Category: Autobiographical

I spent a few hours in Manchester, having another assisted stretch, passing time in the Central Library and wandering around until it was time for the first gig of the week.

Tom Robinson was playing at Hallé St Michaels, and having unreserved seating was great, I plonked myself down very near the front. Lee Forsyth Griffiths was the surprise guest, and he did a great job.

He commented on the paving stone outside the venue, laid by Prince Charles, saying he hoped it wasn’t too painful.

Tom Robinson was accompanied by Adam Phillips on guitar. He played many of our old favourites of course, including new up-to-date lyrics for Up Against the Wall.

After the show, I had a very quick chat with Tom, it was good to see him again.

I caught the tram back to Sale Water Park where I’d parked the car earlier. A nice, easy trip home.

Not enough time in Manchester, so the next day, after my massage, I returned and had a walk, venturing into sunny Salford.

<ph Cathedral Church of St John the Evangelist aka Salford Cathedral

I don’t know whether LS Lowry ever lived in this house, but according to the blue plaque, it was the subject of a charcoal drawing in 1926.

After wandering around in a big loop, I crossed back over the river Irwell

This 8-feet tall bronze horse sculpture sits in Bexley Square, opposite the Old Town Hall. It’s next to an 11-feet tall gas streetlamp  that reads “Salford Firsts Inspiration”. It details various historical achievements associated with the city, now 100 years old, including references to the UK’s first horse-drawn trams, the first public library, and figures like Emmeline Pankhurst and James Prescott Joule.

For good reason, Salford beckoned the following day too. I’d booked to see a recording of the radio programme The Verb, now on Radio 4 but formerly on Radio 3. A great place to hear poets talking about poetry. Very entertaining but yes, often what they’re talking about flies way over my head. On this occasion, I drove into Sale Water Park and took two trams into Salford.

I was reminded, as I walked by, that we still haven’t visited the Imperial War Museum North, but it was not short of visitors today.

Don’t worry, this old Russian T-55 tank poses no real threat. It was designed and made by the Soviet Union during the Cold War, 1947-1989. It is the most widely used tank of all time and is still in use around the world today. This particular model was captured from Iraqi forces by the Royal Engineers during Operation Tefic, in lraq 2009.

I found the BBC Philharmonic Studio easily enough, and the many security staff were very friendly. Scores of people were in line waiting to be allowed into the auditorium. I was surprised to see Ian McMillan, the presenter of the show, in the queue too.

I sat in the second row from the front and enjoyed the audience participation as much as anyone. This including a new ode: Autumn is a-comin’ In.

They all spoke about John Keats’s poem Ode to Autumn, a very seasonal topic, as well as their own poems.

At home, time for a quick snack before setting off for Glossop. This small town in Derbyshire has never been high on my list of places to visit, but tonight, Tom Hingley was in concert at a pub, The Oakwood. I drove because if I’d come by bus and train, I would have had to leave halfway through the show to get home. I met Tom and helped him carry in some of his equipment. For the second time ever, I was a roadie.

Tom and I had a nice chat before he played. We watched the two support acts, Mitch Barnes from the band Selica and James Stuart.

I managed to make my one pint of lemonade and lime last all night. The venue was upstairs in the pub, a venue known as The Treehouse.

It’s a fairly small venue, intimate is the word, with between 30 and 40 people here tonight. Carrying pints up the stairs was a challenge for everyone, on of the door was on a very strong spring: this is just one of the reasons I stayed put.

Tom sang a nice mix of his own songs and the big hits from Inspiral Carpets when, while he was lead singer, they scored ten top 40 hits.

The drive home took a bit longer than anticipated, in the dark, and as is the custom these days, I had a moan to myself about the brightness of other people’s cars’ headlights.

Meanwhile, back in Alaska, Liesel and friends went on a bit of a road trip to visit a friend, Debbie, in Palmer. The views from the Old Glenn and Parks Highways were stunning.

Their original plan was to drive on to Talkeetna but in the end, Liesel, Una and Monica returned to Anchorage.

Liesel and I, in our own particular ways, are preparing for her return home to Northenden. But actually, our apartment wasn’t that untidy, and the cleaners, Alison and Kayleigh did a fantastic job as always, thank you very much. Liesel is packing for herself and her Mom but so far, I’ve been told there is no need to hire a bigger vehicle in which to transport all of their luggage back home from the airport.

