mickandlieselsantics

Miles and Masks

Usually when we drive over to Sale Water Park, it’s to catch the tram into Manchester. This time we were joining an organised walk. We arrived in good time, as did a few others. The one person who didn’t make it was the leader, thanks to problems on the tram network. So the rest of us improvised, walked along the river to Chorlton Water Park for a nice stroll around the smaller body of water.

While the others continued their walk, Liesel, Leslie and I walked back along the river and had a well-deserved rest in the pub, Jackson’s Boat. I enjoyed my half of bitter shandy. The cheese and onion crisps were far too salty, but we persevered and finished the packet.

The drive to Lyme Park was long and slow. Everyone else was out for a drive on this beautiful sunny day too. We’d arranged to meet Jenny, Liam and the kiddoes for a walk here too. But only after coffee and scones and a fraught walk to the café from the car park. Fraught? Mainly because Martha and William were running down to and jumping through and across the stream. Neither of them fell in or fell over, so I would have lost that five bob bet if I’d been able to place it.

Plans to go for a longer walk around the grounds were shelved. Instead, we visited the children’s playground where we adults had plenty of exercise following the children around from swings to roundabouts to slides.

We didn’t see any deer at Lyme Park on this occasion, but our desire to see big, scary monsters was satisfied at home a couple of days later.

Yes, this huge spider appeared in our bathroom, in the middle of the night. I watched him walk around the room a couple of times, worried that he’d fit through the gap under the door and invade our bedroom. Poor old thing exited via the window during a torrential downpour, but I knew Liesel would be pleased.

Sometimes I find Noel Coward a bit twee, but sometimes he’s very funny. The three of us met up with Sue from the Thrive walks and we went to see Hay Fever at the local Northenden Theatre. This amateur group put on a very good performance, and there were some funny lines in the play. But as I said at the time, none of the characters were particularly likeable. Which can only mean it was well written and well acted.

As well as there being loads of spiders around (some indoors) and lots of cobwebs outside, it also seems to be fungus season. We’ve had mushrooms growing on the grass in our communal car park. They appear overnight and disappear just as quickly. The ones pictured are growing around the base of a tree that we pass on the walk from Martha and William’s house to their school. Martha noticed that there were at least two different kinds of mushroom here, too. She also knew that it probably wasn’t safe to eat any of them.

From school, we took them to the exciting shopping centre that is Wythenshawe, the so-called Civic. While they browsed in the craft shop, I wandered over to the pharmacy to pick up some meds. They couldn’t give me everything, so I said I’d return in a couple of days. Which I did.

Back at our home, William and Martha enjoyed decorating their masks so it was very difficult to tell them apart afterwards… no, not really.

I was discumgalligumfricated when Liesel sent me a photo marking the occasion of our car coming of age.

I was hoping to be a passenger as the odometer changed from 99999 to 100000 but instead, I found myself at home while Liesel was driving home from her physio appointment. I’ll just have to wait for 200,000 now. Still, who’d have thought our old but faithful jalopy would make it four times around the planet?

I had a bit of fun with the newly installed Google Assistant on my phone. I think all these so-called Artificial Intelligence things should be treated with a large pinch of salt. By the way, I didn’t ask for it, it just appeared during the latest software update.

The aurora borealis has been visible a couple of times this week but not from our apartment. The combination of bright lights in our communal car park and a big tree blocking out much of the sky means that we don’t stand a chance of seeing any fascinating celestial phenomena in a northerly direction. But we did have a couple of pretty sunsets though, better in real life than these photos of course.

But I’m pleased to say the aurora was captured by our friends over there in Wythenshawe.

Thanks to Wythenshawe Star Gazers.

Back on terra firma, Northenden and Wythenshawe haven’t changed much since last week. Although someone and their bad driving have rearranged the street furniture just along the road from where we live.

And finally… a big welcome to baby Foxy, lots of love to you, sister Gypsy and Mum and Dad Bambi and Brett from all of us here in the old country.

Three Concerts and a Nokia

On a typical day, I drag myself out of bed much later than everyone else. I can get up early if I have to, if something exciting is occurring, but usually, I wake up, listen to a podcast or two and drift off again.

Liesel goes out for more walks than I manage, at the moment. Once, she joined a group as far away as Greenfield, the other side of Oldham. No, I’d not heard of it before, either.

The technical challenge of the week was to clear all my personal data from my old Nokia phone. Restore to factory settings. It wasn’t difficult, once the phone was charged up.

It says it’s deleting data. And it did indeed take a few minutes. A quick check however revealed that all my photos, all my music, all my contacts were still stored on the phone.

Later on, I showed Martha this old phone, claiming it was my new one. She laughed: somehow she recognised it as an old Victorian artefact. She and William were round at ours, making flowers from felt, amongst other activities.

After a pretty disappointing Summer, Autumn isn’t looking much better. The wind and the rain are definitely winning. So much wind, that many trees have been uprooted in this area. And so much rain, there are floods in some parts of the country.

We came across this branch on our walk near Kenworthy Lane Woods. Leslie was with me and a fairly large group, while Liesel was being treated by her physiotherapist. It was nice to see a little bit of colour too. Some leaves are turning red, yellow or brown, the shades of Autumn, but even that seems to be a slow process this year.

