Autobiographical – Page 3 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Parks and Wreck

Mayfield Park is the first new park to open in Manchester City Centre in over a hundred years. It’s been there waiting for us to go along for over two years, and now, at last, we’ve paid a visit.

The River Medlock was happy to see daylight after being covered up for fifty years. We expected to walk around a large expanse, 6.5 acres, but in the end, we agreed, the park was much smaller than expected.

The flower beds attract many bees, and once again, I asked Liesel whether she’d brought her Epipen. Just in case.

Manchester has always been a home to radicals throughout its history. From alchemists to non-conformists to communists to suffragettes to ravers, all have made a home here.

Thomas Hoyle, who set up the The Printworks in Mayfield and his son-in-law Neild used their wealth to establish Mayfield House, a social enterprise for all including a free reading room. Hoyle’s peers also went on to establish Manchester University and the Manchester Guardian newspaper.

The playground looks fun and yes, one day, we might take the grandchildren there.

After a quick coffee, we walked back towards the city centre, and in particular, to Sackville Gardens. Over the road, we saw a wedding party, but even I felt it would be inappropriate to take photos through the bushes. The flowers here were very colourful.

The Beacon of Hope was created in 1997 as Manchester’s answer to the threat of HIV. Designed by Warren Chapman and Jess Byrne-Daniels, it consists of elements combining the existing ‘Tree of Life’ planted on World AIDS Day in 1993, with the ‘Beacon of Hope’ light sculpture erected in 2000. Together, both elements describe a metaphorical journey through life, providing the opportunity for contemplation, celebration, remembrance of the lives lost to HIV and solidarity with those living with HIV today. This is the UK’s only permanent memorial for people living with HIV or AIDS and lives lost to it.

The history of HIV/AIDS is described in a series of plaques in this corner of the park, and it’s horrible to be reminded of our government’s inept early response to the so-called ‘gay plague’.

In Sackville Gardens, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find another member of the Bee in the City Trail: this one is the LGBee.

Today’s city walk then took us to Bridgewater Hall where we hoped to pick up a programmes of future events. The venue was closed. So we enjoyed early dinner in the nearby community of food outlets known as Society.

Our next ‘meal’ out, a couple of days later, was taken at Quarry Bank Mill where we enjoyed a much shorter stroll than usual.

The first of two medical events for me this week entailed a very early morning drive to Trafford General for an 8am appointment. And, despite temptation, I did not go back to bed when I returned home.

The second involved a trip into Manchester. We passed some time at the Whitworth Art Gallery, again viewing the Turner exhibition. I then just had to walk over the road to St Mary’s Hospital. I wonder if there’s a prize for attending four or more different hospitals in such a short span of time?

Dunham Massey’s Rose Garden is at its best this time of year, very colourful and aromatic.

I think we were all surprised and delighted to see herons on the far side of the lake. There are always ducks and geese, but I don’t think we’ve seen herons here before. And yes, more than one at a time. Here is a pair, but we spotted five altogether.

Again, I really should dig out my real camera for shots like this. On the other hand, the phone camera is good enough to capture the building works taking place.

A few months ago, early January I’m guessing, occupants from one of our neighbouring apartments disposed of their Christmas tree by dumping it on what passes for the lawn in our communal car park. It’s been an eyesore, certainly compared with the glorious oak tree, but it was time to do something about it. For a couple of weeks now, there have been a couple of surplus wheelie bins out on the pavement. No idea where they belong. Well, I dragged the old Christmas tree out and shoved it into the gaping maw of the green food waste and garden waste bin, as far as it would go.

I’m grateful to Liesel for taking its picture as she drove past later in the day. Otherwise, the moment would have been lost to eternity. And we are very grateful to the bin men for taking away the offending item.

Meanwhile, the grandchildren and their parents are having a brilliant, exciting, fun-filled time at Disneyworld, Orlando.

Meanwhile, further west, my sister Pauline is visiting Las Vegas from New Zealand. Not a random urge to hit the casinos, but to be with her son, my nephew, Rob’s wedding to Cristy, a small civil ceremony. Love and congratulations to you all!

Thanks to Pauline for the photo!

So, life goes on, as the song says, and sometimes it’s as exciting as going for a walk around the parks and woods of Wythenshawe. And, how good am I? I’ve got this far without mentioning this week’s torrential rain.

Forever Changes

It was a bright and sunny morning so I set off, on foot, towards Didsbury. The route that we dubbed ‘Dogshit Alley’ is a lot more overgrown than the last time I saw it. I must remember to take along some secateurs next time. I’ve said that before, I know. But I did buy some cheap ones to cut back whatever bush it is that grows above where we park our car and deposits tonnes of sticky sap all over our erstwhile pristine vehicle. They were cheap, not all that strong and I should buy a decent pair at a garden shop one day. A sticky car was not something I’d expected to come home to. But it was well worth a tenner to have it washed.

Where were we? Walking along what is now basically a tunnel on the way to the river.

The Riverside Residential Park now seems to consist of proper buildings rather than the caravans all up on stilts.

Recent floods have washed away part of the path and there are still barriers up preventing our passage. Well, with a bit of clambering, it’s quite easy to get by.

I made it to Fletcher Moss where I couldn’t help but notice a very big bee on a tree.

The reason I visited Fletcher Moss park, gardens, whatever, today, was to see the Didsbury Pop-up Cultural Market. I found it in the Parsonage Gardens. There were two stalls with artists displaying their paintings. Is that it, I wondered? Well, there were more arts and crafts on show indoors, in the actual parsonage, I guess. Lots of stuff, some well done, some should have stayed in a bottom drawer somewhere, but just stuff, really, and we don’t need any more stuff.

I tried to get a coffee from the machine but it refused to believe my phone was the source of my spending money, so even the coffee machine lost a customer that day!

I wandered through Didsbry village, nothing new there.

I hadn’t visited Marple Locks before but it was a good venue for a walk with Jenny, Liam and the children.

A narrowboat approached the lock and Martha and William were both keen to help open the gates.

We walked along the Peak Forest Canal for a while and in the end, completed a large loop. Glad I brought some water, but a bit disappointed there was no coffee shop halfway round.

It could have been a bit scary walking along the tallest masonry arch aqueduct in the UK, designed by Benjamin Outram and built between 1794 and 1800.

Marple Aqueduct is one hundred feet above the river Goyt, and we walked down the bank so that we could follow the river for a while. Martha spotted a frog trying to climb out of the water but as she leaned over to help, it panicked, dived and we haven’t seen it since.

William spotted some cows in a field that turned into horses as we approached more closely. So, for the rest of the day, cows and horses were always mis-identified.

We were above the Etherow, a tributary of the Goyt, part of which once formed the boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire.

