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Settling in

After arriving in the cold, I thought maybe that was just a hiccup, and that normal service would be resumed the following day. No, sirree. It was still cold, so, reluctantly, I wore a coat for our visit to The 15th Annual Southwest Chocolate and Coffee Fest. The event was very popular, hundreds of stalls, and hundreds of visitors. I’d like to say we tried hundreds of samples, but no, just a few. The pecan and green chilli cookie sounded intriguing. But my small sample was enough to set my tongue on fire and for steam to erupt from my ears.

It wasn’t all chocolate and coffee, lovely though that was. We tried cheese curds, various jams and bread, but not the candy floss. This girl did, though.

On this day, we saw a roadrunner ahea⁰d of us on the road, but the following day, I was quick enough to capture one, photographically speaking. It ran across the road in front of us rather than along the road like the cartoon character, but still, this was our first New Mexican wildlife.

Well, I say ‘wildlife’, but some of the locals do feed these birds. We visited Albuquerque’s Old Town and learned some history of the place. Here, it was the Spanish conquistadors who arrived and changed the way of life of the indigenous peoples. We visited the Romero Street Gallery and enjoyed a wide variety of different art.

To name just three artists, we liked David Schneider’s photographs. He must hang around for hours just to get the perfect lighting, the optimum number of clouds and nothing to distract from the shot. He does no digital editing afterwards, making the large, printed pictures all the more remarkable.

Paul Uhl’s pottery at first sight looks a bit wonkey, but the decoration is superb. One piece in particular appealed to Liesel and me, featuring aspens, which look very similar to silver birches.

Digital art is the forté of Barry Reithmeier. His pictures look very futuristic, recalling the covers of some old 1970s science fiction books.

Why no pictures here? Because we weren’t allowed to take photos in the gallery. You’ll just have to visit yourself, come on in.

Next door, we had one of the best cups of coffee ever. Santa Cecilia is the name of the place, and you can imagine our disappointment a couple of days later when we turned up only to find it was closed.

We walked around the Old Town some more, and it wasn’t long before we came across another animal. Dead, admittedly. And only a small part of the beast. Some shops are decorated with skulls.

Another common sight was chili peoppers hanging up outside many of the shops. There are a lot of chilis in Albuquerque, whether hanging outside to dry, or being sold in shops, or appearing in most meals.

It was Sunday and there was probably a service taking place, so we didn’t explore the church.

This church was built in 1706 and is one of the city’s oldest buildings.

We dined at Monroe’s, Albuquerque’s top(?) Mexican restaurant. The booking was for six, but in the end, Neil didn’t come. It transpires bookings are often made for more people in the party than will actually turn up, because then, everyone gets more space.

On the drive home, I couldn’t help but notice how the clouds look fake. Like a painting of clouds. They look like how clouds used to look in my childhood, fluffy and white, not the solid battleship grey slabs we get in Manchester now.

Note also the mountains over there, covered in snow. Yes, it has snowed quite recently in New Mexico, all around Albuquerque.

Gabe had recommended to me and Liesel that we visit the Rio Grande Nature Center. Yes, the actual Rio Grande flows through the city, and it wasn’t too far to drive to the Nature Center. It was warmer today and the weather forecast looks promising too, getting warmer every day this week. On the drive, we encountered one of the city’s few roundabouts.

It’s heartlifting to see this sign, confirming again that not everyone in America is a magat. Just like the sign in the coffee shop yesterday. There are plenty of decent people around, despite what the news outlets would have us believe. In fact, Gabe attended one of the many ‘Hands Off’ protest rallies across the country.

While expecting to see birds out on the water, we were surprised to see several turtles soaking up the heat of the Sun.

Have you heard of a red-eared Slider turtle before? No, us neither, yet here they are in all their red-eared glory.

We did see some birds as we explored The Bosque, well, a small segment of the 300-mile long forest ecosystem along the valley of the middle Rio Grande in New Mexico that extends from Santa Fe, through Albuquerque and south to El Paso, Texas.

