here is a picture of flakes of paint thanks to some decorators in the shopping centre in Wythenshawe. On the second day, one guy was half-heartedly sweeping up their mess.

Mixed results in technical news. I couldn’t quite get the old disk drive to boot up into Windows 7 on the laptop. So close, but it gave up with scary-looking error messages that weren’t on-screen long enough to read. This was all way outside my comfort zone.

On the other hand, I was able to recover lost files from the recently zapped SD card. I guess I’ll never know whether I’ve got every single picture back, but I’m happy with the results. Message to self: backup the photos every time you take one.

This week on the old Wythenshawe Radio show, I marked International Women’s Day by playing mostly female singers. Catch up here.

All change

We often hear about the butterfly effect. Where the flap of a butterfly’s wing in Northenden can eventually result in a cyclone in the Pacific Ocean. Or as some people would have it, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. Well, there we were, Liesel and me, passing time on a peaceful Saturday afternoon, when the phone rang. This call was to change our plans for the next month or so.

We were preparing to welcome Liesel’s Mom to our home in a few days time. I was writing something very important, well, maybe not, when Liesel answered the phone. Her Mom’s house in Anchorage was letting in water. There had been so much snow this Winter, the roof could no longer take all the ice and snow. Water was coming in though windows and by any other route it could find. I don’t think Liesel even made the offer, she just said that she was flying over to help out.

Within a couple of hours, flights had been booked and in some cases rearranged. Liesel would fly to Anchorage the following day, and they’d both come back to the UK at the end of March.

Suddenly, our (very tenuous) plans for Sunday changed. Liesel called her cousin in Richmond, and thanks to Andi and Steve, we had accommodation close to Heathrow from where Liesel was flying out.

It took just a few minutes to pack. I was staying away from home for one night, and although Liesel’s away for a month, she has more suitable clothing in Anchorage. Several feet of snow and temperatures below -10°C do not sound very appealing to me.

We drove over to say a quick hello goodbye to Jenny and family. Martha was a bit sad that Great-Oma might not be here for her birthday (in April) but we’re fairly sure they’ll both be back by then.

In an exciting turn of events, we saw a couple of foxes in the garden, quite healthy looking animals too.

We drove to Richmond, nothing remarkable, a bit of drizzle here and there, a bit cloudy although we were driving towards the Sun on the odd occasion.

Andi and Steve took us on a bit of a pub crawl. Not because we were imbibing at every port of call, but we were looking for a pub that was still open for dinner.

We briefly visited The Prince’s Head, where they are still proud of being used as a location in the popular TV series Ted Lasso.

Liesel’s enjoyed the show and has recommended it to me, and I’m sure I’ll catch up with it one day, even though I’m not a big football fan.

We found ourselves at The Cricketers, near Richmond Green, the starting point for many a charity bike ride in the olden days. Here we ate a hearty supper and as luck would have it, it was quiz night. What a good quiz, too. We came second, losing by a single point. So close!

Pomegranate tree towering over Liesel and Andi

This pomegranate tree is, I believe, the only one in Richmond, apart from those at Kew Gardens of course. On a bad night, drunk men will attempt to climb it and, when challenged, will fall down onto the carefully nurtured flower beds below.

We drove to Heathrow Airport via Richmond Park, where we dropped Andi and Steve off to go deer-hunting. Well, deer spotting, I suppose. I hope they got some good photos and had a good walk back home afterwards.

I then dropped Liesel off at the airport, and set off for Kingston. I parked up and went into The Rose Theatre for a quick cup of coffee. The place was full of buggies, it was like a buggy showroom.

I’m no detective, but I think there may have been some entertainment taking place for mums and babies.

I wandered around Kingston for a while, noticing a few changes in the retail sector since my last visit.

I met Stella and Ian in Eden Walk shopping centre, and they haven’t changed a bit. That’s not their photo, by the way, that’s Anya and Hugo, age 14 and 4. Like us, chimps learn throughs imitation. They will observe the members of their communities, particularly their mother, to learn the necessary skills needed for their survival. They will also imitate emotions, showing a high level of empathy. At least, that’s what the plaque says anyway.

It was nice catching up with old friends in Apia Café. This was a new place to me. I realised later that a long, long time ago, Stella and I had worked together in an office just down the road from this location.

We walked over to John Lewis where I left them. I followed my nose to The Bentall Centre.

From here. it was a short walk back to the car park. From there, it was a long haul back home. 5¾ hours, again uneventful, apart from a couple of incidents resulting in very slow-moving traffic for a while. In one case, I noticed a burnt-out van. In the other, I have no idea what the hold-up was.

Please don’t accuse me of not being loyal to any particular radio station. In the car, I can’t get BBC 6 Music, or Boom Radio, but I did flit from Radio 2 to Radio 3 to Smooth (where they were talking about the upcoming Take That musical) to Magic (where they were talking about Brian May’s pronouncement that Queen never really liked audience members singing along) to Jack FM (where the music was, imho, much better) back to Radio 2 and 3 then to Radio 4 and then as I got closer to home, Radio Cymru, Radio Wales, Radio Stoke, CWR, Greatest Hits Radio and another one whose name escapes me.