With two young, energetic and loud children with us, we were unlikely to see any interesting wildlife. Well, apart from horses that thought they were cows and cows that identified as horses. So here’s a nice family portrait instead.

This bridge has been restored fairly recently, to mark its 200th anniversary.

After finding our way back to Memorial Park, Marple, we had some fun in the playground. William also found a tree to climb. No health and safety considerations, no risk assessment, I blinked and there he was, twelve feet up in the branches.

Nearby in the park, we found some gym equipment. I had a go on some of it, but, er, let’s say I just hadn’t warmed up properly. I spent a couple of minutes on the stationary bike, burning a whole 7 calories, ‘riding’ 0.3 miles. That’ll do.

Not saying the children misbehaved at all, but, well, this is the sort of punishment they could appreciate.

Meanwhile, Liesel was having a good time in sunny Hope, Alaska.

On returning to Anchorage, Liesel packed, and she and her Mom caught the plane to Seattle, where they ate at the vegetarian place, Floret, before the long flight to Reykjavik and then the final leg to Manchester. This is where I met them. And what better way to celebrate their return to England than by going out for a meal at Zumuku with the family.

Both Martha and William had a jolly good shot at eating everything from the restaurant’s stock room. They’d need the energy for the next week or so in Disneyworld.

Sadly, and annoyingly, the Manchester sunshine was replaced by rain to coincide with Liesel’s return. So we had some soggy walks around Northenden.

As I was walking along, I heard the sound of horses behind me. As the empty hearse passed by, I was very tempted to tell the driver that the corpse had fallen out the back. But I resisted the urge.

The regular Thursday walk was well attended this week, but on Friday, there were just the three of us.

Liesel and Leslie are now, slowly, getting over their flight induced sleep deprivation and jet lag.

And in Florida, the grandchildren are having a Mouse of a time.

Out and about again

Once upon a time, I stayed over at Jenny’s house, and even though I anticipated an early morning invasion, neither of the children came into my room to bounce on the bed.

Jenny took me home later in the day and I changed into my eveningware for a musical recital in Manchester. Well, no, I didn’t. But I did go into the big city for a gig.

I joined the queue, and I wonder if you can guess who I was here to see?

The venue is not one of my favourites, O2 Ritz, but I decided early on that I would head straight for the balcony where I could stand at the front, and lean on the barrier, or, sit down, actually sit down, on a chair or a bench.

On stage appeared Mark Radcliffe and Marc Riley who told us that the last time they introduced a band on stage together, it was David Bowie with his band. Tonight, they were happy to introduce us to Woody Woodmansey and Tony Visconti’s Holy Holy, performing some of the Best of Bowie. With about 500 songs to choose from, they did well to keep the show down to about two hours.

Who else was in the band? Glenn Gregory from Heaven 17 is a big Bowie fan and he still seems excited and honoured to be singing the songs. Jessical Lee Morgan played guitar and saxophone, not at the same time. Janette Mason did a great job on keyboards and, one day, I hope to see her in concert in her own right.

From my vantage point at the front of the balcony, I could watch Chris Thomas working hard on the merch stall. One of the items on sale was a copy of the set list, signed by Woody and Tony. So that saves me having to try and remember what songs were performed.

There was no support act. No, the band played solidly for two hours, and the audience sang along. A comment from the stage and repeated later on, on Bluesky, suggested this was the loudest crowd of the tour so far.

A young lady was pleased that I let her squeeze in beside me by the barrier. She cried at Life on Mars. There were a few emotional people around, mostly oldies like me, but there were a few young people too.

From the balcony, It was quite hard to get a decent photo. But we have to try. Unlike some folks, though, I didn’t bother with a flash!

T-shirt wars. Tony Visconti was wearing a Hype t-shirt. Hype was the band he was in with David Bowie, even before Space Oddity. This was apparently an original t-shirt. Hmmm. On the other hand, his daughter Jessica was wearing this one, an allusion to one of the encore songs. IYKYK, as the young people say.

Yes, after the show, I went down to the merch stall to see Jess and Chris. I didn’t buy the set list but I did buy a Holy Holy t-shirt, first time I’ve bought a band shirt since about 1994.

I couldn’t fight my way through the crowd to say hello to Woody but it was good to see him enjoying being in the spotlight.

The tour bus was parked outside, disguised as a bus from Manchester’s Bee Network: bright yellow.

I walked down the road a bit to book an Uber but with perfect timing, I was able to flag down a black cab.

After being home for a couple of weeks now, I felt it was time to go for a long walk. So off I went to Quarry Bank. Sadly, the route that we often follow was still closed, thanks to flooding a few weeks ago. Still, it was good to see some colour.

Where’s Liesel when you need someone to identify the flowers?

Since I couldn’t walk where I expected to, instead, I wandered along a path I don’t think I’ve paid any attention to before, and came across this.

This cross was originally situated at Cross Farm, Styal. Around 1860 it was moved by Robert Hyde Greg to Holly Lane where it stood until 1930 when it was demolished in a car accident. The base, thought to be medieval, was rebuilt in 1983 on this site but the upper column remained a truncated stump until 2010. A campaign, instigated by the Styal Village Association, raised sufficient funds to rebuild the upper half and restore the cross back to its original state.

But the highlight of the visit was the cheese and onion pasty I had for lunch. The last one available. I got there just in time.

In local news, the occupants of Flat 3, below us, have moved to Stockport.

Like I mentioned, I’ve been back home for two weeks now, and it was time to do some laundry. I’d forgotten how long the wash cycle is on our machine, compared with the bigger American ones. I think washing machine companies here must be in cahoots with the electric companies.

I drove over to Trafford General Hospital for a medical consultation and found it easy to park, despite warnings from other folks who have been. Yes, I have a full collection of hospitals now, but I suppose that means I’m being well looked after.

While waiting in the waiting room, I was messing about with my phone camera.

Annoyingly, it was so much quicker to drive to Crewe than to go by public transport. If I’d gone by bus and train, I might have missed the end of the show: either that, or I would have needed to find some accommodation.

In the past, I’ve seen Danny Baker on stage in Salford and in Buxton, but the nearest show on this latest tour was at the Lyceum Theatre in Crewe.

Another three hours of fun for old and young, without a hint of vulgarity. He got his 10,000 steps in again, pacing up and down the stage as he told us one funny anecdote after another. A bit more name-dropping this time than before, maybe, but he’s the first to admit he’s been very lucky with his career and with the people he’s been able to work with.

The theatre is magnificent, but the view from the stage must be a bit intimidating, surely? Not for The Candyman, it seems.

It was good to join one of the local organised walks this week and to have a coffee afterwards. The other two walks? Well, I missed them for other reasons which you can read about if you press the red button.