A few weeks ago, I played tracks from Tom Hingley’s new album The Grand Mal on my radio show, as Album of the Week. Imagine my surprise therefore when he announced a show in Manchester to officially launch the album. I went along to offer my support, at the small but perfectly formed venue that is The Castle Hotel.

Support was provided by Harrison Rimmer whose set was longer than most support acts.

Tom and his band played through the whole album, but nothing else, not his older songs and nothing from the Inspiral Carpets. It was good to see him again, it’s been a while. His wife Kelly was there too, but I didn’t speak to her this time.

Less than twenty-four hours later, we were all back in Manchester for another concert. This time, we went to the Bridgewater Hall to see the Hallé Orchestra playing Top of the Classics.

Before the show, we had to eat. Our first choice of eaterie could let us have a table, but we wouldn’t be able to order food for 45 minutes. So we went over the road to HOME, where for the second time ever, I had a margherita and a margarita together.

The show was brilliant, Leslie enjoyed it too, tapping her feet and clapping along to some well-known classics and a couple of lesser-known tunes. Apparently, my humming along was a little louder than I realised.

Zeb Soanes, Hallé Orchestra conducted by Simon Bell

The narrator was Zeb Soanes who I remember from reading the Shipping Forecast for many years on Radio 4. He now presents a show on Classic FM. And if we thought the conductor was exuberant, he had nothing on the first violinist. I think he must have had ants in his pants.

So, two late nights in a row in Manchester, something my old carcass isn’t really used to any more.

So of course, I went out again just a few days later. I bought tickets for Tom Robinson way back in February. And for a while, I thought we’d miss the show because we’d be in Alaska. Luckily (?!) I became ill and we had to postpone the trip. Tom and the band peformed songs from the very first two Tom Robinson Band albums, Power in the Darkness and TRB2. This was a return visit for me to Band on the Wall. Last time, there were seats. This time, they expected 450 of us mainly old blokes to stand for three hours. I went upstairs and found a seat. I was further away from the stage, so the photos aren’t that good, but at least I was sitting down!

Tonight’s support act was someone from Nottingham, Rob Green, who Tom got to know via his BBC Introducing show on 6 Music. He was very good, funny and entertaining.

Tom was genuinely delighted to see so many people here, some of us younger than his 74 years of age. He says there are three things he doesn’t like about getting old. He has to print out some of the lyrics. Then he has to wear glasses so he can read the lyrics. And, er…

I took a taxi home and arrived before I would have reached the bus station if I’d chosen to walk there. But I’m ahead of myself. Three gigs in six days is quite an achievement.

This week, we took the children to Let Loose, another soft play space over in Hazel Grove. Liesel and Leslie had another WI meeting to attend in the evening, so no family meal at home. Today was the first of October, but Let Loose was already decorated and set up for Halloween.

We had a snack here too before taking the children home.

I glanced at the never-ending To-Do list and picked something out at random. I remember a nice, warm day in May, 1968, when we at school were all escorted out on to the sports field. The professional photographer was here to take a picture of the whole school. The photo is over a metre long. Of course, it was never framed and instead, it’s been stored, rolled up, bashed and battered in a box, for over half a century. I decided it was time to pass it onto the school’s own archivist. But not before I took pictures of the aged old photo.

What I found sad was that I spent at least five years of my life with these foks and now, I can only name about five or six of them. I wonder whatever happened to my old scool buddies?

I think there must have been something in the air in Wythenshawe on the day we wandered around the pond in Painswick Park. Maybe there are now some tasty morsels in the water. Most of the geese, at some point, stuck their derrières in the air for that perfect photo opportunity.

Arguably the Craftwork of the Week award goes to Liesel for her beautiful and functional Mug Cosy.

After I submitted revised repeats for a few weeks, I managed to cobble together a brand new show this week for Wythenshawe Radio, WFM 97.2. Having been to so many concerts recently, the theme of the show was Concerts. Concerts and Gigs! You can listen to it right here, if you need something on in the background for a couple of hours.

Chan Chan

The drive to Quarry Bank Mill was exciting, in the rain, trying to reach that precise temperature in the car where humans aren’t too cold but the windows aren’t fogging up. Holding our collective breath worked for a while but wasn’t sustainable for the whole trip. Because of the precipitation, we walked the quick way down to the restaurant. Jenny, Martha and William joined us for coffee and cake. We were celebrating Liesel’s birthday. Imagine our disappointment when we saw that the choice of cakes was very limited today. Imagine my excitement when the staff brought out a whole, new lemon drizzle cake. Liam was elsewhere, hiking, possibly in the rain, maybe not.

The children always like to have a look in the gift shop and today was no exception. Martha was intrigued by the small weaving loom being demonstrated.

Normally, we’d have a bit of a longer walk around the grounds, but not today.

Another medical procedure for me but you don’t need to know about folks rummaging around in my junkyard. The medics did give me a nice cup of coffee afterwards and as many biscuits as I wanted.

And I visited the dental hygienist where I answered the same old questions with the same old details about my oral hygiene. Later in the day, we drove over to Bruntwood Park, parked up, and walked to the school to pick up the children. Snacks in the playground are no longer acceptable, but we did promise them an ice cream in the park. It was a lovely, sunny day, a bonus after some rubbish weather recently. William and I played hide and seek for a while: I felt bad about not being able to run after him, especially given how much energy he was burning off, fuelled by an ice cream.

