firsts – Mick and Liesel's Antics

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.

Time to go Home

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

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

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

Donald J. Trump
@realDonald Trump

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

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, alright, I made the last one up.

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

• Eat here and get gas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

To Santa Fe

If we wanted to immerse ourselves in the local culture, we couldn’t have asked for better hosts than Buzz, Neil and Gabe. They’d arranged for us all to attend the Pueblo Immersion, organised by the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center (IPCC). Before leaving for this event, though, Liesel and I started packing for our next little adventure, side-trip, whatever you call it.

We drove past the Cannabis Dispensary on the way to the IPCC but made no plans to pay a visit, sample the goods or anything.

On arrival at IPCC, we were all presented with a Visitors’ lanyard and all of ours had a blue sticker which meant that later on, we would all be in the blue group for the tour around the museum.

We were seated at tables, all facing the front, like being in a school classroom again, not quite trusting the folks behind us to behave.

After an enjoyable lunch, we watched Flo and Lee with an interesting pottery demonstration: Flo making the clay bird while Lee very carefully painted a finished, fired plate.

The pottery is made using shale clay mixed with old pottery shards to create a water-tight seal. After “white slipping” with wet white sandstone, the pottery is polished. Orange paint is made from mashed and strained orange sandstone, while black paint is a mix of Iron Oxide and wild spinach juice. The Yucca leaf is used for applying paint after being chewed on to remove excess fibers and achieve the correct thickness for fine line and detailed painting. I would never have guessed that spinach was involved, but all the skills have been passed down through several generations. Flo and Lee are pleased that their grandchildren are now showing an interest too.

Anthony was the guide for the blue group’s tour of the museum. We saw how the different pueblos developed, how the people got on, even though there were several different languages being spoken. And the pots made in different places have distinctive shapes and designs.

We learned about Po’Pay’s successful Pueblo revolt against the Spanish invaders in 1680. The Spaniards were either killed or expelled from the province. Unfortunately for the locals, they returned 12 years later.

The Indian Pueblo Cultural Center (IPCC) is honored to collaborate with NSRGNTS, an Albuquerque-based duo comprised of artists Leah Povi Lewis (Laguna, Taos, Zuni Pueblos/Hopi/Diné) and Votan (Maya/Nahua), on a commissioned mural created for the Art Through Struggle Gallery. NSRGNTS is a successful Indigenous brand, business, and art collective that advocates for Indigenous rights. They are known for their murals of Indigenous resilience painted in vivid colors in a “kawaii” style – a “cute,” illustrative style similar to Japanese anime. Their seven-panel mural provides a visual story of Pueblo empowerment throughout the past, present, and future.

This, the middle section focuses on an integral event of Pueblo history – the 1680 Pueblo Revolt that resulted in the ousting of Spanish rule in Pueblo lands for 12 years. Holding a knotted yucca cord, Po’pay, the Ohkay Owingeh leader of this revolt, stands at the center as a role model and a figure of strength.

As soon as the tour ended, Liesel and I had to rush off to the airport, oops, sorry, Albuquerque International Sunport. Jyoti and her new man, Rupert, were joining us from North Carolina. We found them easily enough, hugged and all that, and took them back for a quick hello-goodbye with Buzz, Neil, Gabe and Leslie. The new arrivals were joining Liesel and me on our trip to Santa Fe. This will be the first significant amount of time Liesel and I have spent without Mom for about a year.

The drive to Santa Fe was interesting, as we passed many different landscapes. It seemed to me that the further north we were, the greener it was. Santa Fe is also 2,000 feet higher in altitude than Albuquerque and I was already fed up with the nosebleeds caused by, or at least exacerbated by, the high altitudes and low humidity.

This isn’t a volcano but a naturally eroded hill southwest of Santa Fe.

We arrived at Tammy’s house while it was still light. You remember Tammy? She walked Hadrian’s Wall with Liesel, Jyoti, Teresa and me two years ago. Sadly, Teresa, Tammy’s sister, wasn’t here for the grand reunion. We miss you, Teresa! For the first time, I met Tammy’s husband, Aaron.

After breakfast (Jyoti fixed me her world-famous fried eggs on toast, and I still don’t know why Americans fix food, it’s not broken, is it, but there you go, separated by a common language, now where was I…?) oh yeah, after breakfast, we all drove into Santa Fe and had a walk around the Old Town.

The original walls and altar of the San Miguel Chapel were built in 1610 by a group of Tlaxcala Indians from Mexico, who accompanied the early Spanish settlers to New Mexico. The site of the chapel shows evidence of previous human occupation from around 1300 A.D.

The chapel roof was burned during the Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1680. Evidence of the fire that destroyed the roof can be seen in the adobe bricks of the chapel today, since new adobes for the reconstruction were mixed on the site and bits of charcoal were inevitably mixed into the mud.

This city too is proud to show of its artworks, murals, sculptures and of course, the architecture is wonderful, and it’s always good to see a low-level place: there are few skyscrapers here

There are 300 art galleries along Canyon Road. We’ll probably visit them one day, but we’ll need to find something to do later on in the afternoon.

The locally made rugs attracted our attention. They’re not necessarily perfect, sometimes the colours run, but if we had the wallspace, I think we might have purchased one.

We viewed some phots taken by Edward Curtis. He was an American photographer and ethnologist whose work focused on the American West and Native American people. Sometimes referred to as the “Shadow Catcher”, Curtis traveled the United States to document and record the dwindling ways of life of various native tribes through photographs and audio recordings. I was going to buy a book about him, but the typeface was tiny, so I’ll get it on the old Kindle later on.

Liesel and I had visited an exhibition of Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings at Tate Modern some years ago. It was good to visit the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum here in Santa Fe. She lived for a long time in New Mexico.

A painting by and destroyed by Georgia O’Keeffe

No idea what this picture was, but Georgia didn’t like it and cut it up just a couple of years later. What a shame.

I realised that I have a lot in common with Georgia O’Keeffe. She liked to dress in black or white. And all the socks I currently own are either black or white. I wish I had her artistic talent, though.

Have you ever seen a horse box?

We sat outside watching the Sun go down behind the trees and the mountains, listening to the birds and even a train tooting its horn as it passed by in the distance. And it did become noticeably colder as the evening wore on.

Snow and ice

When my neighbour passenger woke up (yes, grrr, he managed several hours sleep), he opened the window shutter and the first thing I saw was a range of snow-capped mountains. Liesel looked sheepish when I reminded her that she’d said that all the snow had gone, melted, thawed, disappeared.

We collected our bags and then Jyoti collected us. It was about 6am, light and cold. A mere 2° here in Anchorage, but I thought it was quite refreshing after being cooped up in a packed jetliner for that sleepless five hours.

Thanks, Jyoti, for driving us home, which is, for us, Leslie’s new apartment that she moved into just on five months ago. We soon got into the swing of things, having a coffee from Kaladi Bros just over the road plus a pastry. The view from our room, of course, features snow. Not pristine, freshly fallen snow, but dirty sludge that’s been festering outside since last October.

Despite my best intentions, I couldn’t stay awake for the rest of the day, and indeed, we all had a nap. Followed by a refreshing shower.

I proudly wore a borrowed Harvard sweatshirt for our quick perambulation down to Westchester Lagoon. I didn’t know how to respond when a stranger just said ‘Harvard!’ as he passed by us. I hope I didn’t miss out on something special by not knowing the secret response/password.

There are still patches of ice on the lake, icebergs even.

In the depths of Winter, the ice is so solid, it is a great venue for ice skaters. They even use a Zamboni every few days to provide a clean, smooth surface. Would I skate here? I like the idea, but from experience, the only way I know to stop in a timely manner is to head for the wall of the ice rink. There is no such barrier here, so I guess I’d just keep going until I hit the mountains.

But it’s not all cold stuff here. We saw some signs of Spring.

Fire Island is a great, rustic bakehouse. We paid our first visit here, bought some bread and enjoyed coffee and pastries.