Some things that fly

Well, that was a most satisfying and long sleep with very few interruptions, thank you. And on waking, I realised I actually felt more dazed than tired and jetlagged.

I had to get up to receive the Ocado and Groobarb deliveries. Otherwise I might have stayed in my pit all day, I don’t know.

For the rest of the day, I fought the urge to have a nap while upacking. And it was good to wander round the streets of Northenden again. Nothing much has changed. The new guy in the Post Office is more grumpy than the old guy.

The weir now seems to be fully repaired. But I did wonder where the bodies were. The whole of Northenden was infested with zillions of small flies. I thought people were being nice, welcoming me home by waving at me, but no, they were just swatting those swarming flies away.

Meanwhile, Liesel and Leslie were flying from Albuquerque to Anchorage, planning to stay for the duration of an Alaskan Summer. Liesel plans to work a lot for Amrit and to go on a few hikes.

For me, the rest of the week was getting back to normal, really: reading, writing, walking, watching a little TV, listening to a lot of podcasts, radio shows and especially music. I didn’t quite make it out for any of the organised walks this first week back.

Veronika from a downstairs flat sent a message to say that our missing wheelie bin bad returned from its holiday and was on the pavement around the corner. I doubt the local council will buy back the replacement that we bought a few weeks ago.

Medical matters managed to make an early appearance, but I was plaeased to see the big bee at Wythenshawe Hospital again.

Sneezebee created by Pam Smart, Michelle Turton and Rose Chapman

The audience had a great time at the local theatre here in Northenden. We heard many old folk songs, some written nearly 200 years ago. The songs were all unfamilar to me, so I coudn’t sing along: a disappointment for everyone, I’m sure.

But Harp and a Monkey are the go-to band for songs about cuckolded molecatchers, Victorian bare-knuckle fighters and much more. Look ’em up!

They did have CDs for sale but I said I would just download their music from Bandcamp instead. Liesel wouldn’t appreciate even more CDs in the house, especially at this time when I’m supposed to be reducing the size of our CD collection.

While walking home, using my phone camera, I tried to get an artistic shot of the Moon and a streetlamp but it didn’t really work.

One thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone lights a bonfire. Another thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone thinks it’s OK to leave their dog outside in the garden, barking all night.

Oh, and don’t forget the fireworks, I missed those!

I was happy to witness one most unusual event though. A fly flew in through the open window, had a good sniff and a look around the apartment, and flew straight back out again, through the same window.

Wythenshawe Park hasn’t changed much. There are still some deep ruts in the grass from where heavy vehicles have been driven, maybe for a circus. Where there used to be a coffee shop, there are now a few trucks, one selling coffee, one offering pizza, and the building itself seems to be permanently closed.

I visited the farm: well, I just followed the smell, whether of other visitors or the livestock, I’m not sure.

Well, I can’t complain about the weather, it’s been warm and sunny and bright, and that makes it easier to go out each day. But, after 40 days of no rain in the area, the water companies are threatening us with a hosepipe ban.

I mentioned reading, writing, walking and all that, but sometimes I let myself get sucked into Instagram. A couple of genuinely good or interesting clips, and then press next, next, next, and suddenly an hour’s gone by. I think that’s my worst habit at the moment.

Jenny picked me up and I stayed at her place for a night. The children were camping out on sofa-beds downstairs and I enjoyed kipping in Aunty Helen’s bed. Or is that Auntie? Neither version looks right, so I’ll leave them both, so you can decide.

No, she’s not assisting a taxiing aeroplane, she’s blowing bubbles. More specifically, sticky bubbles. They stick to your skin rather than bursting straightaway.

He’s enjoying a milkshake through a straw fresh from New Mexico. The flavour comes from little balls of food-adjacent chemicals inside the straw so that the milk absorbs the flavour as it’s slurped upwards.

And here they are relaxing with their tablets, playing games that are beyond my understanding: another side-effect of getting old.

On the way out of the house, I did a double-take. I don’t know why this strikes me as being a bit spooky, but, well, it just is. Scary too.

Martha and I played a game of Backgammon, and she’s picked up the rules pretty well. It won’t be long before we’re playing for real money, using the doubling dice and everything.

Time to go Home

It’s not often I watch Doc Martin on TV while eating breakfast and chatting with Liesel’s Uncle Neil, but it happened today for the first time. Neil has one of the shortest email addresses in the known universe, just ten characters in total, which is great, except that some modern sites don’t accept it as a legitimate address.

As well as being a scientist and a mathematician, he’s a bit of a philosopher and has spent the last several decades researching and writing a now 80-page long document about his theory of, well, everything. Having exchanged email addresses, he sent me a copy which I look forward to reading.

While online, I came across a ‘Truth’ or whatever it’scalled by the President:

Donald J. Trump
@realDonald Trump

After visiting the beautiful city of Albuquerque earlier this month, I decided that it is disrespectful to America to have a state called New Mexico. It is surrounded by America so it should be called America. I plan to sign an Executive Order renaming the Land of Enchantment New America!

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Actually, I suspect it’s a fake, but who knows? It’s so believable these days.

As I was packing for my departure, I thought about some things that I’d observed here in Albuquerque, and beyond.

Piñons are very small nuts and the trees are prolific. The nuts are so small, that some of us just find it easier to eat them whole, shells included, rather than trying to peel them.

Indoors is very dry too, very low humidity. So, often I would touch the light switch, or the fridge door handle, or Liesel, and I would experience a static shock. Every time was a surprise.

When out and about, almost everything is covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s a dry, dusty old state. It is being modernised though: we passed by a few solar arrays on our various trips.

Also, while out and about, I was greatly entertained by the many adverts for lawyers on billboards by the highways.

• Do your research: the husband and wife law team.
• $1 billion recovered for clients
• Hurt? Call Bert
• Injured? Get more. Dial 4…
• Semi truck collision? Call…
• Dead? Call Fred

No, alright, I made the last one up.

There’s one infamous sign that I was hoping to see out on the road, but, disappointingly, it never materialised.

• Eat here and get gas

We didn’t have a barbecue at all here in New Mexico. No Abq bbq, so to speak. Yes, all this time, I could have been using Abq as an abbreviation for ‘Albuquerque’ instead of writing the word ‘Albuquerque’ in full every time I mentioned ‘Albuquerque’.

I know Americans don’t have the monopoly on mangling the English language, but there were a few times on this visit when my ears wanted to pack up and go home. Just a couple of examples:

• When we were in Europe forever ago…
• Hope you guys enjoy you guys’s lunch

This sort of thing is very common too: you see a discount on an item but no actual price. So this conversation was very common:

• That’s 50% off
• So, how much is it?
• Ummm…

Meanwhile, outside the weather was not conducive to a return visit to the Bosque, the Rio Grande River Loop Trail. It rained, again with huge raindrops. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the rumbling thunder was accompanied by a hailstorm. Hailstones as big as peas. There have been larger though. On one occasion, Buzz returned from Phoenix in a car that resembled a golfball. Someone may have been exaggerating, of course!