Martha’s friend Eliza was in the park too, and they spent a lot of time together, swinging, and sliding and even climbing.

We took the children home a bit earlier than planned after William bashed a tooth in the slide. It was a loose tooth, and he felt that it had been pushed back into its socket. He was alright later after some parental TLC. No meal with the fam tonight, as Liesel and Leslie went off to a WI meeting, leaving me to enjoy a couple of episodes of Doctor Who.

This was the week of the full Harvest Supermoon. The Moon’s closer to the Earth than usual, so it looks bigger. There was also a partial lunar eclipse. Unusually, that night, the sky was clear, so I thought I’d get up in the night and see what all the fuss was about. I was awake at 2am , at which point, the eclipse was just beginning. It would be at its maximum at 3.44am. I’ll be awake again by then, I often am. Nope, not tonight. When I came to, it was after 5 o’clock. I’d missed the whole blimmin’ thing. I enjoyed seeing other people’s photos online, but I would prefer to have witnessed the sight of a rare blood-red half of the Moon myself.

Some really sad news this week. Greens Restaurant in Sale has announced its imminent closure. I’m so glad Helen, Brent and I had lunch there recently, and I feel bad that Liesel and I never quite got round to making a booking.

We had a few uninvited guests this week, all named Boris and all quickly evacuated through the window after posing for a photograph. The first was a small specimen having a kip on my computer keyboard. The others were two of the biggest spiders we’ve ever seen in this flat, or in fact, anywhere I’ve lived.

At least the cranefly was polite enough to stay outside. And I’m so glad I’m no longer a postman, having to walk face first through hundreds of newly constructed webs every morning. Did I ever mention, spiders’ webs taste of metal?

Another day, another walk, this time down by the river where at least a couple of people were messing about in their boats. We haven’t seen the resident heron for a long time, but if he’s disappeared, I’m surprised we haven’t seen a new one. The new sign by the children’s playground is quite intriguing.

I just wonder what prompted this. Who was daft enough to eat the berries, leaves and plants here? Part of me hoped it wasn’t the small children just having a good play, but the boys over there, significantly older than 9, playing football.

Liesel went on a walk with another group while Leslie and I joined the Thrive walk in Wythenshawe. For a while, we thought there’d only be a few of us but suddenly, many more people appeared out of nowhere. The paths in the woods are now, at the end of Summer, quite overgrown, and again, I said to myself, I should carry around some secateurs to cut back the worst of the nettles and brambles.

One busy evening, all three of us attended meetings, but not the same one. Thanks to the rubbish bus service in these parts, I arrived late for the meeting of Wythenshawe Radio volunteers. But I was rewarded afterwards by the sight of a wonderful Wythenshawe sunset, as seen from the bus station. So romantic.

Liesel and her Mom attended the WI Knitting group meeting. I’m not sure how much knitting, nor even crochet, takes place.

Changes

Helen and Brent returned from Wales having not tried a single Welsh cake. Can you believe it? We all met up in Yara, a restaurant in Cheadle that I’d not been to before. It was not only our opportunity to say farewell to the travellers, but an early birthday celebration for Liesel. Helen and Brent were scheduled to fly home the following morning, Sunday, while Liesel, Leslie and I were scheduled to fly to Alaska on Wednesday. The children had made a card for their Oma, which was displayed on the table for a short while. I think this must be how the servers knew it was Liesel’s birthday, so having all decided we were too full for dessert, they sang Happy Birthday while bringing over a huge slice of chocolate cake which saw Liesel’s eyes almost pop out on stalks.

It didn’t last long, though: it would have been very rude for the rest of us not to help Liesel consume the confection. The waiters had several extra forks to wash up afterwards.

When Helen and Brent were not quite half way back to Sydney, Liesel, Leslie and I ventured into Manchester for a gig. I’ve wanted to see Camille O’Sullivan for a long time, and I booked tickets as soon as the show was announced, back in January. I didn’t know then that Leslie would be with us, so a couple of days earlier, I went online hastily to purchase a third ticket.

We parked easily, close to the venue, Band on the Wall, just a five minute walk in the drizzle. Best of all, there were seats. Not like the last time we’d been to this venue and witnessed a fight between other, drunk, audience members, but that’s another story.

The stage was well decorated with various characters and I thought, that’s about right for Camille, yes.

The show was very good, she performed a lot of songs by Shane McGowan and told us stories abouit him and Sinéad O’Connor. We remembered Jacques Brel (Amsterdam), Kirsty MacColl (In These Shoes) and David Bowie (Where are we now? and Quicksand), and I sang along to their songs sotto voce.

At one point, Camille channeled Grace Jones, dancing with a hula hoop.

I noticed that I wasn’t the oldest person in the audience. I don’t think Liesel’s Mom was the oldest either. I could see now why they’d put seats out for all the seniors.

Feargal the accompanyist was really good too, playing keyboards and joining in with a couple of duets, including Sinéad and Shane’s Haunted and, of course, a part of Fairytale of New York. The audience joined in too, quietly.

More medical madness: after a telephone consultation, I made more appointments for next week, grrr. As a result, we’ve decided to postpone our trip to Alaska for a few weeks. I think this decision has relieved both Liesel and myself of a tonne of anxiety. Phew!

