David Bowie – Mick and Liesel's Antics

AK, AI and AG

The Online Safety Act has been in the news a lot recently. Ostensibly, it’s to protect children and others from harmful content on the internet. Well, some sites are being a bit over-zealous. I tried to access something quite innocuous, and for the fiorst time ever, it wanted to check I was old enough. This site chose to do so by looking at me and estimating my age. I made sure my boatrace was in the designated ellipse, which it called a circle. It then had the nerve to tell me, “That doesn’t look like a real face.” Well, it’s the only one I have, so I guess I won’t be visiting this site again any time soon. Rude.

Helen flew home after a relatively short but welcome visit, looking good and ready for the next adventure.

Pauline and Andrew returned from their side trip to Thirsk and beyond. They had a splendid time visiting Newcastle and Alnwick and came back with Geordie accents.

Suddenly, there was an exclamation from their room. What’s wrong, Andrew? It sounded like a big deal. It wasn’t really. While staying with Yvonne and Ian, Andrew had hidden the loudly ticking alarm clock amongst his soundproofing clothes. He just realised that he still had it. Pauline consulted her old school chum who revealed that other visitors had merely removed the batteries from the clock!

While berating Andrew for inadvertently stealing a clock, Pauline came across Yvonne’s copy of the English Heritage brochure in her own bag. I told them that in view of their criminal record, I have taken a full inventory of items in my own luxury apartment.

After a leisurely start to the day, we walked over to Didsbury again. It’s a nice walk and I wanted to see the refurbished path on the side of the river that’s been closed to pedestrians for a couple of weeks.

The path used to be notoriously bumpy, with bricks and rubble peppered along its length. It would be nice to see it nice and smooth and flat, like the path at the Didsbury end.

The level of anticipation as we approached the new bit was almost unbearable. I was on my own at this point, as Pauline and Andrew walked along the upper level path, not fully appreciating how important and exciting this new path was. It’s white gravel, not solid concrete or anything and while it’s better than what we had before, I wonder if it will survive next time the river’s in flood?

Then round the next corner, the renewed path came to an end.

Disbelief followed by manic laughter was the only possible response. I guess we Northenden folk don’t deserve the same riverside walking experience as the posh people of Didsbury.

Andrew found a golf ball which he decided to keep, adding it to his collection of purloined items.

And then, just before Simon’s Bridge, there’s another stretch of white gravel to enjoy.

Even the upper level path has been treated, just a little bit.

How good is AI, part 1? I showed this picture to Google, to see whether it could identify the location. I knew it wouldn’t identify the people. But here’s what it said:

The image captures a moment of two individuals, possibly a couple, [true] walking outdoors on a sunny day. They are on a path surrounded by lush green foliage, suggesting a natural setting like a park, countryside trail, [true] or a garden. The man has his arm around the woman, indicating a close relationship. [true] In the background, other people can be seen, suggesting a public area. This image was shared on Facebook with the caption “Me walking into danger”. [Utter rubbish, the similar picture on Facebook is of a total stranger] Don’t rely on AI for anything important.

We stopped for coffee and a snack in Fletcher Moss Park before wandering around the rockery, admiring the plants and the baby moorhens in the murky water.

Some people are so talented, and this woodpecker certainly lifts the mood.

And finally, in this small collection of bird related pictures:

Obviously not a real chicken, but the name given to this fungus that likes growing on rotten wood. Apparently it’s edible and tastes a bit like chicken. None of us were willing to try it out.

In the parsonage garden, we were greeted by another wood carving.

The weeping ash tree was planted nearly 200 years ago, but succumbed to ash die back disease in 2022. The Green Man that has been carved into an old tree stump is believed to be an ancient symbol of life, death and rebirth. The work was carried out by Andy Burgess, wood sculptor, September, 2023.

We visited the Parsonage where we learnt some local history. Shouldn’t laugh, but Didsbury gets its name from Dyddi’s burgh, from a long time ago.

The place has been lovingly restored over the years, the highlight for me being a stained glass window which acts as a sundial, one of only 44 such in the whole country, apparently.

And in the garden, perhaps the mosts surprising thing was seeing late blooming magnolias.

As if the metal heron in Northenden’s Riverside Park isn’t impressive enough, here in Didsbury, there’s an eagle perched above the lychgate leading to the parsonage garden.

We walked home after a quick visit to the Art of Tea café and bookshop. By now, the temperature was a welcome 28°.

In the evening, after a sunny day with clear skies, I was hoping to see, and maybe photograph the thin cresnt Moon just after sunset. Sadly, a band of cloud appeared low in the sky, ruining my plans.

While Pauline and Andrew visited Manchester Art Gallery, taking the bus into the city, I stayed at home to prepare for my own next adventure. The to-do list was successfully tackled, even though for a while, for every item I ticked off, I thought of somegthing else to do.

I did something today that I very rarely do. I went clothes shopping for myself, specifically to acquire a pair of blue socks. Can I just say yet again that the men’s clothes department in M&S is so depressing. It could do with some colour. Even the socks I found are a dull shade of blue.

Later in the afternoon, we all watched some cricket on TV.

Early Wednesday morning saw P&A go out for a walk. I joined the regular, organised stroll and Pauline accompanied us too.

How good is AI, part 2? I saw something interesting, took a picture of it and asked Google, what could it possibly be?

It said:

The object in the image is a puffball mushroom, likely a species from the genus Calvatia, such as the Giant Puffball (Calvatia gigantea) or the Skull-shaped Puffball (Calvatia craniiformis).

Such certainty. But, just round the corner, there was a whole bunch of these things, some of which had burst, revealing them to be wan-coloured balloons.

We enjoyed a coffee back at Boxx2Boxx. Sitting outside, we felt about three spots of rain, but the rain didn’t start properly until after we’d returned home. The threatened thundersturm didn’t materialise, in the end, and I think we were all a little disappointed.

At Pauline’s request, we joined the children and their parents at Piccolo, an Italian restaurant in Didsbury.

Liam, Martha, William, Andrew, Pauline, Mick, Jenny

This was by way of another farewell meal. Next morning, I was up before 5am, and ready to catch my cab at 6am. P&A were staying at the flat for one more day, before catching trains all the way to Guildford, the birthplace of me and my sister.

Manchester Airport, Terminal 2, was where my next rip to Anchorage began. No major upsets, other than the Baggage Handling system being down, so even though loads of us had checked in online and just had to print our baggage labels and attach them to the bags, we couldn’t just quickly drop them off. In security, we didn’t have to take anything out of our bags before screening, no electronics nor liquids. So civilised. But I had to take my belt off or the personal scanner would have been confused.

The worst experience though was probably walking through the fume cupboard that is the duty free shop with its sickly combination of perfumes. My sneezing fit could probably be heard at my final destination.

The flight to Frankfurt Airport was uneventful but after landing, we had to while for someone to find the bus. The bus ride to the arrival gate was nearly as long in duration as the flight itself.

More stinky perfume in this airport, something that my old Chemistry teacer would have described as ‘Sewer de Paris’. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the inky stench from the complimentary copy of the New York Times provoked another sneezing fit.

The officers here made it very clear that the extra, unwelcome and unnecessary, passport check at the departure gate was at the instigation of the US Governement. It slowed down the boarding process, but in the end, the flight to Anchorage departed just a few minutes late.

I understand the science, but it still feels weird, taking off at 3.30pm and arriving at 3.10pm, same day, 7000 miles away. The flight was a little bumpy in places, but I noticed from the on-board screen, we were deviating a bit from the planned route, presumably to avoid the worst of the stormy weather.

It took a while, but I finally realised what Condor’s new livery reminds me of. Pippi Longstocking.

It was lovely to be collected at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport by Jyoti. In an unexpected and exciting turn of events, she drove me straightaway to Fred Meyer to buy some groceries. Liesel met us here, and while I ran towards her in slow motion, she didn’t reciprocate. Indeed, she was quite rude about my ‘silly walk’.

How good is AI, part 3? I was chatting with a chatbot about some David Bowie lyrics, ahead of me re-starting my radio show very soon (spoiler alert!)

Here is what it said. Yes, there are factual inaccuracies, so not to be relied on:

Here is a list of David Bowie songs that mention specific numerical times, including the ones you noted:

Songs with Specific Numerical Times

1. “Five Years” (The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, 1972)

· Time Mentioned: The title itself, “Five Years.”
· Context: This is the most famous and impactful use of a specific time period. The news announces that the world will end in five years, creating the album’s central apocalyptic tension. It’s a countdown that hangs over every song.