Back at home, I completed the crossword in the local paper, Anchorage Daily News, messed up the Soduko, but I did complete the New York Times crossword for the first time.

This will take some getting used to, I think: the Sun is setting at 10pm right now, that’s three hours later than it did in Honolulu. Plus, the twilight period is much longer. When it’s so light, so late, it’s quite hard getting to sleep.

Our nephews Asa and Gideon played in a football game at West Anchorage High School.

The backdrop of mountains occasionally detracted from the action on the pitch, but what a great setting. Another distraction was the markings for an American Football pitch, which were much more prominent than the yellow lines for soccer. Spoiler alert: I’m not a big football (soccer) fan, but even though West Anchorage (our team) won the match 1-0, given the run of play, I think they should have won by a much higher score.

Unfortunately, the bleachers are still mostly covered in snow, but we did find a dry spot to sit. For the first time, I wore long trousers and I’m glad I did, because after sitting outside in a slight breeze, even I was beinning to feel a little chilly.

Yay, we went shopping at Carrs. Liesel’s shopping list was as long as your arm, and in the end, the trolley (cart) was groaning under the weight of the purchases.

In the evening, Liesel and I visited Jyoti’s son Suvan and his wife Kayla at their place. Six years ago, we just missed attending their wedding because the bureaucracy pertaining to moving house in the UK is a ridiculously long-winded business. It was good to see them, not to mention Suvan’s musical instruments and other technology with which he is composing music and sound effects for a video game. I look forward to playing some on my radio show one day (hint, hint). Who else was there? Jyoti and other pets, Shanti, 16 years old and Basil, much younger. And a cat.

Is there a photograph of Suvan and Kayla? Of course not, that would require me to remember to take pictures of people, not just of things.

When Liesel and Leslie went out to run errands, my mission, which I chose to accept, was to go to Fire Island to buy a baguette. Liesel wasn’t surprised that I had a coffee there, but she was surprised that I didn’t partake of a delicious sweet treat too. Well, I had only just had breakfast. On the way, I did encounter some wildlife.

Yep, the old captions are the best.

And more small signs of Spring.

It had rained overnight, and it was still trying to precipitate now, very half-heartedly. I didn’t want the newly purchased baguette to get too soggy, so I went straight home. Otherwise, I might have enjoyed a longer walk.

The other thing that’s different here in AK is the atmosphere. It’s so dry compared with Hawaii’s humidity, Liesel and I are both experiencing nosebleeds and chapped lips. I’m sure we’ll adapt in the fullness of time, but it’s a bit of a challenge right now.

Beaches, birds and boats

Liesel and I gatecrashed Helen and Brent’s regular Sunday breakfast date at Little Collins, a lovely little place in Freshwater. Aka Freshie. The meal was great, but even though we’ve come all the way here for some sunshine, we did have to ask for the blind to be brought down to shield us from the Sun. When I say ‘gatecrashed’, don’t worry, we were invited. This is Helen and Brent’s regular Sunday morning, before he goes off to the daily grind.

After Brent left for work, the rest of us drove into Manly. We wandered around the street market for a while, before the main event, the reason we were here: we’d all booked a massage.

Helen and Liesel went to the massage place and I was left to my own devices. Which meant of course, after a break of five years, a return visit to Three Beans Coffee. I enjoyed my coffee and pastry while sitting on a bench, in the shade, by the smaller of Manly’s two beaches.

As the time of my appointment approached, I hoped the recently consumed, large, very tasty, very enjoyable croissant wouldn’t affect my appreciation of the massage. It didn’t. It seems the therapists are allowed to use a lot more force in Australia compared with those at home. I thought I’d come away with bruises all down my backbone, but there is no external evidence of the pain and discomfort I went through. But, I think everything, every muscle, tendon, ligament and bone, that was displaced during the 24 hours sitting on a plane has now been put back where it belongs.

Back at Helen’s we showered off and Helen’s friend Jacqui collected and drove us to a barbecue at Nat and Rob’s house. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and the view from their place is stunning.

View from Nat and Rob’s house towards Sydney

Helen lived with Nat and Rob for a year between moving away from Manly and moving into her own place here in Brookvale. Nat and Rob have two boys, about whom we have heard a lot over the years: Hamish and Sebby. So, what do all these people look like? Where are the photographs, Mick? Again, I failed to take pictures of people. I’ll be getting the sack at this rate.

There was a lot of chat during the afternoon, and to accompany the music, the soundtrack outside was supplied by some crows.

A few of the guests made use of the open-air pool, but Liesel, Helen and I had left our swimwear back at home.

Rumours that the telecope is used to spy on the neighbours are, of course, unfounded. But I did manage to focus on Sydney or Westfield Tower or even Centrepoint Tower as it used to be known. Trying to get a good photo though, with my phone, through the telecope, proved impossible.

We sat outside eating, drinking, chatting until late in the evening. Seb and Hamish went to bed. Brent joined us after work. The incense sticks seemed to do a good job of keeping the mosquitoes away, although Liesel did find a bite on her ankle a couple of days later.

Later on, I felt bad, because while most people had been drinking, Liesel remained sober and was thus able to drive us home in Brent’s car. This left Jacqui to walk home on her own. If I’d been more on the ball, I would have offered to do the right, gallant, thing. Grrr.

I’ll be trying to keep the Antics reasonably up to date, and with this in mind, I sat outside and did some writing in the morning. Liesel is doing some work here on and off, for Amrit too, so we can both keep ourselves busy, in between walks and other activities. While sitting outside, we saw a beautiful blue butterfly fluttering by, but never settling long enough to be photographed. Later research suggest it was probably a blue triangle, and we’ll certainly be on the lookout for more examples. Helen was elsewhere, working.

It was another beautiful day, and we walked back to Westfield Warringah Mall.

Bin chickens! No, that’s not an Aussie expletive, but the name given to the white ibises that wander round, looking for food and redistributing litter from the bins. We saw one on a school playing field and of course, my first response was to take its picture, even though we’ll probably see thousands more in and around Sydney. Quite rightly, Liesel was concerned that a casual observer might think I was taking illicit photos of the students at the school. You have to be so careful these days.

From the Mall, we caught a bus to Manly but we didn’t realise this bus went the long way round, via Freshie, and we recognised some of the locations from our walk a couple of days before.

As we walked by the beach, we shouted words of encouragment at the beautiful young people playing volleyball. We would have joined in, obvs, but we didn’t have our outfits with us.

No, of course we didn’t really shout at anybody, words of encouragement nor anything else. We walked along the path to Shelly Beach, a familar route from years past. It was good to see the water dragons are still thriving and yes, I took a picture at the first opportunity. This one’s quite well camouflaged.

We passed by more dragons on the way back to Manly, some underneath benches on which people sat, totally oblivious to the menace underneath them. Here’s another one, more out in the open.

The wildlife wasn’t wholly reptilian on this jaunt. We encountered our first brush turkey of this trip too. It had to be shot.

Shot photographically, I mean.

Back in town, we purchased a snack which we consumed on a bench looking out to sea, watching the swimmers and surfers having a great time. Then came the announcement. At home, bluebottles are harmless, if annoying, flies that come into your house and then can’t find their way out again. Here, bluebottles are nasty, common visitors to Sydney’s beaches. Also known as Pacific man-of-war, we usually think of them as jellyfish that can sting. The public address system told us that several had been sighted close to the beach and that it would be a good idea to leave the water. Some people heeded the warning, but many didn’t.

Liesel had an ice cream and I had a mint choc chip milk shake before catching the bus back to Brookvale.

A couple of fellow passengers were very obviously out of their gourds on chemicals, harmless enough, but the girl was very talkative and she was eccentrically adorned in the head department. Like a new Steig Larsson novel, almost.

It wasn’t planned this way, but Helen arrived from work in perfect time to pick us up from the bus stop.