And of course Keiran is taking on many challenges. This week, for the first time, he ate a whole tomato and was asking for more, more more!

Anyway, back to Northenden. Soon after the cleaners left, I too departed on a trip to Liverpool. Frankie Archer is on tour promoting her debut album The Dance of Death. Unfortunately, she wasn’t planning to play in Manchester, so Liverpool, being the nearest alternative, was the obvious place to see her perform.

There was no parking at the Premier Inn that I’d booked, so I parked up a whole 7-minute walk down the road! My room was far too hot and the small window couldn’t be opened. The AC was very half-hearted and even after turning it down to the lowest temperature possible, the room remained way too hot.

So I went for a walk, looking for something to eat and not expecting to see anything of particular interest. But seeing ‘Bombed out church’ on Google Maps, well, I couldn’t miss seeing that close up!

It wasn’t as bombed out as I’d expected, and I didn’t feel inclined to clambour over the locked gates to investigate more fully, even though it was beginning to get dark.

The venue for tonight’s show was the music room at Liverpool Philharmonic Hall. The support band came on, both musicians wearing crow’s heads, and they played some jaunty electronic music for a while.

Only when I saw them sitting at the merch table during the interval did I recognise BBC radio broadcaster, writer and musician Mark Radcliffe and tech boffin, remixer and DJ Paul Langley. Together, they are Une. I heard it pronounced both ways, oon and una. One of their albums is called Dark Side of the Une, so that’s probably a clue.

Thanks to The Haunted Generation for this photo since, in the heat of the moment, I didn’t take a picture of them without their beaky heads. Mark was very gracious though, and after I bought a couple of CDs, he recorded a message for my radio show!

This was the first time I’d seen Frankie Archer playing with a bandmates, Amy Thatcher and Francesca Knowles, in other words, the genre-blasting duo known as ATFK. This meant that Frankie had more freedom to jump around the stage with her violin, while singing.

I had a chat with the couple sitting next to me, they live in Walton and listen to BBC 6 Music too. We all enjoyed the music tonight and it was nice to have a quick chat with Frankie afterwards.

It was still pleasantly warm as I walked back to my accommodation for a good night’s kip, despite the room’s heat.

Another Premier Inn breakfast set me up for the day and for the drive home. You know the song The Leaving of Liverpool? Well, I now know why leaving Liverpool is so hard. It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me but, my darling, when I think of thee. Oh yeah? Why I found it hard to leave Liverpool this morning was the large number of red traffic lights that I encountered, plus, misinformation from Google Maps which insisted I turn down roads that, when I got there, loudly and proudly proclaimed: Buses Only.

It was such a lovely afternoon at home, I went out to the small patch of lawn in the middle of our communal car park and bathed in the sun for a few minutes. Highly recommended!

The drive from home to Manchester Airport isn’t that long. The drive around the airport to find the car park at Terminal 2 is ridiculously long. Probably sponsored by the fossil fuel industry.

After waiting less than half an hour, it was wonderful to see Liesel coming through the door, with three huge cases and a mother in tow. After 24 hours travel including a 5-hour layover at Heathrow, they’ll be staying here in Northenden for the next six months.

I’d like to say we all had a good night’s sleep but none of us did, it’ll take a while for all of us to adapt to the new living arrangements.

In the morning, Liesel declined my invitation to join the group for a walk around Wythenshawe Park. It was one of the biggest groups this week too, ten on this occasion. A very pleasant walk, followed by a nice cup of coffee. Then at home, Liesel unpacked while I continued prepping another radio show

The UK hospitality industry is complaining because I don’t visit coffee shops nearly as often as I used to. But on a Wednesday, the local firm of lawyers, Express Solicitors, pay for the drinks after our weekly walk through Kenworthy Lane Woods and beyond. We start and finish at Boxx2Boxx and this week, I sat in a different place, from where I saw an intriguing new picture hanging on the wall. Well, new to me, it might have been there for years. But it did make me laugh!

About every year or two, whether it needs it or not, I take the car in for a wash and a valeting service. There seemed to be fewer young men around on this occasion so the queue was moving much more slowly. While sitting in the waiting room, I admired this colourful pot plant.

It seemed so out of place with all the car-washing paraphernalia and piles of new and used and well-worn tyres. Anyway, here he is:

Wythenshawe Park is the venue for our walks on a Friday. There are now signs up apologising for the mess left by the recent series of concerts. What I didn’t expect to see was somebody camping there, behind a hedge.