2. “Time” (Aladdin Sane, 1973)

· Time Mentioned: “5:15”
· Lyric: “Time, he’s waiting in the wings / He speaks of senseless things / His script is you and me, boy / Time, he flexes like a whore / Falls wanking to the floor / His trick is you and me, boy / Breaking up is hard, but waiting for you is the hardest thing I’ve ever known / (5:15) and I’m still waiting for you, don’t you know?”
· Context: This is the prime example. “5:15” evokes the “angel hour” or a very specific, anxious moment of waiting, possibly after a night out. It’s a time suspended between night and morning, perfect for the song’s themes of anxiety, decadence, and wasted time.

3. “Young Americans” (Young Americans, 1975)

· Time Mentioned: “9:25”
· Lyric: *”**They pulled in just behind the factory / That’s where he, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know /

This is about one-tenth of the regurgitation, so I pressed the Stop button at which point it continued…

he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know / He took her, you know, he took her, you know

This response is Al-generated, for reference only.

I said:

sorry to interrupt but I think the record’s got stuck

It said:

You are absolutely right! My apologies, that response went completely off the rails and got stuck in a very long and bizarre loop. Thank you for catching that -it was a technical error on my end.

Let me correct that and provide a proper, concise answer to your excellent question about specific numerical times in Bowie’s lyrics.

Nah, I’m good, thanks.

So, to summarise, AI stands for Absolutely Useless.

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.

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.

The Tactful Cactus

The drive to Taos Pueblo was very enjoyable, partly taking us through the Santa Fe National Forest. I say ‘us’, but I should say who ‘us’ was. We’ve borrowed Buzz’s Toyota Prius and Liesel drove me, Jyoti and Rupert today. Tammy worked at home while Aaron went to his place of work in the library.

Rupert, Jyoti and Liesel at Apache Canyon Scenic Viewpoint

We saw a deer on the road, and a few prairie dogs at the side of the road, standing up on their hind legs, on the lookout, pretending to be meerkats.

I think this tree gives a good indication of where the wind comes from. It was a little windy today, but not too cold. Not a high number on the ‘will-Mick-get-earache’ scale. Otherwise, it was an enjoyably warm day, although the wind did kick up some dust.

We were welcomed to Taos Pueblo and we were in time for a quick guided tour. The guide, Summer, introduced us to this World Heritage Site. A few families still live in the pueblo, but there is no electricity and no running water, so most people live in nearby Taos.

People have live here since time immemorial and there are currently about 2,600 Red Willow People.

The many shops were run by the artists themselves, and we wanted to support all of them by buying something. In the end, Liesel and I came away with a small painting. Flat, not fragile and easy to pack: I know, those shouldn’t be the main criteria for selecting a work of art, but it is a very nice picture.

I asked if I could take a picture of the dreamcatchers and the man said, ‘there’s the tip jar’! Bribery and corruption at the highest level!

I bought a glass of lemonade in one place. My credit card was declined. Thus began yet another long dispute with the credit card company. I hope they’re this on the ball when something genuinely fraudulent is taking place. The lemonade was good though, homemade and very refreshing.

Mass is still held at St Jerome’s, built in about 1850 on the site of an earlier war-damaged church. The two religions co-exist very well here, catholic and earth and nature based beliefs.

The buildings here are built from adobe, or sun-dried mud. In some places, the straw used in the mix is very obvious, and I wondered why it hasn’t decayed in the heat of the place plus the occasional rainstorm.

The outdoor ovens were introduced by the Spanish, who in turn had had them introduced by the Moors. According to Summer, there is no accurate temperature control: the only way to tell when it’s hot enough is to see whether or not a piece of straw combusts inside once the fire’s been going for some time.

I didn’t buy anything in the gift shop, nope, not even a bow and arrow, and certainly no jewelry. Nor did I treat myself to ‘fry bread with top pings’. I might have gone with lesser pings if they’d been available.

We visited Taos for a late lunch before driving to walk across and admire the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, the 7th highest bridge in the USA, about 600 feet above the river itself, much higher and more stomach-churning than I’d anticipated.

We’d agreed to meet Tammy and Aaron at an African restaurant, Jambo, in Santa Fe. As usual, I programmed Google Maps to take us there. Are you sure this is the right way? Of course it is. It wasn’t. We had to turn around when its chosen route would have taken us along a dirt track for who knows how far. And then, just round the corner, it told us that we’d arrived at our destination. I sacked Sheila, my Australian Google Maps guide. Rupert’s device got us to the right place.

The meal was lovely, we all enjoyed it, before driving home in the dark, in three cars. Yep, we got us a convoy.

There was a beautifully clear sky so I set up the new telescope, the Seestar S50.

After a bit of messing about (I’m still learning) I got a great photo of the Orion Nebula.

I found Mars nd Jupiter too, but other objects eluded me as the clouds rolled in and slowly covered the sky. At least we were outside before the Moon rose.

During the night, I looked out a few times, but there was no point in taking the device out again, the clouds stayed.

While Tammy and Liesel went off to town for a relaxing, refreshing massage, Jyoti, Rupert and I set out for a walk across country towards the local Community Center. This was a perfect opportunity to see some local wildlife. Some birds, yes. And a beetle.

This might be one of the local stink beetles, so I’m glad I didn’t mess with it!

The dusty path was well formed, whether by animals or people, I don’t know, and the only concern was that we’d be able to find our way back later on. We relied on landmarks, such as this.

A drop of rain fell from a small cloud in the sky. Out of all the places it could land, it found its way to Jyoti’s skin. She didn’t want to get wet so this was our cue to head back. It didn’t rain much, to be honest. It was a good walk though, and interesting to see cactuses in various states of life.

In the afternoon, while Aaron was still at work, Tammy drove us to Madrid. That’s Madrid, with the emphasis on the ‘Mad’ rather than the ‘drid’.

It’s a cute little town, it looks old, and I could imagine it being populated by old peopl⁰e, hippies and drop-outs. I felt right at home.

We dined in the Mine Shaft Tavern and Cantina. Before visiting New Mexico, I’d been warned not to eat the green chili stew because it’s not vegetarian. Well, this place had a veggie version of the local delicacy, so I thought I’d give it a go.

I ran out of napkins drying my tears and mopping up my sweat. But despite the spicy heat, I persevered and with the help of a small bowl of sour cream, I managed to finish off the bowl of stew. Without the chilis, it would have been a very nice but simple vegetable soup. I’m glad I had the opportunity to try it, but next time, I think I’ll leave it for another customer.

In other news though, I did find out that some parts of the film The Man Who Fell to Earth were filmed here, along with several other movies. Yes, the film in which David Bowie, being an alien, just played himself.

Having had my tongue set on fire, I really wanted an ice cream, but while wandering around the town later, I was thwarted in my mission. We looked in some galleries though, and again, we oohed and aahed at and admired the artwork but didn’t purchase anything.

Liesel and I both thought that Martha in particular would enjoy walking around this town because it is paved, not with gold, but with shards of pottery, many different colours, stones, rocks and all sorts of debris.

It’s definitely a colourful little place, redbud trees, flowers, other blossoming trees, well-decorated buildings, murals and brightly coloured cars.

Sadly, sometimes it’s necessary to chop down trees. Here, they occasionally turn the stump into something beautiful. Not sure about the subject matter here, but I thought this chain-saw carving was very well done.

In the evening, we visited Tumbleroot Brewery Distillery, not for the beer but to relax to some music. I had a glass of cider on this occasion. We found seats at the back, as far from the stage as possible, and hoped that not too many folks would be standing and dancing on the floor, blocking our view.

The support act was Haylie, who goes by the name Lady Apple Tree, a little bit folk, a little bit country and very good, despite having to battle against most people in the audience talking while she was performing.

The main band, Cactus Blossoms were a bit louder and they kept us well entertained. They reminded me of the Everly Brothers, having similar harmonies (two of the members are brothers) and the instrumental arrangements reminded me of early ’60s pop music. Apparently, this was their first gig in Santa Fe, but they’d brought along some supporters.

They were very smart in their baby-blue suits, although the colours produced when combined with some of the different coloured spotlights were less than flattering!