Helen and Brent called from Australia and Liesel and I had a very nice chat with them. Helen is very happy with her new car, a Toyota.

Liesel and I did get out briefly, though, Gabe drove us to see the storm drains after today’s extensive precipitation. The water was indeed flowing fast.

What a boring picture, I know what you’re thinking, so here’s a nearby, colourful, mural.

And so it was timefor me to say goodbye to our fantastic hosts, Buzz, Neil and Gabe. Liesel drove me to the airport. Now, usually, Liesel drops me off and I’m left to check in by myself. But on the way to the airport today, I received an email telling me that my second leg flight, from Atlanta to Manchester, had been cancelled. I always feel anxious about this aspect of travel, dealing with airlines and airports, because something will always go wrong, right? Well, not always. But this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a cancelled flight.

It was a short queue to check in, because, guess what, Manchester Airport, there were several members of staff working on the counters, all at the same time. Revolutionary.

Tiffany, my Delta agent was great, though. She fought through Virgin Atlantic and Air France’s BS and rearranged my trip back to the UK. I could have postponed the whole thing until the next day, but there’s no guarantee that Virgin Atlantic wouldn’t cancel again, for ‘technical reasons’.

So, rather than Abq to Atlanta to Manchester, I now have three flights: Abq to Atl to Orlando to Manchester. And I would arrive just two hours later than originally planned.

So after all the excitement and fun and places of interest in New Mexico, my fear and anxiety of travelling through airports was, today, fully justified.

In Security, I was patted down, because the poppers on my shorts lit up on their very fussy scanner. As someone else joked, rather riskily I thought: usually I’d get dinner and a drink for that.

At the gate, we learnt that our plane was arriving late so we’d be departing late. So of course, I am now more worried about not making the connections. Whereas my original schedule had a 3-hour layover in Atlanta, it was now 1½ hours. Even less with this late departure. Tiffany was at the gate so again I thanked her profusely.

My window seat was OK, but I couldn’t see anything other than the wing. After an uneventful flight, people with connections were allowed off first. Everyone had a connecting flight.

In Atlanta I walked and took the train to my departure gate, arriving with less than an hour to spare. I took more slow, deep breaths before going for a quick wander to find something to eat. A very nice, tasty tomato, cheese and basil crêpe was the best option.

I don’t know why I worry about the size of my carry-on bag when people seem to get away with bulging backpacks and antique Victorian trunks. Well, very nearly.

This flight was late taking off too, for which they apologised but offered no explanation. I had an aisle seat this time, sitting next to a very rude Italian man. He was upset because he’d been made to check his oversize bag but I didn’t laugh out loud: never mess with the Mafia.

And of course, I was now worried about making my connecting flight in Orlando.

My English accent did me no favours on this flight: I failed to get any milk for my welcome cup of tea. While in New Mexico, only one person had accused me of being Australian, but I still can’t recall the circumstances.

The plane landed in Orlando, and we taxied for ages and ages before the pilot announced that there was currently no gate available. Apparently, after a big storm yesterday, they were still catching up on a backlog of delayed flights.

After about half an hour, we were able to disembark. I’d not been to Orlando Airport since 1992 and couldn’t remember it at all and it’s probably changed anyway since then so I really hoped it would be easy to find my next, and final, departure gate. It was, and again I plonked myself down with much less than an hour to go.

I looked around, but there were no ads for Disneyworld, so I failed in my mission to take a selfie with Mickey or Minnie. There were no food outlets either nearby so I was very glad of the cheese sandwich Liesel had made for me.

Annoyingly, I wasn’t able to order a vegetarian meal for this flight. I’d asked at every opportunity, but no, because the flight is within 24 hours. But it was your airline, Virgin Atlantic, that cancelled my original flight. Oh well, never mind was the official response.

My seat was in the back row, right in front of the toilet and I sat next to a nice lady with an English accent. Well, it turns out she lives in New York state, moved there when she was about 2 years old, and was now visiting her cousin in Chester.

I couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I watched two movies: Paddington in Peru, and Heretic, both of which I can recommend, especially if you’re a Hugh Grant fan.

There was just one thing left for me to worry about. Given my flights were late and the connection times were tight, would my checked in bag make it home on the same flight as me?

After landing, disembarking, walking a long way to Passport Control in Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2, the moment of truth. Along with hundreds of other dazed passengers, I watched the baggage carousel with a mix of excitement at being back on home turf and dread at the thought of the bureaucracy I’d have to go through again if my case didn’t turn up. But, no, look, is that it? Yes, is that the right label? Yes, yes and yes.

The taxi driver took me home the long way, but that meant he just got a smaller tip than otherwise.

Arriving home is always a bit of anticlimax. A quick walk to get some milk then I had a cup of tea and, despite my best efforts, a nap.

I managed to stay awake for the duration of the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who before going to bed properly. Good night.

United in Atlanta

After a day of packing and ticking things off the to-do list, we collected Martha and William from school. It was a nice enough day to spend some time in Bruntwood Park. Of course, that meant their snack for the day was ice cream. Martha spent most of her time spinning in the small thimble in the sandpit, allegedly to prevent the smaller people from filling it with sand.

Meanwhile, William ran about all over the place, climbing both the climbing frame and a couple of trees. Then, being a slightly smaller child, he put some sand in the newly vacated thimble

After dropping the children off at their home, the three of us returned to ours. Some more packing before a very short night’s sleep.

At 3am, we arose, bleary-eyed, excited and trepidatious. I took Liesel and Leslie to the airport for their very early flight to Frankfurt. They had a great time in Michelstadt and Heidelberg with our friends Fe and Gabi, whom we’d seen last year. I can’t describe in detail what they all got up to, but here are some photos, thanks, Liesel. Naturally, I went back to bed for a few more hours.

Half-timbered house in Michelstadt old town

I think it’s fair to say they had a better time for a couple of days than I did! I was busy at home, packing, eating, washing up, taking out the rubbish, booking a taxi, putting an address label on my suitcase, but most interestingly, replacing the battery in my Kindle. A straightforward job that I’ve done before, but this time, I managed to damage the screen in the process, grrr. I copied all the photos from my phone to the PC. I drove over to see Jenny, briefly, to drop the keys off and offload some vegetables that will just rot over the next few weeks. You’ve probably guessed, I’m going away too, and I had a lot of last-minute jobs. I missed out on the regular walks this week, but I did go for a quick stroll via the barbershop.

