Mick and Liesel's Antics

Streonshalh

The gardens at Quarry Bank are very popular this time of year, very colourful and with plenty of bees buzzing around, and more butterflies than we’ve seen in one place for a very long time.

The coffee and cake were very nice too. We sat outdoors for a few minutes, until the wasps drove us inside the café. One of the little blighters followed us in.

You’ll be pleased to know that we resisted the temptation to go scrumping.

Liesel and Leslie went out for a walk leaving me at home, alone, to look after the two guys who came along to install our new radaiators. Every Winter since we’ve lived here, we’ve bemoaned the fact that the heaters were not very good at their job. And every year, we’ve said we should replace them. And, until this year, we’ve left it too late. But now, the place should stay a bit warmer in Winter. But, of course, there is some irony in installing new heaters at the height of Summer: we’ve been experiencing some wonderful heatwaves, and what we really need sometimes is an air conditioning system. We can’t keep driving around just to use the AC in the car, can we?!

Less exciting, the following day after a morning walk in the heat and sunshine, I had another hospital consultation. The hospital smelt like the first day of term at school, a mixture of polish, paint, anticipation and nerves. Anyway, all went well and I look forward to the next episode in this never-ending story.

And every now and then, a really busy day comes along, and everything works out beautifully. So on this day, we managed a walk, I took the car in to get repaired (nothing serious, just a corroded headlight cable) but while there, after all this time of managing with just one car key, we purchased a new one, which only cost one arm and one leg. Of course I had a medical appointment, this was my annual checkup at the optician. I also collected some more meds from the pharmacy so it’s very nearly the time to open up my own pharmacy, I have so many drugs rattling around. I remembered to buy some apples, and I found some actually grown in Kent, or so the label said.

The important thing was the car was in good nick for our long drive to the east coast. And we didn’t have to hire this one, which was Plan B.

I’d like to say the drive to Whitby was uneventful. But everybody else was on the road at the same time, all hoping for a nice warm weekend. We’d booked the concert tickets ages ago, but the timing was ideal. The weather forecast for this weekend suggested that Manchester would be several degeres warmer than Whitby, so we’d be a bit cooler.

The b&b was a bit awkward to reach, we had to drive along a narrow cobbled road, through loads of people walking to and from the famous Abbey and just generally loitering. We unpacked, somewhow fought our way through the crowds, turned the car around and left our vehicle in a car park way over on the other side of the River Esk. The worst threat to it would be the seagulls eyeing up the parked cars, looking for targets.

The b&b was a bit awkward to live in too. The stairs were very steep, just 36 taking us up to the third floor, known as the crow’s nest. That’s where Leslie and Liesel slept while I had the room on the second floor, conveniently located next to the convenience. Also, the kitchen at ground level, living room on the first floor. Those stairs though, I don’t think any of our knees enjoyed the experience.

Whitby itself was more interesting, of course. And hilly. Another assault on our joints, but we enjoyed slowly wandering around, looking at the views, and some of the shops. Probably the most famous character we met was Count Dracula, who arrived in Whitby maybe a hundred years ago and immediately ran up the 199 steps.

Yes, 199 steps that lead from the Old Town up to the Abbey. We were saving them for later.

Wanna see some hefty slabs of flapjack? Here they are.

Wandering around the town, we encountered both herring gulls and herring girls. Easily confused of course, so here are some photos to help out.

While it was a warm, sunny day, we noticed the clouds had descended on the next headland to the north. Maybe it would have been refreshing to walk in that mist, but we didn’t venture that far afield.

The beach was as extensive as we’d expected, especially at low tide. But we didn’t go for a walk along this nice, flat surface. Instead, we chose to walk up and down some steep streets, admiring the architecture and the shops.

There aren’t many places in Whitby from where you can’t view the Abbey.

The Abbey from the other side of the estuary

An unexpected gift from Alaska in the form of whalebones is a tourist attraction. They’re a bit weatherbeaten so, like their predecessors, will need to be replaced sometime.

We didn’t expect to see a statue of Captain James Cook here, but it’s to celebratwe the fact that he sailed on four ships built in Whitby, and the locals are rightly very proud.