The highlight of the week was collecting Martha and William from school, and bringing them home to indulge in a variety of crafts. William is enjoying helping Oma with the 1000-piece Pokémon jigsaw puzzle. He knows all the characters and their characteristics. Liesel just knows there are pink ones and yellow ones…

Meanwhile, I helped Martha make a multi-coloured pom-pom but of course, I didn’t get a photo of the finished item, which is now pride of place in Martha’s bedroom. Or maybe tossed into the back of a drawer.

Jenny and Liam joined us for dinner, Indian food, very flavourful and not too hot and spicy, of course.

On another, sunny but cool day, we walked over to Northenden Community Library which is now located in St Wilfrid’s Church Hall, so just 15 minutes away as the crow waddles. Did we walk that extra little bit down the road to the coffee shop? Nope. Straight home for a restorative sit-down and breather.

I dropped Leslie and Liesel off in Didsbury so they could join a walk with the WI. I then drove over to Wythenshawe with a view to joining the regular Thrive walk. In the end, the distance I walked was minimal. I feel much better on the whole, yes, but my stamina, my oomph, is still not there. If I were a toy, a few AAA batteries would sort me out.

I look forward to the day when my daily step count is once again in five figures. Here’s a tip: never, ever, ever get ill.

Magic moments

Congratulations again to Helen and Brent! Not quite married but we had a lovely day celebrating their impending union. They are having a series of parties all around the world to accommodate friends and family in several continents. Slight exaggeration there.

Dressed in white, Helen illuminated The Ivy in Manchester where thirteen of us met for a fantastic, long lunch. It was lovely to see our former hairdresser and Helen’s friend Tracey and her family after their six-hour drive from Somerset.

The food was great, the company was marvellous, the service fantastic, all the staff were very attentive and friendly. Oh hang on, this isn’t Trip Adviser is it?

Martha and William enjoyed building their own ice cream sundaes. Well, they enjoyed gorging on the various components.

Later on, we all met up at Jenny’s for a party with more friends and family. Magician Matt and Amy were there: we’d not met since Jenny and Liam’s wedding two years ago.

It was a gorgeous day to sit around in the garden, drinking, chatting and ‘plane spotting.

The more formal part of the day was Martha and William acting as joint celebrants, conducting their own marriage ceremony, and a very good job they did too.

Despite appearances, the certificate was not signed on the desk in a mobile phone and cuddly toy shop.

Even after a huge meal at The Ivy, we still found time and space to enjoy the various snacks, thanks to Jenny, Liesel and Una. Yes, for the first time in quite a while, I felt that I’d eaten too much.

Evening entertainment was provided by Matt whose warm-up act was Martha. She managed a conjuring trick perfectly.

Matt got Helen and Brent to choose numbers from an apparently random set on a board. When added up, the total was, as predicted by Matt, 111,124. Which, by coincidence, we believe to be the chosen date for the actual wedding, 11/11/24. Spooky.

Many of us suggested questions to ask Helen and Brent. They sat back to back, each holding one shoe of their own and of of their partner’s. The questions were answered by each raising the shoe belonging to whoever they each believed satisfied the question best. And yes, we were still sitting outside well after dark.

A good night’s sleep was had by all, I’m sure.

After breakfast, Martha and William came over. We looked after them for a few hours while Jenny, Liam, Helen and Brent spent some time together. We picked some litter… no… We picked a lot of litter while walking from our place to the playground in Riverside Park. In the end, we left two full bags to be collected by the contractors. Still, it was a nice day for litter-picking, and the children had fun in the playground too.

Fun, yes, but exhausting. Poor old William!

The walk home via a coffee shop was uneventful, until it very suddenly got dark, started to spit and then, whoosh, a torrential downpour soaked us. How we laughed!

It was lovely to meet up with Helen and Brent for lunch before they continued their tour of the UK and Ireland. I took a bus to Greens, Sale, the first time I’d been there. The food as always was great, but I did have to take some excess patatas bravas home for Liesel!

Martha and William returned to school and Helen and Brent drove off to Snowdonia for a few days to complete thir British adventure.

I’m still having all but daily medical appointments, consultations, examinations, check-ups, but you know, mustn’t grumble.

Liesel and I had a night out. Laughterama in Manchester’s Castlefield Bowl. Outside. And I’m so glad I wore a long-sleeved shirt, a coat and long trousers, as it did get quite cold and windy towards the end of the evening. All five comedians were very funny. One in particular was very rude, and we learned the BSL sign for a word that we’ll never use in real life.

Jen Brister, Stephen Bailey, Janine Harouni, Rhys James and Dara Ó Briain

Dara commented that he likes Manchester because of all the theatres, especially the ones with roofs…

I went for a walk on what must have been one of the hottest days of this Summer, although I didn’t realise that when I set off. I visited a few shops. Liesel and her Mom have been out a few times with the WI ladies for coffee. And we’ve been watching far too much TV: la Vuelta, the Paralympics and the Tour of Britain (Men) started this week too. I checked, but my eyes haven’t gone square like my Mum said they would.

Socks and tiles

Several thousand words omitted describing Mick’s medical emergency and its aftermath. More medical appointmets in a week than there are atoms in a water molecule. The worst thing is, training for the 2032 Brisbane Olympics has been on hold, so there’s some catching up to do.