My flight wasn’t quite as early as Liesel’s, and I was more worried than usual about flying into the USA, given the stories we’ve heard about visitors and students and others being detained or even deported by ICE. Other than the tag-printing machine not working, I sailed through the processes at Manchester Airport, no problem.

My flight to Atlanta was great, in the sense that I managed to watch two whole films, Le Comte de Monte Cristo, in French, but with English subtitles, and Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Director’s Cut), which was probably the version I saw many years ago, then known as Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Special Edition)!

In-flight afternoon tea, thank you Virgin Atlantic

The moment of truth. Deep breaths. Try not to look guilty. But the Customs and Immigration Officer I met today in Atlanta was the most friendly, welcoming, smiley one of the many who have ‘greeted’ me over the years.

I caught the Plane Train to another Terminal, rode the escalator up and met Liesel. She and her Mom had arrived from Frankfurt just a couple of hours earlier.

I had a plate of nachos before we walked to our gate for the next flight, to Albuquerque. We’re staying with Liesel’s aunt (Leslie’s sister) Buzz, not forgetting Neil and Gabe.

They all met us at Albuquerque Airport… oops, I mean, Albuquerque International Sunport, and drove us back to their house. It had been 27° in Atlanta, but here, it was a miserable 7°. What a contrast.

We’d all been up for over 20 hours, so it wasn’t a hard decision to make: yep, let’s go to bed straightaway.

Stones and Jones

As I think I mentioned last time, I was delighted to receive so much chocolate for my birthday. But amidst all the excitement, of course there’s a reminder of why our great nation is often referred to as ‘Rip-off Britain’. There’s even a TV programme with that title. I opened a box containing a large bar of chocolate, I couldn’t wait to sink my fangs into it. Very nice, very tasty, but also, very small. A lovely cardboard box containing a plastic tray holding a bar of chocolate much smaller than the depiction on the outside packaging.

Yes, I’ve eaten some, but look how much smaller the actual bar is, compared with the picture. And the plastic tray, lovely and sturdy as it may be, is no good for anything else apart from recycling.

Haha, and you thought that by passing my three-score year and ten, I wouldn’t be whingeing nearly as much! You’ll be lucky.

So, let’s look up and not down. Nothenden is becoming more colourful as time goes on. Cherry blossom, magnolias, daffodils, even more blue skies. And when the northerly wind stops, it can even feel quite warm.

Forsythia (nice to see you, to see you, nice)

In local news, progress is being made to repair the weir. I wonder if it will be finished in time for the annual Northenden Boat Race, at the end of August?

We went into Manchester for a lunchtime concert. As we walked down the road behind the prestigious Midland Hotel, we couldn’t help but admire their enterprising thinking by providing tents on the pavement for their less affluent customers.

The concert itself was most enjoyable: a performance by the Royal Northern College of Music Brass Band. They played three pieces by unknown (to us) composers. I especially liked Flight by Mario Burki, which included a thunderstorm halfway through as we ‘flew’ across the desert.

Afterwards, we had lunch in Society, just along the road a bit. I was tempted, but did not choose ‘Big Mick Fries’.

We packed for a weekend away, just a couple of small bags, you’d think, but we took a tonne of food with us. We were meeting Jenny and family in a cottage on the Isle of Anglesey, Ynys Môn.

As we crossed the border into Wales, we saw our first red dragon. Soon after, we noticed some pink elephants. We watched as a herd of cows walked across the bridge over the road in front of us. And then, an old lady pussycat on the back of a bus that is the venue for afternoon teas. When we drove closer to the sea, we noticed a few white horses, it was that windy.

Mainly though, animal life consisted of sheep with many, many newly born lambs gambolling in the fields.

The drive was mostly uneventful, just a 5-minute hailstorm that was loud and a bit scary, coming on as suddenly as it did, but we were absolutely delighted by how stunning the views were, all the way through the Welsh mainland.

After a bit of a fight with the GPS, and Google Maps thinking there are two Ship Inns close together and close to our final destination, we parked up at our lovely new home in Red Wharf Bay.

The view from the living space in this house was pretty good too. We could have sat there and looked out over the bay for the whole weekend.

Jenny, Liam, Martha and William set off straight from school and arrived a couple of hours after us.

It’s an upside down house, in that three of the four bedrooms are downstairs, while the living room and kitchen are upstairs. Very disorienting yet exciting from the children’s point of view.

In the evening, we walked up to the Tavern on the Bay for dinner. We were happy to pass by some fairies in the bushes.

I think we agreed that our house was a much nicer place to stay than in one of the seemingly hundreds of caravans, all made out of ticky-tacky and they all looked just the same.

By the time we’d finished eating, it was dark, so the walk back home was a wee bit challenging. Torn between needing a few more street lights so we could see where we were walking, and wanting fewer artifical lights so that we could better see the night sky. I was very proud of Martha for spotting Orion’s Belt, and of William who realised he couldn’t see the Orion Nebula because of the light pollution. Still, we got home without anyone falling in a ditch.

After a good night’s kip, and after a jolly good breakfast, including Coco Pops, we all went for a walk a bit further along the coast, starting near Moelfre. The cold wind came back, and was determined to find its way into my very sensitive lugholes. Other than that though, we had a good time. And yes, William probably walked and ran twice as far as anyone else.

All the while, I was looking to see the partially eclipsed Sun, but with the clouds that thick, it was hard enough to even see where the Sun was. Folks in other parts of the country got some great photos. Oh well.

We walked by a couple of small shingle beaches, where Martha, Liam and I had a go at skimming stones. I got nowhere near my personal best of 14 skips. Selsey, since you ask, in the mid 1990s.

The other interesting beach at Moelfre is covered in cairns or stacks of stones. My effort was just about knee high, but there were some very tall stacks here.

In places, the path was quite rugged, but we all managed, including Leslie who was walking with her stick. Martha and William lapped it up: they’re a pair of mountain goats, after all.

After a big lunch, we went over the road to the ‘beach’: the tide was out again. It was still windy, an ideal day to fly kites. I stayed out with them for a few minutes but that wind was too strong for me so I went back inside. It was also too much for the kites, just blowing them inside out, so no lift and they kept crashing to the ground. A little bit disappointing, really.

Liesel and Leslie watched the activity from the comfort of the nicely heated living room: whoever decided to install large windows here is a hero.

In the evening, we dined at The Boathouse, a much shorter walk. The menu didn’t really sell the meat to me. ‘This morning, this lamb was playing in a filed, now, it’s sitting on your plate.’ No star-gazing this evening though, due to the clouds.

Back indoors, we played games. Martha is fascinated by Backgammon. Then we all played a game called GoGoGo!, the party game, in which over several rounds of different activities, we compete to win three crowns. William deliberately picked a yoga pose that involved balance skills, knowing that his Grandad would be wobbling all over the place. Still, it was all great fun.

A huge breakfast comprising of waffles and fruit and Liesel’s family chilli eggs was a good way to start the day, before a much longer walk than yesterday. So glad the wind had died down. We thought the children would be impressed by the place with the longest name in the UK, even if none of us could pronounce it correctly.

We continued our drive to the west side of the island, and set off on a hike through Newborough Forest. Somehow this felt like a proper forest, moreso than the woods back home. Tall trees, silence and the possibility of seeing red squirrels. If we saw any at all, they were disguised as ravens.

Some of the paths and tracks were covered in thousands of seashells, making a nice crunchy sound but providing us with a nice dry surface. I kept thinking how nice it was to be out of the cold wind, today.

Eventually, we found our way to the beach, and I for one was surprised to see so many people here, in quite an isolated place. We walked along the beach and up and down the dunes as far as the lighthouse, Goleudy Tŵr Mawr.

Martha picked up several shells from the beach, with which she plans to decorate a picture frame back home. Liam spent a long time opening an oyster shell, but sadly, there was no pearl inside.

William is happiest away from terra firma. Any opportunity to climb, he’ll take it. If you glance away for a couple of seconds, he’ll be waving at us from the top of a rock formation on the beach.

Although it’s a bit scary to watch hime someties, I really hope he doesn’t lose his sense of adventure.

Surprisingly, there were some ponies up near the lighthouse. One of them approached Martha and William, presumably looking for some grub, but it soon lost interest and wandered off.

We walked back along the beach to the car park. But with brilliant foresight, Liam and Jenny brought kites for the children to fly. And once the kites were launched, the string unravelled to its fullest extent, they remained in flight for the whole length of the beach as we walked along. A much more successful kite-flying day than yesterday, when the wind had just been, ironically, far too strong.

In the evening, Jenny and Liam packed, we all ate dinner and there was time for one more game of GoGoGo! No acrobatics for me this time. It was sad to see the family depart, but I know we all had a great time.

In the morning, Liesel, Leslie and I packed for our departure: we had to check out by 10am. As requested, we left the house as tidy as possible, and we even left the tide all the way out, just as it was when we’d first arrived.

The drive home was uneventful, no problems with traffic, we just stopped for coffee once, arrived home, unpacked, and… time to relax.

Interesting question of the week: if there is no letter J in the Welsh alphabet, how come Jones is the most common surname?

Lots to celebrate

The magnolias are in blossom and that’s another good sign that Spring really might be here. I walked up the road for a repeat visit to the dental hygienist. Last week, she took care of my bottom

set of teeth and this week, my top teeth were given a deep clean. A deep and very uncomfortable, unpleasant clean. A necessary procedure, I know, if I wish to preserve the gnashers for a few more years, but I’m so glad I remembered to dose myself up on painkillers before the visit.

After picking the children up from school this week, it was nice enough outside to go litter picking, an activity that we’ve been neglecting a bit lately. There’s a lot to pick up, so why they have to haggle over the smallest piece of rubbish on the pavement or in a hedge is beyond me. Still, they did a great job, and the bag left by the litter bin was taken away by the following morning. Martha was especially proud of the old rusty padlock that she found. It’s now time for the Great British Spring Clean, so please join us in a spot of litter picking, and get some fresh air at the same time.

At home, Liesel cooked us all a lovely, spicy, Indian meal. William and I played hangman and both children made something that will be a surprise for someone special sometime soon.

Some days are like dominoes. One topples over then another then something else goes wrong and then something else and oh my goodness, no wonder I’m drinking wine out of a pint glass. Cheers!

Neither wife nor mother-in-law joined me on the walk this morning, which may have been a blessing in disguise. Nobody was sitting on the other side of the table from me in the coffee shop, so nobody was drownded by the cup of decaff latté that I knocked over. The barista, who was new to the establishment, was very good about it and cleaned up my mess. My replacement drink was nice and I was very careful not to twitch, jerk or make any other sudden movements.

Liesel has booked a weekend away for the end of the month, which is great, but at first I was a bit miffed that we would miss seeing Maisie Adam perform just up the road at Boxx2Boxx. I very sheepishly had to ask if they’d take the tickets back.

At home, Liesel pointed out the funny noise being emitted by the soundbar every 50 seconds or so. A bit like the noise loudspeakers used to make when a call was coming into a mobile phone on the O2 network. A quick investigation revealed that the strange noise would appear whether the TV was on or not, and when the soundbar was playing sounds via Bluetooth. Looking at the internet for help, the next step would be to get in touch with the supplier. I suspect the soundbar is probably out of guarantee by one day. Sod’s law.

John Lewis sent a message with a two-hour window for installation of the new dishwasher. The engineers arrived, very professional and friendly. But full of bad news. First, our current dishwasher has been connected to the hot water supply and it shouldn’t have been. If they disconnect the hose from that pipe, it will probably leak. So, before installing the new machine, that pipe needs to be capped off and these guys couldn’t do that: we’d need a real plumber.

Then, on closer inspection, they couldn’t install the new machine anyway because it needs to be a ‘top-fitting’ appliance, not ‘side-fitting’, otherwise the wooden door that is fitted to the front would be in the wrong place. Or something. We’d have to order a different model. I called a plumber and waited for him to return the call: he is someone we’ve used before so I hope he’s still in business.

Liesel and Leslie were out at this point, enjoying coffee with the ladies of the WI, and I dreaded giving Liesel the bad news: no new dishwasher.

So I revisited the soundbar. Run out of ideas. I unplugged the whole lot: soundbar, TV, Freeview box and internet router. The strange sound was still being made. Uh? I followed my ears. It was the old Simon game, on the floor, beneath all the aforementioned electronic devices. Liesel had brought it back from Alaska some time ago, thinking Martha and William would enjoy playing it. But it needed new batteries, two different sizes and we only had one. Well, I now remembered that the previous night, Martha showed interest in it, and I think she must have left the switch ‘on’, even though that didn’t provide full functionality. And Simon has been beeping, tweeting ever since. Well, that was an easy fix in the end, but what a fiasco.

Feeling peeved about the dishwasher yet relieved that I’d resolved one issue, I poured myself a half pint of wine. Then I opened a birthday parcel early thinking it might be chocolate, purely for medicinal purposes of course. But instead it was whisky, a welcome gift from Pauline and Andrew, which I shall indulge in very soon. Not on top of all the vino, though.

We binge-watched a drama on TV called Protection. About halfway through the third episode, I realised it wasn’t about family planning, after all. It was most enjoyable, though.

The plumber never called back, so I got in touch with another one. He agreed to come over later that afternoon. He made the necessary changes to the various connections, hoses and pipes under the kitchen sink.