Brent works on Saturdays and Sundays so his weekend is Monday and Tuesday. On his day off, he drove us all to Long Reef for a very pleasant walk around the headland. I can’t remember who first noticed the pelicans on top of a lamppost.

Further along the path, we watched a young paraglider take off. No long, fast run-up like you always used to see, just a short, sedate walk to the edge and there he was, gone. Liesel and I didn’t need to say anything out loud, our respective looks said that that was something we don’t need to try, thanks very much.

Actually, it does look fun, but I’m sure if I had a go, I’d forget how to use the controls and then crash into a bush, like the one time I rode a moped.

The other day, I failed to take a picture of the blue triangle. Today, I successfully captured possibly its earlier metamorphic self: a very hairy, spiky and slower-moving caterpillar.

The path was well-made, it was a very comfortable walk. Brent spotted a native in the bushes.

We didn’t actually see him poke his little blue tongue out, so this might be another misidentification.

Dee Why beach looks very attractive in the distance, and I’m sure we’ll pay a visit one day.

Dee Why beach with the back of Helen and a tantalising first glimpse of Brent

At the coffee shop, I surprised everyone by having a mango juice instead of my default, hot, beverage.

Today Liesel and I had our first Aussie pies of the trip. Helen, Brent and I chose pies with a spicy Mexican bean filling, absolutely delicious, and Liesel opted for a spinach and feta cheese filling. Not sure it was feta though.

We’d had enough sunshine and fresh air, so in the afternoon, we treated ourselves to a movie. Bob Marley: One Love was very interesting, but we agreed that the ending was very sudden. One of the main attractions, was the air-conditioned cinema! The woman in front of left after about half an hour, maybe she was expecting a Bob Marley concert. The four of us were the last to leave having watched some of the credits.

Hoyts, the cinema, is in the shopping mall. After Helen and Brent went home, Liesel and I went shopping. Or, to put it another way, after a coffee, Liesel went shopping and I just mooched about.

As shopping centres go, this is quite a pleasant one. I just wonder what it’s like if it’s ever as crowded as Manchester’s Arndale Centre, for instance?

In the evening, we visited the Harbord Hotel, known locally as the Harbord Hilton. Not because we were slumming it for the night, but so that we could join Helen and Brent’s team for the Pub Quiz, aka Trivia. We were joined by Jacqui, who we met a few nights ago, and by Jo, another friend. Team name? Norfolk ‘n’ Chance featuring Blue Meanies. Liesel and I are the Blue Meanies, since we’re both big fans of the Beatles. Right, Liesel? Oh and no, I still didn’t take pictures of our new friends.

We enjoyed the quiz, in fact we did quite well considering other teams had up to 15 members!

Turtle, trees and tiles

I’m the first to admit that I’m no fashion expert. I would never comment on whatever somebody chooses to wear. But I might laugh to myself at their outfit. A few times in Northenden, we’ve seen what, at first glance, are naked young ladies prowling the streets. They’re not really au naturel of course, but the choice of clothing is flesh-coloured, tight trousers and top. I dare you not to do a double-take when you see such a thing in your peripheral vision. And, if they’re walking along the road in front of you, how hard can it be not to take a picture? Well, very hard. An old bloke papping a young girl from behind, while walking?

She was sitting at the bus stop as I passed her and I wondered, does she know? Would I go out in flesh-coloured outerwear? Only as a dare. Or for charity. But the rest of my wander that day was uneventful.

In the evening, LIesel and I watched a chat online between Mary Beard and David Olusoga. They were talking about Roman Emperors and in particular Mary’s latest book, Emperor of Rome.

Imagine my surprise a few days later when the postman delivered a parcel. It was a copy of this very book. This very weighty tome. It’s so long since I booked tickets for the online event, I’d forgotten I must have ordered the book as well. Something to look forward to when I want something to read and something with which to build up my arm muscles.

On another occasion, I went out for a haircut. I know, there’s not much left, since I only went five minutes ago. Or so it seems. And we felt a bit sad as we walked by the empty shop formerly known as Quirky Misfits.

As we ambled along by the river, a man said to us, ‘there are no birds’. I thought he meant, there are no herons today. Which wouldn’t be a surprise. But no, he was right, there were no birds at all, no ducks on the water, not even any pigeons flying around, and no birdsong from the trees. Weird.

It was our turn to collect the children from school again this week. The first question they usually ask is, where’s the snack? When we remember, we take them a small snack from home. But right now, we’re out of snacks. We’re trying to eat everything before setting off on our trip. So, after a very civilised discussion, we took them to Head Over Heels for a snack, cake, and a couple of hours of running around and climbing and sliding.

We took them to their home for dinner because Liesel and I had a show to go to in the evening. Another pair of tickets purchased a long, long time ago. We went home and changed, then drove into Manchester parking close to the venue, Stoller Hall. The support act was Jack Badcock, and he was very entertaining, good songs and funny stories.

But the main attraction was Eddi Reader. Yes, we saw her last year in a cave, and a few times before that, but she always puts on a good show, and her set is never predictable.

Eddi’s band includes her husband John as well as Boo Hewerdine. Yes, I sang along sotto voce, except when invited to join in, when I turned my volume up to 11. No, not really. She performed Charlie is my Darlin’ and I remembered my old biology teacher, Martin Hyman, while discussing the theory of evolution, breaking into song, singing Charlie is my Darwin.

You don’t think about teachers for ages, and then two memories come along at once. The actor David McCallum sadly died this week. He played Illya Kuryakin in one of my favourite TV programmes at the time, The Man from UNCLE. So, in French lessons at school, whenever Jim Merritt used the phrase ‘il y a’, the class would respond with ‘Kuryakin’.

That’s enough about school, here’s Eddi again.

We had a good night’s sleep ahead of our travels. It didn’t take long to pack in the morning and the taxi arrived on time for our trip to the airport, Terminal 3. Check-in? Easy. Securiy check? No problem. We were through within twenty minutes and had a couple of hours to pass before boarding the plane bound for Porto. This was a first visit to Portugal for both of us.

The flight? Two and a half hours occupied by a puzzle and a good book. Remind me not to buy Ryanair coffee on board though, it tastes of plastic. I had to chew gum to take away the after-taste.

We landed just before a very quick sunset and although in retrospect, we think we bought the wrong type of ticket from the machine, we took the Metro to our place of abode for the next few days, in Porto.

One of the first things we saw out on the street was this tree, nicely swaddled in pink stuff. We saw trees similarly wrapped in many other colours too, and it was a couple of days before we found out what this was all about.

This was the view from out second storey apartment. Maria, our host, showed us all the sites and restaurants and places of interest on the map, but I’m not sure we took much in. I for one focussed on a couple of locations. We’re only here for a couple of days, after all.

We didn’t have anything in for breakfast, so we went for a walk the next morning. We knew Porto was hilly, but I took that to mean, it would undulate, you’d walk up and down in turn, stretching different muscles in turn. But no. On this first walk, we walked down and down and down.

It’s an old city and it will be nice when it’s finished. This building for instance has a decent façade, but not much going on behind.

Many of the buildings look attrcative to us because they’re covered in tiles, all sorts of patterns and colours.

It’s a Catholic country and Porto doesn’t disappoint with the number of churches and chapels.

For example, this chapel is of course quite beautiful in its own right. But the main point of interest is the faded Pillsbury Doughboy on the wall down the road a bit.

Graffiti is the same everywhere, we realise, lots of ugly tags and rude words, but with the occasional work of art. And then there’s this homespun philosophy:

Liesel admired the crochet decorating this staircase. I wonder whether there’a a local equivalent of the WI responsible?

We’d only found a few euros at home, so we thought we should get some out of a machine. The nearest ATM was half a mile from our location when we trusted our fate to Google Maps. We both extracted some cash, to confirm that both our cards would indeed work. And after this point, we saw an ATM everywhere we looked. On one street, there were four shops in a row, each with a cash machine outside.