I made some noise but couldn’t attract anyone’s attention. It might belong to an otherwise homeless person, I suppose, but I wonder if this too was left behind after those concerts?

Anyway, it was a very pleasant wander around the park and after enjoying our coffee, I drove home giving Dot a lift on the way.

But walking around Northenden and Wythenshawe can be a bit repetitive, so I took myself off to RHS Bridgewater. And not only to use the £5 voucher that they gave us when we joined the organisation recently! I do miss seeing our grey heron down by the Mersey, so I was very pleased to see one at Bridgewater.

The sculpture was commissioned and paid for by Salford Council as part of the Salford Centenary celebrations. I hadn’t realised that Salford is just 100 years old.

There are more Lego sculptures inside the gardens, but there are no prizes for finding them all. Which I didn’t. But when I showed my membership card to the counter clerk, she asked if I’d brought a guest with me, ‘No, I’m on my own today.’ She went, ‘aaah’, and I thought, well you could walk round with me if you think I need a buddy!

This consists of 796 bicks and it took 68 hours to build. Well, they should have asked our grandson William to do the job, he’d’ve knocked it off in five minutes!

Hmm, I thought, you’re a little bit early, it’s not Michaelmas until September 29th.

I spent a lot of time walking around the Chinese Streamside Garden. Some of it was roped off and at the time, I didn’t realise, the Yangzhou Scholars’ Garden wouldn’t officially open for another week. It would be the spectacular centrepiece of the Chinese Streamside Garden here at Bridgewater, the UK’s largest Chinese garden. As the blurb says: Inspired by the historic gardens of Yangzhou in eastern China’s Jiangsu province, it is the first authentic classical Chinese garden of its kind constructed in the UK. Combining authentic Chinese architecture with centuries-old craft techniques and cultural traditions, the garden has been meticulously constructed by a team of skilled artisans from China, alongside horticulturists from RHS Bridgewater.

Down by the waterside, mama duck was trying to herd her now nearly fully-grown chicks back into the water, but they were more interested in sniffing and pecking at people’s shoes.

Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society has been broadening minds since 1781. I’ve seen their talks advertised a few times but so far, I’ve contrived to miss them all. This week, the guest was Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell. As a PhD student, she discovered pulsars, for which her male supervisor later won a Nobel Prize.

She gave a really interesting talk, Careering through Astronomy, connecting the atoms that make up you and me with massive cosmic events.

After answering some questions from the very nearly sold out audience, Dame Jocelyn was presented with only the 17th John Dalton Medal since 1898. It is Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society’s highest award, given to those who have made a distinguished contribution to science.

Going back to Jill Scott’s picture: if you really can’t work out what she said, I hope you can lipread because here is a short clip of the offence!

In the end, I didn’t get tickets for any of the concerts in Wythenshawe Park. I could hear Pulp from home, so I can only imagine how loud the show was in the park. A few days later, I went for a walk around the park and saw the damage that had been caused to the lawn.

The organisers were still dismantling the fences and us walkers wondered how long it would take for the lawn to recover from the tens of thousands of feet stomping on it for several days.

At Liesel’s suggestion, I invited a cleaner to come and help out at our luxury apartment. She did a good job cleaning up, but I did spend quite a while before she arrived, tidying up, picking stuff up off the floor. Booking a cleaner is a good way to focus the mind and help you notice the piles of detritus all over the place.

Go east, young man. I did. I visited Burrows Gardens near Ashbourne, Derbyshire, for a very pleasant afternoon in the Sun. I misread the info and thought it was an organised walk. Instead, people just wandered around, or bathed in the Sun. Drank tea and ate cake.

I imagine the gardens are more colourful earlier in the year, but there were still a few flowers in bloom.

I’m sure one of you gardeners or horticulturists will tell me what this really is: my botanical knowledge is a bit hit and miss! Edit a day later: thank you very much Diane in Talkeetna for the first to correct the captions!

I joined the group doing yoga. And let’s say, I’m no good at yoga. I can keep my balance standing on one leg, but only by wobbling about as if dodging a swarm of bees or something.

In amongst the plants, I espied a sundial. It’s a bit more hairy than most, and, I would suggest, since the pedestal is at a very jaunty angle, it’s not a very accurate timepiece.