So, how’s the new dishwasher? Nobody else at John Lewis can see why the machine that we ordered can’t be installed. We even drove over to John Lewis in the Trafford Centre to speak to an expert, and he didn’t have a scooby either.

It was dark by the time we left, after eating at Tampopo for the first time in many years. Liesel’s been on the phone to customer services, left on hold for ages while they investgate, but today, five days later, we still have no dishwasher.

The Friday walk took us through Painswick Park as usual, but what was unusual was seeing a coot out of the water.

A few years ago, I enjoyed re-reading Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield. Recently I have been plodding and slogging my way through a modern day take on the tale, Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. My review, for what it’s worth: it’s too long and it’s nowhere near as funny. I’m sure there are many American cultural references that I missed out on, but I just kept saying, ‘get on with it’ and ‘OK, I get the message.’ There’s an opioid addiction problem in the United States, I get that, but I found it depressing to read that much about it.

More TV: we watched the new film Conclave from the comfort of our own home. It was good, interesting, entertaining but, suddenly, was that it? It was over. Compared with a six-part TV drama, it was very short. No spoilers, but we’d like to see Part 2 in which we see how the newly elected Pope gets on.

It was a dark and stormy night in March, 1955. Mount Alvernia Hospital, Guildford. A woman was in pain and being helped by a Sister Frances to give birth to a bouncing 7 lb 8 oz baby boy at quarter to three in the morning. The baby’s cries were audible even above the thunderstorm raging outside. The woman’s name was Betty. She and her husband bestowed the names Michael David on the infant. Michael: no idea where that came from. David: that was the father’s name. Yes, it was me! And this weekend, I celebrated my 70th birthday.

Liesel had an appointment in Manchester so while waiting, Leslie and I visited the Whitworth Gallery and wandered around the exhibition, JMW Turner: in Light and Shade. The exhibition pairs Turner’s evocative Liber prints with a series of his watercolours from the Whitworth’s own collection, as well as loaned works from public and private collections. As invited, we explored Turner’s artistic legacy and the significance of his prints. Etchings, mezzotints, the prints were all quite small and monochrome, but the watercolours were easier on the eye. I was pleased to see that JMW Turner visited Guildford, where I was brought up, at least once.

We drove home via La Chouquette where I picked up a loaf of bread and a chocolate-based birthday cake. Back at home, I opened my cards and a couple of pressies. Chocolate, chocolate and chocolate! Not complaining at all!

We drove to the restaurant Delhi Dream in Cheadle and met up with Jenny, Liam, Martha and William for a big family celebration. Martha had brought the helium balloon with my latest age upon it, not at all embarrassing.

We had a lovely meal, lots of food, almost too much. And the waiter realising it was my special day, gave me a bowl of ice cream with some cherries. I struggled even to eat the ice cream, that’s how full I was.

Back at Jenny’s, I was presented with a cake baked and decorated by the grandchildren. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to determine which is the shop-bought and which is the home-baked cake. No prizes, just for fun, as they say!

It took a while, but things settled down and I was able to enjoy a slice of each of the cakes with a cup of tea. It was difficult to move for the rest of the day, but worth it.

Martha and William were more excited about my birthday than I was, I think. No children were harmed in the demonstration of their kick-boxing skills.

Jenny, William, Martha, old fart, Liesel

So another year older, not that I feel it really, I still alternate between 70 (now), 29 and 14.

If you require details of my new cake, chocolate and whisky diet, just let me know.

Places to go

It’s been a while since we’ve been to an author’s event, so it’s time to fix that. Before going into the venue, we visited the Long Bar, just down the road in Bramhall. Pre-show cocktail? I don’t mind if I do.

Amongst the fellow guests in this emporium was comedian Jason Manford. When, a couple of days later, Liesel told one of her WI mates that we’d seen him, she said, “Oh, yeah, I used to teach him.” Small world isn’t it?

Liesel and I joined about 16 other folks in Simply Books to see and hear Emma Hinds talking about her new book, The Quick and the Dead. I was one of just three blokes, and one of the others was a friend of Emma’s.

It was a fascinating chat, the story taking place in 1597. It’s funny how most of the historical novels we read are about the Tudor period. I look forward to reading Emma’s book and I said I’d catch up with Elle’s soon too.

It’s finally happened. The door of the dishwasher is broken, kaput. For years, we’ve had to lower the door by hand because the spring keeps breaking. Now, it only opens halfway. Time to invest in a new one. So I’ll be handwashing the dishes for a week or so.

I’ve been listening to Tony Blackburn for 60 years on the radio, and in his own words, he is quite sensational. Not just because he was born in the same hospital as me, Mount Alvernia in Guildford. He was the first DJ to read out my name on the radio, during his Radio 1 Breakfast Show. The slot was called School Salute, and even though my class, 3F, requested a Bee Gees song, he played Here Comes the Judge by Pigmeat Markham, but the disappointment was outweighed by the excitement of hearing our names on the radio. I wonder what happened to Ian Cordery, Howard Heather and all the others? The only one I’m still in touch with is Andrew Webb. Hello Andrew! This week, for the first time, we saw Tony on stage, in the flesh, at Bridgewater Hall. He hosted a show based on his long-running Radio 2 programme, Sounds of the 60s. The all-star band and the two vocalists performed about 100 songs from the 1960s, insterspersed by some of Tony’s best/worst jokes. The musical director and sax player was Leo Green, whose Dad Benny I used to listen to in the early days of Jazz FM.

Before the show, we dined at a different venue, HOME, and as we left, we told the server where we were going, and he said everyone seems to be going there tonight.

The venue was pretty much sold out, and as Liesel observed, we’ve never seen so much grey hair in one audience.

Sounds of the 60s Band and Singers and Tony

I chatted a bit with the old chap I was sitting next to. As we were leaving, he asked if I watched Corrie? Never seen a whole episode of Coronation Street and I’m not about to start now. Then he told me, he was a regular extra in the show, and has been for years.

As you can see from the photo, we were way up in the Circle, and, on the way down, I captured another Manchester Bee.

The plaque next to the bee told us about the bust of Sir John Barbirolli, and didn’t mention the bee itself. But we’re very grateful to Sir John for reviving the fortunes of the Hallé Orchestra during the 1950s.

Everyone was looking forward to seeing the blood red Moon, a partial lunar eclipse, just before sunrise. I got up, looked out, noted the 100% cloud cover and returned to my pit.

We debated whether to go by train but in the end we drove to Stratford-upon-Avon. It’s an interesting place and a nice halfway point between Manchester and London. Our friends Trudi and John are visiting from Hawaii along with their niece Haylee. They came by train and we met at the station. I’m sure they noticed the cold north wind welcoming them to England.