Similarly, we didn’t come across a tourist information office. Until we did, and then there were three different ones all located on one particular corner.

There’s a big market, all under cover, where we could have bought any amount of fish and meat, fruit and cheese. I’ve never seen so many cans of sardines. I’ve never seen so many different brands of tins of sardines. In the end, we just had coffee and what turned out to be a very squishy cake. Which made my hands sticky. So I went into the facility to wash them. As I was standing by the sink, giving them a good scrub, the cleaner shouted at me, I’m guessing, to go away. I thought it was because she was about to clean that set of wash basins. But no, it turns out I was in the ladies’. Oh well.

On the top floor of the market, there is this model of the whole structure, which is built on several levels. We entered from street level on the ground floor, and left from the third floor, also at that point, at street level.

As we were walking along minding our own business. I was approached by a young man with a clipboard. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked. ‘Nein,’ I replied, putting a defensive hand up. He apologised and moved on. I’m not a fan of chuggers at home, never mind in strange cities.

We had a sit down in St Anthony’s Church, and we both lit a candle for our lost, loved ones.

As we wandered around, I was keeping count of the buskers. Until I lost count, there were so many of them. Two were playing guitars, one had a barrel organ and what appeared to be a trained pigeon dancing. We saw one singer and one saxophone player.

And on the whole, we were still walking down and down, towards the river Doura. And here we were entertained by three performers in a row. A guitar version of Coldplay’s Paradise, someone singing Elton John’s Your Song and the last guy was singing George Michael’s Careless Whisper. And there were plenty more buskers where they came from. A very musical city indeed.

We crossed the river on Ponte Luis I, and there was a guy walking along the top. We wondered whether he was going to jump in, but I suspect he just gets his kicks from watching tourists looking and pointing at him, wondering whether he’s going to jump in the river or not!

Lunch was meh, nothing special, but I had my first Portuguese beer. The views of the city, to the north of the river especially, were stunning. It is a very pretty city.

And just look at that sky! Proper sky blue. I never knew I wanted to see a turtle made out of old car tyres, until I actually saw one.

And then we took the teleferico, the gondola, to save walking up the hill.

It was a beautiful day and we were just about done walking, so we knew we couldn’t, on this occasion, hang around to see the Sun set. So we took the metro back home again.

Siesta time. I’m not sure whether I completely nodded off, but I was surprised to be woken by my phone. It was David, my brother, who by some strange coincidence lives in Portugal. And, yes, we’ll be visiting him very soon.

Time for another quick walk to a local supermarket to buy some food for dinner tonight. Cheese sandwiches and crisps, how does that sound? Suitably Portuguese? I was fascinated to see that the local authorities employed Yayoi Kusama to design the local car parking facilities.

A very nice man in the supermarket helped Liesel use the bread slicing machine. He might hang around all the time, waiting for clueless visitors. But how nice, that they trust customers to slice their own bread like that.

We walked and metroed back home again. What a wonderful first whole day in Porto, we feel well exercised. The only downer was seeing news that ‘our’ tree has been vandalised and cut down. Sycamore Gap will never be the same again. And to think we were lucky enough to visit it just four months ago.

We’re in a quiet area in Porto, we’ve just heard a couple of dogs, and the cleaners outside, but it is really quiet. So we were delighted to be serenaded by a soprano practicing her scales somewhere along the road. Liesel wouldn’t let me go out on the balcony to harmonise.

Our second and final full day started with a sort of croissant and a slice of bread accompanied by a cup of tea with no milk. We didn’t want to buy too much stuff that we’d have to lug around Portugal.

Again, when we left our accommodation, we turned right to walk downhill. Well, it’s a 50-50 chance!

We didn’t go into Clérigos Church and Tower. On another occasion, I might want to climb the tower, but not today. I was following one of my GPs’ advice: pace yourself. No need to feel uncomfortably short of breath in a strange place.

We heard the bells tell us when it was ten o’clock and part of me wondered what was the significance? Well, just a few minutes later, my phone reminded me that tickets were now on sale for Seth Lakeman in February. So I bought a couple of tickets. And the whole process was straightforward, just a bit disappointed that we never had the chance to select our own seats. And the usual whige about being charged extra for electronic tickets.

We found a fountain and Liesel thought it was a good place for a selfie. The Fonte dos Leões, the Fountain of Lions, recycles its water and is lit up at night.

Here is another Catholic Church, and the picture is composed of tiles, each hand painted and fired and, phew, glued on the wall in the right place. That would have taken some planning.

We encountered more buskers today of course. One young lady was playing slide guitar and I kept expecting her to segue into Dire Straits’ Private Investigations, but she just carried on doing her own stuff. We can’t throw money at all of these street entertainers of course, but she was the first of two today. The other one was this guy dancing with a life-size doll.

He had some good moves and she just followed him around, the expression on her face not changing at all.

Liesel had read something about freak, deformed trees in Porto. We found them in the park, Jardim da Cordoaria.

I think they’re London Plane trees, but it does depend who you believe. They’re certainly different to the plane trees in actual London. They may have been cut back and regrown, or they may be affected by fungus, there are many stories. Also in this park, you can see a set of sculptures featuring jolly gentlemen being daft. So of course, I had to join them.

This turns out to have been the final work by sculptor Juan Muñoz who died in 2001. Thanks for the laughs, Juan.

We carried on walking and when looking west, thought, wouldn’t it be nice to see the Sun set? Yes, but it’s a bit hazy in that direction. Well, all the better for a nice red sunset!

We came across this graffiti, whch turns out to be world famous. After a ridiculous amount of time on Google, it seems that it just means ‘Tagging is not dead’. Well, some of us wish tagging were dead, and the space left for other artwork.

We passed this statue a couple of times. It depicts a local bishop from about a hundred years ago. He’s very angular, isn’t he? But what really caught my eye was the fact that he’s wearing spectacles.

I had a strange synaesthetic experience today. Usually, my synaesthesia is confined to ‘seeing’ flashes of colour when I hear a sudden crash or bang. But today, when I first saw this pattern of paving stones…

… I immediately ‘heard’ the sound of fireworks going off, phweee… very strange. Also, I wasn’t feeling tired nor stressed at this point, which is when I am normally suscepible to such phenomena.

Time for a coffee and cake? Of course. We sat inside to avoid the coach party and the smoker that arrived and sat outside as we were queueing. It was nice to sit down for a while. And the coffee was so good, I had a second, which is also very unusual for me.

Liesel had some work to do, so we decided to return to base. A short walk and a short metro ride and another short walk later, here we are. When we disembarked at Marquês, we spent some time looking at the colourfully wrapped trees and other displays of colour. It’s all part of an art installation called Chromatic Emotions – Porto ’23.

I do like this one, and it’s only enhanced of course by some supermodel photo-bombing.

Back in doors, Liesel worked while I wrote, we had some lunch, listened to some bloke called Mick the Knife on the radio and then played some other music.

Yes, this week’s show was Friends and Friendship and you can catch it here, if you missed it by accident when it was broadcast on Wythenshawe Radio.

Wedding Weekend

Sometimes you go to bed at the end of the day and you have no recollection of anything that happened. One day this week passed in such a manner. It was a Thursday. We did some more tidying up, we started packing for the weekend ahead, and that’s about it. I took zero photographs, which is very unusual. A busy, productive day but totally unmemorable. I don’t know why I mentioned it really. I’m sorry I wasted your time on this paragraph.

Jump to Friday. Pauline and Andrew drove to the airport to pick up Robert, who’d flown in from Vancouver. Yes, Liesel and I only saw him fairly recently, but this was the first reunion with his mother, my sister Pauline, since he moved to Canada all those years ago.

Now we are six. For the first time, there are six people staying in our flat overnight, which seems to have shrunk in size. Rob drew the short straw (we drew it for him) and he slept on an inflatable bed in the office/studio, curled around the legs of the desk.

Before settling down for the night though, we had fish and chips from the local chippy. We bought far too many chips. Which is why, for breakfast the following day, we had egg and chips.