Running roughly parallel to the river is the riverside drain. Which today was dry. Even the great river itself was very low and for a long time, we couldn’t see any flowing water. But then, a glimpse through the bushes.

Liesel and I had planned to do some proper touristy stuff today, and our next destination was the Coronado Historic Site and Kuaua Pueblo, north of Albuquerque. A pleasant drive, and for the first time, it was hot enough for mirages to appear on the long, straight, undulating roads.

We enjoyed our stroll around the old Pueblo, admiring the adobe buildings, basically made from the local mud.

The history of this place was intriguing because, while Coronado was ‘exploring’ Mexico and searching for the seven golden cities, the Tudors were in control in England and yet our school history lessons never mentioned what was going on in the American continent at the same time.

Lunch was taken at Bosque Brewing Company in Bernalillo. I was glad to find this place, because should the opportunity ever present itself, I will be welcome to bring my child bride here.

Our final attraction today was the Petroglyph National Monument. This would entail a long walk, longer than we came prepared for. We’d brought no water with us and it was beginning to warm up nicely. So we decided to return on another occasion.

We returned to Buzz’s place for another filling evening meal, thank you very much, followed by another night, for me at least, of weird and wonderful dreams that I can’t remember.

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.

Mud, mud, glorious mud

We continue to walk around the streets and parks of Americashawe and Northenamerica and along the banks of the River America. Spring is in the air, the crocuses and daffs are adding colour to the bare earth. And we are grateful that America’s new president hasn’t renamed absolutely everything, just Denali and Chalchiuhtlicueyecatl so far, now to be referred to as Mount McKinley and the Gulf of America. If I could be bothered and if the whole thing weren’t so tragic and ridiculous, I’d produce a cartoon series about Donald Trump and the world’s richest man, called Felon and Elon.

Seth Lakeman and his band drove all the way to Buxton where we saw him perform at the Opera House. We recognised most of the songs, although not well enough to sing along, much to Liesel’s delight. She’d booked back row seats, and, as planned, she stood up to dance. It was good to see Leslie tapping her feet and clapping along to the tunes too.

Google Maps took us home along country lanes, rather than the main road, the A6, and that would have been lovely if it hadn’t been so dark and we could have admired the scenery.

This drive was but a rehearsal for the much longer journey the next day. We drove to Sussex, over five hours on the road. I say ‘we drove’, but as is usually the case, Liesel drove the whole way while I tried to stay awake in the passenger seat. It was dark by the time we arrived at our home for the weekend, the Woodlands Cottage within the National Trust property Nymans. In the dark, I had to wrestle with an old, sturdy but rusty padlock on a heavy gate while trying not to slip in the mud on the very wet path.

After a good night’s sleep in the cottage, we were woken by some glorious birdsong, something we don’t hear much of at home. Nothing against our local magpies, but we could do with some variety!

After breakfast, back on the road, this time to Polesden Lacey, another National Trust property. Here we met up with some of Liesel’s old friends and their men from when she worked in Dorking. It was lovely to see Sandra and Fred again after all these years, and I don’t mean just because Sandra gave us some of her delicious, homemade, fridge cake!

The recipe is a secret otherwise I’d be happy to reproduce it here. Suffice to say, chocolate is involved.

I also met Vicky for the first time with her husband Andrew: it was their cottage in the Lake District that we stayed at several years ago. And yes, it would be nice to go back.

After a coffee and a long chat, we all went for a walk in the grounds. It’s not every day you find a turtle in a tree.

I think it was part of a half-term treasure hunt, but it might just as easily been the result of a two-year old’s temper tantrum, I suppose. Our walk wasn’t as long as anticipated: we stopped at the children’s playground where Holly’s son had a great time.

Entertainment was also provided by Clyde, Sandra and Fred’s little Lhasa apso, and a stick.