But slowly, slowly, Mick climbed back through the treacle to a more resonable, stable landscape. Just in time too. Writing in the third person because it all seems like it was happening to somebody else, over there, and I was merely an observer.

Some lovely friends from Germany paid a quick visit to Manchester and we three, Mick, Liesel and Leslie, enjoyed entertaining them for a few days. I last met Fe a couple of years ago in Anchorage, but this was the first time I’d met her mother, Gabi, and her 10-month old daughter Charlotte.

We caught a bus into the city and Charlotte kept us entertained on board.

Our first destination was The Whitworth Gallery. Liesel and I have been before but it was fun to act as guides for our guests. As if we knew what we were talking about! Charlotte wasn’t bothered by the artwork, but she did like to move around a lot.

The exhibition of Carnival pictures was alright but I think we were all too busy talking and catching up on family news, I didn’t take many pictures. I was feeling much better, but still nowhere near 100%.

In fact, after lunch in the café, I went home for a nap while our visitors wandered around some other Manchester sights and sites.

The weir in Northenden is broken, no idea how that happened, but it means that the annual Northenden Boat Race was cancelled.

To be honest, I needed a nap at home too, but in the evening, we all met up for a meal in Albert’s, a restaurant just along the road from Fe and Gabi’s b&b: what are the chances? Lovely, sociable Charlotte made friends with everyone, including the serving staff. She can just about walk, as long as she holds on to one or two grown-up fingers, and she and I circumnavigated the restaurant a couple of times.

We all returned to Manchester for another full day of sightseeing.

Our guests admired the architecture of the Midland Hotel, and all I could think of was the very small cup of coffee I had in there once when I visited with my other mother-in-law, many years ago. And, we were reminded that Manchester Pride is imminent.

I think they could have made this statue of Abraham Lincoln even taller if they’d given him his stovepipe hat. John Rylands Library is always good to wander round, look at the books, and the architecture. Liesel and I joined an organised tour a while ago, but they no longer run these. Someone asked, did the building used to be a church? No, but it was designed to resemble a church. And it was good to see thet we weren’t the only overseas visitors today.

We continued our tour of the city at the Museum of Science and Industry. Disappointing that the loom wasn’t in operation today due to lack of volunteers. On the other hand, it’s quite a noisy machine and maybe a bit too loud for Charlotte’s little lugs.

But Charlotte did enjoy time in the soft play area, even while being a bit discombobulated being pushed round and round in an oversize cotton reel.

We paid a visit to nearby Castlefield Viaduct too. Gabi and I climbed the stairs, and that was almost too much for me, on this occasion. Fe and Liesel pushed the buggy the long way round since the lift is still out of commission.

The various gardens on the viaduct are a wee bit unkempt right now, maybe the volunteer gardeners have been enjoying a nice, lazy Summer. Still, it was interesting to see and hear Gabi’s take on some of the plants, I wondered whether she was a herbalist (a witch?) in a previous life.

Royal Mail offer a very different service in Manchester, as we discovered on our walk back to our bus stop.

Fe and Gabi’s visit came to a sudden end. We paid a return visit to Albert’s for a farewell meal, thank you very much, after which we wandered back to their b&b for a quick glass of wine. It was quite late in the evening, but Charlotte showed no sign of needing to go to sleep.

Meanwhile, what’s Helen been up to? We saw her briefly when she arrived from Aus, but since then she and Brent have been on an extensive tour of the UK and Ireland. Lake District with Jenny and the family. Edinburgh for the Festival Fringe, Ireland for a wedding, Brighton to visit Amy and then to Kingston for a meal at Riverside Vegetaria, celebrating its 35th anniversary.

I came into our living room and saw this apparition. Don’t worry, it’s only William. You can tell by the odd socks on his odd feet.

When we were at the Museum of Science and Technology, we saw there’s a room full of old video games, and we thought Martha and William might both enjoy this. They both play games on parents’ phones, after all. The adventure started with a tram ride into Manchester and I met up with everyone at the Museum. Why didn’t I travel in with them? Sod’s Law, innit. The last few weeks, our Ocado delivery has arrived at about 9.30, or even earlier. Today, because we’d planned to go out, he didn’t arrive until an hour later. Of course he didn’t.

Anyway, while I was excited to come across a working BBC Microcomputer, I was very disappointed that I couldn’t remember enough to help Martha write a BBC Basic program.

I like this photo because we have a very similar one featuring young Jenny programming my own, original BBC micro.

While she and William were playing with Sonic the Hedgehog and Pokémon, I did manage to insert a single line of code which I hope later visitors will appreciate.

The children spent a few more hours at the museum, playing these video games but also exploring the exploration area, causing earthquakes, studying viscosity, playing with magnets and much more. But William delighted us by persevering and building a Soma cube from seven differently shaped pieces.

And then Martha and I played a game of Jenga with some very sticky tiles. The tower was precarious and guess who made the final, fatal move?

I had the first of the week’s three medical appointmets in the aftrernoon so, after lunch, I departed, leaving Liesel and Leslie in charge.

And here’s little Martha relaxing in the cotton spool recently vacated by little Charlotte.