Then ensued a great night’s sleep with some weird but fun dreams. Just don’t ask for details.

The next couple of days offered some fabulous sights in the night sky. Jupiter and Venus are really close to each other at twilight but Manchester’s clouds aren’t transparent enough.

And the Aurora Borealis, which unusually has been visible as far south as Cornwall, is absolutely stunning.

Thanks to Martin at Manchester Weather for tweeting this wonderful, colourful photo with the caption “The Northern Lights of South Manchester 🤣 Beautiful shades of grey and black with a sprinkle of drizzle!”

We’re being threatened with another Beast from the East, in other words, extremely cold weather and snow. I’d like to say, don’t worry, I’m used it it, I lived in Peterborough for six years. There’s nothing between Peterborough and the Urals, and I’m shivering at the very thought.

We’re not there yet, and I saw bits of the Mersey this week.

I never saw the heron, but the ducks and geese are out in force, probably getting excited at the prospect of Spring. Huh, they’re in for a shock. As are the daffodils and crocuses that will want to sink back into the ground.

I met up with Hayley for a coffee, and again, it was nice to catch up. Still no heron by the river though.

Back at home, I began the process of sorting out all the paperwork. It’s pretty much split equally three ways between keep, shred and recycle.

As I wrote this today, the soundtrack was Ken Bruce’s final show on Radio 2. I remember when he first turned up, decades ago. ‘He sounds just like Terry Wogan’, I said to my Mum. ‘Don’t be daft, he’s Scottish, Terry Wogan’s Irish’, she said, ‘they sound totally different’. Well, as usual, Mum’s right. And what a great last song to play, Ken: The Beatles’ Golden Slumbers, Carry that Weight and The End.

My own relatively humble radio show on Wythenshawe Radio this week was Mick’s Monochrome Music Mix, the theme being Black and White. Catch it here.

Meanwhile, how’s Liesel doing in Anchorage? Well, I hope she’s keeping warm. The leaks have stopped but the house and roof needs much more attention.

The depth of the snow is being measured in feet. And the size of the Ice Eccles (so dubbed by Martha) is just ridiculous.

Residents are advised to wear a hard hat if they go wandering around Anchorage.

Lowry’s art and zoo fun

Liesel and Rosie went over to Levenshulme to visit an antique shop. If they bought anything here, it remains a secret and maybe a surprise for me… I stayed at home and caught up on some of the interminable to-do list. Just don’t ask me exactly what I achieved. Oh, and I don’t feel deprived on learning that they’d also made a pilgrimage to Ikea.

On TV, we started watching iZombie, which is quite funny but there are moments when you’re in danger of being like, totally grossed out, man.

After breakfast, Liesel drove us all to Salford, specifically to The Lowry. Rosie is a big fan of LS Lowry, and we all enjoyed the exhibition of his works.

One of his most famous paintings depicts men, and it is mostly men, on their way to a Saturday afternoon football game. The Lowry Art Gallery is very proud that Going to the Match is back in its natural habitat.

You can even watch video of the auction, which may or may not be as exciting as the football game itself was that day all those decades ago.

We wandered over towards Media City, via the Blue Peter Garden. Some people’s Blue Peter badges are embedded in the footpath, which made me wonder why my Blue Peter badge isn’t represented here. And, more to the point, where is it, exactly?

After sightseeing, we drove home towards an angry looking sky.

Somehow, the car took us to Costco, the one near the Trafford Centre. We bought a few items, and had a jolly nice walk up and down most of the aisles.

Despite the foreboding sky, there was no apocalyptic thunderstorm or anything, just fascinating coclours. Somebody up there was playing with a full palette.

Because Rosie had to go back to work, Liesel drove her back to the railway station really early on Monday morning, well before I woke up. I worked on the radio show and may have gone out for a walk.

It’s half-term this week, and we picked up Martha and William for a day out. Chester Zoo was very busy, because, as I said, it’s half-term. For the first time ever, we arrived before its 10.00 opening time. We had a lot of fun with the children, but we didn’t see many animals. I did go through the bat cave with William, but Liesel and Martha aren’t big fans of the ammoniacal aroma.

We were all extremely excited to see this digger. They’re not in danger of extinction or anything, but we’re looking forward to visiting the new savannah area in a couple of years time.

Although both William and Martha picked up a Science Journal to complete as we walked around, I don’t think we visited most of the sites listed. But that didn’t stop us from picking up stickers from the shop as we left. Yes, very cunning, telling us to pick up stickers from the shop, especially as we’d all agreed before leaving home that we wouldn’t be going the the shop today!

After our 11.00 lunch, they requested ice creams.

Well, both children were defeated and couldn’t finish their Mr Whippys. I’m sure their digestive systems were grateful.