I’ve never had an organised reunion with a group of former work colleagues like this, but I have kept in touch with a few individuals, mostly online of course, these days.

I think all of the statues were wrapped up for some reason, maybe to protect from the elements, but if that’s the case, why leave them outside? I bet other places don’t wrap up their outdoor art in this way.

After the goodbyes, we returned to our cottage just in time before the heavens opened. The rain was loud that night, and so much of it!

We went for a walk in the woods and the gardens, mostly following the ‘blue route’. There was a lot of mud around and when we got home to Northenden, we scraped most of it off our shoes and sent it back to Sussex.

There were plenty of other folks walking through the woods, and most of them had more suitable footwear such as wellington boots. And we saw a lot of filthy dogs too: I hope they send the mud from their coats back otherwise the tree roots will have nothing to hide under.

Some ducks came out of the lake up onto the path, not bothered by us, nor expecting to be fed by us.

This is probably my favourite tree, mainly because it contains all the vowels.

Last time we went away from home for the weekend, there were floods at home. This time, we missed a big fire in Wythenshawe, just behind the hospital.

(Sorry, I don’t know whose photo that is, but thanks!)

We found a cafe that was packed so we carried on our wander and found a smaller, less packed one. I enjoyed my scone with jam and clotted cream.

Although we were out in the countryside, we didn’t see a lot of wildlife. A few birds and a couple of worms that had strayed onto the path. Even by the cottage, we thought we might hear something moving about outside, especially at night, but no, nothing. But we did come across these beasties on our walk.

As mentioned above, I really didn’t expect to see another sculpture wrapped in plastic, but there were a few here, too.

Maybe it’s a southern English thing.

It was a lovely long walk today, even if a bit muddy in places. I looked at my pedometer to see how far we’d traipsed and, oh no, utter disaster, its battery was dead. All those tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of steps over the last day or so, all gone to waste, not counted, totted up, enumerated nor accounted for. What an absolute tragedy. Liesel thinks I’m obsessed but what am I supposed to do when there is no data to enter into the spreadsheet? The statistics will all be wrong. In protest, I sat down and refused to carry on. Well, I didn’t, but how daft that the thought even occurred to me? Oh well, c’est la vie. I replaced the battery at home the following day, and, correlating the numbers with my previous readings on the spreadsheet, I concluded that the battery must have died sometime while at Polesden Lacey.

We had one more night at the cottage before returning home. There was a TV on the premises and a DVD player which Liesel made good use of: over the weekend, she watched the whole of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, maybe not avidly all the time, but it was on in the background while I read a book and did some puzzles.

On the drive home, we did something we’ve not done for a while. We avoided the M6 Toll Road, saving nearly £10 and only taking five minutes longer to get home, via the original M6.

We picked the children up from school and took them to Bruntwood Park for a short play. A tree had fallen across the path, which we all climbed over, of course. And there was some colour here too.

It wasn’t the warmest Spring day, but I think they had fun in the sandpit, after their ice cream snack.

Liesel made it at home but we enjoyed the corn chowder and garlic bread at the children’s house because we had to make a quick getaway.

Somewhere else we haven’t been for a little while is London’s National Theatre. We didn’t go this week either, but we did see one of their productions on the big screen here at Stockport’s Plaza. We’ve seen The Importance of Being Earnest before, but this performance was very good, very funny, and I’m sure the cast weren’t taking it too seriously, lots of winking at the camera, especially from Ncuti Gatwa, who we know from Doctor Who.

The three of us joined the Thrive Walk in Wythenshawe. There was a long queue for something in the Forum so I thought I’d better join it, it might be for something interesting, Led Zep tickets or something. But no, these people were all interested in a job at Manchester Airport.

We should be able to see a parade of seven planets in the night sky, around now. But there’s just too much light pollution, even when it’s not total cloud cover here. Plus of course, I don’t have any equipment. Still, Venus is always easy to spot.

And as this post comes to an end, let me show you another terrific Northenden sunset.

