mickandlieselsantics

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?

Allez allez allez

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

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

We are very proud of our grandson!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good News Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take a bow

Half a century ago, whenever we went for a walk in the countryside, we’d count the number of species of butterfly observed out in the wild. Today, we’re lucky if we see more than one or two single specimens on a given jaunt. So imagine my delight when I saw loads of butterflies all in one place.

Alright, maybe this is cheating. Still, it brightened up the day a little.

I went for a job interview.

“Do you have experience as a barista?”

“Yes, of course, loads,” I lied.

“Can you make toasties and paninis?”

“Yes, I have plenty of experience in that field.”

“And how do you get on serving members of the public?”

“Oh, I’m very friendly and efficient, and I have a good eye for detail.”

“That’s all good to hear. And how are your knot tying skills?”

“Knot tying?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I need to tie knots?”

“We have a drawer full of short pieces of string from the second world war, handed down from grandparents to parents and now on to us. After all these years, those pieces of string are finally being put to good use.”

“OK.”

“When we wrap out cutlery in a napkin, we tie the whole thing up with a piece of string.”

“Oh, sounds good to me. Will a reef knot do?”

“That sounds perfect.”

And so it came to pass that someone (not really me, obviously) now has the job of lashing up knives and forks inside a paper napkin with surplus WW2 string.

I think it adds to the experience of having a snack at this particular café, especially for someone like me who has only just cut their finger nails, thereby adding to the challenge of untying a short length of old cord.

By the way, the flapjack was pretty good too.

Meanwhile, in Alaska, Liesel and friends spent a couple of days in Hope. Lots of hiking took place and, I suspect, plenty of chatting and laughing.

Bench, featuring Monica, Jyoti and Liesel

Anchorage is somewhere over there, on the other side of the water.

On a previous occasion, we all visited Hope in the family motor home. Klaus was driving and, just outside Hope, the van broke down. It turned out to be a fault with the motherboard: there was no way to override the computer that controls the vehicle. Luckily, Liesel and I had our tandem with us, so we cycled the final few miles into town, while Klaus waited for a mechanic, not easy out in the middle of nowhere.

On this occasion, Liesel and friends experienced no such trauma and they had a high old time in their rustic accommodation.

I went over to Cheadle Hulme to watch the children swimming, after which, I sat in their garden playing and enjoying the sunshine. Martha and William were looking forward to a visit to the local toyshop to buy some weaponry.

I told Martha that the rubber suckers at the end of the arrow are not only safer, but they’re so you can stick the arrows to your Daddy’s forehead.

After a period of very unSummerlike weather (yes, I just invented a word), the Sun came out and the temperature increased. Some might attribute this improvement to Liesel and her Mom bringing better weather with them from Anchorage. It was a relief to see them both emerge into Manchester Airport which, just 48 hours earlier, had had to cancel several flights due to a power cut. I was also pleased to see that their luggage, unlike mine, had not taken a short vacation on its own. The rest of the day was spent trying to stay awake.

We didn’t see much wildlife this week, except on TV, where we spent a short amount of time in Kenya.

That elephant was motionless for a couple of minutes, I was beginning to think it might be a cardboard cutout, but it did eventually wake up, twitch and wander off. Sadly, the woods and parks of Northenden and Wythenshawe are not inhabited by such exotic creatures. On Wednesday, more people joined the regular walk than usual, about 20 of us altogether, including a couple of folks new to me. So it’s a good job Boxx2Boxx have moved to bigger premises, we’d never have all got into the old site at the same time! I did however take pictures of some local flora, thinking, this’ll do.

And this week’s radio show was Give and Take, songs about giving time and love and taking me out drinking and that look off your face, or something. You can listen here, as always.

Families

One thing you don’t expect to see too often is large mammals pretending to be small birds. Liesel witnessed a moose embedding itself amongst a gang of geese on the lagoon near her Mom’s apartment.

Can you see the moose?