I was still full from my lunchtime bowl of lava, but that didn’t stop me from eating some chips (French fries) here in the pub tonight. I thought the chips were very salty, although some vinegar would have helped with that. On the other hand, the ketchup was far too sweet for my taste.

Not knowing the songs, I couldn’t sing along, but I hummed, tapped my foot, drummed my fingers on the table and mentally added them to the playlist for a radio show sometime soon.

What a great way to end a very busy day.

Coins, cone, kine

‘Do something scary every day.’ I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again. I also interpret that maxim to mean, ‘Say Yes when it would be so easy to just say No.’ So, when Chantel asked for volunteers to do something at 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning, my first thought was ‘no way, José’, but I actually vocalised: ‘Yes, put my name down.’

I woke up nice and early, but drifted off again before the alarm woke me up with a jolt.

Breakfast gave me the energy to walk over to Wythenshawe Park where before making contact with anybody, I found this chap who expressed my mood beautifully.

As part of Manchester International Festival, artist Ryan Gander invited audiences to undertake a quest across the city in search of his latest artworks. Hundreds of thousands of collectable coins will be hidden in plain sight across Manchester, each embellished with words offering guidance on daily decisions.

Abi from Factory International presented me with a bag of 250 coins to hide in Wythenshawe Park. As requested, I left some in plain sight on park benches, walls, posts and pillars, and many in more secluded locations, on trees for example. Some coins will be found easily, some will glint in the Sun, and attract people’s attention. Ryan Gander and I invite all of Manchester to go out and explore, look for hidden coins, right up to 16th July. I suspect some will be there for many years to come. I know of one that fell down, inside a hollow tree. That’ll confuse a future archeologist! Yes, I feel very special being involved with a work of art, even at a distance.

As well as distributing coins, I was also acquiring a good step count for the day. Compensation for those times I don’t move far from the sofa at home!

Coffee and cake were very welcome. Just a slice of Victoria sponge, please. Well, what I got in the box was the biggest slice of cake I’ve ever had to deal with in a public space. Not complaining, but I really needed Liesel to help out with her fork. She was instead with the ladies of the WI.

The local wildlife weren’t that impressed with events, so much so, they stayed out of focus.

Later on, I clapped as hundreds of people ran past, taking part in a 10km run. From their facial expressions, not everyone was enjoying it too much.

After a long walk in the park, it was time to move on. I caught a bus to Cheadle and started walking towards Martha’s and William’s school. As I was passing the Village swimming pool, I took advantage of the opportunity to use their facilities. I noticed Liam’s car in the car park and deduced, therefore, that the children were swimming. Actually, they would have just finished. So I waited for them to emerge from the changing rooms and I was delighted to hear that most searching of questions from Martha: ‘What’s Grandad doing here?’

We drove to the school and I paid for entry to their School Summer Fair. Spiderman was there and he has the ability to make small children levitate, which is a cool trick.

In the chocolate tombola, I won a big bar of Cadbury’s chocolate that, spoilers, Liesel and I polished off within three days.

Martha and William had fun on the bouncy castles, until the latter were deflated and tied down when it became too windy.

Jenny was there already and when she told me there were no hot drinks on sale here today, I threatened to complain to the committee. Don’t you dare, she warned, as a prominent member of said committee!

A splendid time was had by all, and I made my way home by bus. Two buses in fact, with another long walk between.

On Sunday, Liesel and I went into Manchester city centre. Our first port of call was the Science and Industry Museum. More specifically, the café, for a coffe and a spot of lunch. I wonder why lunches come in spots?

There’s a small exhibition here about Stephen Hawking and his theoretical physics work. They’ve even preserved his blackboard from Cambridge.

According to The Guardian: The Cambridge cosmologist, who died in 2018 at the age of 76, treasured a blackboard that became smothered with cartoons, doodles and equations at a conference he arranged in 1980. But what all the graffiti and in-jokes mean is taking some time to unravel.

Our final desination we knew was somewhere behind the museum. Down a road that Google Maps doesn’t even know about yet. The directions to Versa Studios given in the email were very precise. And when we were close, it was reassuring to see directing arrows on the black hoarding, leading us to the right place. It’s all happeneing here, in and near Festival Square, all part of Manchester International Festival.

The show we watched was Kagami, in which we enjoyed a hologram projection of Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto playing several of his compositions on the piano. We had to wear special goggles that revealed Ryuichi, but allowed you see other members of the audience as we were able to walk around the projection. Sadly, Ryuichi passed away in March so he never saw the final version of the show, but I hope he saw enough to know how good it would be.

As he began to play Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence, I told Liesel that was my favourite, and it seemed to be very popular as it was the only piece to attract a generous round of applause. Clapping a ghost, hmmm.

Don’t ask me to explain why his music sounds Japanese, but it does, it just evokes the sights and smells and sounds of that fascinating country.

Yes, it is weird looking at a picture of a group of people standing around, all apparently looking at absolutely nothing.

On July 3rd, 1973, I was not at Hammersmith Odeon to witness the final one of 180 shows played by Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Famously, not only was it the last show of the tour, it was the last show they’d ever do. So announced David Bowie before playing the final song, Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide.

Well on the fiftieth anniversary of that gig, Liesel and I witnessed the Global Premiere of the Film of that Concert. Not at Hammersmith Odeon unfortunately, but closer to home, at Cineworld, Parrs Wood. Global premiere? Yes, this would be the first showing of the whole concert, including a couple of songs missed out before, and the whole of special guest Jeff Beck’s performance. I can feel Liesel’s eyes roll as I write this and I know they will when she reads it later, but these details are important.

I no longer own it, but a few months later, I purchased a bootleg recording of the show at the wonderful, atmospheric, aromatic, long gone Kensington Market.

There was a piano introduction by Mike Garson, and a panel discussion about David Bowie, but for whatever reason, we only joined the event part-way through the discussion. It was OK, but nothing to write home about. I enjoyed the film immensely, Liesel not so much, especially the long guitar solos by Mick Ronson while David Bowie took a long time to change outfits!

We haven’t seen a rainbow here in Northenden for a while, but I captured this one before it disappeared behind the bin cupboard.

I caught a bus into Manchester to help with someone’s research. So glad I got an early bus, it took ages, as it had to make a long, slow detour for some reason. And even though the windows were open, the bus ride was ridiculously, uncomfortably hot. So my first task on arrival in the big city was to buy a bottle of water. Yes, I could have taken a water bottle with me from home, but that would have entailed thinking ahead, planning and remembering to pick the bottle up. But it didn’t even cross my mind.

I saw a few new graduates around town and I resisted the temptation to high-five anyone, but who knows, maybe some of them had been taught by Jenny at some point. I also wondered whether Jenny at some point had taught the Masters Researcher whom I was seeing today. Unlikely though, as she earned her first degree in Leeds.

I found my way over to the Division of Neuroscience and Experimental Psychology, part of the School of Biological Sciences within the University of Manchester.

The study is around factors affecting observation and imagination of computer-based actions in people with Parkinson’s and older adults. They want ‘old’ people, over 50 years of age. And they want people who use two fingers to type, not touch-typists.

I did a few tests on paper, typed a lot of words under various conditions, imagined typing words, and conducted a few other tests. I hope my results are useful. Especially if, in the end, it leads to some way of helping folks with Parkinson’s.

The bus ride home was just as long and devious and weary.

This week’s Wythenshawe Radio show had the theme: Sweets. I was thinking sweeties, candy, chocolate, honey, sugar. I can feel my teeth rotting as I write that sentence. I asked my dentist to come on and talk about teeth and, well, about being a dentist. But I was out of luck: she was about to fly off for a holiday. Oh well. If, like me and Liesel, you didn’t hear the show on WFM 97.2 on Friday afternoon, you can catch up on a slightly extended version here.

So, those coins, what do they look like? Each one in the set of three has one word on each side, which you can use to guide your future choices. Heads or tails?

Steel Rigg to Gilsland to Irthington to Carlisle to Bowness on Solway

After leaving the Twice Brewed Inn, we had to retrace our steps to pick up Hadrian’s Wall Path again. First though, let’s take some photos outside.

And, a little bit later, I took the opportunity to cut Liesel’s chin off again.

We made good progress and enjoyed the views. Looking back on one occasion, Liesel spotted a small animal poking its nose out of the wall. The stoat emerged, ran across the field and disappeared into the distance. How exciting to see a wild animal rather than a farmyard favourite.