Flatpack and puck

Everyone seems to be using AI tools to do everything these days, and I am no exception. We went to see a local production of the Ira Levin play, Deathtrap, which we all enjoyed. I remember seeing this play with Sarah in Peterborough in the early 1980s, but of course, I’d totally forgotten the story. Until it started this time, then it all came flooding back. But there were still a couple of incidents that made me jump. On the way home, my mind was wandering and I thought it would be good to rewrite the play as a series of rhyming couplets. Well, I don’t have patience for that, but I did ask ChatGPT to do something along those lines. Here’s the result.

Sidney Bruhl, once a playwright famed,
Now sits in a slump, his career badly maimed.
His box office flops, they keep him awake,
A writer once great, now struggling to make.

He picks up a play, with a grin so wide,
Tells Myra, “This script, I can’t let it slide.
A student’s work, by Clifford, you see,
It’s brilliant, a hit, it’s meant to be free!”

With playful reassurances, he adds with a smile,
“Just kidding, my dear, but it’s worth your while.
Perhaps I could kill him, and steal all the gold,
For a script this good, it’s worth its weight in bold.”

Myra’s alarmed, she starts to grow cold,
Her husband’s dark humor’s growing too bold.
Sidney picks up the phone, no time to delay,
Calling Clifford, to have him come and play.

“Come over, my friend, let’s talk through the night,
I’ve got suggestions that’ll make your play right.
Deathtrap’s a hit, and you’ve set it so well,
I’ve got ideas to make it excel.”

And thus begins the game, so clever and slick,
In the world of Deathtrap, where plots tend to stick.

That’s just the first scene. That’s plenty. Obviously American English, less than ideal scanning and not as entertaining as the play itself. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t bother reading it. Northenden Theatre Players Club did a very good job, but their run is now over.

Spring is a bit slow coming this year, snowdrops seem to be winning the race against crocuses and daffodils: there are little patches of them in really strange or unexpected places.

A couple of relatively warm days are invariably followed by a really cold spell, easterly winds straight from Siberia.

Liesel and I have watched Transatlantic Sessions on TV for a few years, not so much recently: not sure the shows are broadcast any more. But there was a live show here in Manchester and we couldn’t resist going to see the performance at Aviva Studios, home of Factory International.

It was very nearly a full house and we enjoyed over two hours of great folk and country music from Scotland, Ireland and USA. It’s a great band, they all play on each others’ songs. We particularly liked Julie Fowlis, Loudon Wainwright and Niall McCabe.

Liesel and her Mom went out for a coffee and by mistake found themselves at Ikea, buying a wardrobe for Mom’s room. This meant I had to blow the dust off my tools and build the wardrobe, in situ since we don’t have enough floor space. It was straightforward enough, the instructions were good, but I found I was using muscles that long ago were resigned to never having to do any DIY ever again. Injuries incurred? A bruise on my left biceps, no idea how, and one broken finger nail, can’t remember how.

This was a weekend well spent and I think Leslie enjoys having somewhere to organise her clothes.

Meanwhile, Jenny and family were in London for the weekend, visiting friends, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. The highlight for me was seeing the children outside the family ballet shoe shop. They were also a little bit naughty and went to see the musical Matilda.

Helen and Brent went for a quick break in the campervan, but it broke down, so they ended up camping at home. Still, it’s all an adventure.

Liesel’s Aunt Buzz lives in Aluquerque, New Mexico (although by the time you read this, Trump will probably have renamed the state New America.) Buzz’s daughter and son-in-law Andrea and Steve moved to the UK a couple of years ago and they now live in Richmond. Well, Buzz is visiting Andi and Steve and the three of them came up north to visit us for a few days. Leslie was very happy to see her older sister.

Late afternoon saw all of us enjoying a meal at Albert’s in Didsbury along with Jenny and the family. This party of 10 was the biggest group we’ve booked a table for in many, many years. We remembered the last time Jenny met Andi. We were all on holiday in Hawaii with many other family members. Yes, 10 of us in the restaurant having a great time and yet none of us took any pictures.