Liesel remembered to take a picture of a sand hill crane family, spotted quite a long way off.

Can you see the chick? Clue: it’s the smudge between the two adults.

It’s been an exciting week in Anchorage observing wildlife.

Can you seee the cygnet?

Meanwhile, in Brookvale, Australia, Helen has a new neighbour.

I think it’s a possum, and I imagine it didn’t hang around long when it saw Helen with her phone camera.

Closer to home, William and Martha took part in the School Colour Run. They ran about half a marathon and ended up covered in paint. Yes, they earned their medals! Actually, I’m not sure how long the run was, maybe it was a whole marathon.

Sometimes, when I tell Liesel I’m busy, and she asks what am I doing, I’ll respond, “Things to do, places to go, people to see,” or some variation thereof. Well, this week, I re-discovered where I (probably) first came across this perfect response. I am still watching old, classic Doctor Who episodes, and I had to rewind this bit just to make sure…

Thanks for the memory, Tom Baker, the fourth Doctor, from about 1978.

Some of the things I needed to do this week included seeing the dental hygienist, visiting a GP and having a blood test.

Some of the people I saw this week were fellow walkers around Northenden and Wythenshawe. There’s a narrow, single-file path along the river, but it’s even narrower now because of all the overgown plants, brambles, grass, nettles and more.

This week, Summer Solstice coincided with a so-called Strawberry Moon. The night before, it wasn’t quite full, but the Moon did indeed look pink-ish as it set over Wythenshawe. I Tweeted (or should that now be 𝕏ed?) my best photo, but my phone camera really didn’t pick up the colour.

I can’t remember the last time I went to a cinema for a midnight showing. It might well be The Gate Cinema in Notting Hill, about 50 years ago. Anyway, this week, I took the plunge and visited Didsbury Cineworld for a once in a lifetime late night showing of the final two episodes of the current series of Doctor Who. I’d seen The Legend of Ruby Sunday on TV last week, of course, but this was the first time we’d seen the final episode, Empire of Death. It was fun to hear everyone in the audience respond in unison to the story, gasps and intakes of breath. And yes, of course I’ll watch it again on proper TV later on, but it was great to see it on a big screen.

On this week’s radio show, I decided to catch up with some of the new music released while I was away. So, to go with all the new releases, I made the theme of the show New Things. You can listen right here on Mixcloud.

Gooses and Mooses

The family have been having a wonderful time at Disney World, enjoying the rides, the food and the exciting weather, thunder and lightning in between all the glorious sunshine. So here are a couple of final pictures from their trip.

Oh hang on, no, that’s not Disneyworld. That was Didsbury Festival. I’m sure there are no copyright issues here, and I am aware that Disney do have a team of very good, very expensive lawyers.

I should have walked over but in the end, I drove to Didsbury Festival and had a good look around. Apart from fairground rides, there were very many food and drink stalls. Several national organisations such as Greenpeace were represented, but I was more fascinated by the local groups. I said hello to Liesel’s WI mates. And I did think this group might have more calls on their time in Anchorage:

Liesel visited Talkeetna for a couple of days: it’s a long drive north of Anchorage. When we married, eighteen years ago, we had a party at Talkeetna Roadhouse. It’s tradition to leave a bottle top there on a door frame, and I’m pleased to say our Freixenet bottle top is still there, although our hand-written legend is faded.

Last year, there was no Women’s Tour of Britain Bicycle Race, but I’m glad to say it’s back, and I’ve been following it this week on ITV4 and via a podcast called On Yer Bike, hosted by my old friend Sanny Rudravajhala. The fourth and final stage took place in Manchester so I had to go along and support the riders.

I went by public transport, hoping to see the start and the end of the race, even if I didn’t witness the more challenging terrain along the 99 km route.

This picture shows how we dress for Summer in Manchester this year. Very few people in shorts and t-shirts, which would be my default dress code in June, which is supposed to be warm, after all.