But a peaceful place like this is fairly timeless.

Go east, young man. I did. I visited Saltaire in West Yorkshire. I saw Iona Fyfe in concert in Edinburgh recently. Then I found out that she was performing a few shows in England. This was the closest to me, so I booked it. Then, I found she was also performing in Bury, which is much closer. Oh well. I like Yorkshire.

Saltaire is a cute little place. And, like most places that aren’t Northenden, a little bit hilly.

I’ll probably return to this place sometime, but today, I didn’t walk down the road to Salts Mill. The old textile mill now houses an art gallery, shops and a restaurant.

I found the venue, The Live Room, a social club, easily enough but I was far too early. The ticket said 6 o’clock. Iona recognised me which, ridiculously, made my day!

I was tempted, but didn’t buy a Folk Yeah! t-shirt.

Also on the bill tonight was Birdvox, a group of four women also from Scotland. Their music was a bit different, with unusual instruments, good harmonies and while I didn’t know any of their songs, so I couldn’t ruin it for other people by singing along, I was tapping my foot, oh yeah.

I was tempted and I did purchase their much-anticipated debut album Shamming The Drama which wasn’t due to be released until the following week. Yes, I’ll be playing tracks from it on my WFM radio show very soon.

Because it was quite a long drive home, in the dark, I decided to stay overnight. After a good night’s sleep in a comfortable Premier Inn bed, I stuffed my face with a big breakfast.

I took time to look at the views on the way home but kept missing the parking spaces and lay-bys, so no photos. But the Peaks will still be there next time.

And what a busy week: into Manchester to donate blood, then a visit to the dental hygienist the following day. The Wednesday walk in Northenden was well-attended and the rain stayed away. I enjoyed the Thursday walk too, in Wythenshawe.

The shopping centre is being redeveloped, but while the (re-)building work is going on, all the shops remain open. I’m sure the place will be great when it’s finished, but meantime, all we locals can do is comment on the disruption.

Another trip into Manchester for another assisted stretch with Emily. And after this, I attended another meeting of the WFM volunteers in Wythenshawe Forum.

And to complete my hattrick, I joined the regular Friday walk in Wythenshawe Park.

The wind must have been in the wrong direction today. Either that or some of the childen’s nappies were badly leaking. Because the playground near the farm was incredibly niffy today.

Simone Reilly presents a show on Radio Manchester every afternoon from Wednesday to Friday. Today, her Top Manc contestant was me. I spoke briefly about Thrive Manchester’s Friday Walk, and then answered five questions. I scored 5 out of 5, tying with someone else from earlier in the week. Another few minutes towards my 15 minutes of fame! Of course, in the olden days, I would have won a CD or something just for taking part, but after the BBC got caught fixing/fiddling their competitions a while ago, they don’t seem to do that sort of thing.

And yet another trip into Manchester. This time, to see Holy Holy in concert. This has been advertised as their final tour. I hope not, but since the main players, Woody Woodmansey and Tony Visconti are both in their 80s, who knows?

O2 Ritz isn’t my favourite venue, and I was too far back in the queue to grab a spot at the front of the balcony. Instead, I stood near the front of the stage where I could see everyone in the band easily, except poor old Woody behind his drums, and Janette Mason behind her keyboard. I think most of the audience were in my age group, but it was nice to see some younger folks as well. The hubbub became quieter as the opening strains of Warszawa were played. Tony Visconti produced that record, an unbelieveable 50 years ago.

Very soon, we heard the first few beats of Five Years. And thus began two hours of David Bowie songs, performed by probably the best tribute band you could imagine. So here are the band members and the set list. (I have a few set lists at home already, so I let the 12-year old, enthusiastic young fan have the one I’d picked up.)

Five Years
Width Of A Circle
Lady Grinning Soul

Ziggy Stardust
Time
Quicksand

Changes
Ashes To Ashes
Eight Line Poem (this is the first time this song has been performed live, Bowie himself never sang it on stage)
Panic In Detroit (oh dear, Glenn Gregory forgot the words to the second verse. Luckily, the audience was here to help him out)

When You Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me
Drive-In Saturday

Space Oddity
The Man Who Sold The World

Every now and then during the show, the security guys brought around beakers of water, which I thought was extremely civilised. Especially for those of us who had a good spot and didn’t want to lose it by going to the bar!