We’d also booked an organised walk in Manchester so we met up at the Alan Turing Memorial statue in Manchester. There were about twenty people altogether on the tour, which was interesting, although I think we all thought the guide spoke for a bit too long before we started actually walking. Standing around in the cold, biting wind is not my ears’ idea of fun, even with a decent Winter hat.

One thing I’ve never seen before is the Monument to Vimto. Yes, that horrible sweet and nasty beverage that is an anagram of vomit. Someone though it would be a good idea to have a statue.

During the walking tour, we visited or passed by a number of places of interest, each with a interesting story.

We learned about the Peterloo Massacre and how it lead directly to the publication of The Manchester Guardian, now the Guardian newspaper that we read online far more often then we buy an actual physical copy. I do miss doing the various puzzles though.

We had a late lunch at The Oast House in Manchester where, although it was tempting to have a cocktail, it was so cold outside, it was more warm beer type weather.

Fletcher Moss Botanical Garden was the venue of our walk the following day. There’s mud everywhere, signs of recent flooding.

The wind wasn’t as bitingly cold as yesterday: I didn’t feel I was verging on earache in the same way. We walked down to the river but the path towards Northenden was blocked, it looks like some maintenance work is taking place.

There are a few plants in bud and very soon, we hope, the park will a carousel of colour. After a quick cup of tea at the café, we wandered into Didsbury, visiting La Chouquette for a loaf of their delicious sourdough bread and visiting none of the charity shops. We had lunch at The Art of Tea after which we went our separate ways for a while. I took Leslie and Buzz back to our apartment where I also picked up my pedometer. Yes, I’d walked miles and miles this morning without the steps being counted: what a waste!

Meanwhile, Liesel went into Manchester with Andi and Steve. I later joined them at Sinclair’s Oyster Bar for a drink. I can’t remember the last time I went on a pub crawl, but I enjoyed today’s.

Next stop, The Old Wellington next door. This pub dates from 1552. In June 1996 a bomb exploded in nearby Corporation Street & damaged many of the surrounding buildings including The Old Wellington. It was repaired & reopened in 1997 but due to the city’s redevelopment, it was decided the building would be dismantled & rebuilt 300 m northward to its present location in Shambles Square, which opened in 1999. So says the plaque inside the pub.

Our final stop today was The Temple of Convenience, you know, the underground pub in what used to be a public toilet. The one where Elbow celebrated their Mercury awards all those years ago. For a while, we were the only customers, so plenty of opportunity to read the posters and the graffiti.

I ordered pizza and we picked it up on the way home. We had a lively discussion about whether to pronounce ‘pizzeria’ as ‘pizzeria’ or ‘pizzeria’.

We said goodbye to Andi and Steve who were returning home to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Liesel, Leslie and I would spend one more day with Buzz. We visited Quarry Bank and wandered around the mill. We couldn’t follow our usual walk down through the gardens as there had been a landslide.

After the tour of Quarry Bank Mill, we enjoyed lunch in the restaurant. My cauliflower pastie was fabulous, much nicer than the scones, although I could have had one of those too!

A few days earlier, Liesel contributed a green crocheted heart to the postbox decoration with her WI buddies. I think this is the first time I’ve been able to put a name to a yarnbomber.

While Buzz stayed at home with Leslie, Liesel and I went to Altrincham for our Valentine’s day date night. We should have more date nights, just the two of us.

We dined at a Chinese place called Gonbay, and it was reassuring to see a big Chinese family enjoying their meal on the table next to ours. I wasn’t expecting to see one of these though:

After the meal, we had a 14-minute walk to Planet Ice. Ooh, a night of ice-skating? Nope. We were here to watch my first ever live ice hockey match. Manchester Storm v Dundee Stars. I didn’t shout it out loud of course, but I wanted Dundee to win, since that was the birthtown of my Mum.