Anyway, Manchester public transport. I left in very good time, but I still missed the start of the race at the National Cycle Centre. I heard the announcements from way over there, but I didn’t see anything. The bus got held up as a direct result of the roads being closed for the race, and the driver was reluctant to open the door and let us off. Jobsworth.

I did enjoy the musical entertainment though, provided by a group of drummers.

In fact, I recorded their rhythms and beats and I think this might become my new ringtone.

Oh well, I had plenty of time to get to Leigh to witness the end of today’s race. In fact, I had so much time, I thought I’d spend some of it in the Central Library. I wasn’t allowed in because it was closed, due to ‘an event’ which you had to book. What event? I have no idea. But, every cloud… I visited the café in the Art Gallery instead where I enjoyed one of their Cheese and Marmite scones.

As time went on, the rain worsened and I felt bad for the riders. The bus ride to Leigh was interesting. Part of the route takes the bus along a Guided Busway. What’s to stop cars driving along this former railway line? There are car traps, big holes, at road junctions.

I’ve never been to Leigh before, but I don’t suppose it’s always this cold and wet and miserable. Hooray, it was good to take shelter inside Spinning Gate shopping centre, but in a very British move, on a day when a big event is taking place in town, I noticed the public toilets were closed, as they always are, on a Sunday.

After the long, wet walk from the bus station to the sports centre, Leigh Sports Village, it was good to see so many spectators here. I found a spot 125 metres before the finishing line. I watched the race on the big TV screen but I was ready for the riders. Again, yes, I should have had a real camera.

The leading group were racing right up to the line, and in the end, it was quite a while before we discovered who’d won the stage. I think the announcer was building up excitement and expectations, but it worked, many of us, despite the downpour, stayed to watch the presentation ceremony. Ruby Roseman-Gannon won the stage and World Champion Lotte Kopecky won the overall Tour. Lizzie Deignan was Queen of the Mountains. I’m sure we’ll see all of them again at the Olympics.

Officials from British Cycling presented some of the awards, and they received a modicum of applause from the audience. Dame Sarah Storey takes the prize for the most support from the crowd, very loud cheers and lots of applause as she presented the prize to the Best Young Rider, Eline Jansen. Representatives from the sponsor, Lloyds Bank, well, they probably only expected half a dozen claps each from the crowd anyway.

Later on, I watched highlights of the race on TV and I was surprised and delighted to see my hat onscreen. Another small contribution to my fifteen minutes of fame.

News from abroad now. Jenny, Liam, Martha and William enjoyed their final day in Florida before returning home for work (boo) and for school (hmmm).

Meanwhile, in Alaska, Liesel was spotting some wildlife. By the lake in Talkeetna, a Mommy moose was looking after her twin calves.

I’ve known my friend Ruth for just about fifty years now, and it was lovely to meet up with her for the first time in at least a decade over at Quarry Bank. We had a good catch-up and a very pleasant walk. It was tempting, but neither of us were brave enough to pick the strawberry.

There were a few other visitors here today, but I think most of the other people we saw were gardeners, loads of them, all very busy. Lots of foxgloves too, but they weren’t doing much other than looking pretty.

Ruth went off to RHS Bridgewater and I returned home. I hope we can meet up again before another decade passes!

I scored a hattrick this week, attending all three of the regular Thrive Manchester walks. It was nice to see the old faces again, and some new ones.

Oops, I did it again. I left home in very good time with a view to catching a bus to one of the walks. A funeral procession held up traffic, including my bus. So I arrived late. But then so did Chantel, the leader, so I didn’t feel too bad!

In Painswick Park, it was hard to avoid all the goose guano on the path, and nobody can walk on tiptoes for that long. On the other side of the pond, we were approached by a herd, a swarm, a veritable gaggle of goslings.

If that wasn’t exciting enough, I set off on an adventure. I took a tram from Wythenshawe to the airport and then caught the bus back home. Why? Well, I’ve never done that before and I wanted to see how convenient the public transport option is at the airport. Will we travel by bus or tram with luggage? Very unlikely.