A couple more medical appointments later in the week that encouraged me to walk in places I’ve not wandered before. I like a bit of street art but I just wish the artist would arrange things so that I could get a decent photo of the whole thing without having to clamber up a drainpipe and balance precariously on someobody’s wall. So this picture is a bit distorted.

And yes, I must be feeling a little bit better, more myself, but nowhere near 100%, because I let Liesel persuade me to join her and Leslie on the regular Friday morning Thrive walk in Wythenshawe. It was alright although I was aware of walking more slowly than I usually do. I was glad to take a load off in Costa afterwards.

Yes, I can see the irony in me feeling a bit down at the moment thanks to a, hopefully temporary, impairment in my abilities, while, at the same time, watching and admiring the Paralympians on TV living with, coping with and even overcoming their permanent disabilities. They are amazing.

Letters and numbers

One more week of Olympics kept us entertained, up to but not including the Closing Ceremony. No, we didn’t wait up for the speeches.

Jenny, Liam and the children sent us some sunshine from Menorca.

Our own travels took us as far as Northenden. Leslie and I joined about 15 others for the regular wander through Kenworthy Lane Woods. After taking Leslie home, I caught the bus into Manchester for another walk, starting at Aviva Studios, home of Factory International. I looked around for familiar faces, but saw nobody I knew. I decided sit and wait and while browsing Instagram, I saw a message telling me this walk had been cancelled. Well, I thought, that’s disappointing. So, had a nice cup of coffee, enjoyed the music being played in the background before setting off on a walk around town.

I didn’t have a route in mind but I saw a couple of birds waddling along and decided to follow them. And then, around the corner, I came across a whole gaggle of them, leading me all the way to Castlefield.

There are some activities that I haven’t enjoyed since I was a child, and I was delighted to relive some memories this week. Our fresh veg box included peas and my mission, which I chose to accept, was to pod them. I used to pod my Dad’s home-grown peas while sitting on the back doorstep. Today, I just sat on the sofa, indoors, enjoying the feeling and the scent of fresh peas.

Liesel, Leslie and I joined the regular walk through the woods and parks of Wythenshawe, followed by a nice cup of coffee. Except today, I had a mango and passionfruit cooler instead. Well, it was a warm day and even hotter inside the café.

Shelling peas qualified me for another job at home. Martha and William enjoy making bracelets with beads and some of our beads have letters, so they can spell their names and the names of some school friends. My mission, which I chose to accept, was to sort these letter beads in order to determine which letters we are now short of. And what a fiddly labour of love that was.

As you can see, unlike old Letraset sets from fifty years ago, there is no shortage of letter Ds here.

Another major achievement this week was, after several months of trying on and off, completing the 2048 puzzle on my phone.

2048 is a single-player sliding tile puzzle game. The objective of the game is to slide numbered tiles on a grid to combine them to create a tile with the number 2048. When you slide tiles up, down, left or right, neighbouring tiles of equal value merge into one, Two 2s become 4, two 4s become 8 etc. Each move also results in a new tile appearing in a random location, with a value of 2 or 4. Hours of fun.

Watching TV late on Thursday afternoon, suddenly I felt really cold and shivery. I went to bed and turned the electric blanket up to 11. This was the start of a more than week-long illness, during which time, I have not left the flat except for a couple of medical appointments. First thought was flu, but no. And the covid test was negative. Sordid details on request only, in triplicate and countersigned by a member of the aristocracy.

Citius, Altius, Fortius – Communiter

After our expedition to Wales, it took a couple of days for us to recover from the jetlag. And to find our land legs following the three nights kipping on the water bed.

It was a beautiful Summer’s day when we picked the children up from school, the final time this term. We brought them home, where, as requested, we once again spent time making sushi. Martha and William also constructed some delightful models with sticky Wikki Stix.

Jenny joined us and we all fought the sticky rice that sticks to everything rather then the roasted seaweed sushi nori that it’s supposed to stick to. Well, that’s my experience. Wet your fingers before manpulating the rice, then, they said. That just means I have a bowl of water with rice grains floating around. The children managed OK, their worst crime maybe overloading the nori with too many other ingredients.

The streets of Northenden and Wythenshawe are flat, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that before, and that’s why we found the hills in Wales more challenging, but more interesting. Nothing much has changed here, except the signpost in Royle Green Road has been driven into again.

Good job there weren’t any children around at the time.

One of my most exciting activities this week was deleting my stuff from Liesel’s laptop. She’ll be investing in a new one soon, and there’s no need to transfer over any of my nonsense, er, I mean valuable data. So I backed it all up even though I’ll probably never look at any of it again, and removed it. I was unable to delete my user account though, which would have made things tidier for Liesel.

The three of us went over to Dunham Massey where we replaced our usual National Trust grounds wander with an enjoyable, longer walk in the neighbourhood, through the woods, beside the canal and back to the NT property, via the back entrance.

We followed the Bridgewater Canal and carefully made way for the many runners and cyclists and other groups of promenaders who steadfastly refused to accommodate us by breaking their three-in-a-row formation. Yeah, we’ll just jump into the bushes and let you amble on by, don’t worry about us… yes, very tempted to accidently push them in the water.

We feasted on three or four blackberries and a few raspberries, but hundreds of other walkers had been there before us, so even if we’d thought to bring along a container, I don’t think we would have filled it with wild berries.