Starman
Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide
Life On Mars
Moonage Daydream

Encore:
Where Are We Now
Rebel Rebel

I bumped into my birthday twin Sue afterwards. She was in Manchester for a girls’ weekend, taking in Holy Holy for at least the second time on this tour. Unusually, I didn’t hang around to speak to the band after the show.

My ears and I were buzzing well into the night and it took ages to get to sleep. I checked future dates for Holy Holy and reluctantly decided Birmingham and Hull were just too far away to see them again. My throat was a little hoarse from singing along, but that’s alright, I didn’t need to speak for a while!

A few days ago, some weird chemical reaction in my brain kicked off the neurons leaving me yearning for a National Trust pasty. I scratched the itch by visiting Quarry Bank Mill, where I had to tell the volunteer to scan only one membership card as I was on my own this time.

The curried cauliflower pasty was just as good as I remembered! And the bonus is, of course, I had a very pleasant walk around the grounds, not getting too close to the wildlife.

And of course it’s always uplifting to see colours, Autumnal or otherwise.

This dogwood’s leaves are changing colour but most of the trees haven’t really started yet. They definitely lost a lot of foliage during the recent heatwaves.

As I’ve said many times, I’m not a botanist. But I think this so-called swede looks more like marigolds. And very bright they are too. Edit a day later: thanks Diane who informs me that so-called pot marigolds are not related to real marigolds you can tell by the seeds!

The big event of the week, down under, was Keiran turning ten months of age. Yes, he’s in double figures already.

In Alaska, Liesel and her chums spent another night in Hope. I mean Hope the place: none of us are that hopeful for the future of the planet and the human race, but, ooh that got a bit dark suddenly didn’t it?!

Liesel and co did a 4-mile walk, not that technical but muddy, root, and rocky. So she didn’t see much around her, just looking down. There was a longish hill to walk up.

Liesel got up before everyone else as she wanted to get breakfast in the oven. Then she walked down to the coffee shop. Liesel is finding, like I do, that walking anywhere other than around Northenden is going to be hilly and challenging.

I enjoyed seeing the wildlife as I walked down to the river Mersey. A cat. Two squirrels and, rot13, n qrnq eng, lhpx. Best of all though was seeing a cormorant on the little island.

And a bee on a sunflower.

One of the themes on my Instagram account is to show bent and damaged street furniture in Northenden, along with the caption: Northenden welcomes careful drivers. It’s not quite a weekly occurrence but… So it was a lovely surprise to see a nearly horizontal signpost in Manchester city centre, recently.

As you can see, this is in Manchester’s Chinatown. The shop window displays Chinese characters that translate to Whale Fresh, which I think just means fresh seafood or agrocery market. At least, I hope they’re not selling fresh whale meat.

I was in the city for another assisted stretching session with Emily. I can highly recommend this service, although there are only three branches of the parlour at the moment, Manchester, Edinburgh and Glasgow. By the time I had been severely manipulated, the authorities had attempted to repair the damage, or at least, make it a little bit safer.

Recently, Martha and Will watched a live recording of the TV show Gladiators. Now it was time for them to have a go.

What a great way to wear the children out and prepare them for a good night’s sleep!

I returned to the big city for Manchester Pride. I missed the Parade and because I’d not planned very well, I missed all the specific events too. It didn’t help that buses into Manchester terminated several stops earlier than anticipated, so we had to walk into town. It had been raining of course, so everything was wet.

She’s done very well has Professor Dame Nancy Rothwell. Of course, she wasn’t a Dame nor a Professor when I knew her at Queen Elizabeth College over half a century ago. Our paths crosses at the Sunday night Discos but otherwise my Maths and her Physiology studies never overlapped. Later on, she became President and Vice Chancellor of the University of Manchester. So, technically, she was my daughter Jenny’s boss. Small world, innit!

In Manchester, visually impaired folks need their feet washed. At least, that’s the conclusion I came to when I saw this tactile paving at a street crossing, inches deep in rain water. It still amazes me that in a place where it rains a lot, the drainage infrastructure is just not up to the job.

‘Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo’ is a perfectly acceptable English sentence of course. But I didn’t expect to see a buffalo in Manchester.

It’s promoting Żubrówka vodka outside Motley bar and restaurant, a venue I’m very unlikely to visit.