A schedule of Wythenshawe Radio shows is posted at the Forum. My show now goes out on Wednesday morning and I am described as ‘inimitable’.

I’ll take it as a compliment but… why the quotes? And no, I didn’t mention it at the volunteers’ meeting where it was nice to see some old faces and some new ones.

The theme of my show this week was Red Things. You can listen to over two hours of fabulous music right here on Mixcloud.

Arthur and Sheila

Flaming June, or as my Dad often referred to it, flamin’ ‘orrible June. The start of meteorological Summer but looking out of the window, walking the streets and taking on board all the weather forecasts, it’s not looking good. I don’t think this will be one of our best, warmest Summers. Maybe one of the coolest and wettest. Being British, I’m always going to whinge about the weather, I suppose.

While we were away, we missed seeing Count Arthur Strong at the Lowry. The tickets were passed on to some lucky listeners of Wythenshawe Radio. So you can imagine my delight when I found out that Count Arthur was appearing at the Plaza in Stockport. I bought myself a ticket and enjoyed a night out.

The venue is an old cinema, and rather than playing records before the start of the show, we enjoyed music played on the organ.

The show was very funny of course, and the second half educational too. If you ever get the chance to see the Count’s presentation on the history of The Beatles, grab it with both hands. I only remembered to take a picture right at the end of the performance, it was that engaging.

Afterwards, I walked back to the car park through the dark, brooding streets of Stockport. There were a few other people around, but it’s certainly not the hustling, bustling, vibrant town that Manchester is late on a Saturday evening.

Call me a sad old git, but I decided not to go to a gig that I’d been looking foward to. Local band Hann (who very nearly appeared on my show a while ago, but that’s another story) have a new record out. They were in concert quite locally. But then I saw that there were three or four other bands on beforehand, and that they, Hann, wouldn’t take to the stage until about ten o’clock. So, yes, I didn’t go: instead, I went to bed instead.

The car returned to the garage for some more work. Last week, it got a new battery, so it could start and go. This week, it received new brakes, so it can also stop, now. It’s a wonderful, ethically run garage, and reasonably priced too.

I paid a visit to Dunham Massey, and so did everyone else on the same day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place so busy, but I had a nice walk, thanks for asking. My day was ruined though because they no longer allow me to ride the deer.

These birch trees always look magificent, and I waited a long time until there were no humans in sight. The rose garden was very colourful, and I’m sure some of the flowers were scented, but my schnozz didn’t seem to be working fully.

It was good to see some busy bees going about their buzziness too.

I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but to me, it seemed more like a drunkard’s walk than a carefully thought out, methodical route, as they flew from bloom to bloom.

Although the place was heaving with people, the deer were very accessible. You had to be careful where you walked, and I’m sure they had to careful where they ate too.

While we’re thinking about wild animals, here’s one that Liesel saw over there in Alaska.

I was quite impressed that Liesel had encountered a black bear while on on a hike somewhere in or near Anchorage. But no. She said it had been at a wildlife reserve visited a few weeks ago.

And if a bear isn’t scary enough, what do you think of this beastie?

What else might be a bit scary is being stranded on an island. That is the premise of the play Sheila’s Island. I saw a performance of this, just up the road at Northenden Players Theatre Company, the amateur theatre group. It was very entertaining, funny and the set was really well done for such a small space. I arrived in a bit of a state though. I thought the performance started at 8pm. But when I checked my phone to confirm I had the ticket, I saw that it was in fact 7.30. I had ten minutes to leg it up the road and I arrived, puffed yes, but in good time.

We have a General Election on July 4th so to mark the occasion, the theme of the show this week was Elections. You can listen to it right here on Mixcloud. Really looking forward to having a new government.