John and I walked to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage while Liesel drove the ladies there. We’d not been to this venue before, but the guide was informative and the house itself very interesting.

We had lunch at The Dirty Duck, in the Actor’s Bar, which is adorned with photos of many actors from stage and screen. One of the few I could immediately put a name to was Richard Burton.

Of course, we had to visit Anne Hathaway’s husband’s birthplace, which is situated on the main street, very handy for the shops.

There’s more of an exhibition here too, celebrating Shakespeare’s plays, sonnets and life. Playwrights were the rock stars of the time, said one of the hosts, quite wealthy, some of them.

Again, I regret not taking more photos of the visitors, but here they are.

For dessert, we visited Prospero Lounge. With a name like that, I thought there might be some Shakespearean theme, but there wasn’t. The sticky toffee pudding was fabulous though.

I was quite happy to walk from venue to venue while Liesel drove all the others, even if it was a tight squeeze in our little car. We said our farewells back at the station, having spent a really nice (if cold) day with our delightful buddies.

As on the journey to Stratford, the drive home was easy, no hold-ups at all on the M6 which is most unusal.

Did I mention the sticky toffee pudding? Well, that meant we didn’t need much to eat when we got home.

Liesel, her Mom and I drove into Manchester for a very funny comedy night.

Another great night’s entertainment from two comedians, only one of whom I’ve seen before. Yes, they are wearing the same shirt. I won’t repeat any of the jokes here, some of them are not suitable for a family audience. Luckily, mother-in-law was sitting behind me, so I can only imagine the look on her face, knowing that Klaus would have been laughing like a drain. Do drains laugh?

What’s going on?

Mahjong is a game that I’ve never played with real tiles, but a few decades ago, I did enjoy playing it on the computer. This week, I downloaded a version onto my phone. It’s very addictive so, after reaching level 200, I deleted the app. Good fun though. And I’m sure the way I describe the Chinese characters and symbols on each of the tiles to myself has nothing to do with what they actually represent. The funny thing is, Liesel too has downloaded an addictive game onto her phone, and when she’s in the zone, she’s really in the zone.

It was pancake day and as there are now three of us in this household, I increased the volume of my batter mix by 50%. I do venture into the kitchen more than once a year, honest, and I’m glad to report that none of my tossed pancakes fell on the floor nor stuck to the ceiling. We had a mix of savoury and sweet, but I think my favourite will always be freshly squeezed lemon juice and white sugar.

In local news, gas mains are being replaced in Royle Green Road, round the corner from us. They’re working from both ends, which means whichever way we want to leave home, we have to wait in a usually long queue for traffic lights to change.

And if I wanted to draw attention to a specific house, this is exactly how I’d do it. With a nice big yellow loop.

It’ll be nice when it’s finished.

The Wednesday walk through the woods was wonderful, although Liesel missed out on account of having lots of work to do.

The Thursday walk through the parks and woods of Wythenshawe was probably wonderful too, but I wouldn’t know, on account of not waking up in time.

World Book Day was again celebrated by William and Martha and their schoolmates.

Leslie and I just went for a short walk in the sunshine to the community library and back: we had just one book to return.

It’s always nice to see Spring flowers surviving despite being so close to the public footpath.

The Friday walk was wonderful too, the short one in Wythenshawe. Again, Liesel was working so I took Leslie along. And then, in the afternoon, the three of us visited Dunham Massey for another quick wander in the sunshine. And, for the first time this year, I got my lallies out. Yes, it was warm enough to wear shorts and I displayed my pasty white legs for everyone’s enjoyment.

The Holly here and by the wooden bridge have been cut back as part of a 4-5 year cycle to allow more Light into borders and Keep the Holly at an appropriate Size.

The Gardeners

Well, I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but, have they cut back too far?

As we were leaving, Liesel spotted a heron over the water, sitting in a tree, which is unusual. It made us wonder again what has become of the heron that used to live on the Mersey near us? We haven’t seen him for several months.

That’s one National Trust property. One’s not enough, so we visited two more a couple of days later.

We have been here before, but not for a few years. This photo is almost identical to the one I posted last time. Spot the differences.

We met up with Jenny and family for a picnic as it was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. We walked around the house with its wonky floors and creaky walls. It’s a fascinating place and I think Martha and William enjoyed looking at the old artefacts

The guide told us that this mantlepiece is one of only 4 places that are truly horizontal in the whole house. In real life, it looks crooked because the wall is leaning over and the floor is on a slope. He also told us a lot more about the history of the place. A guy called William Gee did a lot of the handiwork here and he oftem brought along his granddaughter, Mary Martha. Both are commemorated in a few of the 32,000 glass segments that comprise the windows of the great hall.

After eating our picnic lunch, we went for a bit of a walk. Through a few gates, but I stopped at one because I felt it was too muddy for my shoes. So while the others proceeded, I carried our picnic bag back to the car. I wish I hadn’t. I missed watching Martha plopping through the mud, losing one shoe, then another and ending up very dirty. Liesel and Jenny tried their hardest not to laugh. I’m sure I would have kept my composure as I took photos, but sadly, I missed the incident.

For a longer walk, we decided to go onto out third NT property of the weekend, Biddulph Grange Garden. The children were of course still full of energy and probably ran twice as far as us old folks walked.

They both enjoyed the climbing apparatus along the path, as well as climbing a fallen tree.

Jenny, Liam, Martha, William, Liesel, Leslie

Soon after 4pm, we went our separate ways. Thanks to the fresh air and exercise, Liesel, Leslie and I were all tired so we ordered a pizza and picked it up on the way home. Very nice, very tasty. Then I received a text message and an email telling me that because they were out of some ingredients, they’d cancelled my order. As they say: to err is human, to really mess things up, get a computer system.

Well, I don’t often get drunk any more, I just can’t drink enough volume of beer or whisky. Plus I’m worried about how my bladder will behave later in the day. Recently, we’ve been binge watching the ITV medical drama, The Royal, about a community hospital in the 1960s. There’s one piece of dialogue that crops up often on many TV drama series: “What’s going on?” Yes, someone walks in on a discussion between other people and exclaims, “What’s going on?” Liesel and I started a drinking game while watching The Royal. One swig of whisky for every “What’s going on?” A double swig for every “What on Earth is going on?” And on the rare occasion it’s “What the Hell is going on?”, we enjoy a triple slurp. Yep, I haven’t been that drunk for years.

The other thing I enjoy about the show is the music, mostly from the 1960s, and including many Beatles songs. But the final episode of what turned out to be the final series ended with a Pink Floyd song from 1973.

Obviously, listening to a New Scientist podcast about sleep was going to send me to sleep. It did. Twice. Fascinating subject of course, but it took me three goes to hear it to its conclusion.