We passed Winshields, the halfway point and highest position on Hadrian’s Wall. This wasn’t the time nor place for a big party to celebrate, though. Still: all downhill from here then, right? No, no and thrice no. In fact, very shortly afterwards, at the top of another hill, we came across a trig point.

From this point heading west, the Roman Wall was much narrower than it had been. It seems it was taking too long to complete the massive building project, so the legionnaires found a way to make quicker progress. So fast in fact, that they left behind bags of stones and rocks that can still be found today. Jyoti tried to shift one, but other than make us laugh, her efforts were in vain.

Jyoti’s over the shoulder boulder holder

The Wall itself is a dominant feature, but there are plenty of other features.

I like the fact that at each of these forts and turrets, there’s a descriptive sign showing us what the structure used to look like. Many of the missing stones have been used over hundreds of years to build other walls, houses and barns. Recycling at its best. A good example is shown here. The old Roman stones are being used to protect the more worn paths, especially on the slopes.

Today’s route, though shorter, was also described as strenuous. And indeed it was. I find it easier to climb than to descend, since I don’t have very good depth perception, looking down. Still being tired from yesterday didn’t help. Snack and drink water frequently, little and often, are the very basic but sensible customs to follow. Take your time. I followed all the rules and yet after this particularly hard, steep descent, carefully and slowly making my way down the uneven steps, I realised I’d had enough. I bonked. I hit the wall. I had to have a lie down for a while. In retrospect, a bit embarrassing but at the time, I just wanted to stop. In my stupor, I tried to summon up a rescue helicopter.

To be fair, Liesel and Jyoti aren’t laughing at my predicament, but I am so grateful for their support, feeding and watering me like I’m an old nag destined for the glue factory. Teresa and Tammy at this point were quite far ahead and it made sense for them not to wait for us.

After a while, I was able to continue. Slow and steady. Northumberland National Park needs our help. They want us to let them know of all the reptiles we encountered: vipers, slow worms and lizards. Well, my personal total was zero, so that won’t take too long.

Walltown Crags. The crags would have been a challenge to climb, so I’m glad our path went in the opposite direction. Thirlwall Castle was quite an imposing sight. There was a short hill which I decided to pass on. Liesel and Jyoti went up for a closer look while I had a rest on the stone direction sign, which probably didn’t help those folks hiking in the opposite direction to us.

Soon after this, another wildlife bonanza. We saw bunnies and a family of geese with a cute little gosling. It was about this point when I realised how flexible miles are in this area. 3 miles to go. Walk for half an hour. Then another sign saying 3 miles to go. Later, Google Maps suggests 1.8 miles to go. We met a hiker who was carrying a huge backpack. He said he’d walked 18 miles so far today and had a couple of hours to go. I kept schtum, I didn’t want to tell him how hard I’d found the last several miles. But he was philosophical about the whole thing: “The pain’s constant but the views change”.

1.5 miles to our destination, Gilsland. A couple of bridges, a burn, and we thought we were getting close. Liesel called Teresa to say we were close, about a quarter of a mile away. Teresa said it’s probably nearer three quarters.

Brookside Villa must be the most attractive b&b in the whole world. At least, it was today, to me. Right place, right time.

Liesel and I were given the penthouse suite, which meant walking up more stairs. But when I got up at about 1.30am for my usual nocturnal biological demands, I noticed, through the skylight, a nice dark sky and stars. I was so excited, despite being tired and it being the middle of the night, that I got my phone and took a picture of The Plough or Big Dipper. Not the most exciting astrophotography, I know, but I was happy. Not so happy about knocking a glass of water over in the process, but stuff happens.

The day we walked from Gilsland to Irthington wasn’t marked as strenuous. And after yesterdays’ incident, I was quite prepared to walk more slowly if necessary, and I definitely programmed myself to eat and drink more often.

Over the course of their occupation, the Romans built three bridges over the River Irthing at Willowford, each more sophisticated than the previous one.

What an astonish feat of design and construction. Imagine then our slight disappointment when, to cross the river, we had to walk across this modern one. Built in 1999 and I doubt there’ll be evidence of it in 1700 years’ time.

It was a lovely warm day, and so quite refreshing occasionally to take shelter in the woods for a minute. I felt very lucky not to be suffering from blisters on my feet, but the four lambs had to deal with this issue to a lesser or greater degree. While tending to their wounds, I snacked and imbibed.

I’m sure this fallen log has a few tales to tell, but I chose a different one to perch on. Out in the countryside, a few birds and animals hung around, but the biggest surprise was coming across an Honesty Snack Shed. Snacks and drinks for sale, and an honesty box for the payment.

The signs continue to inform and educate, but ridiculous as it sounds, I did find myself thinking sometimes, ‘another one’? We agreed that it would be nice if they could reconstruct one of these forts fully, since all we see in general are just a few layers of stones giving an idea of the building’s layout.

Piper Sike, Turret 51a, a frontier watchtower. This was a stone tower built by the
Emperor Hadrian’s army around AD 122. It originally stood within the turf section of Hadrians Wall which extended 31 Roman miles (44km) from the river lrthing to Bowness-on-Solway. After a few years the turf was replaced by a stone wall part of which abuts the turret’s west wall.

We made friends with a couple of donkeys named Hamish and Dougal. Naturally I asked ‘You’ll have had your tea?’ (Look up I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue and indeeed Hamish and Dougal’s own shows on Radio 4, some now on YouTube.)

And so it came to pass, no, that’s not right… And so, we came to pass Hare Hill, a precious fragment of Hadrian’s Wall, at the same time as a couple of ladies approached from the opposite direction. Megan and her friend were walking from west to east and this was excitingly their first sighting of the Wall. Which meant, it was to be our last. From now on, the Wall would be hidden from us, even if we were actually walking on top of it.

Another thing you don’t expect to find in the middle of nowhere is a shop selling t-shirts. I didn’t buy one, but this one summarises the whole walk quite nicely, I think.

Someone who deserves at least a knighthood is the man (and I’m sure it was a man, no woman would be so daft) who walked the length of Hadrian’s Wall one day some years ago, planting nettles underneath nearly every gate and stile making passage that much more difficult, especially for those of us with bare legs trying to squeeze through a small gap.

Time for another sit down.

Look/Seek for something Beautiful every day

Walking via Newtown, a hamlet very proud of its Cumbria in Bloom awards between 2008 and 2014, we walked down to The Sally in Irthington. Amy supplied ice for Jyoti’s ankle and generally looked after us.

All week, in fits and starts, Liesel has been crocheting a jellyfish. She attached the final tentacles this evening and gave it to Amy who was delighted.

From our room, we could hear sheep and so sleep came very easily.

After walking on grass and mud for many miles, your feet do notice how hard an asphalt road surface is, especially towards the end of the day.

On the morning of Day 7, we had to backtrack a bit to pick up the trail again. Breakfast was big. I think the cook wasn’t used to vegetarian breakfasts, so over-compensated by giving me two huge tomatoes, three veggie sausages (that were disappointing), two eggs, no hash brown, a bowl of baked beans and (cold) guacamole which didn’t do anything for me. Plus toast. I couldn’t eat it all, but I still felt stuffed.

It was a lot more humid today too, so we were all sweating a bit. Jyoti suggested writing a limerick to mark the occasion. Walking, talking, stalking, looking around and gawking, lots of rhymes, but no single decent poem emerged.

We noticed sheep and cattle were sharing a field in some places. They stayed in their own groups or herds and there was no sign of fighting over a particularly juicy clump of grass.

We thought we’d seen the end of Hadrian’s Wall, but no. We were surprised to see a small section constructed, not from stones, but from old chariot tyres. They’re in pretty good nick for being nearly 2000 years old.

The vallum is the ditch that runs alongside the Wall, another defence against the Picts or Celts from the north.

We stopped at Crosby Church for a break, and the first gravestone I saw was that of an 18-year old girl who’d died in 2005. I want to know her story. But at the same time, I don’t. Very sad, in any case.

A wannabe topiarist had a good go at this shrub, but they need a slightly taller ladder, methinks.

After Crosby, I became aware of a much more diverse chorus of birdsong. I couldn’t identify some of them and my app, Chirp-o-Matic, only suggested three or four candidates. We heard a lot, but didn’t see very many close up. We did see flowers though.

I think it’s Scotch broom, very similar to gorse but without the thorns. And, of course, we’re never too far away from sheep, even when they try to hide behind a bush.