First World Problems

While it’s great to be home, it’s always an anticlimax after being away in exotic locations for a while. Being tired and/or jet-lagged doesn’t help of course, so I was very sensitive to anything slightly amiss. I was definitely discombobulated after watching the carousel go round and round, delivering luggage to fellow passengers, and then, suddenly, the conveyor belt stopped. About eight of us looked at each other in disbelief, wondering where our bags were. Nothing for it but to report the missing items. This we did on awkward, vertically mounted, touch screens. Yes, it’s great that we can report missing bags at all, but in the heat of the moment, when you’re feeling tired and a bit fed up, having to try two or three times to enter every single response was so dispiriting. Anyway, I’ll never know where my case spent three days before it was delivered to my home address. The good news is, there was nothing missing, the bottles of wine were in tact. The Jumpy’s and crackers, for William and for Jenny respectively were slightly crushed, that’s all. Still, first world problems, eh?

The flat seemed to be in good nick, I just opened the windows to let in some fresh air. The two shrivelled black things in the kitchen? Well, I think we just forgot to pack the last two bananas before we set off. Oh well. At least the place wasn’t full of fruit flies, I think we were quite lucky there.

The bad news is that one of our pictures fell off the wall. Command Tape by 3M isn’t as strong and reliable as we would like. The good news is that, this time, neither the frame nor the glass were damaged. How annoying, though. It’s bad enough pictures falling off the wall, but then you can see just how dusty the wall itself is. First world problems, eh?

My first few days at home I spent trying to stay awake and adapt to the new timezone. I nodded off several times in front of the TV or while listening to the radio or a podcast or even attempting a puzzle.

After two months away, Northenden is now much more green and lush, some say overgrown. Some folks were having fun, messing about in the river.

I think those two were trying to shift an object from the weir. Very brave, considering what United Utilities have been dumping in our natural waterways recently.

After a couple of days, I thought I’d drive to the shops. Car said ‘no’. The battery was totally dead. I called on Liam who has a gadget, a gizmo, a device that would jump start the car. It got going, but I never managed to drive far enough to charge the battery enough to start the car next time. It may be the case that the battery needs replacing, of course. After a couple of jump starts, thanks to Liam, I bought my own jump start box, which we’ll keep in the boot of the car, just in case. Still, first world problems, eh?

I’ve been watching the old, classic Doctor Who series on BBC iPlayer for a while. I’ve just reached the Tom Baker era. I enjoyed the show at the time, but binge-watching it now just highlights how repetitive the storylines are. And compared with today’s modern, glossy incarnation with Ncuti Gatwa, the special effects are just laughable. ‘It is of its time, of course.’ But while the iPlayer is a great resource, it’s not perfect. There is no option to tell it, for instance, that you are not and will never be interested in a certain show so please stop suggesting it. Plus, every two or three days it apologises because the ‘Continue to watch…’ option is not available. Well, that’s no good is it? Why? This is the cue for me to eat more biscuits while searching for what I want. Still, first world problems, eh?

During my first week back, I didn’t make it to any of the regular Thrive Manchester walks, I was either asleep or just waking up. And then it was half-term, so these walks were cancelled. I’ll catch up with them soon.

Because the car wasn’t cooperating, my plans to go for more interesting walks further afield at National Trust properties were shelved. I tried not to wear the pavements out in Northenden but I wandered round and round, never meeting anyone I know. While we were away, Boxx2Boxx café has moved along the road to bigger premises, and I paid my first visit. It’s now over the road from Tesco, so I went shopping there. I usually go to the Co-op which is a bit further away from home, but on this occasion, well, I couldn’t be bothered. I needed a nap. I was beginning to think I was suffering from narcolepsy, not just jet-lag. First world problems, eh?

In other local news, some of those empty shops on Palatine Road are now occupied, hooray! One is a barber (because there aren’t enough barbers and hairdressers in Northenden) and one is a charity shop (because there aren’t enough… you get the picture).

There I was one afternoon doing a puzzle when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The flat has been invaded by a spider. He’s a lovely specimen and I hope he survives outside. Our very own Boris.