I think they found the fish in the aquariums as interesting as the big animals, the rhinos, elephants and monkeys. And we didn’t go anywhere near the Sumatran tigers, so we didn’t see the newly born twin cubs.

Liesel had an appointment at 2pm, which curtailed our visit, but after dropping her off, I took the children to the playground in Wythenshawe Park. I thought they would have run out of energy by now, but no, they ran around and climbed and slided and shared roundabouts and swings with other little ones, fairly non-stop for over an hour. As a guardian it was a challenge to keep up, especially when they chose to run in opposite directions.

An unexpected bonus was that it was now quite warm, warm enough for us to take our coats off.

I took the tired children home, and I’m sure they devoured a huge pile of pancakes later on, hopefully the correct way, with lemon and sugar.

I joined a training session at Wythenshawe Radio while Liesel joined the now regular, longer, Thursday morning well-being walk. Once I’ve got to grips with the software, I hope to be able to broadcast my show live from home. If you were tuned in at 2am, early Friday, you would have heard me interrupting the non-stop overnight music.

Every six months or so, the car needs a jolly good scrub, so that’s what I took care of, after the Friday morning walk around Wythenshawe. No, I didn’t go out with a bucket of water and a sponge. I engaged a gang of young men at a local car wash emporium. It took over an hour from joining the queue to being able to drive out. Not because it was that dirty, although it was, but because the guys were doing a really thorough job of cleaning the inside of everyone’s vehicle.

This week’s radio show, the proper one, Mick’s Music Mix, was two hours of songs about roads and streets.

Misadventures with technology

Agatha Christie is a very popular writer, famous for stories featuring Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. In 1926, following the death of her mother and marital problems, her husband said he wanted a divorce, she disappeared for eleven days. Her car was found at Newlands Corner, near Guildford, and it looked for a while as though she might have drowned in the nearby Silent Pool. Both of these venues have been visited during my bike rides, all those years ago. And of course, I grew up in Guildford. But, while doing research for this paragraph, I discovered something really interesting. Agatha Christie shares her birthday with Liesel. That is arguably more exciting than the discovery that my daughter Jenny has the same birthday as Kylie Minogue.

Most Saturday mornings, Liesel goes out for a coffee with the ladies of the WI, at a nice place in Didsbury. This week, I didn’t walk with her. Instead, I took a bus into Manchester. What a busy, thriving city Manchester is on a Saturday morning. Lots of entertainment in the form of buskers.

This chap playing drums was quite loud, but the others seemed to have located themselves just the right distance apart, so that none interfered with the music of others. There was a pair of saxophone players, there was a tenor belting out an aria that I didn’t recognise and I briefly accompanied the group singing UB40 songs. No photos of these because I didn’t have any more coins to throw into their respective hats or guitar cases, but they were all good.

I’d come into Manchester specifically to see Tom Hingley and Gordon MacKay perform at HMV, to mark the release of their new album, Decades. Which, of course, I had to purchase. And of course, Tom signed it!

The songs are pretty good, especially the one celebrating a visit of Muhammad Ali to Abingdon, Tom and Gordon’s home town. The champion boxer visited several times, keeping in touch with a local man who’d campaigned to have his boxing titles reinstated after they’d been taken away for his refusal to fight in the Vietnam war.

While in HMV, of course I looked at the records. I have no intention of buying any vinyl again, but I was intrigued to see a double album of David Bowie’s concert at St Monica in 1972. £49.99. Blimey O’Crikey! Fifty quid? I bought that record as a bootleg from Kensington Market nearly half a century ago, for a lot less than half a ton!

My plan was to go home afterwards and knit some words together in the form of a blog post. But an invitation arrived to join the family for dinner, an offer that I couldn’t refuse.

I went home, and later, Liesel and I drove over the Cheadle Hulme where we met Jenny, Liam, Martha and William at Gusto for a very enjoyable meal. On this occasion, I made sure not to order too much food. In fact, I paced myself so well, I was able to indulge in a dessert.

You’re looking at that photo and thinking it’s not very good, right? Let me have a whinge. The camera app on my phone recently updated, and it works differently. I used to be able to adjust the brightness of a picture easily and quickly, now it’s almost impossibly difficult. Touching that part of the screen now does something totally different. So, by the time I press the shutter, the composition is totally different. When looking at a potential picture, I see a yellow square, a white circle as well as the two shutter buttons. In the great scheme of things, this is still as wonderful technology of course, but why do ‘they’ have to keep ‘improving’ things?

So last week’s post was a day late because when I arrived home that night, I didn’t feel like doing anything else! I was too full and, well, lazy.

I enjoyed another bus ride into Manchester just a couple of days later. It was time again to go and donate another armful of blood.

For some reason, the trek from the bus stop in Oxford Road to the donation centre took me through the grounds of Manchester Royal Infirmary on this occasion. Of course, as soon as I saw this sign, I looked up. No helicopter in sight, but I suspect I would have heard one before I saw it, if there had been one.