The Synod of Whitby was convened in the year 664 with a view to setting out the rules for calculating the date of Easter. Over fifty years ago, while still at school, one of the first computer programs I ever wrote was to calculate the date of Easter for the next several years.

The flowchart appeared in a monthly maths magazine called Pythagoras, which I still have, for now, but I am putting a few items up for sale on eBay.

Whitby posties must have fun with the sometimes unusual door numbers

A couple of other sites kept us interested as we wandered around the town. The Alice in Wonderland garden, created by the Whitby in Bloom group. It’s here to mark the mark that Lewis Carroll, the author, stayed in Whitby several times over the years. You enter via an archway which is adorned with large playing cards.

The Paul Nicholas School of Acting and Performing Arts isn’t Whitby, but this playing card attracted my attention. Because Paul Nicholas, under an earlier stage name, Oscar, was one of the first people to record a song written by David Bowie, Over the Wall we go. So, there’s a loose connection between Bowie and Whitby. Remember that for a pub quiz.

The less said about Mick’s Clip Joint, the better.

And so to the 199 steps. After an early dinner in our Airbnb (not really a b&b), we made our way up them for the main reason we’d visited Whitby this weekend. Proms in the Park, in the grounds of Whitby Abbey. The audience sat on their own chairs or blankets, and enjoyed the own picnics or some of the food on offer. I had a really big chip butty: well, we were up north.

The Proms in the Park Orchestra’s performance was introduced by Rob Rinder. He was heckled when he accidently referred to the ruins as a ‘castle’.

This was our first such concert of course, but there were plenty of regulars, many with Union Jack flags and bunting. One comment we overheard: “This is the best weather we’ve ever had, ever since we’ve been coming.”

But first, the support act. The Siglo Collection we saw this evening was a four- or six-piece band with a vocalist, who did a great job singing while most of the crowd ignored her and carried on chatting.

The Sun was setting behind us so while listening to the music, I kept my eye on my own shadow so I’d know when to go over and take a picture. I wasn’t the only one. I thought it was nice and clear, but apparently, not as clear as the previous night.

It looks like the Sun will set over the sea, so I got to thinking, maybe at last, I’ll glimpse the elusive green flash right as the Sun dips below the horizon.

The music was orchestral, a mix of classical, film scores and opera. Star Trek and an aria from La Traviata followed by Spartacus was an unexpected combination. Some Enchanted Evening was one of the few songs we could sing along to. At least, until later on, when they played a series of patriotic songs.

There’s a place for us, from Westside Story was well performed, but I can’t help hearing PJ Proby’s rendition in my head, for some reason.

There was a sea shanty followed by World in Union and Sweet Caroline. And we sang Happy Birthday to some strangers.

In the interval, many of us rushed to use the portaloos. But I did laugh when I noticed that the VIPs, those sitting right in front of the stage, had their own portaloos and their queue was much longer, hahahaha!

We’ll probably never attend the Last Night of the Proms in London, but tonight’s performance was a good second best.We had Jerusalem, Land of Hope and Glory, Flower of Scotland, Land of my Fathers (in Welsh), God Save the King, Auld Lang Syne and that most patriotic of sing-along songs, Hey Jude.

No green flash, and the guy behind me was a bit disappointed too.

Hey Jude made me laugh because Liesel and Leslie were just leaving, and they would have heard it as the approached the descent of the 199 steps. And it’s not Liesel’s favourite song, at all.

As I walked away, they began playing the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean: I heard it fade away as I walked the ten minutes back to our accommodation.

After a good night’s sleep and a good breakfast, we returned to the Abbey for a proper look around the ruins, and the museum. 199 steps is a great form of exercise and we were rewarded with great views.

As we walked towards the Abbey, we heard Americans. Loud, and extremely numerous, a horde of young Americans taking pictures of each other, rather than of the ruins, climbing on anything below waist height, and generally being annoying. But there were enough ruins here already, we didn’t let them ruin our day as well.

We wandered around outside, admiring the views, absorbing the history, before spending some time in the museum.