In another attempt to get the car started, I went over to Jenny and Liam’s. I was thrown in the deep end. Did I want to take the children swimming? Well, yes of course, as long as they can show me where to go. We walked to the pool where they both have lessons every week, and as always, I am amazed at their skills in the water, both so much more competent and confident than I am.

Yes, after swimming, William did dry and brush his own hair. He has style.

The car limped to Sainsbury’s in Cheadle Hulme and I really enjoyed walking up and down the aisles of the very large supermarket. Honest, yes, I increased my step count a lot that day. Here’s a conundrum. I probably should go for a really long drive to charge the battery. But if I do that, I’ll need to stop somewhere to re-fuel. But if I do that, the car might not start again and then I’ll be stuck in a service station, blocking the way for other customers. Yes, I did have Liam’s jump starting device on board, but I’d be worried about sparks if I try to jump start at a petrol station, I don’t want to blow the place up. First world problems, huh!

Anyway, I was pleased to see that this shop, Sainsbury’s, will accept my old, used batteries for recycling, as well as gold and silver (!), currency, electronics and stamps. Well, I have a bag of stamps to donate but I suspect if I had any spare precious metals, I’d probably be selling them.

So, as I write, the car is at the garage for its MOT and they’ll check the battery too. Fingers crossed, after today, I’ll be able to go out, start the car and be on my way.

Jenny and Liam invited me over for a barbecue, and we had a very pleasant, fun afternoon in the garden. Martha and William had helped skewer the kebabs, all veggies, no meat.

Liam brought out his juggling clubs, and yes, he’ll be running away to the circus any day now. You’ll see. I had a go myself, but my juggling skills are very rusty. Maybe I should have been practising more during the last twenty or thirty years!

A couple of days later, I celebrated Jenny’s birthday by going to the blood shop, as she called it when she was little, for another blood donation session. And not just for the tea and biscuits. Earlier in the day, I’d witnessed Martha roller-skating around the house. I found that a little scary.

And so far, I haven’t mentioned the weather since I got home. Well, we’ve had a bit of sunshine and a lot of rain. I can’t wait until proper Summer kicks in and I can go out without a raincoat. I don’t mind getting a bit wet, but I don’t need my shirt to be so waterlogged, I can wring it out. I know, first world problems, right?

I mentioned the circus a little earlier. Well, they might not be going there, but the family are all off to Disneyworld for a little holiday. Yes, of course I offered to carry their bags or something, but no. In order to facilitate uninterrupted packing, I took Martha and Wiliam to the nearby playground where I heard ‘Grandad, look at this’ and ‘Grandad, watch me’ about four and a half thousand times. Great fun! So much energy. William said, after a while, that we should go home because it felt like rain. It did indeed try, but there were only about six raindrops on this occasion.

I’m not saying my grandchildren are noisy or antisocial or anything, but soon after we arrived, the only other family there left. Maybe it was is something I said?!

Well, Spring has worked wonders for Northenden, bring out the good and the bad. Firstly, in some hedges, the bindweed really is taking over. I lost a thirty year battle with this indestructible weed in our garden in Chessington, and it still brings back nasty memories of time I’ll never get back. First world problems, yep.

Of course, not all weeds are nasty. They’re just things growing in the wrong place. I’m not a fan of footpaths that are overgrown, but I can’t really complain about these poppies.

This week, I prepared and recorded a radio show for Wythenshawe Radio, WFM 97.2, online and now on DAB! I marked the occasion of my return home, plus there’s a track from a newly released album. You don’t want to miss this one, it’s here on Mixcloud. My show is now broadcast at the exciting brand new time of 10 o’clock on Wednesday morning, with a repeat on Saturday at 6pm.

Meanwhile, Liesel and Mom are still in Anchorage, still going for walks, still watching the snow slowly disappear from the mountains.

Oh, just before I publish, news just in: Angie from the garage called: yes, the car battery is dead, D E D, dead, it’s not holding charge at all.