As I was a few minutes early, I wandered around aimlessly and came across this graffti. I’m not sure whether it’s promoting the popular sitcom from the 1970s, or the Tony Bennett song, or maybe the graffiti artist was just having an excellent day.

Giving blood was no problem, apart from I was only allowed one packet of biscuits afterwards. I am composing a letter of complaint to the authorities.

Liesel had some work to do, so she missed out on the regular midweek walk around Northenden. I enjoyed it though, along with my coffee afterwards, plus, it was warm enough to sit outside the café on this occasion.

Later in the day, we collected Martha and William from school and brought them home, where they both finished decorating their scallop shells.

These beautiful works of art are now enhancing the children’s rooms at home, to the detriment of our own shelves… There was plenty of cutting paper and gluing and pipe-cleaner wrangling as well.

We had tacos for dinner plus pear crumble which the children didn’t even try. Uh? Oh well: more for me!

To celebrate our wedding anniversary, we drove over to Harrogate for afternoon tea and to spend the night. It took over two and a half hours to drive there, much longer than anticipated. I’m blaming technology. Why? Let me have a whinge. The Google Maps app on my phone recently updated, and it seems to have reset some settings without my intervention. Liesel asked why we were following country roads all the way. When I checked, I discovered that ‘Avoid Freeways’ was ticked. Well, first, we call them ‘Motorways’ in this country. And while I have used the option to avoid motorways in the past, the last time we went anywhere, we were definitely using motorways. In the great scheme of things, this is still wonderful technology of course, but why do ‘they’ have to keep ‘improving’ things?

Even though it was a long drive, we did admire the countryside, especially when it stopped raining and we weren’t being sprayed by passing big lorries. We parked up and checked in, then went downstairs for our delicious tea, thank you very much Pauline and Andrew for sending us the voucher for Christmas!

We filled up but agreed that we would have liked more sandwiches and fewer cakes, but the tea kept coming, and we were sitting close but not too close to the fire. It was a real fire too, to the point that coal or a log or something nearly fell out of the fireplace onto the rug, thereby potentially burning the whole place down.

We were at the Old Swan Hotel on Harrogate, and this is where Agatha Christie was staying when she went ‘missing’ that time. She had no memory of those eleven days afterwards, so it will probably always remain a mystery, how did she get from Surrey to Yorkshire?

After tea, we had no desire to eat anything else for the rest of the day, so we had a nice quiet evening in our room. The view wasn’t much, and my plans to do some writing while Liesel was working came to nought. Well, so did Liesel’s plans do do some work, if you must know. But I am enjoying my latest book, Wolf by Mo Hayder.

I’m not having much luck with technology lately, and there is more bad news to come. The battery in my Kindle needs replacing. I’ve done that before, it’s a slow, pernickety job, but I know I can do it. So, a new battery has been ordered.

In the morning, we enjoyed a big breakfast, a bit of continental and a small cooked breakfast each too. Plus coffee from a pot that loved dribbling all over the pristine table cloth. Just can’t get decent spouts these days.

The rest of the morning, we wandered around the town of Harrogate. It’s hilly. I would love to show you pictures of trees that had blown down in the strong winds overnight. And some of the local buildings. And Betty’s, the famous tea rooms. We didn’t go in because, as my photo would have shown, there was a very long queue, even at 11 in the morning. And the selfie of the day.

I’m not having much luck with technology lately, and there is more bad news to come. While writing this and uploading photos, my phone decided to turn itself off. Its battery had gone from 15% charge to zero in a very short space of time. Yes, the phone too probably needs a new battery. Yes, alright, I should have acted on the warning message it gave me a while ago.

But, in the process of powering down, the SD card got zapped(*) and I have lost all the photos stored on it. Most have been backed up of course, but not for a couple of weeks. So, there is no photographic evidence that we walked around Harrogate. Well, there might be on the local CCTV cameras and we might have inadvertently photobombed other people’s pictures, but all the wonderfully composed and exposed photos of mine are but bits of dust on the SD card. (*) I assume this is the reason I can no longer access those photos, I can’t think of any other reason, and all the music on that SD card is still accessible.

And while I am happy to change the battery in the Kindle, I’ll have to get a professional to replace the battery in the phone.

The drive back home was much faster. We used motorways. And we saw the long, long queue heading in the opposite direction towards Leeds. So glad we weren’t part of that!

We have a guest for the weekend. Liesel collected Rosie from Stockport station around 10pm, by which time, I was asleep in bed.

On this week’s radio show, I had a chat with Dave from Thrive Manchester, and the songs were mostly lists of things, people, dances, events, not forgetting the Compleat Works of Shakespeare. Catch up here.

Three threes

The old printer has found a new home, I hope the new carers get years of enjoyment out of it. Meanwhile, our new printer is doing a great job, at least in terms of printing black and white documents. One day, we’ll try and print photos, in colour.