Some fun entertainment was taking place in the family area. Two astronauts in silver suits and reflective bubble helmets kept the audience engaged even though it felt like it might start raining any minute.

I heard music from various venues, pubs, and coming through windows, but I only saw one chap out in the open playing the piano.

Chopin visited Manchester in the year before his death, at the early age of 39. On Monday, August 28th 1848 a gravely ill Fryderyk Chopin gave a Gala Concert before a rapturous audience of 1200 at the Gentlemen’s Concert Hall, which was situated at the corner of Peter Street and Lower Mosley Street. Despite serious ill-health he insisted that he would perform, a fact which has forever endeared him to Mancunians and music lovers everywhere. I remember it well.

And here’s the regular fix of young Keiran.

Thunderstorms had been forecast a lot recently, and for the first time, I heard rumbles in the distance. I tried to photograph any lightning but we just had the odd flash of sheet lightning in the clouds. What a shame about the weather though on this, the day of the annual Northenden Boat Race. An event that I totally forgot about on the day.

And suddenly it’s September. I’m assuming therefore, no more heat waves. September. Back to school, and even though I left over 50 years ago, the thought of it being the Autumn term and having to do cross-country runs every week still fills me with dread. Martha and William returned to school and they look very smart in their uniforms.

The regular walk in Wythenshawe this week attracted more people than ever, as far as I can remember: there were 13 of us, including a couple of folks I’ve never met before. I wore my jacket but it soon came off, just a bit too warm to justify it.

In the afternoon, I caught the bus into Sale where I had a lovely chat with Chantel over coffee. I’d not seen her since she left Thrive and that was three months ago. Yes, three months, I checked. It was great to see her looking well.

These colourful tree yarn-bombing installations were (I think) created by local artist Wendy in Stanley Square, Sale town centre. She’s a very talented lady, and they brighten the place up beautifully.

As if meeting Chantel wasn’t enough of spending time with good people, I returned to Manchester in the evening to watch former Prime Minister Gordon Brown giving a talk. He was promoting his new book, The Future Starts with Us. Since leaving politics, Gordon Brown has been about public service and contributing to long term thinking. He spoke about the importance of community organisations providing social cohesion all over the world, as an alternative to naked individualism, and social isolation. Such a positive message and a complete repudiation of Thatcher’s ‘There is no such thing a society’.

Frank Cottrell-Boyce (screenwriter, novelist, 2012 London Olympics Opening Ceremony) had a quick chat and asked some questions from the audience. A surprise guest was Ann Cleeves (Vera and Shetland) who was ‘invited’ up from the audience to join the main speakers on stage. She spoke about the importance of libraries being perfect centres of local communities.

I was hoping to get better pictures at the meet-and-greet afterwards, but instead, the audience was ushered out of the building pdq.

In Victoria Station, I was delighted to come across another Manchester bee.

According to the description: It was at the Manchester Mechanics Institute in 1868 that the first meeting of the Trade Union Congress (TUC) took place. Fifty years later, in 1918, the Pankhursts led a victory that was meant to mark the beginning of the end of a war for gender equality. Sylvia Pankhurst, a suffragette born in Manchester, was imprisoned on numerous occasions. Interestingly she came to see the campaign for women to have the vote as just one strand in a larger struggle for equality. The 70th anniversary of the NHS in 2018 is also celebrated.

Also in Victoria Station is a memorial for those who died in the terrorist bombing at Manchester Arena in 2017. I can’t imagine what it’s like for your child to go out for a good time at a concert and to not come home afterwards. The contrast between the hatred of the perpetrators of this atrocity and the ultimate optimism of Gordon Brown for the future was the difference between a clenched fist and a welcoming, open palm.

Martha enjoys drama and William is learning Spanish, so following these after-school activities, we collected the children from school. Back at our place, Martha and Oma painted rocks while William mostly walked, ran and jumped on and off the treadmill.

The last time we saw Bic Runga in concert was in a winery on Waiheke, an island just off Auckland, and that was seven years ago. So we couldn’t not see her on her first visit to the UK since then.

She appeared at The Deaf Institute in Manchester and on this occasion, we drove into town.

The support act was Silicon. Silicon is Bic’s husband Kody Nielson, Bic herself on drums and a backing vocalist, Cass. They were good, and on odd occasions, we could see them through the smoke.

Yes, the smoke machine wrangler was over-enthusiastic, and they had the machine turned off for a while.