A few people were on the water enjoying their time in a narrow boat. Of course, we waved from the bridge.

As I was leaning on the bridge parapet, I felt several pings, stings on my hand, and when I looked down, I noticed it was being eaten by ants. Dozens of ants poring out through the mortar and making a meal of my skin. Apologies to those I brushed off in haste that ended up in the water.

We walked through a golf course where there was a tournament taking place, so we took advantage and, from the stall close to the 7th hole, we bought some refreshments for ourselves.

A narrow path proved to be treacherous for a bit, when the nettles, brambles, holly and thistles all conspired to overgrow the path, attacking our legs despite our best efforts to avoid nature’s own weaponry.

One of the highlights of course was seeing a wide variety of dogshit. Some freshly laid in the middle of the path, some carefully picked up in a plastic bag and hung in a bush or on the barbed wire fence. You have to admire the gall of dog walkers serenely vaping and looking away into the distance, away from the mutt, pretending not to notice that it’s taking a dump.

We sat down for a minute opposite St Marks Church, Dunham Massey. I admired the flowers growing there, and the bonus cones not quite concealed.

The loop took us back to the back entrance of the National Trust and after a walk along the long Charcoal Drive, we decided to have a late lunch. The restaurant’s upstairs, but downstairs smelt of old, hot, wet dog, a fetid stench I’ve not experienced since I was a postman.

In more pleasant news, here are Martha and William on the last day of term.

We watched the children swimming and then joined the family at their home for a welcome coffee and lovely cheese and tomato sandwich. As it was Manchester Day in Manchester, I took myself off to Manchester by bus. It didn’t take me as far as I’d planned, a car crash was being cleared up in Oxford Road.

It was a busy city, all sorts of people were there either celebrating or protesting, street food vendors, Morris dancers, a saxophone player, a group of drummers, Ukrainians, acrobats, a few hen parties, skate boarders, singers and a couple of drag queens celebrating Manchester Gay. As the promoters said, it was a big, fun day of games, music, performances, dancing, food, sunshine, sports, and lots of big smiles.

I was sorry to have missed the snail race but I did catch up with them, eventually.

In our old garden in Chessington, sometimes we’d erect poles up which we grew a splendid harvest of beans or peas. Well, if I’d seen this person climbing up our beanpoles and doing acrobatics, I would’ve said, “Oi, no!” in an Angry Frank style.

To get away from the crowds, I wandered over the bridge into Salford, and then back over another bridge towards Aviva Studios, home of Factory International. The outside area has temporarily been turned into a skateboard park, which was fun to watch, but of course, I found myself in the middle of another large crowd here.

The last Sunday of each calendar month sees the famous Makers’ Market at Didsbury. The three of us walked over there, enjoying what, at last, is proper, warm, Summery weather. We passed many people on the path by the river, which was hard to see in places because the weeds, especially the Himalayan balsam, was very overgrown.

The market itself was busy, and, being warm, I opted for a cold drink rather then hot coffee. Rum punch, since you ask, but I don’t think there was any alcohol involved! On the walk back home, we saw a really unusual sight.

Two people in a small boat drifting down the Mersey: we never see boats on this stretch of the river. Maybe they were going all the way to Liverpool?

I drove over to Heald Green to meet with a representative from our luxury apartment’s management company. I was also tasked with buying falafels for dinner. I found some in the end, that was a relief. I also went over to Simply Books in Bramhall to spend the book token that Pauline and Andrew gave me for my birthday, all those months ago, when we were in Australia. Three new novels to enjoy once I’ve finished one or two of the books I’m already in the middle of.

I do like extended birthday celebrations.

The official Thrive walks were not taking place this week, but that didn’t prevent Leslie and me from joining three others at Boxx2Boxx to walk through the woods. Liesel was otherwise engaged. For the second time recently, I left the flat without my phone. I couldn’t believe how often I reached for it, to take a photo, to look something up, to see what the time was, to show somebody a particular picture.

Liesel went for a walk with the other group, WalkaDay, a return trip to Romiley. I stayed at home with Leslie watching the Olympics. Ah, the Olympics.

We’d watched the Opening Ceremony on the Friday night, and even though it went on a bit, it was quite enjoyable. The weather in Paris was atrocious, I think it rained harder and harder as time went on.

Sadly we don’t have tickets for any of the events, so we’ll have to watch it on TV. Sorry to say I agreed with many comments on 𝕏 complaining about the BBC’s coverage. Because they didn’t get the full rights, they’re only allowed to show two live events at a time, on broadcast TV and online. So what do they do instead? Show hours and hours of pundits in the studio talking about the sports we’re not seeing. Or building up a competitor by giving us their ‘journey’ and thus jinxing them.

Anyway, at Liesel’s bidding, I signed up to Discovery+ for a month so we can see more action on Eurosport. And I think that was a very good and worthwhile investment.

You have to admire the skills on display, and all the atheletes and competitors deserve much kudos for their dedication to their sport and the discipline required to do all that training. And they make things look so easy. How often did I say, ‘I could do that…’ while watching their performances?

I decided I’d like to take part in the Olympics one day. Not so keen on Los Angeles, so I’m saving myself for Brisbane 2032. So I have eight years to find something to be good at.

Swimming? I’m not a very strong swimmer, and having seen the successful medal winners this week, I realise I just have the wrong body shape. And I’m not very fast either. When my old friend Peter took 14 strokes to swim a width of the Kingfisher pool in Kingston, it took me 40 strokes. And I don’t think you get medals for taking the most strokes to cover a given distance. I’d be worried too if the atmosphere in the area were electric: electricity and water don’t mix.

Show jumping? No way José. I haven’t been on top of a horse for 63 years and I have no intention of changing this state of affairs. It was at Epsom racecourse, possibly on Derby Day that year. I was put on top of this huge stallion and I remember being told to hold on to its mane, which I thought would hurt the poor beast. I looked down on my parents a long way below, wishing to be lifted off. Do I want the horse to walk a bit? No flipping way, thank you, thought this traumatised 6-year old. The idea of sitting on such a huge animal is bad enough. While it moves? Terrifying. Jumping and actually leaving terra firma? I have sweaty palms just typing this.

Gymnastics? My only experience here, apart from messing about at school, bounding over the vaulting horse, was when I first lived in London. In those days, on crowded tube trains, you would hold onto the overhead hanging straps. On less busy journeys, I sometimes pulled myself up on two of these straps and did a complete somersault. I always landed on my feet and my arms soon recovered from being pulled out of their sockets. So, with a bit more practice, I might be alright at this.

Skateboarding? Again, probably not. I had a go on a skateboard once, thinking it can’t be that different to roller skating. It was. One, two, three scoots, then I went flying one way while the skateboard zoomed off in the opposite direction.

BMX Freestyle? Well I do like cycling, but I have never been able to ride no-handed and I can only just do a bunny hop on a good day. Again, I think the thought of leaving solid ground is just too scary.

Badminton? Ooh that’s a good one. I did play when I was at school and even when I worked at Thomas Cook in Peterborough. It’s a nice, gentle game. Except having watched it this week, I realise that my colleagues and I were only playing at quarter speed. Plus, while playing doubles, my most significant memory is that of the noise that rackets make when they clash. I think my team mate and I weren’t always properly coordinated.

Surfing? Well, as I said, I’m not a very strong swimmer. But in any case, this isn’t for me. Once on a beach in Hawaii, I turned my back on the ocean. Suddenly, I was being tumbled and buffetted in and out of the water, an experience as close to being inside a washing machine as I ever need to live through. My sinuses had a good clear out, but the Pacific continued to pour from my nose for several days afterwards.

Trampolining? Again, the only experience I have is from school. I didn’t mind the jumping up and down bit, and I did manage a couple of pikes and other simple tricks. But my main fear was getting my fingers caught in the springs holding the bed tight. Imagine my shock and horror when a few years later, while watching trampolining on TV, probably the Olympics, I noticed the springs were covered with a nice thick pad. If my school trampolines had had such padding, I might well have become a champion in due course. Except, even if I was any good at the complex tricks, triple twists with a double backflip and all that, I would never remember what order to do them in.

Cycling? Well, I can ride a long way maybe, but I can’t go fast, I can’t race. And I shouldn’t be pedalling in affairs that don’t concern me.

Commentating? I’m not sure I could keep a straight face if, for instance, I were to say that a kayaker was tight on the downstream sausage. And if I said that he had a silver medal in his pocket and then, in the next breath, that he had a silver medal around his neck, I think I’d just hand the microphone over to someone more competent.

Hmm, that all sounds so negative doesn’t it? ‘Do something scary every day’ is something I try to live by, as well as, ‘I’ll try anything once’. But give me a minute, and I’ll come up with some good excuses…

Plus, if I were to win an Olympic medal, regardless of colour, I wouldn’t want to have to bite it for the photographers, I’d be worried about breaking my teeth.

One thing I was good at for one Summer term was the 110-yard hurdles. This was in my first year at secondary school. The following year, the hurdles were raised by two inches, but I certainly wasn’t. So I was now unable to get my leg over.

I’ll keep an eye on the events for the next few days, there must be something I can train up for. But, listening to the various commentators, I’m not sure I could manage to do what they say I should, whatever the sport. Just doing my thing, hitting the ball or something, somehow I have to ‘Send a message to the crowd’. I’d have to ‘Put down markers’, whatever that means. Naturally, I’d like to win a medal, not just ‘claim a medal’, a phrase that has always annoyed me. Plus, I don’t have a sob story to tell that they can put out as my ‘journey’ accompanied by melancholic piano music.

Still, I have a few years to sort my issues out and do a bit of training. And I am now saving up for tickets to Brisbane.

Another ongoing project of mine is to watch all of the old, classic Doctor Who series on BBC iPlayer. Well, I’ve got to the point where my least favourite companion has just died, left the series. A young boy called Adric: I didn’t like him in 1981 and I didn’t like him this time round either. To paraphrase an expression used by David Tennant’s first incarnation as the Doctor, Adric was an annoying ‘tiny, whiney thing’. However much I might whinge about things, I’ll never be as irritating as him. Glad to see the back of him. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as we used to say. Even if the dinosaurs all died out as a side-effect of his demise.

Meanwhile, in real life, our grandchildren are enjoying a week in Menorca, soaking up the Sun and soaking in the sea.

Liesel’s been working hard this week, and her laptop fan is determined to break the sound barrier. The sooner she acquires a new machine, the quieter!

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?