Still messing around with ChatGPT, here’s a little sonnet that it wrote at my request:

From Liesel’s phone, she captured the sunset,
A moment of beauty, worth sharing with all,
For eyes to witness, with no need to fret,
Her photo would inspire, both big and small.

The hues of orange and pink fill the sky,
A sight so serene, it’s hard to describe,
Her lens captures it all, no need to try,
For her photo tells a story, with no bribe.

The sun bids adieu, as it fades away,
But Liesel’s photo remains for us to see,
It reminds us to cherish every day,
And the beauty that’s around, for you and me.

So, let’s give thanks to Liesel’s lovely shot,
For sharing with us a moment we’ve sought.

It was a good week for pounding the beat locally. There are more signs of Spring now, although I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the really cold weather. Someone mentioned the beast from the east, and even that phrase alone makes me shiver, brrr.

We participated in all three organised walks this, meeting a few new people on the way. One afternoon, I’m glad I had a good reason to nip over to Benchill, otherwise I might have missed this unusual cloud formation.

We don’t have a night out for ages and then the have three in a week. I’ve been meaning to go for a long time, but this week, I actually ventured into Manchester to watch some comedy: Jokes at the Oaks. The venue is The Seven Oaks pub in Manchester’s Chinatown.

It was a very entertaining evening, with comedy from Dan Tiernan (who was on my radio show a couple of weeks ago), Charlie Lewis, Hayley Ellis, Jordan Ducharme, Harry Stickini and James Heath (any of whom would be welcome on my show, any time). The room was packed, and we all had a great time.

Our second evening of entertainment was provided by folk singer Frankie Archer (she was on my show a couple of weeks ago too). This time, we were at a much smaller venue, The Talleyrand, and there was a small but perfectly formed audience. She held us rapt for just over an hour, even when the subject matter of some of the songs was potentially upsetting. You don’t realise how many folk songs are murder songs, until someone points it out.

We drove over to Buxton for our next night out, a return visit to the gorgeous Buxton Opera House. Here we laughed and chuckled at Danny Baker’s third and final (maybe) solo stage show, in which he took us through his radio and TV careers. Lots of name-dropping of course, plenty of mentions of his Dad, Spud, plus some very funny stories.

This guy can’t stand still when he’s talking at 90 mph, so I’m guessing he clocked up about 20,000 steps on stage that night during the monologue that lasted well over three hours.

This show was a complete antidote to the disaster that occurred earlier in the day. I installed the newly acquired power supply unit in the old PC, verging on the limits of my technical expertise and competence. I took photos of the innards so that I would make all the right connections.

I hoovered up as much dust as I could without sucking up any components. Then the moment of truth. Plug in, turn on at the wall, switch on at the back and finally, press the big button to boot up the PC. Nothing. Not a flicker of life. Nada. Whatever the problem is, it’s beyond me. Do I take it to an expert to fix? I could, but that would be an expense far beyond the value of the thing. Since there are still files on the old hard disk drive to copy off, I removed the HDD with a view to connecting it to my laptop eventually. Because I could, I also disconnected the CD/DVD player. The rest will be deposited lovingly in its final resting place: down the road at the tip. What a shame. I was using Windows 7 and even Windows XP on the old PC right up until just before Christmas. Now, on the laptop, it’s Windows 11 all the way. That’s progress, I suppose.

On the radio show this week, I attempted to build a house using song titles and lyrics. If you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio, you can catch it here on Mixcloud. The Mixcloud version has a house and an extension, an extra hour of songs which I hope you enjoy.

Three walks, three technical issues, three nights out, three threes, see, it all makes sense!

Walk an empty mile

Amidst the fleeting moments of life, the extraction of a tooth, though quick, a mere twenty seconds, proved to be a task of greater import, as the wound persisted in bleeding for twenty minutes past. Anaesthesia had masked the pain, but its fleeting touch had only heightened the senses, leaving the tongue to wander and explore the new contours of the mouth.

And so it was, that in the quest for medical aid, I journeyed to the apothecary once more, to collect the remnants of my prescription. In the waiting, I stumbled upon a treasure trove of knowledge, a library in the heart of Wythenshawe Forum.

Surrounded by the buzz of activity, I encountered a mechanical marvel, a robot stationed within the halls. Though its movements were limited, I couldn’t resist greeting it with a warm hello.

The library held within its walls a wealth of history, chronicling the rise of Wythenshawe Hospital from humble beginnings, from a piggery next to tuberculosis wards, to one of the finest institutions in the northwest of England. I learned of the famous figures that had passed through Wythenshawe’s halls, from Yuri Gagarin and Gladys Knight, to the legendary Bruce Forsyth, and more. Liesel was especially delighted to hear about Brucie.

On a day filled with care, we had the pleasure of looking after young Martha, who was off from school due to a teachers’ strike. We embarked on a journey of art and indulgence, visiting a quaint café, the oft-visited Quirky Misfits, for a babyccino, where she savoured the sweetness of cream and marshmallows. Her curious spirit was enticed by a shop filled with rocks, stones, and crystals, leading her to add a new treasure to her collection.

With William in tow, we ventured to a playland, where they let loose, danced and played to their hearts’ content. But as can be seen, Cheadle Hulme appears to be in a different timezone to London.

And as the day came to an end, we treated them to a fine dining experience, where they displayed impeccable manners, ordering their meals and making requests with ease.

William was very nearly welcomed into the arms of Morpheus, but his revival was achieved by the strange medicaments, chocolate brownie and ice cream.

The week was filled with many adventures, from walks through Wythenshawe…

… to completing the viewing of a TV series, Dark, and hosting a radio show, centered around the theme of The Archers, archers and archery. I even had the privilege of speaking with the talented folk singer, Frankie Archer, and playing her records for the world to hear.

Though the path ahead may be uncertain, and my steps difficult to retrace, I carry with me the memories of these moments, forever etched in my mind, a reminder of the beauty of life’s journeys.

‘Twas an interesting experiment, making use of Artificial Intelligence to help produce this post. Did it save time? Not really, no. Am I happy with the results? Not entirely, no. It is considered unethical to pass off someone else’s work as your own. It’s important to give credit where credit is due and maintain integrity in all of your actions. So, thanks very much for your help, ChatGPT, and good luck with taking over the world.

He’s waiting in the wings

Where does the time go? That’s another week, whoosh, and as I discussed with someone recently, time does appear to go faster as you get older. So much so, that I find myself doing sums all the time: did that event really occur that many years ago? Every time I hear Sandy Denny’s song, Who Knows Where the Time Goes?, I get goosebumps because that is exactly how I feel. Such are the thoughts that intrude as I wander round, sometimes aimlessly, sometimes with purpose. Then I spot a pile of rubbish, a bag from McDonalds or a cup from Starbucks, discarded on the pavement not ten feet away from a litter bin, and my internal philosophical speculations come crashing down like that stack of plates dropped by the waitress in Pizza Express that time. Which is bright red, by the way, according to my synaesthesia.

Liesel and I walked by the river to Didsbury. The path has been improved in places, not with tarmac, but gravel. Despite the last remnants of snow, and a sprinkling of frost, neither of us went a over t and ended up in the fast flowing water.

Liesel joined the ladies of the WI for a coffee and a chat while I sat, all by myself, on my own, at another table, enjoying my lonesome coffee while doing puzzles on the phone. After which, I took a solitary stroll home, stopping off briefly at Marie Louise Gardens to watch the squirrels building snow squirrels.

I didn’t actually see any, of course, that would be ridiculous.

Then at home, I had a fight with Microsoft. I haven’t had this kind of battle for a long time, so it brought back memories of other things we don’t see on computers any more. Stack overflows. Counters. Websites in progress.

Me: sign into Microsoft with username Mick
Microsoft: there’s no such account, try a different one or create a new one
Me: create an account with username Mick
MS: there’s already an account called Mick: if it’s yours, sign in
DC al coda

Outside again, and we were delighted to see an early sign of Spring.

Just a few crocuses on Nothenden’s Village Green, but it’s a start.

And we were witness to some colourful evening skies again this week, from the comfort of our luxury apartment.

I’ve never wanted to be a TV critic, but here goes. I’m watching Dark, a complex story that involves time travel. The dialogue is in German so I really have to concentrate on the English subtitles. But there are two things I find myself saying out loud several times during each episode. ‘Turn the flipping lights on’: a lot of the show is filmed in almost complete darkness. And ‘Answer the flipping question’. One character asks a question, and another just looks blank, lost, confused, tearful and doesn’t respond. Or maybe the actor forgot their lines.

My tooth has been annoying since that time it was electrocuted in Malta. Very sensitive, and sometime very painful, with pain transferred to sinuses and upper reaches of the noggin. I visited the dentist and she said ‘your teeth are OK but your gum’s gotta go’. Well, no, not really, that’s a lyric from an Alice Cooper song. Sadly, we’ve decided the offending tooth has got to go, since it should have recovered from its trauma by now. The X-ray revealed a ligament writhing in agony. I knew I had other plans for the week, so I’ve now made an appointment for the surgery next week. It feels weird losing a part of my body that is older than me but I’m looking forward, once the wound’s healed, to an ache-free, pain-free upper right corner of the cakehole.

Because I was feeling a bit sore and sorry for myself, I missed out on the Wednesday walk, but I did go to the newly introduced Thursday one. Liesel joined us too, after the disappointment of having her yoga class cancelled. This route is longer than the others, and took us through parts of Wythenshawe where I’d never been before.

I didn’t even know there was a prison in Wythenshawe, but it looks like there’s been a jailbreak, somewhere in this town.

Could I retrace the route on my own? Probably not, because I was chatting with someone, and kept forgetting to look at street signs and I don’t know which woods and parks we passed through.

Back at the shopping centre, I was surprised to come across this old Roman mosaic.

I also missed the Friday walk because I had a meeting with David from Thrive Manchester at Boxx2Boxx.

This week’s radio show featured (mostly) songs of five minutes or so in duration. I also had a chat with Dan Tiernan earlier in the week: he’s British Comedian of the Year and a Northendenizen. You can hear this ragbag of delights right here, if you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio. I know I did, because I was chatting to an up and coming singer for next week’s show.

Snow and tell

It’s so easy to be critical of the weather here in Manchester. People say I should be more positive. But I am positive. Positive that the weather here can be a little disappointing at times. While we were having a blast in Malta, it was raining a lot here. So much rain that the river Mersey was flowing very high and in danger of flooding. The little island opposite the playground in Riverside Park was still completely submerged when we first walked by.

Submerged island, fast-flowing rivertill

Underneath the motorway, I came across someone sleeping rough. I wanted to report them to Streetlink so that they could be looked after, but this organisation is only interested if the rough sleeper is outdoors at night, not during daylight hours. Mixed feelings here. Sad to see anyone sleeping rough at all like this, but at least it wasn’t just a pile of flytipped rubbish, which is what I thought, from a distance.

Any regrets about going away to the Med for a short break? No, not really. I shouldn’t have taken my sandals though, that was a bit optimistic: I lugged all that extra weight around for nothing.

In other news, Martha and William returned to school a bit later than their peers, having just returned from their adventures with their Mummy and Daddy and Auntie Helen in Australia. What a great time they had.

A great time, apart from poor Martha fracturing a bone in her wrist, something I didn’t manage until I was 14 years old. She was very philosophical about it though: at least it wasn’t her writing hand.

Liam and Jenny managed to get away by themselves on a ‘minimoon’, spending a few days on Hamilton Island while Auntie Helen looked after the children

King Nyani is the largest bronze gorilla statue in the world and he was very pleased to welcome Helen, Martha and William to Taronga Zoo.

And here they are, feeding carrots to that well-known native of Australia, a giraffe.

Previously, I may have mentioned the weather forecast that briefly led us to consider the possibility of extending our stay in Malta. The forecast proved correct. It snowed here. Not a lot, admittedly, but overnight for three nights in a row, down it came, leading to a strange reluctance on our part to venture outside.

One morning though, I did get up stupid early to go to the hospital for my long awaited echocardiogram. The gel was cold and my heart produced some weird sound effects, straight out of Doctor Who.

Of course, we did go out for a walk in the snow a couple of times, once with the regular walking group. Well, four of us walked that day, the rest stayed behind at the coffee shop. It wasn’t as slippery in the woods as some folks anticipated.

In the afternoon, we collected Martha and William from school. It was lovely to see them again, for the first time since well before Christmas. The sunblock must have worked well, none of them had a particularly strong tan after a month in the sunshine down under.

At home, they both played with and made models from Wikki Stix. These are made of hand-knitting yarn enhanced with a microcrystalline, food-grade non-toxic wax, the kind used in bubble gum and lipstick. And that’s it. (It’s that touch of wax that allows them to stick). Martha declared them the best toy ever, but I’m not sure we agree.

To the delight of the neighbours, I’m sure, Martha and William were taken out for rides on their sledges very early next morning, well before sunrise, lots of screaming and whoops of delight ensued. Dad Liam provided the horsepower, in case you were wondering.

So there I was sitting on the sofa, when Liesel piped up, what a gorgeous sunset. I looked up, and it wasn’t too shabby.

Sunset over Northenden as seen through a mucky window

This week’s radio show is not to be missed. The theme is Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. If you missed its broadcast on Wythenshawe Radio WFM 97.2 on Friday afternoon, you can catch up here.

Gozo and home

Having spent the day in and roughly north of Victoria, it was now time to head eastwards. The wind was still blowing so we took a bus to Qala from where we wandered hither and thither, admiring the views.

We did see some wildlife, a few birds, the odd butterfly, but most excitingly, snails.

Many of the restaurants advertise ‘locally produced lamb’, ‘locally produced goat’ and ‘locally produced rabbit’. Along with ‘Argentinian beef’. But on all our walks, we never once saw a sheep, goat or rabbit out in the wild, not even any signs of their presence. We ate our lunch in a place recommended by our b&b host, Xerri il Bukkett. Entertainment was provided by some loud American ladies one of whom clearly knew more about breeding and raising rabbits, for food, not pets, than the local Gozitan population.

Speaking of birds which we were a minute ago, what a surprise to see these chaps out by the road.

We walked and took a bus to the Ġgantija Temples, still looking out for sheep and goats. ‘Ġgantija’ because they were built by a race of giants, according to local legend.

After about 5,500 years, the temples, older than the pyramids in Egypt, aren’t in the best of repair, and some of the stones are missing, having been acquired for re-use in new buildings. This has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1980, but that’s no excuse not to have a coffee shop at the end of the tour, along with the gift shop!