Strangely, ice hockey is a game of three halves. Manchester Storm were 2-0 up after the first period. And, actually, if you trust the announcer, the local team is called Man. Ches. Ter. Storrrrrrrrm.

The group of supporters from Dundee was confined to a small area in the corner, but they were quite vocal at times.

The background music, mainly from the 1980s, was OK, but they only ever played short snippets, persumably so they don’t have to pay royalties. It’s certainly a fast and furious game, you need to be fit. But from the spectators’ point of view, not exciting enough, since we were entertained by a quiz and a raffle during the breaks.

In the end, Dundee Stars won 4-3. The puck travelling at hundreds of miles per hour made it very hard to follow at times. None of the players were injured, well, apart from one incident after which it took a couple of cleaners quite a while to scrape the blood off the ice. And somebody broke their stick.

Who would have guessed, when Torvill and Dean won the Ice Dance competition during the Winter Olympics in Sarajevo, dancing to Ravel’s Bolero, that 41 years later, to the day, I would be watching other ice skaters doing something completely different?

Early in the morning, Liesel drove Buzz to the railway station: she’s rejoining Andi and Steve in Richmond for a few more days before returning to New Mexico.

I’ve been sneezing a lot this week and it took a few days for me to realise that it’s probably hay fever.

Going out out

There was a lot of discussion online about how long January was this year. It did seem to go on a bit, didn’t it? Yet here we are now in February and wondering where did January go? One whole aisle in our local Tesco has been taken over by Easter eggs. Soon we’ll be counting down to Christmas again.

Liesel and Leslie enjoy their frequent get-togethers with the WI, for a coffee, in a variety of venues in Didsbury. We all go out for a walk every day. Well, that’s the ideal but there are some days when we don’t quite manage. We’ll keep ourselves entertained at home with TV, radio, books, puzzles, crochet, cooking, eating, washing up, looking out of the windows to see what the neighbours are up to, whingeing about the weather and bemoaming the state of the world.

I felt a little bit sad when I had to relinquish my old driving licence and replace it with a new one. I am approaching a certain age. So I need a new licence. I’m still not sure why: there was no test, I just had to confirm that I can still see where I’m going most of the time.

On the other hand, I didn’t feel sad when I deactivated my 𝕏 account. More a sense of relief and, of course, there’s not much else I can do to get back at Elon Musk. There are a few folks and groups there that I’ll miss, but I’ll catch up with them on another social media site one day. A few days later, Liesel followed suit.

There has been a lot of helicopter noise recently. They’re shoring up the bank of the river Mersey where it collapsed following all the rain last month. The weir should be repaired soon too, hopefully in time for this year’s Northenden Boat Race.

There are some early signs of Spring. A few crocuses are peeking out but more prominent are the snowdrops. So far, at least. Maybe I’m cynical but my memory is that it often gets colder in February and the frosts kill off the early blooms, so they have to start again.

Storm Éowyn did its worst in our local woods. At least a couple of trees succumbed to the gale-force winds, toppled over and blocked the path. A nice, unexpected challenge on what is usually a straightforward, flat, uneventful stroll.

Liesel often says she’d love to wear a purple hi-visibility vest and at last, the opportunity presented itself. Her WI group went litter picking in Didsbury and they provided the perfect uniform.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, we ventured into Manchester for a concert. But before that, we dined in the Indian Tiffin Room. We’ve always liked this place but we hadn’t been for ages.

We watched the Hallé Orchestra conducted by Roderick Cox performing a relatively new piece, The Insects Become Magnetic, composed by Christopher Cerrone. This was followed by Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 21 and Tchaikowsky’s 4th Symphony, both of which I hummed along to, a bit.

The best day of the week of course was when we brought our grandchildren home from school and got them to sweep our chimney. No, hang on, that’s not right. They made dreamcatchers and we were all impressed with their skill and imagination.

Martha’s is very nearly complete and William’s just needs a few more adornments.