And so, after years of anticipation and planning, the Wedding Weekend began. I am pleased to announce that my daughter Jenny was marrying Liam at an event postponed for a couple of years because of the pandemic.

We woke up to a beautiful Saturday morning. After our stodgy breakfast, Pauline, Andrew, Rob and I drove to the venue, Knockerdown Cottages, near Ashbourne, on the cusp of the Peak District National Park in the Derbyshire Dales. Yes, what a beautiful part of the country. Just look at the view!

After a lovely drive, despite a couple of diversions, we arrived and parked at the venue at about 11.45. I saw Liam and walked over to say hello. I was immediately told to go to the back of the line over there, to join Jenny, as they were timing the walk up the aisle. Well, a trail of hessian mats on the grass, that led to a gazebo in front of which the ceremony would be conducted. I felt bad that the others were unloading the car without my help. (Afterwards, not at the time, I was in a whirlwind out of my control.) We had a lot of stuff. For the weekend and for a couple of weeks afterwards too. We spent much of the weekend meeting old friends. Danielle, Louise, Katie and Sarah, Jenny’s friends from school, along with the leader of the gang, Helen, were all there leading the procession, followed by Martha and William, with Jenny and myself walking slowly behind. This wasn’t really a full-blown rehearsal. Another long-time friend, Ross, took us through the ceremony, advising us who stands and sits where and when and of course all I can think of is how I ~~can possibly~~ will probably mess the whole thing up.

Meanwhile, back at home, Liesel and Leslie drove to the airport to pick up Michael (Sarah’s brother) and Astrid, visiting from Norway. After a quick trip to Quarry Bank Mill, they joined us at Knockerdown later in the afternoon.

I was glad our car was amongst the first to arrive in the morning, we could be useful for a bit. We moved bottles of wine and fizz from one cottage to another, we moved some furniture. As a former postie, I was given the task of delivering the Welcome letters to each of the cottages.

Most of the guests arrived soon after 3pm, as did the groceries we’d ordered. Ours came from Ocado as usual, but during the course of the afternoon, Tesco and Sainsbury were represented.

The venue includes a games room and a swimming pool. I confirmed at various times over the weekend that I am still no good at pool (it was a manky table, but I don’t think it made much difference), table tennis (the table seemed much smaller than I remember from my youth) and table football (despite spending too much time on the game while at university).

With about 75 guests in one place for the weekend, there had to be a disaster. And the first one sadly fell to Martha.

For some reason, she threw her mermaid into a tree. It took several people, several sticks, a ball, a pool cue and a broom to finally dislodge the doll from the arboreal resting place.

Pizza Pi turned up and set up his wood stove in the courtyard, right outside our cottage. Nice and convenient and we wondered, unnecessarily, would our cottage be filled with smoke? The pizzas were very tasty, and were accompanied by a variety of leaves and salad.

It was good to see Michael and Astrid again after all these years. Also here were several members from Liam’s wider family including Una’s sisters and Alan’s brother Lawrence.

In the evening, everyone sat down and ate more pizza and snacks and drank copious amounts of alcohol and non-alcohol. Matt, a very entertaining friend of Jenny and Liam, took us through a number of fun party games.

Modesty prevents me from saying that our team, number 10, won. After each task, someone had to run up to Matt and declare their team number. Our table was the closest. But that doesn’t mean we weren’t the best! Obviously.

After a busy, exciting and fun day, of course it was quite hard to get to sleep that night. Finally, after all this time, I was within hours of delivering the Father of the Bride speech. Those who know me know I am not a natural extrovert, I don’t enjoy being the centre of attention and I certainly don’t perform in front of more than four people at a time. So the butterflies were slowly gathering together in my stomach.

When I emerged from my pit on Sunday morning, the kitchen was a hive of industry. Liesel and Pauline were making sandwiches for the children’s lunchboxes, and Leslie was making use of her origami skills, folding and sealing the lunch boxes with all the other lovely components.

I ate a hearty breakfast, spent some time alone going through the speech for the hundredth time. I’d been working on it for nearly three years, on and off, so of course, by now, it made no sense, it was absolute rubbish. Fortunately my secret proofreader/editor has helped out recently, thank you, Helen!

Another disaster. Someone gave me some cash with which to pay the bar staff when they arrived. Liesel saw me put it in my pocket. Later on, I couldn’t find it. I asked around, I retraced all my steps, but no. People agreed with me that this new-fangled plastic money is so easy to lose, when you pull something out of your pocket, for instance. The bar staff were paid, so don’t worry about that.

Three days later, in a place a long way, away, I bent down to put my trainers on. There was some sort of obstruction in my left shoe. Yes, you’re ahead of me. It was the cash I now remember putting there for safe keeping. I think it’s fair to say, pre-speech nerves adversely affect the memory.

Back to Sunday. The children had a Hearts Trail to follow, a series of 18 heart-shaped wooden plaques carefully hidden by adults.

William started well but later, I witnessed one of Liam’s aunts completing his sheet on his behalf. Shh, don’t tell anyone.

Another disaster, oh no. William was stung by a wasp. He soon got over the shock but that was something else we could do without.

While chatting with Uncle Lawrence by the pool, I saw Pauline walk by with a couple of the lunch boxes. I was going to help deliver them, but alas, I’d missed my opportunity.

The weather couldn’t have been better for an outdoor event. A bit cloudy but sunny and with bright blue skies.

I wandered around the site for a while, and even though I knew Jenny and Liam wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, I wondered whether I should attach a ‘Just Married’ sign to the back of this old vehicle, for their post-ceremony departure.

My moment arrived. Time to have a shower and put my wedding attire on. I’d picked up my suit from Best Man in Stockport on Thursday: one of the tasks that I seem to have performed on autopilot.

I was pleased that my clothes all fitted well, even though they felt unusually tight.

Guests made their way to the gazebo where seats had been placed. I was pacing up and down in my cottage, waiting to be summoned.

Someone gave me a pretty little boutonniere to wear. Another potential calamity. In my nervous state, I was bound to prick my finger on the pin and get blood all over my pristine, new, white shirt. But no: this particular disaster was averted and I continued to wait.

Gazing longingly towards Jenny’s cottage, waiting, waiting

Forlornly, I looked through the window towards the bride’s cottage while waiting for the call. Many other people were coming and going but all I could do was walk around the living room again. And again.

I obtained some new spectacles recently. Same prescription as my everyday ones, but these don’t turn dark in sunlight. I remembered to wear them. I would not be ruining photographs today by having shades in front of my eyes.

I paced up and down a bit more. This was like waiting for a baby to be born or something. Exciting, but nerve-wracking.

The bridesmaids all looked gorgeous, the guests all looked splendid, my family all looked very smart and well-turned out. I probably looked OK but as I wore out the carpet in our cottage, of course I had my doubts.

At last, I was called to meet the bride. She looked stunning. I knew she would, but even so, I had to swallow something hard and jagged.

Father seeing the bride in all her bridal gorgeousness for the first time

Thanks to Ross, the celebrant, for taking this picture. I’d left my phone behind in the cottage. Mainly because I wouldn’t be able to take pictures for the next hour or two, but also because the pockets in my hired jacket had been sewn shut.

I accompanied Jenny from her cottage all the way to the gazebo without once tripping over my own feet, despite wearing brogues, which I’m not used to and which are longer than my trainers. In addition, I didn’t stand on Jenny’s dress while various girls tried to keep the train under control. Jenny and I followed William at a distance. He was behind Martha who was keeping a good distance behind the bridesmaids.

Other potential faux pas were avoided. My trousers didn’t fall down. I did not have a coughing nor a sneezing fit. And I think I was in the right place at all times.

After turning past a certain tree, Jenny and I heard the processional music, an instrumental version of Elton John’s Can You Feel The Love Tonight, from The Lion King.