Ammonites are present in the local hills, but of course, people didn’t really know what they were, in the olden days. But the legend is that the fossils were snakes turned to stone by St Hild.

We ate lunch here in the YHA refectory, passing by this very informative signpost.

St Mary’s Church is close to the Abbey on the headland, and we had a look at some of the gravestones here in the cemetery. Open to the elements, wind and rain from the North Sea, many of the stones are, literally, falling apart and are illegible, which is a shame.

We climbed down the 199 steps for the second and final time this visit before negotiating the town with a million other visitors. One bookshop in town had a spiral, wooden staircase that gives the impression of not being supported. No, we didn’t go upstairs to see the ‘more books’ on offer. Nor did I start collecting different editions of Dracula by Bram Stoker, there were so many available, with different combinations of Forewords, footnotes, illustrations, both hardback and paperback.

We saw Eric Treacy in the railway station, the very famous steam engine, not the vicar. On another occasion, we might have gone for a train ride, but not today.

And if a train engine isn’t exciting enough, we also saw a replica of James Cook’s Endeavour.

On another occasion, if offered, we might have gone for a quick voyage on this ship.

Late in the afternoon, we risked driving back to the narrow street near to our place, packed, loaded up and set off for home. The return drive was much quicker, I’m glad to say. But what a great weekend and I think we all slept well back at home, in our own beds.

Tour de Everyday Life

Bury Market was the venue for a grand WI day out. Liesel and Leslie had a good time, and they even came back with a famous Bury vegetarian black pudding, ideal for carb-loading before the next stage. I haven’t been to Bury since about 1976 when, on a day trip into Manchester, I lost my wallet. It was eventually found and returned by the police, but I’ve never used a proper wallet since then, preferring saddle-bags, whenever possible.

But I got to thinking: something you don’t see much of these days is celebrities with fried eggs on their collarbones. I wonder why?

Gulliver’s World Warrington was visited by our grandchildren and their parents, and they had a lot of fun. Does it compare with Disneyworld though? Well, Martha climbed her own Mont Ventoux, defying gravity.

Australia’s Hunter Valley was the venue for a weekend away for Helen and Brent and their team-mates. They had a good time too, despite the recent flooding.

Jacqui, Rob, Nat, Helen, Brent and a little one making a break for it

New Zealand was the destination for our newly-weds, nephew Rob and Cristy, all the way from Canada. Congratulations again! And indeed, châpeau!

Meanwhile, I was just freewheeling along, enjoying other people’s adventures and antics vicariously. Still fighting eBay and Freegle trying to get rid of stuff. Still cranking out the miles on foot around Northenden and beyond. Still attending more medical appointments than having hot carb-loaded dinners.

Summer arrived in style. We had a couple of heatwaves, just a few days when the temperature approached 30°, and of course, this made falling asleep harder than riding up Alpe d’Huez with a single-gear. So I reversed the polarity on our electric blankets so that, instead of warmth, they provided a nice cool sheet to lie on.

While Liesel joined the breakaway on an alternative walk with a different group of ladies, Leslie and I joined the usual Friday route which, in the end, was an even shorter stroll than usual. Due to intimidation by a peloton, a veritable herd of geese, we didn’t walk around the lake: we took a shortcut. And, yes, I do mean ‘herd’. This was not a small, harmless flock or gaggle of geese.

Over the weekend, we enjoyed some of the acts (I wonder what their riders were?) from Glastonbury and I think I am unanimous in thinking Pulp deserved the yellow jersey. I don’t know why some artists were so hard to find on the BBC iPlayer: the routemap was very badly marshalled.

The highlight of the weekend though was Martha and William’s school’s Summer Fair. We helped out of the raffle ticket stall. At one point, I gave William a fiver, asked him to fetch me a cup of tea from the feed station, and then he could keep the change. Quick as a flash, he retorted, “I’ll keep it all, then”. That’s my boy! In the end, there were no hot drinks available so I made do with a bidon, a bottle of water, in one gulp.

What a beautiful day and, to keep cool, a couple of teachers volunteered to be the target for wet sponges hurled by their pupils.