Unfortunately, we were standing for the whole gig, but near the front. Bic performed songs from her latest album Red Sunset as well as some old favourites.

It was warm but I managed to make a single pint last for three hours. I hope I didn’t ruin anybody’s film of the show by singing along. Maybe I enhanced it?

After the show, we had enough time to queue up and speak to the star of the show. And she was happy to have her picture taken with all us riff-raff.

I was going to tell her how she and I were practically related, but in the end, there was a queue behind and we had to leave. How are we related? Bic’s sister Boh was good friends with Cherie. At Cherie’s wedding to Andrew, Boh kissed him on the cheek. Fast forward several years and Andrew became my sister Pauline’s life partner, in Christchurch, New Zealand. So, is that cousins?

On the way home, we collected Liesel’s Mom from Jean’s house. They’d been out for the evening on a pub crawl or something.

The three of us had a nice walk around Dunham Massey, where the 500-year old oak tree is still standing albeit with even more support. We saw a few deer in the distance, but they were staying well away from people.

I was very pleased with this photo from the day, but I have no idea what it is: I can only assume it was a spontaneous click of the shutter when the phone was in my pocket.

When we arrived at Dunham Massey, I warned my mother-in-law not to sit on any of the benches here, especially in this weather, otherwise she’d turn into a Bright Starts Snuggle & Teethe plush toy.

We walk by these birch trees on every visit, Liesel’s favourite trees. We have a nice picture of silver birches at home too, painted by our multi-talented friend Una.

We must have walked by this stone many, many time before, but this time, we noticed it, probably an estate or parish boundary marker. No idea whether the inscription provides useful information or is just a spot of vandalism.

The rose garden was at its best today too, plenty of colour and some scents. My hay fever stayed at bay, at least for a while. And it was good to see so many bees and a few butterflies.

Unfortunately the little bridge over the small stream is still closed. The stream is narrow enough to jump over really, but none of us risked it. Walking round the ‘long’ way gets in more steps, and we discover even more flowers.

It was fun to witness possibly this cygnet’s first diving lesson. On surfacing, it looked surprised is it shook its head.

The foxgloves are doing well this year, so many different shades of purple of a variety of patterns. Again, very attractive to the pollinators.

And, I think, this would be a wonderful design for a t-shirt.

Oh no, look what happened: she sat down.

Well, we did warn her. She is now a yellow giraffe attached to the bench with a ring.

Liesel and I had scones, well, it’s a National Trust property, after all, while Leslie, somehow restored to her human self, enjoyed an ice cream.

Martha’s cricket team played a match and we went over to Kingsway to support her. While batting, she scored a 6, knocking the ball over the boundary, in the direction of the bar. No damage though, they were playing with a light, plastic ball.

Here she is having just launched the ball into space.

After giving blood again, I joined the family at Jenny’s. Oma and Great Oma had managed to collect Martha and William from school without my assistance. Liesel and her Mom had made sushi rolls again for supper, which we all enjoyed.

According to Wikipedia, Rob Rinder is a British criminal. Oh, apparently I should read the whole sentence. Rob Rinder is a British criminal barrister and TV personality. He is also now a novelist and as his latest book, The Defence, is published, he came to see us in Bramhall, courtesy of Simply Books. The event took place in St Michael’s Church and after dining locally, we joined the queue.

Yes, we’d dined at Trunk and I think we know where the name comes from.

It was an entertaining evening, although sometimes, thanks to the acoustics, it was hard to hear what he and the interviewer, Kay Crewdson were saying. They discussed the book of course, crime, Rylan, courtroom drama, it was a wide-ranging chat.

Thanks to Kay for the photo: we were sitting too far back to take a decent picture.

Let’s have a break from our own antics. Here’s some joy from the southern hemisphere.

I attended another meeting of the WFM Volunteers, in Wythenshawe Forum. Well attended, and what a nice, warm room. Meanwhile, Liesel went over to watch Martha play in another cricket game.

Abney Hall has been on our mental list of places to vvisi for a while and today, we followed through. Barbara came and took Leslie out singing in a choir, and, even though it was a warm day, Liesel and I enjoyed a walk outside. We didn’t see inside the Hall itself, and again, this is a venue we’ll need to revisit in order to see more of the grounds.