After delivering Jenny safely to Liam, and shaking his hand, I went to stand next to Liesel in the front row. Ross soon told us all to sit down, and I breathed a sigh of relief: so far, I had not messed up.

The Humanist ceremony was really nice, and I look forward to reading Ross’s words at leisure later on. They were delivered beautifully at the time, but half my mind was elsewhere. Martha performed her reading really well, and so did Liam’s Mum, Una.

During the slow walk back, we each picked up a small bag of (biodegradable) confetti with which to shower the newly married couple and their children, mainly for the benefit of the photographer, Marc.

(I’ll post one or two of Marc’s photos at a later date, but as mentioned above, my phone wasn’t with me during these events.)

Between the wedding ceremony and the Breakfast, we enjoyed drinks and snacks in the courtyard again, conveniently close to our cottage. I collected my speech, printed out in a large font and glued to a set of seven cards. I checked I had this set of cards in my pocket a dozen times. I checked they were in the right order another dozen times.

Guests gathered for the Wedding Breakfast in, what felt to me at the time, the hottest room in all of England. The Sun was pouring in, I was still wearing my suit and I was trying to suppress my state of nervousness.

I looked around and reminded myself, as Chris had said, that these hundreds of people are on my side, that they’ll listen politely while looking forward to the other speeches. Writing this now, a few days later, I realise that my lack of confidence is really showing through. Hundreds of people? Well, seventy-five including about twenty-five children.

Chris’s entrance into the room was quite flamboyant. Jenny and Liam followed with a little more dignity.

I was introduced by Matt, I stood up and read from my crib cards for four of the longest and quickest minutes of my life. It went very well. I’m glad I raised a toast to Jenny’s Mum, Sarah. I was delighted when people laughed at the right time, at the jokes. Again, I’m pleased to say my worst fears were not fulfilled: I didn’t drop the cards, I didn’t read them in the wrong order, I didn’t move away from the microphone and my trousers didn’t fall down.

Modesty forbids me from mentioning how many people came up to me afterwards and the following day to say how much they’d enjoyed my speech, that I’d hit the right tone, the right mix of seriousness and humour, that my nerves hadn’t shown at all.

Helen gave a speech too, with a little help from Martha. She was followed by Liam and by Chris himself.

We guests had selected our meals some months ago, and like most other people, I’d forgotten what I’d opted for, so thank goodness for the personalised menu on the table in front of us. The food was very good, prepared and served by some friendly, helpful caterers. I enjoyed my spinach and artichoke pie and mash with a parmesan crisp served with various beans and peas. This was followed by Bakewell tart with ginger cream which I ate before I had a chance to take its picture.

Yes, I had retrieved my phone by this point. So of course, I shot Jenny and Liam too.

Between the end of the Breakfast and the evening activities, I think I just socialised, and enjoyed having successfully delivered a Father of the Bride’s speech.

Jenny threw the bouquet over her shoulder towards all the single ladies.

Martha was delighted to pick (some of) it up but I’m not sure whether she knows the significance.

The Sun was beginning to set and this was a great photo opportunity for Marc and for the rest of us.

I’d forgotten there were so many formalities at a wedding. I was quite happy to grab a slice of cake and tuck in. But there was the matter of the official Cutting of the Cake.

Martha was on the scene and very quickly announced ‘I want that bit’.

A little later, Jenny and Liam took to the floor for the first dance. The first song I remember the band, Funtime Frankies, playing was Summer of ’69. The dancefloor soon filled but my feet kept themselves to themselves, at least until a pint of beer later. The band were really good, performing old songs with great skill, and I know it’s an old-farty thing to say, but they were really quite loud.

During the evening, we made several visits to the bar for a wide range of beverages. And water.

As darkness settled on Knockerdown, I think we were all still a bit high from the emotion if not from the alcohol. More food was available and I feel sorry for those folks who mistook the jalapeños for mushrooms. Hello Andrew!

Michael and I had a nice chat about Sarah and the wider family. He and Astrid went to bed and I moseyed on over to the After Party, much to Helen’s surprise, I think. I had a bottte of beer, very rare for me at around midnight, before hitting the sack myself. I said good night to the new Mr and Mrs W.

Breakfast for me on the day after consisted of veggie sausage roll, although bacon butties were available for the carnivores. This plus a few cups of tea were very welcome. But I think one of the most memorable sights this day was seeing that Martha didn’t change out of her pyjamas all day. She and all the bridesmaids and Jenny and Helen were wearing personalised robes and I think Martha just didn’t want to take hers off.

We had fun and games in the field including a 9-hole Crazy Golf course that materialised early in the morning. I played two rounds. Once against Pauline and Andrew and once with Martha, Emily and Papa. On both occasions, I got the highest score so I think that makes me the winner.

Crazy Jenny and Liam playing Golf (*words to be rearranged)

William played tag with me and Emily for a while. There was a short race course for space hopppering around. The track itself was William’s safe ‘base’ while the island in the middle was ‘super-base’. William’s other job, which he took upon himself, was to carry a crate of bubble mix around. Bubbles were blown.

There wasn’t enough food here this weekend, thought absolutely nobody at all. So it was lovely to welcome the barbecue in the afternoon. At this point, the wind got up and blew one of the gazebos across the patio. I ran over to unload the children from the bouncy castle, just in case, and the rain followed soon after. I’m glad I had my ice cream before the rain set in, since the freezers were outside, exposed to the weather: and wet weather and electricity are not a good pairing.

Weddings are of course mainly about the people, so there will follow a few mug shots, just some of the guests. I hope they don’t put you off your next meal.

Shortly after this picture was taken, so were the subjects. Liesel and Leslie drove them back to Manchester Airport for their return flight to Bergen.

They missed some of the early evening entertainment which included children’s Pass the Parcel and a Pub Quiz. Liesel returned just as the last question was being posed, which is the only reason our team didn’t win. In fact, the winners were the team led by Liam and Jenny which seems only fair. The prize consisted of a few items of old tut previously donated by Liam and Jenny.

The end of the day meant lots of goodbyes of course and I for one was glad of a slightly earlier night in bed.

In the morning, we had to vacate the cottages by 10am. We then hung around a bit to help Jenny and Liam load up their van and Helen and a couple of others to take their stuff out. I think we finally hit the road at about 11 o’clock, having agreed to meet up with Pauline, Andrew and Robert in Bakewell. But that story’s for another day.

Several days later, I can still feel the positive vibes from this wedding weekend, and I mean no disrespect to those who organised and attended my own weddings when I say that I think this was the best, most enjoyable wedding I’ve ever been to. So well planned by Jenny and Liam. Thanks a million to them and thanks to everyone else for making it all so much fun. I can’t wait to see Marc’s professional photos and share one or two here, such as:

We need to talk about Juneau

Jyoti picked us up, me and Liesel that is. Not physically, but in her car. We spent some time at her place and went for a short walk in the woods nearby, overlooking the bluff. We sat outside her condo for a while, admiring the tree that’s been chopped down (for some unknown reason) but is slowly trying to come back to life.

It was entertaining to watch the relationship between the dog, Basil, and the cat. Don’t ask who’s in charge, because it’s very hard to tell.

Jyoti kindly drove us to the airport and then back home so that Liesel could pick up her passport. Then back again to the airport. Did you know, Ted Stevens Airport at Anchorage is the fourth largest cargo airport in the world? At least, according to the mural inside.

We were flying to Juneau, the isolated state capital, only accessible by air and by sea.

My pedometer caused grief as we went through security: just because you never walk anywhere, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t keep records of our daily perambulations, Sir, I thought but didn’t say out loud.

The flight was delightfully short: everywhere should be this close. As the plane started its descent, we saw Southeast Alaskan mountains for the first time. You can never have too many pictures of mountains. (Oh yes you can.)