From the podium, Martha and her dramatic arts group put on a performance of songs from such musicals as Matilda and Beauty and the Beast.

You can drive around your neighbourhood many times and still see things you’ve not noticed before. I’m not sure whether this message is new, but Royal Mail as a business needs all the help it can get, right now.

As if the Glastonbury Festival didn’t have enough competition, this was also the weekend of the monthly Didsbury Makers Market. So, after bashing Himalayan balsam in Fletcher Moss Garden, with the WI, and without falling into the water, Liesel and Leslie made their way there. I joined them a bit later and was greeted with a piping hot samosa.

As we walked back to the car, we passed another vehicle which had lost a battle with a tree. Fair to say, it’s a DNF.

I hope nobody was inside when this happened.

I mentioned medical appointments earlier, and it is that time of year when I go for my annual sight test, in Didsbury. I arrived a bit early, so I thought I’d support the local economy by having a coffee in FFS, which must be a Front For Something. In the window, I was delighted to see this hand-painted portrait.

David Bowie with a fried egg on his collarbone

And of course, it’s always good to come across homespun philosophy in Didsbury.

There are many campaigns on right now, attempting to save the pollinators from extermination by pesticide. So I gave this bumble bee some words of encouragement from the roadside.

And now, the Tour de France is underway: it’s time to clear the calendar and settle in for three weeks of GC drama, solo breakaways, sprint finishes, and mountain massacres.

Sense of enormous wellbeing

The bus ride into Manchester is always a lovely, long, enjoyable ride. At an average speed not much faster than walking pace, you certainly get your money’s worth from the fare. Well, I do, with my Senior Bus Pass. What we need is an express service from Northenden that picks us up here, then doesn’t stop until we reach our destination.

It was the weekend of the Parklife music festival in Manchester and several attendees joined our bus, some of the girls wearing dresses that they’ve had since they were about 3 years old. So much flesh on display. But Parklife wasn’t our destination. Today was also the Universally Manchester festival, put together by the University of Manchester, a vibrant, free, one-day festival packed with fun, interactive activities for all ages.

Liesel and I had booked places on a walking tour of the campus and we met up with the group in the Old Quadrangle where, once upon a time, Jenny celebrated her graduation ceremonies by tossing mortarboards in the air. That seems a long time ago, now.

The guide was very informative, giving us the history of the now 201-year old university. In fact, the hour was more talking than walking. All interesting stuff but we’d been expecting a longer wander around more of the university’s sites.

We (re-)learned about such luminaries as Alan Turing, Ernest Rutherford, Marie Stopes, Bernard Lovell, all Manchester Alumni. And of course, my daughter, Dr Jenny. She’ll get a blue plaque too, one of these days, I’m sure.

In fact, Jenny and Liam took Martha into Manchester today, and Martha enjoyed taking part in some of the demonstrations and experiments. We all met up for lunch in the Museum Café.

In the Museum itself, we bumped into Maharajah, well, his skeleton.

This poor old thing was ‘encouraged’ to walk over 200 miles from Edinburgh to Manchester in 1872, accompanied by his keeper, Lorenzo Lawrence. They didn’t fancy going by train.

William was away with his Beavers pack today, and his parents arrived just in time to meet and greet him from the coach. Liesel, Leslie and I spent a few minutes in University Place, looking at some of the exhibits. It was very busy, good to see, but what a hubbub.

Continuing our University of Manchester experience this weekend, we visited Jodrell Bank, this time specifically to see A Stitch in Space Time. This is an exploration of the cosmic threads that connect the observatory in partnership with the Royal Astronomical Society. And, literally, threads. Two quilts were on display.

Royal Astronomical Society Bicentennial Quilt

This large patchwork quilt is made from a hundred individually created fabric squares, each depicting astronomical themes such as galaxies, planets, telescopes and stars.

Homage to astronomer Ellen Baker’s 1876 Solar System quilt

Ellen Baker made a quilt nearly 150 years ago and subsequently used it as a visual aid during her astronomy lectures. This modern copy is very similar in style.

While in the sewing room, we watched a video of astronaut Karen Nyberg attempting to sew in the weightlessness of the International Space Station. All the tools of the trade are held in place with velcro

Of course, we explored the more scientific aspects of the venue as well. The First Light Pavilion opened in 2022 and the current, immersive exhibition was great fun. And interesting. I found it more fascinating than Liesel and Leslie, so they wandered off to the café.

Selfie of the day with an Infrared camera

When I joined them a while later for coffee, they recommended the lemon drizzle cake and I’m glad they did, it was delicious.

We know the universe likes to stay in equilibrium, so after the excitement of an interesting, academic weekend, we had to be brought down to Earth. I was walking along in an orderly fashion when, wham, bam, I was assaulted by even more bindweed.

Nothing I could do except cry inside, and be thankful that this particular infestation is someone else’s problem.

We picked the children up from school and took them to Bruntwood Park where the snack was, again, an ice cream. Earlier in the day, Martha had been at the Bridgewater Hall with the Hallé Orchestra. I thought Martha might have played her ukulele, but no, she tooted on a trumpet instead, ending up with achy cheeks.

At home, Martha and William made stickmen out of pipe cleaners, before we were joined by Liam and Jenny for dinner.

The Ikea wardrobe that I put together a few weeks ago needed a slight repair, to re-secure it to the wall, so that was my job for the day. Followed by swapping a toilet seat. I know how to have a good time. I’m going through a spell of getting rid of stuff, some on Ebay, some on Freegle. Both are ridiculously hard work.

Probably not as hard work as paddling a canoe all the way from Heaton Mersey to Northenden. But that’s exactly what Martha did with a group of friends, and I’m sorry we didn’t wander down to the riverside to witness the event.

Here they are, screaming as they float down the newly repaired weir.

There was a larger group than usual for the regular Thursday walk, and we walked the full distance, despite temptation to take a shortcut in the extreme heat. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and phew, there were some comments about that.

And being a hot, bright, sunny day, I thought I’d take a picture of the Sun.

Another day, another walk and we growled at all the geese for pooping on the path around the pond in Painswick Park. And then in the next park, I thought, what a funny looking squirrel:

A fringe and a whinge

This wasn’t the most exciting week of the year, but it was certainly medical. Stop reading now if you’re a bit squeamish.

But first, Jenny, Liam, Martha and William returned from Disneyworld, tired but having had a great time. Martha’s review: “Amazing!” I’m sure going back to school was a bit of an anticlimax.

At Liesel’s bidding, I agreed to go for a haircut. As it’s a bit warmer now, I didn’t mind having (what’s left of) my hair cut really short.

Next day, I visited the dental hygienist who gave my gnashers a quick scrub.

Next day, I visited the hospital for a procedure that entailed being sedated. Liesel collected me afterwards, and we had a peaceful evening. I thought that remnants of the sedative would still be coursing through my veins and I’d get a good night’s sleep. Nope. I just lay there like a pile of old rags, brain refusing to switch off, looking at the clock every half hour, until I picked up my book again.

A couple of days later, I visited Didsbury for a massage, my first for a long time. The stretches felt really good: on a typical day, I must resemble a coiled up, tangled old Slinky.

So, the old carcass has had a good going over this week. In between times, we’ve been wandering around Northenden, sometimes visiting shops, sometimes looking at the flowers and trying to avoid noticing the litter.

For the first time in ages, I saw a heron by the river, actually on the island in the stream.

Meanwhile, some geese were sitting on the weir, not fishing as I first guessed, but plucking grass (or maybe seaweed) from the riverbed.

Because the universe has to be in balance, after all these postive sightings, I was disheartened to see my erstwhile nemesis still attampting to take over the world.

And I chose this of all days to forget to take out my flame-thrower.

I had my hair cut earlier in the week so of course I had to have a word with this horse, whose fringe was obstructing his view.

As I was wandering with the usual group one day, I caught myself singing a song to myself: Rambling Rose, as recorded by the ever laid-back Perry Como. Where the heck did that come from, I wondered? What a strange brain I have. But then I realised. Someone’s overgrown garden.

Liesel took her Mom for a walk one day. We’ve had complaints about ‘forced marches’ before, but on this occasion, Mom whinged about Liesel trying to kill her. Well, it’s sunny, a good day to die, said Liesel.