The river Eden would be our guide for a while as we walked by fields with row after row of polythene sheets, underneath which they’re growing, what, potatoes? I didn’t peek.

Later on, in the middle of a field, we saw another Roman fort. No, not really. What is it? Too small to be a grain store. Can’t be defensive, even with those small windows to shoot arrows through.

After a thorough, in-depth investigation, we learn that it’s a folly, and possibly a dovecote built c.1835, for George Head Head, in the grounds of Rickerby House. The tower is Grade II listed. George Head Head, now that’s someone we should know more about, not to mention his parents’ sense of humour.

Rickerby Park on the approaches to Carlisle was pleasant, and a perfect opportunity for a selfie.

We easily found our b&b which is called either Langley or Langleigh, depending on whether you believe the paperwork or the engraved stone gate post.

After dining at the Thai place in Carlisle, Jyoti walked out of her skirt. No video available. Ironic, because just a couple of days ago I’d told the story about Mrs Winter. She was the cleaner in the hall of residence where I lived in my first year at uni. You knew she was coming because of her distinctive tread. Both of her shoes squeaked but at a different pitch. One day, Nick and I happened to be following her along the corridor when her drawers fell down, squ-squeak, squ-squeak, and she just carried on and walked right out of them. There’s no video of that occasion either.

Liesel thinks her triceps are bulging now after using the walking poles for so many days. I’m sure she said Poley Moley when she noticed.

There were so many sheep in so many fields. I tried counting them but I kept falling asleep, which isn’t ideal when you’re trying to walk a long way.

On arrival at Langleigh, we couldn’t get into our rooms. Somehow, someone had double-locked the door and closed it. The only solution was to break the lock on that door. It was Sunday and so locksmiths were hard to come by. I felt bad for Yvette and Norman, but I also felt useless, there was nothing I could do to help.

Langleigh has been a b&b for 50 years, and it still retains some of that ’70s vibe. Candles were lit for breakfast, to illuminate the many, many bird ornaments and pictures that adorn the place.

There was no need to pack here in the morning for the haulage company because we’d be staying at this b&b for a second night. Carlisle isn’t that far from home, yet we’d never been before, so Liesel and I agreed to come back and explore the city properly one day.

The Sun rose on our 8th and final day walking the Hadrian’s Wall Path. It was to be the longest in distance, 15 miles along the river Eden to its confluence with the Solway, fairly flat with some undulation. The most boring section perhaps was a very long, dead straight road that might well have been Roman in origin.

But well before then, I must admit I was amused by the precision of some of the signposts.

I forgot to pack a tape measure, otherwise I might have checked it really was 236 yards.

On the first set of steps, I noticed I had calf muscles for the first time that day. We saw a lot of flowers, wild and cultivated, but sadly, very few insects. We didn’t mind not having to bat away thousands of flies like we did for a couple of days, but a few more butterflies and bees would have been nice.

We walked through what can only be described as the most sheep-shittiest field of the whole trip today. The sheep gave us funny looks as we tip-toed across their lunch. But at least we’re not taking a dump on our own dinner plates.

The directions said ‘turn left’ after the church, We did, and encountered the narrowest path of the whole trip.

Yes, there were nettles here too and somehow I managed to force myself through without being stung.

Another thing I don’t think any of us expected to find this week was a zip wire. But we did, at Beaumont Parish Hall. Did we have a go? Not all of us, but…

And we’re still finding interesting wildlife.

St Michael’s Church at Burgh-by-Sands made us welcome, even if, due to our own incompetence, we couldn’t find the supply of tap water, as advertised!

This twelfth century church was built with stones from the Roman Wall nearby. King Edward I came here to cross the Solway and subdue the rising under Robert the Bruce. He died on the marsh and was brought into the church to lie in state on 7 July 1307. The fortified tower was a refuge during the border raids.

The Eden joined the Solway and we saw Scotland for the first time, another landmark.

After our lunch break, we walked along the flood protection bank. I took a detour into a field where I was able to water the nettles. After which I had to briefly abandon the bank, due to a herd of cows. They were on the bank, in the ditch, walking backwards and forwards along and across the road. They weren’t at all aggressive, just a little intimidating being there in such numbers.

This was the long, dead straight road I mentioned earlier, a perfect opportunity for an entrepreneur to install a travelator.

The big disaster of the day? My shirt sleeve got caught on a hawthorn branch.

Next time we do this walk, we’ll record all the squeaky springs on all the gates and make a symphony. And we should include that bloke’s squeaky shoes too, from Day 4 or 5.

And, we’ll plan to walk both ways if it’s hot and sunny. East to west means the Sun beautifully tans the left arm. Walking back to Newcastle will darken the right arm, restoring that lovely feeling of symmetry.

I commented earlier on the flexible miles in this part of the world. We started the day knowing we had a 15-mile walk. As the day progressed, the signs told of a dimishing distance between Carlisle and Bowness.

It was good to see some seabirds on the beach around Port Carlisle. Some oyster catchers and some little or common ringed plovers, but they were a long way off. I must get a zoom lens for my phone.

Bowness on Solway. Never has the sight of a sign brought so much joy!

And yes, just a short while later, the five of us reached the end of the road.

Welcome to the end of Hadrian’s Wall Path

There were two rubber stamps to add to our passport. Except we didn’t have a passport and hadn’t seen most of the other rubber stamps along the way. I didn’t even have any paper. So, while celebrating on the rocky beach, I picked up a stone as a souvenir, and stamped it.[*]

Cantum meum canto
air seolaidhean-mara na Salmhaigh
leyke a sky-reydin burd
my heart soars high

As you walk down to the beach from the Welcome hut, there’s a handrail that bears a poem. The four lines of the poem along the handrail represent the cultural influences on Bowness on Solway: Roman Latin, Scots Gaelic, Cumbrian dialect and English. In English the poem reads:

I sing my song
of the Solway tides
like a sky-riding bird
my heart soars high.

What a perfect end to the walk. Just a short way to go now to the King’s Arms Inn for a welcome drink. We’d been cheersing each other all week, 10 opportunities to break a glass each time, but it never happened.

The barmaid (sorry if that’s not her official title, it does seem a bit old-fashioned) was kind enough to order a taxi to take us back to our b&b. Strangely, we didn’t have it in us to walk back to Carlisle.

The cab arrived and took us straight to our b&b. In the evening, we dined at The Thin White Duke. We were expecting to be entertained by the music of David Bowie, but disappointingly, that didn’t happen. There were just a couple of allusions to the great man, but the meal was great.

Jyoti managed to walk back without shedding any clothes on this occasion. We did some ironing before going to bed.

One more good night’s sleep before going home.

I’m sure we’re all very proud of our achievement, it was a fascinating, interesting and sometimes challenging hike across the country. If I do anything like this again, I hope it’s in the company of four beautiful, young, funny, supportive American women. Thank you very much, lambs!

A spot of time travel here. This week’s radio show was, inevitably, themed around Walls. You can listen here if you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio. Songs about Walls; the album of the week is Two Hearts by Mary Hopkin and Jessica Lee Morgan but that’s not all! The four lambs each picked a song to play.

[*] Sadly, the ink stamps on the stone faded very quickly, they’re totally illegible. So, if you do this hike, or any other similar one, don’t forget to take some paper so you can collect the stamps.

Let’s go to Gozo

This really is the height of luxury. Nothing to do but walk around in the sunshine. We meandered along the promenade in the opposite direction today, away from Valetta, heading towards St Julian’s, which is where we stayed the last time we visited Malta. There was a noticeable difference in temperature between walking in the Sun and being in the shade. But it was glorious, so much more pleasant than the rain in Manchester, for which we see there’s now a yellow warning.

We’d both decided not to being swimwear with us on this occasion, but that may have been a mistake. When I saw this guy playing with his water jet-powered rocket booster system in the harbour, I thought, I’d like to have a go at that. Liesel wasn’t so keen, though.

We noticed a few shoals of fish in the water too, it was that clear, contrary to our expectations. And when we found the local Marina regulations, we could see why. I suspect most if not all local sailors follow the rules. I don’t have a boat, so I didn’t really have to commit the rules to memory, but there you go.

Under MARPOL legislation, it is illegal to discharge oily residues into the sea. All automatic bilge pumps must be switched off unless the engine (s) is equipped with a separate oil tray. A bilge water pump-out facility is available at this marina. Violators are subject to sanctions.