‘The typical habitat on the Ġgantija plateau is the garrigue, a seemingly arid and treeless environment. In reality, this is one of the richest habitats on the Maltese islands with hundreds of flowering plants, including the Giant Fennel, the Wild Thyme, the Mediterranean Heather, the Maltese Spurge and many others.’ I don’t think I’d seen the word ‘garrigue’ before.

The graffiti goes back hundreds of years but we’re now discouraged from such vandalism.

A couple of the walls have been secured by scaffolding until the local experts work out the best way to preserve the temples in the longer term.

The temples need another visit one day, but we were conscious of having to catch a bus. While waiting at the bus stop, we had another wildlife encounter. A cat made friends with us.

The weather hadn’t been as bad as forecast and the following day was even better. So we headed south on this occasion, to Xlendi. The walk, nay, hike, along the coastal path was more challenging than the average stroll around Northenden, that’s for sure, and in a couple of places, we lost the path. Still, no sheep nor goats to worry about.

The cliffs looked challenging to say the least, so I was glad that our hike took us in the opposite direction, along the il-Maxar – ix-Xlendi Heritage Trail. Still hilly and rocky but not vertical.

I saw the Usain Bolt of the lizard world dart across the path in front of us. Then Liesel saw one too, after which we saw a few, lone lizards, taking in the Sun on the rocks. Beautiful green lizards.

One thing we weren’t expecting to see was this little bridge. There’s no river, it just meant we didn’t have to climb all the way down the ravine and back up. I imagine this was constructed by the Romans. Or maybe the Brits.

Our destination was Sanap Cliffs, and we just enjoyed the walk in the sunshine, even as we were concerned that we might be off course, having lost the path, and might be tramping across someone’s crops. Still no sign of a goat or sheep.

‘This area, that forms the south-western part of the village of Munxar, is characterised by the high cliffs known as Sanap Cliffs. Sanap, from Maltese senapa, is the mustard plant that was possibly cultivated in the area. This place lies between Tal-Bardan, on the left, and Ras il-Bajjada in Xlendi, to the right. The surrounding fields are a grazing site for sheep and goats.

Sanap Cliffs offer an unparalleled view of the south coast of the island of Gozo. The highest point in the area is specifically known il-Pinnur, literally as the weathercock. This point is perched to the winds just as a weathercock. The island of Comino is to the left, and the north coast of Malta in front.’

So, sheep and goats do graze in the area, maybe they’re inside during the cold(er) Winter months.

As we approached Sanap Caves, our rocky, stoney, muddy path morphed into a paved walkway, very civilised. We even saw other people, but we didn’t join them at the cliff’s edge. Instead, we completed the loop, and walked back to Xlendi, following the road this time.

From a distance, neither of us could discern whether these crops were potatoes or cannabis, or maybe something else, more exotic.

Obviously, it was much faster walking along the road and we soon found ourselves by the waterside in Xlendi. We found Moby Dick Restaurant, enjoyed lunch, and coffee, and watched the Sun going down over the sea. Again, I took far too many photos of the setting Sun, with and without clouds, trying to capture the waves as they broke just behind the wall protecting Moby Dick and the other shorefront premises from the Mediterranean.

Another slog, well, a two-minute walk to the bus stop, where again we were serenaded by the susurration from a million small birds in the trees.

I think it’s fair to say that we enjoyed our few days on Gozo and that, having seen the weather forecast back home, we didn’t really want to go back. But we did, getting up early to catch a bus back to Mġarr for the ferry back to Malta. Having not seen a lot of wildlife (we can’t really count snails, lizards, cats and millions of small birds), you can only imagine the delight when we came across this old thing in the ferry terminal.

I know, I know, it looks like a donkey to us too, but the model really is titled Four Beautiful Women.

Waiting for the ferry to arrive gave plenty of opportunity to get some steps in by wandering around, of course. The boat trip itself was uneventful, as was the bus that took us across Malta, from Cirkewwa Ferry Terminal to the airport.

Malta International Airport. We checked in very quickly. A dozen or so desks, all staffed, which meant there wasn’t a ridiculously long queue. We got through security very quickly too. Lots of time to spare before our flight, so all we could do really was wander around, or sit in the Hard Rock Café for some lunch.

It was quite poignant sitting by Jeff Beck’s shirt, as he only passed away a few days earlier.

The flight was uneventful and finally, we dropped through several thousand feet of clouds to see the lights of Manchester.

Manchester Airport and yes, we were soon brought back to grinding reality. After a 3½-hour flight, it really shouldn’t take 1½ hours to get through immigration. Why was there such a delay? Because, again, only half the passport reading machines were plugged in and working. Mine wasn’t the only head shaking in disbelief.

And then we were driven home by the grumpiest taxi driver in the country. He took the longest possible route home and made a big deal out of finding his card reader because, of course, we didn’t have any British money on us. Welcome home, Mick and Liesel!

In happier news, the latest radio show was about Laughter Therapy, and it includes a chat I had with Sara about laughter and about Blue Monday. Listen here, right now, and have a laugh!