Northenden sometimes treats us to a pretty sunset and we had a couple this week. Such a shame that the foreground is comprised of neighbouring houses rather than rolling hills or fields or something a bit more easy on the eye.

Time for another visit to Bridgewater Hall, this time for a lunchtime violin recital. Music for solo violin is never going to be amongst our favourite musical genres, but Kryštof Kohout is a very talented player. With my eyes closed, it was hard to believe that all that music and those sounds were being produced by one instrument. No humming along on this occasion, as I was unfamiliar with the tunes. And the bonus was, he played a traditional Czech folk song.

The saying is that we do things differently in Manchester. It’s wonderful that the city is being developed, with all those tall glass and steel structures, right? Well, not everyone agrees.

I, for one, would like to see some green spaces in the city centre.

I can’t remember the last time we went out to an event two days in a row, but we did this week. We really enjoyed the comedy night at our local Northenden Social Club.

Charlie Lewis, Harriet Dyer, Ryan Kenny and Rob Rouse

All were a little bit rude, a little bit naughty, but all very funny. I made my one pint of beer last until the first interval.

For the first time in a very long time, I made it out to all three of the Thrive wellbeing walks, negotiating muddy paths through the woods, dodging fallen trees, and rewarding myself with a coffee or a hot chocolate afterwards.

Pipes and pins

As I’ve said before, it’s always a bit of an anticlimax when you get back to normal after a break, however short. Which means we’re back to our normal day-to-day inactivity.

Amongst the ‘normal’ were our infrequent but frustrating fights with the internet: forgotten passwords, forgotten subscriptions, things that worked last week but don’t any more for no obvious reason. Our devices don’t know how lucky they are sometimes, not having had an axe embedded in their nether regions.

Having been disappointed by only seeing a stuffed fox in London, it was delightful to see a couple as we drove over to Sale Water Park. I don’t think the M60 slip road was the best place for them to play, to be honest.

From Sale Water Park, we took the tram into Manchester and had a ten minute walk to Bridgewater Hall. Not for a concert on this occasion, but to have a close look at the very impressive organ, with its 5,500 pipes. I counted them. David Wood was our very informative and interesting host. He maintans the organ, as well as hundreds of others in the north of England. I was hoping for a blast of Toccata and Fugue, but, instead, he regaled us with the history of the instrument, its construction and installation.

There were about 8 of us on this particular tour, and David took us up a narrow staircase to the second of three floors that the 22-tonne organ occupies. We had to duck under and carefully step round various obstacles, but it was fascinating to see the inner workings.

We didn’t see it, but apparently there’s a mouse in the organ. Way up high, carved into the wooden ceiling, with little leather ears, visible from the top floor where we mortals weren’t allowed.

We wandered back via the back of the Central Library, where what we thought were left-over Christmas decorations were actually something else, looking to the future rather than the past.

It will soon be Chinese New Year, the Year of the Snake.

The building work at Martha and William’s school continues, meaning that access to the car park is restricted. Usually, when it’s our turn to pick the children up from school, we walk back to their home and then drive them back to our place. Today, though, we drove to the school and took them to Parrs Wood.

My ten-pin bowling skills are, let’s say, limited. We played two games, Martha won the first and I won the second mainly because William and Martha were losing interest and getting tired!

After the bowling, they spent some time in the arcade, playing many of the games, winning hundreds of tokens which they redeemed at the end for some cheapo sweeties. Great fun, they enjoyed themselves, that’s the main thing, but I thought the prizes were rubbish.

For dinner, we took them to Zumuku Sushi in Cheadle, a place they visit often enough that Wilma was happy to see them and knew their names. Frequent visitors, or notorious for some reason?

Going back to the internet, Liesel and I have both X-communicated ourselves. Yes, we have deactivated our X, formerly Twitter, accounts. A small way to fight back against the new American oligarchy, I know, but other than referring to Elon’s vehicles as Swasticars, what else can we do?