Enzyme-based products must be used to clean bilges, not detergents. Oil absorbent pads should be kept onboard for emergencies.

Marina regulations prohibit the discharge of sewage or grey water (effluent from shower, laundry and wash basins) into the basin. Full shore facilities (toilet/shower units, marine pump-outs and live-abourd pump-outs) are available at this marina. Violators are subject to sanctions.

It is strictly prohibited to dump any solid wastes into the marina (Food waste, paper, rags, glass, crockery, metal, ropes, packing material and any plastic articles). Violators are subject to sanctions.

The maximum speed inside the marina of any marine craft is limited to 3 Knots. Violators are subject to sanctions.

Apart from mooring lines and service cables, it is prohibited to leave or store items on the marina quay. All such items will be removed at the owner’s expense

After reaching St Julian’s, we deviated from the promenade, and found ourselves not so much walking as scrambling or scrabbling along the lunar landscape of the beach. Plenty of trip hazards for my two left feet, but I survived without mishap.

We found civilisation again close to The Westin Hotel Dragonara. I’m sure it’s a fantastic, comfortable place to stay, but we’re very happy in our little b&b.

We sat by a proper, sandy beach for a while, watching the people, me with a coffee and Liesel with an ice cream. That guy’s brave, we thought, not just for swimming in the sea, but for leaving his bag unattended, having just been flashing his mobile phone.

The sand at St George’s Bay is quite coarse, but still easier to walk on than the rocks earlier. I saw one jellyfish in the water.

As we walked back through the town, past a shopping arcade, I remarked that we’d been here before. Nope. I was by myself last time, Liesel was having a rest, a long, luxurious bubble bath or something.

The building site was a bit ugly. Aren’t they all? But this one is A new destination to elevate Malta’s urban landscape. Cutting edge entertainment for all. A carefully created shopping experience for everyone. A heightened culinary affair. Well I for one can’t wait to see what’s so different about all these new shops and restaurants. All brand new and shiny. How ironic then that, as we walked around the corner, we noticed a really, really old bus.

Always try and remember to look up.

One thing we’ve noticed all over the place is the proliferation of hire scooters. Most users are on the pavements, moving at a reasonable speed amongst us pedestrians. But some braver souls are on the roads travelling at over 20mph, easily keeping up with the general traffic flow. I thought about trying one out, but, well, it’s the thought that counts.

Of course, if this were Manchester, these scooters would all be in the water by now.

The recycling bins are pretty nifty too. We saw one guy with huge bin-bags full of cans and plastic bottles. We wondered why he didn’t just leave those bags by the recycling bins. But then we realised, those bins actually pay you for the recycled items.

It’s always good to try and work out what an item of scuplture represents, especially when the adjoining plaque only has a description in a different language, in this case, Maltese.

I think it was first made in 1986 and subsequently repaired in 2017 then located in front of Ċensu Apap’s house in Sliema. The Ministry of Transport had something to do with it. My Maltese is very limited, even with Google Translate looking over my shoulder.

On our previous visit to Malta, we visited a coffee shop at Tigné Point a couple of times. So we had to make the pilgrimage there again this time. Iced coffee and hot coffee were enjoyed, not to mention a second breakfast.

We soaked up as much Sun as we could while walking around the tip of the peninsula. One thing we didn’t anticipate seeing was a man taking his cat for a walk. Well, taking his cat out for some fresh air, at least.

I made the mistake of buying another coffee as we got close to home. Mistake? Yes. Because when we got to Lidl, the assistant wouldn’t let me take it in, which meant that Liesel had to get the shopping alone. I hung around outside, enjoying my coffee and the sound of the bells of the Parish Church of Stella Maris, just around the corner. A crowd of people were gathered outside, but I couldn’t see whether it was a wedding or some other celebration.

We’re now used to being disappointed by the weather at home when we lift the blinds each morning. And that feeling of, well, ‘dread’ is probably too strong a word, but that feeling is still there, even after being here in the Mediterranean for a few days. But so far here, we’ve never been greeted by anything other than dazzling blue skies and signs of bright sunshine. So it was no hardship to leave our house and walk to the bus stop.

I’m just glad we weren’t standing by the bus stop over the road when that balcony came a-tumbling down.

Since Covid, Manchester buses have had the windows fixed so they can’t be closed. Not that that stops people from closing them. The idea is that fresh air will reduce the spread of Covid. Here in Malta, the bus company has done the opposite. ‘Keep Windows Closed. This bus is equipped with Bioactive AC filters for improved air filtration. Please keep windows closed for maximum efficiency.’ Yes, of course some of the windows had been forced open. The first bus we caught today had a temperature of 28°. The second, a baltic 22°, brrr!

We were entertained by the American couple behind, about the same age as us, learning to use public transport, probably for the first time in their lives.

Him: Did you press Stop, dear?
Her: Yes, I have ascertained how to stop the bus by pressing the button. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?

It was just a pity they hadn’t ascertained how to board the bus, through the correct door, not through the exit to avoid paying the fare.

We disembarked at Sanglea, and couldn’t help but notice this example of extreme yarn-bombing.

That was a labour of love, I wonder how long it took? Just along the road as we made our way to the tip of the peninsula, Liesel posed for a photo, sporting her exclusive shopping bag. I think that’s St Philip’s Church at the top of the road.

This is obviously an old part of Malta, one of the houses had the date 1702 inscribed.

Walls have ears. That’s the saying, and this watch tower really does have ears. And eyes.

Looking over the water towards Fort St Angelo, it would be easy to deduce that the whole island is really just one big fortress. The entrance to the Grand Harbour is fortified too.

We hadn’t really agreed a plan, but found ourselves walking around the bay, past the American University of Malta, around to visit the Fort itself. A relatively cold wind blew for a few minutes but it didn’t last long, and once we were in the sunshine again, we soon warmed up.

Quite a few of these little boats were in the water, or up on the quayside, but we didn’t go for a ride in one. They’re very colourful though. Luzzu? Ferrila? Where’s my Maltese correspondent when I need him?

On another occasion, we’ll visit the War and the Maritime Museums, but today, we were just soaking up the Sun. Outside the Maritime Museum is the first steam engine to arrive on Malta.

We’re not totally averse to visiting places and we spent a very pleasant hour or so at Fort St Angelo, although we could have spent much longer there. Most of our visit was still outdoors, up and down many steps and slopes. Which led us to wonder whether my Dad had been to Malta during the second world war when he was in the Royal Navy? We know he was in the Mediterranean, possibly in Crete… but that’s it, that’s all we know.

There is a lot of history at this fort, going back to before the original fort was built in medieval times. It was, of course, damaged during the war.

As well as being used for defensive purposes, it has been used as a prison, a Royal Naval hospital and as a court over the years. Not to mention the chapel and, now, for us visitors, it provides a great view of the harbour.

Cannon’s eye view of the entrance to Grand Harbour

There is a café, but after all the effort of climbing stairs to find it, it was found to be closed. Nightmare.

Liesel and I decided not to climb the mast on this occasion. ‘Reaching 80 feet in height, this wooden ship-mast was installed around 1910. The Royal Naval White Ensign and the flag of the chief naval afficer responsable for Fort St Angelo, normally Flag Officer Malta, were flown daily following the Fort’s transformation into a Royal Naval shore establishment in 1906, Special signs were hoisted for the manoeuvering of naval ships in harbour and weather forecasting. Another naval ship-mast was located across the Grand Harbour on Lascaris Bastion in Valletta but was removed in the 1970s.’

We left just before closing time and carried on walking along the bay. We stopped for a beverage, both choosing a delightful, thick, tasty, hot chocolate on this occasion.

I’d like to say I hired a one-man octocopter so that I could take a picture of the fort from above, but, here’s a secret: it’s just a photo of a photo.

We walked up a hill to the bus stop and returned to Sliema. Around the corner from our b&b, we came across these stars. My guess is that they were to mark David Bowie’s birthday.

He is the original Starman after all. And who can forget his appearance at the Malta International Song Festival in July 1969 when, amongst other songs, he performed When I live my Dream, probably his best love song, with an orchestral backing? In the festival, he came second to a Spanish singer called Cristina: I wonder what happened to her?!

Later on, we dined at the top Maltese restaurant Wagamama where we were entertained by Lady Gaga. Wagagaga.