Didsbury is close to Fletcher Moss Botanical Gardens, and I had reason to visit the local library there. In Didsbury, I mean, not the Gardens. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed this library within a library before. Great fun and very cute.

And if I had to recommend a coffee shop in Didsbury, I think it would be this one, despite the reviews posted outside. It’s name? FFS. Honest.

My major achievement this week apart from surviving several assaults on various parts of my anatomy, was to sell an item on eBay, or Ebay as autocorrect would have it. I haven’t sold anything there since well before we moved up north, and by heck what a mess that site it is. As Jim Royle would say: User friendly, my arse. Far too much clutter on the screen. Just another 299 items to go, then.

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.

Oasis v Blur

I woke up early, soon after sunrise, and was so glad I’d risen in the middle of the night to take some photos of the night sky, and yes, alright, just to gaze at the night sky with zero light pollution.

Neil hoovered the place, well, until the circuit breaker broke because the batteries had lost too much charge. The solar panels will charge them back up during the day.

First breakfast was cinnamon and apple flavoured oatmeal and a cup of tea.

We drove out from the cabin once again via Zuni Canyon. And again, I marvelled at the extent of the lava flows. A squirrel wasted no time in running across the road in front of us, phew. A family of ground hogs (same as prairie dogs?) standing in the middle of the road quickly dispersed in all directions. All except one who defiantly stood up on his hind legs until the very last moment, realising that a heavy American car is not to be messed with

‘Do something scary every day’ is one motto I try to live by, although there’s not always the opportunity to do so. Well, I admit, I did forego the opportunity to climb a ladder yesterday. But today, my challenge was, for the first time since about 1979, to eat an Egg McMuffin. We’d arranged to meet Buzz, Liesel, Gabe and Leslie at McDonalds in Grants at 11 o’clock. On arrival, I gave my order, being sure to enunciate to the best of my ability and to emphasise that I didn’t want any bacon on my Egg McMuffin. Loudly tapping the desk, the server who most definitely was not channeling Ronald McDonald’s jolly demeanour, told me that they don’t serve breakfast after 10.30, like everyone knows that, right?Scary Mary was so scary, I was too scared to order anything else to eat, so I just had a cup of tea.

Liesel and co arrived shortly afterwards and after a bit of a chat over tea or coffee or in Neil’s case, a small McFlurry, we all set off again. Neil returned to Albuquerque. The rest of us, almost in a convoy, set off westwards towards Window Rock.

We ate lunch at the famous Earls Family Restaurant in Gallup. It first opened in 1947 . This date reminded me that I would miss out on visiting Roswell on this visit to New Mexico. My huevos rancheros was accompanied by more green chili, which was just borderline acceptable to my taste buds: a few more Scoville points and my ears would have blown off again. Even so, Liesel did ask whether I was red because of the chili or was I sunburnt?

Window Rock is just over the border in the next state. So I was looking out for a big, brightly coloured sign saying ‘Welcome to Arizona’, maybe with flags flying, accompanied by a troupe of dancing girls and a big brass band. But no. A small, insgnificant, almost apologetic sign coyly saying ‘Arizona State Line’. That’s it? Well, what an anticlimax.

In Ganado, we visited the Hubbell Trading Post, established in 1878, now the oldest continually operated trading post on the Navajo reservation. J. L. Hubbell, whose family operated the trading post for nearly 90 years, was known among the Navajo as trustworthy and honest. His trading post became a pillar of the community, playing a large role in helping Navajo families rebuild their lives after the Long Walk.

The place was full of rug dealers, many beautifully woven rugs that would look good anywhere. Lots of jewellery too, they all seem very talented, the earrings were made by the maintenance supervisor.

Arizona and the Navajo nation have a love/hate relationship with Daylight Savings. For a while, the times on my phone and Liesel’s phone were an hour different, even though we were in the same room. Another quirk in this place: no sales tax.

The Navajo Nation Museum was interesting, and quite moving. But the first thing you notice on arriving and parking up are the large rocks on an otherwise flat terrain.

The next thing we noticed was the big, black cloud that appeared almost from nowhere. And indeed, when we were inside, it did rain for a while.

Between 1863 and 1866, more than ten thousand Diné prisoners of the U.S. were marched to the Bosque Redondo reservation, known in Navajo as Hweéldi, in present day southeastem New Mexico. The Long Walk is actually a series of forced marches, no less than fifty-three, during which captives walked anywhere from 250 to 450 miles, depending on the route taken.

Many of them (Navajos) died from starvation. The kind of food they had, they died from that. Also, I think a larger percent of deaths was caused by homesickness. They wept from day-to-day, many of them, “I wish I was on my own land bark at Chinle or Kayente.” — Dághá Chíí Bik’is, son-in-law of Manuelito and one of the first Navajo Council members (1951).

The Long Walk, then a Treaty between the Navajo Reservation and the United States that is, literally, not watertight. Disputes about the Treaty are still taking place, resulting in ongoing court cases. One current issue is the water supply. The Navajo nation depends upon just three rivers, and they’re being affected by climate change, like everything else.

Diné Cosmic Order by Donovan Snyder, 2018

At the time of the White Land (Ni’halgai), First Man (Áłtsé Hastiin), First Woman (Áłtsé Asdząą), and other Divinities were choosing rock-star mica chips that were laid out on a buckskin robe to place in the sky. They were forming our constellations to light up the dark night.

Mischievous Coyote (Mą’ii) came along and wanted to help, but after witnessing the slow and methodical placement of the constellations, he became impatient. He grabbed the buckskin and scattered the remaining stars into the sky, which is why some stars today are not seen within in the orderly constellations.

After the rain, it was only a quick downpour, we drove to our final destination of the day, Window Rock. At the first sighting of this natural phenomenon, I took this picture:

Window Rock is over there at the back, but, a flying saucer? How cool! Yes, I know it’s a raindrop on the windscreen, but still…

The rock with a big hole in it is well protected, fenced off, we really aren’t invited to go up for a closer look. It’s a great venue for graduation photos, as enjoyed by one new graduate today, having a good celebration with his family.

Here is a fascinating story, we learned a lot about it at the Museum, and there’s a monument here.

The Legendary Navajo Code Talkers:

During World War II, in the South Pacific Theater, the Japanese were extremely proficient at breaking into military radio communications and transmissions. Thus they were able to decipher U.S. Military codes. The U.S. Armed forces needed to find a secure method of communication if they were to have any chance of defeating a clever and intelligent foe. To counter the cleverness of the Japanese cryptographers, 29 Navajo Marines were recruited to devise a secret military code using their native language. By war’s end, there were over 400 Navajo Marines serving as code talkers and the code vocabulary had doubled. So successful was this innovative code that the Marine Corps commanders credited it with saving the lives of countless American Marines and soldiers. It enabled their successful engagements throughout the Pacific Theater which included the battles for Guadalcanal, Wake Island, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Midway, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The code paved the way to early victory for the allied forces in the South Pacific. Major Howard M. Conner, 5th Marine Division Signal Officer stationed on Iwo Jima, commented on the gallantry of the Navajo Code Talkers: “Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would not have taken Iwo Jima.”

Far from their homes, these brave young Navajo Marines served our nation with honor and dignity. The tale of their exploits remained a closely guarded secret for decades in the event that the Navajo Code Talkers unique talents would be needed again. In 1968 the Navajo code was finally declassified. In July 2001, at the National Capital Rotunda, United States President, the honorable George W. Bush, awarded the Congressional Gold Medals to the first 29 Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. In November of 2001 at the Navajo Nation capital of Window Rock, Arizona, the Congressional Silver Medals were awarded to the rest of the Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. Sadly, many of the Navajo Code Talkers have passed on never knowing of the honor a grateful nation has bestowed upon them. The Navajo Code Talkers will never be forgotten.

Diné Bizaad Yee Atah Naayee’ Yik’eh Deesdlii.

We checked in at our Holiday Inn before wandering over the road to Navajo Westerners Ace Hardware. Some of the fabrics on sale here are very pretty.