Michael drove the shuttle bus to our hotel. Entertainment here was provided by an Indian lady berating her husband. Sadly, not in English. The ingratitude of the wife rose an octave when she saw the fairly dilapidated state of the Driftwood Hotel. It really does need some TLC. It’s supposed to be a completely smoke-free environment, but our room had the faint tinge of cigarettes from years past, which almost but not quite concealed the aroma of cleaning chemicals.

Having said that, our room was clean and comfortable and secure enough. We were on the top floor. Our friend Monica was staying here too while working in Juneau for a week. The staircase closest to her room was taped off. I don’t think it was long for this world.

It was lovely to see Monica, and she really didn’t deserve the extreme pain and grief I caused while hugging her and squeezing the shoulder injured a few weeks ago when she slipped on ice. I was mortified. There was no way I could undo the damage. If you’re reading this, Monica: once again, I am truly, truly sorry.

We drove to Auke Bay where we ate at the Forbidden Peak Brewery. At these breweries, each person is only allowed to consume 32 oz per day of alcoholic beverages. None of us reached this target. I ate salad and chips, which is my default option at these meat-heavy places. Very nice, very tasty.

On the way back to Juneau, we stopped off at Mendenhall Glacier for a few minutes.

It was too late to walk to and around the glacier on this occasion, but it’s been added to the ever-growing list of places to return to, one day.

A nearby hut displayed copious information about the glacier and the surrounding area. This hut had been invaded by a couple of families of swallows, we saw them nesting in the rafters.

Mountains (the view from our hotel window)

We slept well and as Monica was working, we rose quite early for breakfast. Needless to say, I was the slowest to get ready, but I soon caught up with Liesel and Monica at The Rookery. Even if Google Maps took me the really long way.

The barista drew a wonderful fern on my latté. I complimented him on his artwork, he said he’d give it a C. The second cup (yes, yes, I had a second cup, so what?) he thought he decorated better. C+.

The atmosphere is enhanced by photographs displayed on the walls. We won’t see the northern lights at this time of year in Alaska, so this is a good second best. Yes, I should have made a note of the photographer’s name, sorry.

Monica went to work, leaving Liesel and me to visit the museum. Which, strangely, is where Monica was working.

It covers the whole history of Alaska, from its first settlement from across the then Bering land bridge, the Russians, the Americans. Again, we were embarrassed by the white Europeans mission seemingly to disrupt and destroy any other culture that had survived for thousands of years.

Xeitl X’een Thunderbird screen

In southeast Alaska, Tlingit clan history was preserved in precise detail between generations. Stories of their origins and early activities were passed orally over thousands of years. Elders coached young people to commit to memory these histories. Accuracy was very important. These histories are also represented in songs, personal and place names, and as symbolic crests on regalia, totemic carvings, and other decorated objects, To this day, clan history, tangible and intangible, is considered sacred property. This screen documents the history of the Thunderbird House of the Yakutat Tlingit. In the early 20th century, clan leader Frank Italio, Kuchein, commissioned the screen from artist Woochjix’oo Eesh (In Everybody’s Arms-Father), a L’uknax.ádi man. The Shangookeidi clan claims the thunderbird crest through their ancestors’ contact with the creature. At the center of the screen is the sculptural carving of the Thunderbird, and painted below this figure are two Shangookeidi ancestors. These figures may be young men, whose fatal encounter with a thunderbird’s feather is memorialized in a clan song. Four stylized raindrops fall down the sides of the screen, and two long black clouds float above the thunderbird’s wings. The faces all around represent hailstones, falling on the Thunderbird’s mountain home.

[Xeitl X’een Thunderbird Screen Thunderbird House (Xeiti Hit), Shangookeidi clan, Yakutat Tlingit, 11-3-845]

I’m glad I committed this story, from the museum, to memory: I just wish I knew what the Tlingit words all actually meant.

The focus was on south and southeastern Alaskan natives, which Liesel found particularly interesting since her previous knowlecge focused on the northern peoples.

Totem pole fragment of the first white man

This totem pole fragment marks the local people’s first encounter with a white man. You may think he looks familiar. The wood carver, over 100 years later, based his design on Abraham Lincoln, probably the most famous white person known at the time. The local Indians were considered a problem for the invaders. ‘The only solution of the problem of the Indian is found, it seems, in the simple theory that there are no good Indians except dead ones’. No, this isn’t from a current edition of The Daily Mail, it’s from Douglas Island News, December 1900.

Well, to cleanse our palates from the interesting, if sometimes disturbing, exhibits in the museum, we walked around Juneau, making our slow way towards the tram. There’s a map of the world marked out in studs on the boardwalk.

I wonder how many of the thousands of passengers from the cruise ships actually notice it?

This tram took us 1800 feet up Mount Roberts from where we enjoyed a terrific view of the town and the inlet. It’s a very popular destination for cruise ships, of which we saw four docked today, and a few different ones later on.

Disney Wonder: 2,400 passengers.
Viking Orion: 930 passengers.
Quantum of the Sea: 4,905 passengers.
Zuiderdam: 1,916 passengers.
That’s a substantial increase on the city’s resident population, about 32,000 people.

Up at 1800 feet, the last of the snow is melting. Liesel wasn’t interested in a snowball fight so, like a tourist, I just posed.

Many towns have a surplus of pigeons. Not Juneau. No, here, ravens rule the roost, and I think their song (if it can be called a song) might well be my next ringtone.

Back down in town, our late lunch was a shared plate of nachos, nothing special, but with a nose-eye view of one of those ocean-going liners.

Our wandering continued, upwards. Inside the Russian Orthodox Church, we weren’t allowed to light candles in remembrance of our lost loved ones. It’s very dry here right now, and people are very conscious of the risk of fire.

Cope Park marked the summit of our ascent on this occasion, nice and peaceful, with a river running through.

Did I mention how steep some of the roads are?

Given how much it snows here, I was surprised to see that most of the roofs aren’t as steep as this place.

There are stories of rooves (or is it roofs?) caving in under the weight of so much snow and ice. Yet we at home in England begin to worry when there’s more than half an inch of snow!

We found the Whale Fountain and sat there for a while. Monica set out to meet us but didn’t quite make it. Well, you wouldn’t, if you walk in exactly the wrong direction!

I calculated the best place to stand in order to see rainbow colours in the water spray. Spherical geometry, trigonometry and knowledge of the refractive index of water all played a part. Really? No, I just stood with the Sun behind me, that worked.

We were delighted to see our hotel bedecked in bunting for Her Majesty’s Platinum Jubilee. Nope, it was for America’s Memorial Day this weekend. Monica was back from work now, and we walked over to a restaurant called Salt for dinner. Several of Monica’s colleagues joined us: Ellen, Sarah (from the UK), James and there I’m afraid my memory runs out. James’s partner is one of a set of identical triplets. By an amazing coincidence, Monica has met with another identical triplet, from a different family, all interested in the field of restoration and preservation

Thinking I might have dessert, I had a so-called starter as my main course, a salad in fact. But: American portions, no dessert for me.

It had been a busy old day, lovely to meet some new people of course, but I was glad to find myself horizontal in bed, with no desire to read nor listen to a podcast. Zzz.

Next door to our hotel is The Sandpiper, probably so-called because of the ravens that have taken up residence here. This is where we broke our fast before another day of sightseeing.

I think Liesel and I very quickly came to realise how much we liked Juneau. And how we would like to spend more time here. But the weather was gorgeous, warm and sunny on this occasion. It’s famous for its rain and occasional very strong winds, I wonder if we’d be so keen in such conditions? I commented on how nice it was not to see the the usual suspects, McDonalds and Starbucks, anywhere. Liesel said she had seen a McD, but it was much closer to the airport.

Impulse buying doesn’t only apply in supermarkets, when you grab a bar of chocolate at the check-out desk. Native gift shops are quite attractive too. There’s a lot here that we couldn’t buy, because we can’t take it out of Alaska, or into the UK, such as seal fur, walrus and mammoth ivory. But that didn’t stop Liesel buying a pair of earrings. Or me buying a tie. Yes. me, Mick, bought a new tie for the first time since I had long hair and a full beard. What on earth is going on?

Monica drove us to Jensen-Olsen Arboretum, where we enjoyed looking at and sniffing the flowers. Plus, a quick walk on the beach.

A short drive away is the Shrine of St Thérèse. For someone who only lived to the age of 24, she seems like a good sort, and is very popular. The shrine did bring back a memory that I long ago buried though. When my Mum was dying, I wondered whether, as a lapsed Catholic, she might take some comfort from being visited by a priest. When I suggested this to Dad, the look of horror, fear, defiance, even hatred, on his face, told me that that was never going to happen. So sad.

No, we didn’t walk through the labyrinth: too risky, we might get lost. Or leapt upon by a hidden wild animal.

Driving back towards Juneau.
‘Why are those people letting their dog go to the other side of the road? And why are they taking pictures of it?’
‘That’s not a dog, it’s a bear.’

And it was, a black bear minding its own business noshing on something. Those people had stopped for the photo opp, but by the time we realised, we were too far away. Still, I can tick ‘black bear’ off the list, now!

There’s just one bridge between Juneau and neighbouring Douglas Island, and that’s where we spent the rest of the afternoon.

I’m so insecure in my cultural awareness, I had to make sure it’s still ok to call this thing a totem pole.

It is, and this bright colourful one is right by Savikko Park, which is partly a nice sandy beach. We watched some people having fun in the sea, which I assumed would be quite cold because over the other side, you can see freshly melted snow running down the mountains.

Mountain (from Savikko Park) > snow > ice > water

Further along, there’s a nice trail on and around the old Treadmill mine. If you want to set up a mine of your own, there is plenty of discarded old (and sometimes rusty) equipment just left lying around.

Actually, just leave it all where it is. Some of the mines are nearly half a mile deep, and I am reminded how lucky I am to be around in a time and place where I didn’t have to work in such places.

This is what’s left of the wharf where all the equipment and supplies were delivered.

For a late lunch, we had pizza at The Island Pub, as recommended by a couple of people.

Back in Juneau, we rested by the whale fountain for a while. I noticed how prickly the grass was, but maybe it’s for walking on, not lying on.

After Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, people of Japanese ancestry living on America’s West Coast were forcibly removed and incarcerated in isolated government internment camps.

In May 1942, the seniors at Juneau High School left an empty chair during their graduation ceremony to underscore the absence of their Japanese-American valedictorian, John Tanaka. By extension, this empty chair honors all of the Japanese uprooted from their homes and communities.

The Empty Chair Memorial represents the void the people of Juneau felt for their missing friends and neighbors impacted by this injustice. The names of those interned are etched on the bronze floor.

A time may come when these names will be forgotten, but the symbol of the empty chair will remind future generations of the lessons learned from this compelling and poignant story.

Yes, we made the pilgrimage.

Monica literally drove us to the end of the road. This was south, along Thane Road, through a place called Thane, to the signs saying ‘This is the end of the road, turn around, go back, here be dragons’, or something. A reminder that Juneau can only be reached by sea and air.

Speaking of which, we returned to the airport where Monica dropped off the rental car, and we went through security before our flight back to Anchorage. And, in another first-time-ever scenario, my hat was searched. I was too, but my hat looks big, so, do you mind if I have a look at it?

Note to self: when smuggling contraband, the hat is no longer a safe hiding place

Isolating and Walking

It is the worst of times, it is the worst of times. Coronavirus, Covid-19, coronapocalyse, it’s all over the news. The government advises this, the health experts say that, the response to this global disaster is different in different countries, definitely do this, preferably do that, so much advice, and why isn’t the UK following WHO guidelines and testing, testing, testing? So it’s not the ideal time to visit hospital on two separate occasions for different examinations, unrelated to the current contagion. Did I pick up the virus? Or did I leave it behind for someone else to avoid? We’ll never know.

I waited for the bus home after my echocardiogram and was enormously cheered up by this rainbow. Not so much by the bus that rolled in declaring ‘Sorry Out Of Service’. Only after opening the door for a microsecond and then driving off did the driver decide to change the display, confirming that this was, in fact, the bus I’d been waiting for.

Things were better the day we took William to the zoo. He was interested in seeing the newborn Asian elephant, Riva Hi Way, of course but in a surprise move, he also asked to go to the Zipline. Literally. He rode the Zipline once before taking off the harness, he wasn’t bothered about walking and climbing the rest of the Treetop Challenge!

But he does like going into the forest, to explore and to hide and to pick up sticks.

When I saw this graphic from a distance, I thought, Chester Zoo haven’t really got this human evolution thing quite right, have they?

But it’s just showing all the different species of bear compared with a human. Very educational. The other mistake I made was when I saw a sign for ‘Beermats’ through the bushes. Not being a tegestologist, I wasn’t that interested. Only on closer inspection did I realise it was the sign for ‘Meerkats’. I resolved to clean my glasses.

And if that’s not orange enough, what about this frog?

Initially, William had asked to see the blue, poison-dart frogs, but we couldn’t see any in their tank. The volunteer suggested they’d been taken away for some reason.

Camel 1: I’m bored.
Camel 2: Me too.
Camel 3: Me three.
Camel 1: What shall we do?
Camel 2: I know, let’s have a game of noughts and crosses.
Camel 3: That’s a great idea. Have we got any paper and a pencil?
Camel 1: No, but I have some duct tape.
Camel 2: How will that help?
Camel 3: We could make up a noughts and crosses grid somewhere.
Camel 1: But where?
Camel 2: Well it was your idea, 3, so let’s use your hump.
Camel 3: Oh, alright then.

The other thing William specifically asked for was to see the lady who cleans up the elephant poo. Well, he saw the lady and he thoroughly investigated the poo.

Don’t worry, we all washed our hands several times during the day and when we got back home.

We picked Martha up from Nursery and then, back home, she and William built and demolished several towers.

In this time of Covid-19, it’s harder than usual to make a GP appointment, even when they’ve sent a message asking us to do so. They answered my call after 20 minutes, I made my appointment and so did Liesel who hijacked my phone after listening to the ringing on her own for the same amount of time. But as the GP surgery doesn’t want potentially infected bodies turning up, we just each had a 20-minute phone consultation. Marvellous.

After admitting to our newly acquired cough, we’re now self-isolating. We think it’s just a post-holiday cold, and I’m a few days behind Liesel with the tickly and sore throat and cough, but here we are.

We’re allowed out for walks as long as we don’t socialise. The recent storms must have weakened this tree which appeared on the pavement between walking one way and walking back maybe twenty minutes later.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink, goes the famous saying. But sometimes they spontaneously go and stand in a puddle while drinking the water.

The river is always a good place to see people doing silly things, such as jogging. But trying to row these canoes without putting them in the water seems a bit bizarre.

Another bit of a tree, a dead one, fell in and drifted towards the bridge.

When Liesel and I walked along the river, towards but not all the way to Didsbury, we passed fewer people than usual. Again, we noted the rough path, not ideal for walking on and definitely not much fun cycling on it, although we saw a couple of people try. One lady was pushing her bike. But if she’d been cycling on the other side of the river, along which we returned, she too would have had to negotiate the puddle that straddled the width of the road. We managed to get by without falling in.

It would be so easy to fall into gloom and despair while in isolation, so it’s good to see the Spring flowers are making an effort to cheer us up.

While stuck indoors, I’m sure we’ll be doing a lot of reading, writing, TV and film watching, radio and podcast listening as well as puzzles. In fact, this weekend, for the first time, I successfully completed a Sandwich Sudoku in the Guardian. I was beginning to think these were a spoof, a hoax perpetrated by naughty work experience teenagers at the newspaper, as I have messed up every single one. Until this weekend, hooray! Here’s the grid if you want to have a go:

Place the digits from 1-9 in each row, column and 3×3 block. The clues outside the grid show the sum of the numbers between the 1 and the 9 in that row or column.