It’s hard work being on holiday so we took a day off. Reading, writing and ‘rithmetic were the order of the day for me, although Liesel did do some actual work on her laptop. We also packed to prepare for our departure.

On our previous visit to Malta, we’d missed out Gozo so we decided we’d pay a visit this time. The plan was to catch the fast ferry from Valletta. However, our plans were scuttled. Unlike the ferry, thank goodness.

Schedule Update: 10th January 2023 & 11th January 2023

Kindly be advised that due to the inclement weather conditions the Gozo Fast Ferry trips will be suspended for today Tuesday 10th January & tomorrow Wednesday 11th January.

Keep a look out on our socials or website for the latest updates.

Our plan B was to take a bus to Ċirkewwa and catch the normal, slow ferry. We could understand why the fast ferry service had been cancelled, the wind was really strong, the sea was being whipped up, such a contrast to the calm seas we’ve enjoyed for the last few days.

Here is the rough sea as seen through the dirty, rain-besplattered window of a moving bus. We waited for about half an hour at the ferry terminal where I paced up and down and round and round. There are signs everywhere telling us to wear masks, but nobody bothered. There’s even a vending machine selling them.

The voyage lasted about 25 minutes and the passage was indeed windy and rough. A couple of passengers turned a bit green but I think most of us felt ok. I went out on deck for a short while and the best thing is, my hat didn’t blow off.

Our b&b on Gozo is a bus ride away, in Victoria, below the famous citadel which we’ll explore another day. Claude met us, showed us around, and suggested some good places to walk on the island. He confirmed the public transport service is good, you can get pretty much anywhere in about 20 minutes by bus.

We went for a short walk to the town square where we had a late lunch. Or early dinner, if you prefer. And we got some shopping.

There’s space on this façade for two clocks, but rather than a sundial and a conventional clock, there is Alpha and Omega, for Jesus Christ, the beginning and end of our lives. The right hand clock gives a rough idea of the time of day, if you have no other means of telling the time.

Back at the b&b, we relaxed and considered thinking about planning what we might do and where we might go during the next few days, taking into account the conflicting weather forecasts.

The Other Side

We booked tickets for a show in London quite a while ago. Since then, we’ve been planning a whole weekend. For various reasons, we decided not to go by train nor to drive. Instead, we travelled by National Express coach. This was a first for Liesel, and I’ve not used their services since well before Liesel came on the scene. We took a bus into Manchester and found the coach station easily enough.

This shows how long it is since I’ve travelled by coach. In the coach station, I was expecting to be engulfed in a miasma of cigarette smoke and diesel fumes from coaches with the engines left running unnecessarily. But no, it was quite a pleasant atmosphere.

The coach stopped a couple of times on the way to London, but we still arrived at Victoria Coach Station 20 minutes early. A real bonus after being on board for over five hours.

From Victoria to Putney was quite easy and we checked into our accommodation.

The gig was at The Half Moon, Putney, and I knew exactly where it was. Just a short walk from our hotel, over Putney Bridge and along the road.

On the way, we bumped into Helen and Steve. What are the chances? A little further along the road and there it was. The Half Moon. On the wrong side of the street. Yep, I knew exactly where it was, so why it’s crossed the road, I don’t know.

We dined here before the show. And I met Alan in real life, someone I was friends with online until I left Facebook.

When we took our place at the table right in front of the stage, I also saw Sue, although we have met before.

So what was the show? ‘Those Were The Days’ as performed by Jessica Lee Morgan with Chris on bass and Paul Cuddeford on guitar.

Jessica covered songs written by or made famous by female musicians from 1968 to 1976. Two hours of brilliant songs, beautifully performed. Yes, of course I sang along but I wasn’t pelted with too many rotten tomatoes.

We enjoyed the late night walk back over he bridge and had a purple night’s sleep, as advertised.

Meeting someone at Liverpool Street Station is hard, we just don’t know it well enough, and certainly not the meeting points. So we agreed to meet Elakshi at a Starbucks. While waiting, we went next door to Pickwick’s for a nicer coffee.

Our friend Monica in Anchorage has a niece who’s studying here in the UK for a few months. We showed Elakshi round some of the more quirky sites in the city of London, including the Sculpture in the City trail.

Cosmos, 2018 is composed of three 3.5 metre-high slatted structures which lean into and support each other, painted black on the exterior and sprayed in a coloured gradient within. An imposing physical structure, the work encourages both a physical and aesthetic response. Says Rothschild: “The external piece is quite forbidding. Its black shiny surface is like a set of disruptive gates.”

This was number 8 on the trail, but we managed to miss a few. All were interesting in their own way, even if it was easy to walk by and miss some without realising.

Leadenhall Market was looking quite tentacular today, and not just because of the stars painted on the ceiling.

Our walk took us to Spitalfields Market where I just about resisted the temptation to look at the vinyl records on sale. We had lunch here in the crowded market before Elakshi had to head off for some proper study.

Liesel and I then made our way to Covent Garden, yes, another market, where we planned to buy absolutely nothing. Except Liesel was thinking of a particular clothes shop she wanted to visit. In one of the art shops, there was a portrait of David Bowie. One that moved as you walk by. Spooky.

On to Leicester Square and beyond to Trafalgar Square where I was pleased to see a new item on the 4th plinth.

Antelope by Samson Kambalu b. 1975, Malawi

Antelope restages a photograph of Baptist preacher and pan-Africanist John Chilembwe and European missionary John Chorley as a sculpture.

The photograph was taken in 1914 at the opening of Chilembwe’s new church in Nyasaland, now Malawi. Chilembwe has his hat on, defying the colonial rule that forbade Africans from wearing hats in front of white people. A year later, he led an uprising against colonial rule. Chilembwe was killed and his church was destroyed by the colonial police.

On the plinth, Chilembwe is larger than life, while Chorley is life-size. By increasing his scale, the artist elevates Chilembwe and his story, revealing the hidden narratives of underrepresented peoples in the history of the British Empire in Africa, and beyond.

At this point, we still hadn’t decided what to do in the evening. A film? A play? A musical? Another gig? In the end, we thought a comedy show would go down well and we spent a funny couple of hours in the company of Maisie Adam at Leicester Square Theatre.

The show finished early-ish so we decided to wander over to the South Bank for something to eat. You can’t go wrong at Wagamama. Oh yes you can. I chose a dish that I’ve had many times before but boy was it hot. Hot in the sense that it really stung my windburnt lips. And hot as in much more spicy than is usually the case. Phew. Once the steam stopped puffing out of my ears, I cooled my head down with a nice bowl of coconut ice cream. Phew indeed!

We went our separate ways on the Saturday. Liesel went south to spend the day with Rosie, walking from Surbiton via Kingston to Hampton Court along the towpath and having some giggly girly time together. Was I at all jealous? Well no, not at all, because I’d decided to pay a long overdue visit to the National Maritime Museam at Greenwich and then up the hill to the Observatory.

But as soon as I went outside, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. It was lovely and warm, verging on the muggy even, and the thought of sitting on buses and/or tube trains for hours to travel to Greenwich just wasn’t as attractive. Instead, I thought I’d walk part of the way and then maybe complete the journey on public transport. I headed in the direction of King’s Road and took in the sights and brought back some memories.

I passed by Parson’s Green, close to where I used to work in the mid-1980s. It hasn’t changed much. But another little patch of green is encouraging insects.

It’s always good to see birds of prey, especially in the middle of a large city.

Church’s of Cheaney Famous English Shoes

I do feel sorry for this one though, tethered as it is to the roof of a glorified shoe shop.

Not all quirky sculptures are in the City of London.

It’s been nearly five decades since I downed a pint of beer in The World’s End pub. I decided not to revisit today, even though a small part of me wondered whether I’d bump into my old work colleague and drinking buddy Clive. But suppose I owed him money?

The World’s End second-hand book shop on King’s Road hasn’t changed much either. If anything, it’s even more crammed with stock so that potential customers have to move around one at a time, like chess pieces on a very crowded board. I wasn’t surprised that they didn’t have a copy of a book that I’ve been looking for for many years: The Nabob’s Garden by Frederica Bennett. I read it several times as a child but can remember nothing about it other than it had a green cover and no dust jacket.

I knew I was taking too much time ambling along King’s Road but I knew something was really wrong with the spacetime continuum when I looked at the clock over the road. The hands were spinning round very fast.