Another shop in this Navajo Nation Shopping Center was the supermarket from where we bought a snack: still full from a big lunch, we didn’t need a big evening meal.

We were followed back to the hotel by a stray dog, but I think it didn’t speak English, since it ignored all my stern commands. Another reason to learn Spanish, I suppose. Or maybe even Navajo.

Going down for breakfast in the morning provided the first chortle of the day. Shouldn’t laugh, really, but… There was a poster outside the hotel shop with a mugshot of a young lady. The caption: Anyone know who this is? They stole our security device.

Buzz and Gabe are here at this time for a weekend of fun with the Girl Scouts.They were at the breakast table along with Liesel and Leslie, plus three other Girl Scout leaders, by the time I arrived.

Liesel looked at a very pretty necklace in the shop, but decided not to buy it in the end. ‘It’s only stuff’ and ‘I’ll probably only wear it once’.

Over the road, the famous Flea Market was being set up. We wandered around, admiring all the jewellery (of course), ignoring the car tyres and electronics up for sale, and just passed some time until the Navajo Arts and Craft Enterprise opened. More locally made jewellery, and this time, Liesel did buy something, an unusual pair of earrings.

Leslie chose to stay with Buzz today, with the Girl Scouts, so that left Liesel and me to drive back to Albuquerque. Having plenty of time, we paid a visit to El Morro, for more local culture and a walk. Thanks to some roadworks, we found ourselves driving along the rumblestrips at the side of the road, and that’s a very uncomfortable feeling after a while. You’re doing nothing wrong, but we’ve been programmed to think that that noise means we’re too near the edge. Weird.

We listened to Classic Rock 93X: Putting the rock into Window Rock! Well, classic rock? Over half of the songs they played were new to me. They may have been big hits and very popular in the USA, but it was reassuring when the odd, genuine classic, came on.

On to El Morro, then. This cuesta has long been an oasis to the travelers who left their mark upon it. A reliable waterhole hidden at the base of a sandstone bluff made El Morro (the headland) a popular refuge for hundreds of years. Native Americans, Spanish explorers and missionaries, and American soldiers and pioneers carved over 2,000 signatures, dates, messages, and petroglyphs. Atop the cuesta are the remains of the fourteenth-century pueblos of Atsinna and North Atsinna where the ancestors of today’s Puebloan communities once lived.

A most enjoyable and interesting walk. The guide lent us a book, and we followed the route more or less as suggested.

These artefacts won’t last forever, being carved into sandstone and where they’ve tried to hide post-1906 markings, the surface looks unnaturally smooth.

As we walked back to the Visitor Centre, we felt a few spots of rain. Big spots. But, just as quickly, we stepped over a crack in the concrete path, and it wasn’t raining any more.

We heard the thunder in the distance, relieved that we weren’t caught in a major storm.

Our journey back to Albuquerque continued. We saw sheep and horses close to the highway, mostly behind a fence, but not always. Not ideal when the traffic is moving at 60mph or more.

We can sort of understand why people might choose to live out here in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town. But, then, why would you build your house so close to the noisy highway?

We drove over the Continental Divide, elevation 7200 feet. This was a much more interesting sign than ‘Arizona State Line’. And if there was such a sign, we missed ‘New Mexico State Line’.

But we couldn’t miss the thunderstorm ahead of us, so of course I had to try and get a picture of the lightning. Liesel wasn’t keen on me almost leaning out of the with with my phone. But it was worth it!

Back at home, we took Neil out for a meal at Monroe’s, a return visit for us. I enjoyed my final New Mexico meal: #6 Veggie Tostadas (Gluten free) 2 bluecorn tostada shells stuffed with avocado, whole beans, pico de gallo, mozzarella, lettuce and tomato. Served with calavacitas and salsa. Hey, I remembered what I ate! But only because I screenshot the menu.

Final NM meal? Yes, my time here was nearly up and I had to do some packing. I have more to take home that I came with, especially the Seestar S50. Four weeks here, and it’s all a bit of a blur right now. I need a holiday, as they say.

Oh, and WordPress has just told me that this is the 600th post on this blog. What a lot of antics!