We spent most of the time in Abney Hall Park along with 101 dogs and their owners. The coffee bar (the most important part of the visit) was very cute, with a hand-painted but useless map of the grounds on the wall.

We didn’t pay the toll when we walked over the ten penny bridge. Don’t tell anyone.

This is the World’s First Recycled Plastic Bottle Lid Mural Trail! We only saw the wasp, but on another occasion, we will look out for more of these works of art. Designed and created by Plastic Shed in collaboration with local Stockport schools. That is a lot of bottle tops.

Agatha Christie wrote two stories here at Abney Hall, and this bear is named Hercule. Coincidence?

There was a green man in the toilet, which could have been a bit scary if it were a wee bit darker.

One thing I was surprised about was the amount of bindweed growing at this place. It really is trying to take over. But that’s not my battle any more. Thank goodness.

The three of us enjoyed the drive to Buxton, apart from the ever present traffic jam as we turn on to the A6. We parked up in the station car park and walked to Baileys Bar and Restaurant. We were joined by Jenny and the family for a long and leisurely lunch. No dessert for me since I couldn’t finish my main course. I’ll know better next time.

It was a short walk to the Pavilion Arts Centre. We were here to watch The Wrong Trousers on a big screen, accompanied by a live brass band.

I first saw The Wrong Trousers at the National Film Theatre as part of that year’s London Film Festival. This was the support film for the main attraction, Kate Bush’s own film The Line, The Cross and the Curve. This featured songs from her then new album The Red Shoes. Kate was in attendance with a near look-alike who I wrongly assumed was her sister. Kate had black hair, her friend white. After The Wrong Trousers, Kate presented her own film and said she hoped it lived up to the animated one. Well, it was alright, featuring Miranda Richardson and Lindsay Kemp, but I’ve watched The Wrong Trousers more often since then. In an article in The Guardian in 2005, she referred to her film as ‘a load of bollocks’.

On this occasion in Buxton, we all enjoyed Wallace and Gromit’s adventures again, as well as the accompanying music played by The Fairey Band

As a prelude, the band played a few other tunes and Liesel and I agreed, we should go and see more brass bands in concert.

After the film, we walked back to the car park amd went our separate ways. Many people like and appreciate the cute little Derbyshire town, Buxton, and of course, it does have one very big fan.

This large fan window formed part of a pair of stations at Buxton which were opened in 1863 by the London & North Western and Midland Railway companies. The fan window, with its associated screen wall, is listed Grade II and is all that remains of the original London & North Western station.

Time for a Grandad and Oma boast. Here is our Keiran.

He’s the one at the front in the middle, in case you were wondering.

And it’s only fair to share a photo of Keiran’s cousin, William.

After picking William and Martha up from school, we took them to a local library where we read books, looked at books and in one case, decided they didn’t want the books that had been reserved. We’ll overlook the inspirational quote by JKR on the wall, but I like this one from Doctor Who: “You want weapons? We’re in a Library. Books are the best weapon in the world. This room’s the greatest arsenal we could have. Arm Yourself!” From Tooth and Claw in Season 2, by Russell T. Davies.

Ah, but what about Martha? Well, here she is with Jenny at the theatre in Buxon a couple of days ago.

After dropping the grandchildren off at their home, Liesel, Leslie and I drove into Salford, yes, another visit to The Lowry. We had a meal at The Banana Tree which was OK but maybe a bit fast-food-ish. This time, I planned ahead, saved my self for dessert.

In The Lowry we settled down for The Ballad of Johnny and June, the story of country singers Johnny Cash and June Carter. We were to one side of the stage, so maybe not the best view, but the story was told well, from the point of view of their son John Carter Cash.

The fact that I tripped up the stairs before the interval, in the dark, is totally irrelevant.

But the music was good: I sang along occasionally despite the uxorial elbow in the ribs.

We’re all looking forward to the 2048 Olympics, and following the maiden voyage in our homemade time machine, we have an exclusive photo of the first gold medal winner from that year’s event.

Our second night out in a row this week was to our local theatre, just up the road from home. Northenden Players Theatre Club put on a performance of Dracula, the Bloody Truth, by John Nicholson. Four actors played forty different roles and they did a great job. Being on the front row could have been intimidating but it was no problem.

The costume changes were very quick, I reckon they rehearsed a lot. It was obviously derived from Bram Stoker’s novel, but it wasn’t at all scary.

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