This place looked very different in the olden days…

Dave the artist still exhibits his own paintings on King’s Road in the Open Air Gallery. He’s very friendly, go and have a chat if you’re passing by.

I wandered by the old Chelsea Hospital and onto a street market, close to the Saatchi Gallery, where I had some lunch.

I thought I’d make use of the facilities at Peter Jones. But no. The Gents toilet was out of order and the nearest one was the accessible toilets. Downstairs.

I hope there’s another route to the accessible toilets, I wouldn’t want to bump down those stairs in my wheelchair.

And so to Sloane Square, where, a few days after she died, I saw the Princess of Wales standing outside the underground station. No dead people today, but a throbbing mass of living ones.

Do I get a train towards Greenwich? No. I decided to continue walking until I stopped. Through Eaton Square and onto the side entrances to Buckingham Palace. I know King Charles isn’t planning to live here for at least a few years, so it was good to see that services to the palace were being discommected.

Millions of people were loitering by the front gates of the palace on this cloudy afternoon but I was surprised by the brightness of the Victoria Monument’s golden angel.

Time for some birdwatching in St James’s Park. Don’t feed or touch the pelicans, says the sign. Well, I didn’t even see any, just Egyptians, pigeons, ducks, geese, swans (black and white) and squirrels. And more pigeons. With whom I did not share by cinnamon doughnut and coffee.

After leaving the park, I realised I ought to head back. I took a bus back to Putney, changed my clothes, then took another bus into Kingston.

Did I regret not making it to Greenwich? No, I had a fantastic walk and Greenwich and the museum will still be there next time. I also didn’t see much of the South Bank on this occasion, just Wagamama. Apart from a slight sense of disloyalty, I didn’t mind walking on the other side of the river this time.

I perambulated through Kingston, mostly familiar, but there have been some changes here, towards the river. The plan was to meet up with Liesel and Liesel’s cousin. Yes, her cousin Andi with her husband of just a few months Steve have moved to the UK, specifically to Richmond upon Thames.

I first met Andi and Steve on holiday in Hawaii ten or so years ago, when Helen and Adam and Jenny came too, not to mention Liesel’s extended family. We’ve also been with them to a few Dave Matthews concerts.

The waiters in the restaurant must have been rolling their eyes when after several attempts at taking our order, we still hadn’t stopped talking long enough to look at the menu.

In the end, we had a very pleasant and enjoyable meal, at Comptoir Libanais since you ask, after which they invited us back to their pad, a quick 65 bus ride away. I’m old enough to remember when the 65 went all the way to Chessington.

Their house is located in a very desirable location, close to the river, close to shops, close to the railway station. The pomegranate tree, as far as we know, is the only one in Richmond and it needs a bit of a trim, to be honest. Liesel and I left quite late but it was easy enough to get back to Putney, via Earls Court on the District Line.

And so our short stay in London comes to an end. At Victoria, we visited The Shakespeare for a late breakfast. Do you have a menu, I asked? We’ll bring a menu over when we’re open for food at twelve o’clock. I felt suitably chastised. No nut roast today so we settled for very disappointing nachos. I couldn’t drink too much beer knowing we’d be on the coach for five hours. Another long journey that passed quickly thanks to some podcasts and a book and some puzzles.

Somehow, the 43 bus from Manchester back to Northenden seemed really slow, stopping every thirty seconds…

Back to normal then? Well, nearly. I have picked up the cold that Liesel’s had for a few days. I hope I didn’t pass it on to Martha and William when we met up at Quarry Bank Mill.

In between climbing trees, and playing in the playground and walking and running through the woods and climbing muddy slopes, we didn’t do much here today.

During the week, we went for our usual walks, noticing it become cooler as time went on. We walked to Didsbury and noticed that at last, after far too long, we are now able to walk on the other side of the Mersey between Palatine Road and Northenden Bridge. That path has been off limits while they jack up the motorway, or something.

The radio show this week was based on Jessica’s show, Those Were The Days. I’d picked up the set list, asked all three musicians to sign it for me, and I used it for my own show. I played (mostly) the original versions of the songs plus a couple of extras.

And if you’re interested, here is the playlist from the gig:

Turn Turn Turn
At Seventeen
Big Yellow Taxi
New York
Both Sides Now
Who Knows Where the Time Goes
Natural Woman
Songbird
Make Hay
It’s Too Late
Killing me Softly with his Song
You’re so Vain

Mercedez Benz
Me and Bobby McGee
The Man Who Sold the World
Ocean Song
You’ve Got a Friend
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
Hope Is
River
Texas Angel
Brand New Key
Jolene
Those Were The Days
This Wheel’s On Fire
Goodbye

I think my cold is receding, I feel less tired, less cold, less lethargic than I did yesterday, at least I was able to concentrate on this stuff for a while. The Covid tests have all come up negative.

And here we are: November already. Who knows where the time goes?

Goodbye.

Autumn draws on

Well there I was, as I often am, lying in bed listening to a podcast, when I hear my name being called. Liesel is walking to Didsbury in fifteen minutes time and would I like to join her? Well no, not really, I want to hear the end of the show and then maybe another one… But no, I got up, got dressed, and we had a very nice walk by the river.

As always we looked out for the heron but he was hiding out somewhere. Instead, we saw a pair of shags and a swan on the river. A swan? That is very unusual.

Autumn draws on apace as witnessed by the very pretty Autumn crocuses along the river bank.

At Fletcher Moss, we had coffee, and I had my breakfast: a veggie sausage and fried egg barm. I knew it would be messy but I also knew it would be delicious. It was. And it was. I had to wash the yolk and ketchup off my fingers afterwards.

I don’t mind mushrooms in a dish, just not as the main component. But today, if I’d asked for mushrooms in my breakfast barm, I know they would have been really fresh.

You can pick your own right here. It looks like the weather recently has been highly conducive to fungi taking over the planet.

Liesel and her WI buddies were stationed outside the Co-op in Didsbury, handing out flyers telling people where they could recycle items that the local council can’t deal with. Sadly, we didn’t bring one of these very informative pamphlets home. My mission was to buy some filo pastry. Not in Didsbury, I couldn’t. Three shops don’t sell it and the other one had sold out. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was walking up and down the High Street, visiting each of the supermarkets at least once each, adding to the step count, I might have been a bit miffed.

Ford Lane is easily flooded whenever it rains, but we successfully negotiated the puddles without being splashed whenever Stirling Moss or Lewis Hamilton drove raced by on their way to their golf course.

Jenny and Liam have been married now for a few weeks. I said I’d post more of the official photos. Well here’s one.

Thanks very much to Marc the Photographer for this fabulous image.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, Helen is moving into her new home. New furniture, new carpets, new address. We can’t wait to go and make ourselves at home there, somewhere in Brookvale, NSW.

There is now of course a huge pile of packaging to be disposed of. Sorry, Helen, we didn’t keep one of those flyers for you. But I suspect your local authority does things differently anyway.

My solo walk to Didsbury was rewarded with a massage. I hadn’t realised that all my muscle were so stiff. It was a good work-out, not necessarily for me, but I did feel much better afterwards.

The Wednesday walk in the rain was wet and wonderful. Added to which, I got papped back at Boxx 2 Boxx afterwards!

One of the highlights of the week was going to the cinema. Without looking it up, I can’t remember the last time we were in a movie theatre. We saw Moonage Daydream, the first film about our favourite alien superstar sanctioned by the David Bowie estate. It’s a roller-coaster ride of Bowie music, interviews, videos, remixes, over two hours of Bowie magic. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s even only slightly interested in Bowie’s life and times and philosophy.

This was our first time at The Light in Stockport, a cinema recommended by Jenny, even though she hasn’t been there herself. Yet!

Another highlight was visiting the gym in Wythenshawe. Liesel swam for a bit. I spent some time on the treadmill and the exercise bike. But the woirst thing was, I forgot to take a pound coin for the locker. That’s the real reason I wasn’t totally motivated.

Here’s a book recommendation. I really enjoyed this one.

It’s a period of history that we don’t know much about: the Roman invasion of northern Scotland. The characters and story are all very well written. It’s one of those stories that you don’t really want to finish. You want to know what happens after the events depicted. Highly recommended. Sisters at the Edge of the World by Ailish Sinclair.

The radio show this week was themed around Germany, in light of our recent trip. So, a few German musicians, some German music and songs that mention Germany, or a German city. If you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio, you can catch up here: