medical – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Parking problems

When the Management Company refers to our communal car park, we assume that we, the occupants of the five flats in the block, are the community for which the car park exists. It’s not supposed to be a free facility for the local bulding industry. But we had a visitor for several days, taking advantage of the free parking opportunity.

This Niftylift HR12N bi-energy articulated boom lift also churned up what pretends to be lawn . I don’t care about its 12.2m working height and 6.1m horizontal reach nor its narrow 1.5m chassis. It just shouldn’t be there. It’s the most dangerous machine around, at least going by all the warning signs.

When the young man came to retrieve it later in the week, despite its narrow chassis, he struggled to steer it out of the car park. I do regret not having a go myself, though.

Apparently there aren’t enough pictures of Keiran here, so, by popular request, here’s another one.

Martha and William were happy to make their own snowglobes at our place. After which, Jenny and Liam joined us for an early Thanksgiving dinner which was delicious, thank you Liesel!

I’ve never been to Oldham before so, after my dentist appointment, I was happy to join Liesel on her mission. While she visited Abi the beautician, I wandered around the hilly town centre. This included consumption of a well-deserved and enjoyable egg sadwich which I washed down with a nice cup of coffee.

Spindles Town Square Shopping Centre provided some entertainment. The sign asked me whether I could ‘Seek out Susie’, Susie from Shopping Susie’s Kids Club.

While studying the picture, a young lady asked me if I needed any help. No, I’m just looking at the picture, thank you. “Well,” she said with arms akimbo, “you shouldn’t be here, there are no shops here, only offices.” I’d had the temerity to take the escalator to a higher floor. End of the world.

Northenden is slowly changing. Outside the Post Office, the postbox has been adapted to accept some small packets and parcels. It has solar panels on top, and you should be able to press a button, scan a QR code on your packet, and it opens the door so you can drop you item in. Well, it already doesn’t work, and I’m not sure you can entirely blame the layer of early morning frost on top.

As you can see, some guy tried to park inside the postbox, but couldn’t quite manage.

It’s a EⅡR box and, what are the chances? Just around the corner, I bumped into QE2, just not the real one. This little knitted Queen was relaxing on the sofa in the hairdressers while Paul cut Liesel’s hair. The motto on my coffee cup lid seems to fit, too.

Keiran’s getting about a bit. He took Helen and Brent for a walk up at North Head, Manly. It looks like a lovely day and the good news is, he does seem to enjoy a car ride too.

Another pet peeve: websites for shops that are closed but don’t tell you until you’ve spent ages placing your order. Usually we can order a pizza for later delivery, but on this occasion, computer says no. Not just closed until 5 o’clock or whatever, it was closed all day apparently. Possibly longer, it didn’t specify.

It’s been raining a lot and it’s safe to assume that every sentence from now on can be preceded with ‘It was raining…’.

So instead of spending in time wandering around the Christmas markets in Manchester, we took the children straight to the theatre and straight home afterwards.

We saw a stage musical version of the old Disney film, Freaky Friday. Thankfully, the songs and the laughter and the applause were all loud enough to drown out mine and Liesel’s coughs. Yes, somehow we’ve acquired a lurgy. So had Martha and William, to a lesser extent.

Liesel and I enjoyed a drive into Salford too, to see Count Arthur Strong’s version of A Christmas Carol. During the first half, he played Charles Dickens, and we learned absolute nothing about the great Victorian storyteller. The second half was indeed a version of A Christmas Carol, but not as we know it. With a cameo from Anita Harris amongst others. Again, audience laughter drowned out out hacking. But boy did we get through some cough sweets.

We had cause to visit Salford again the following day. We can now add Salford Royal to the list of hospitals we’ve visited this year. On this occasion, it was Liesel’s appointment and it went very well.

Spontaneously (or was it?) on the way home, Liesel suggested visiting the Trafford Centre. I made notes of which postcode area we parked in before dining at Wagamama. That hot, spicy soup cleared a few nasal passages, I can tell you, phew!

I think the only shop we visited was Marks and Spencers, but that was enough excitement for one day.

And that was it. Liesel’s short visit home was over. It still seems strange to have a short visit to your own home, but that’s the way the universe is right now. I dropped her off at the airport for the flight to Atlanta. Then onto Albuquerque for for night. Then she’ll take her Mom back to Anchorage. Next time I see Liesel will be in Australia.

Oh, alright then, here he is again.

Saints and Singers

The leaf blowers are out in force, doing their worst, making a lot of noise and achieving nothing other than blowing leaves and fungal spores and all sorts of detritus into the air. This is the downside of Autumn. And then of course, the next gust of wind blows all the leaves back where they came from.

After a stroll around the streets of Northenden, I stopped for a quick coffee at Boxx2Boxx. The owner, Jill, was in today, meeting and greeting many young fans.

Chester draws me in like a magnet. It’s a straightforward enough drive to Chester, but I managed to go wrong when I tried, and failed, to follow directions to a service station on the way. Oh well.

I parked up and walked to my accommodation, my Aurbnb. After checking in, I went for a walk around the city centre. I don’t often go lurking around old, deconsecrated churches, but since this was the venue for the evening’s entertainment, I was glad to check it out. Time for a sit down…

Not the most comfortable bench, I must say.

I know Chester is an old place, but it still surprises me to see just how old some of the buildings are. Since 1622 there has been an inn on the current site of the Golden Eagle. As such it is steeped in the history of the city and community. Adjacent to the Chester Castle and Crown Court, the pub served as a hostelry to the Cheshire Regiments Garrison and the barristers and judges of the Court. This tradition has been upheld, and veterans of the regiment still frequent the pub to catch up with old comrades. I didn’t frequent this establishment today.

It was a very pleasant afternoon, so my plans to visit museums and galleries were postponed, it was forecast to rain the next day. Instead, I enjoyed the cathedral bells for a while, but not so much the busker murdering Fleetwood Mac’s Albatross and other classics.

Three Old Arches form the façade of a row building dating from about 1200, believed to be the earliest surviving shop frontage in England.

For a brief moment, I was transported back to New Mexico.

Laughing at the plastic cactus outside this Mexican establishment might have upset the locals, so I restrained myself. Instead, I had a lovely meal at Thai Baan.

Back to St Mary’s for the gig. Frankie Archer again. I know, I know. When I first booked tickets to see her, I think my mouse must have twitched or something. Instead of Manchester, I clicked on Chester. After berating myself, I decided to spend a couple of days in Chester anyway.

In support this evening was Clara Day, who I’ve heard on the radio a couple of times. I would have been singing along if I’d known the songs.

And of course, Frankie’s set was the same as two nights earlier, her skill on the violin and on all her tech totally captivating the audience.

The threatened rain never arrived, so I spent a day walking around Chester’s old Roman Wall, and making odd diversions whenever I saw something interesting. I never knew until today, for instance, that the racecourse here is also known as The Roodee. Which explains why the car was parked in the Old Roodee car park.

A Celebration of Chester, by Stephen Broadbent

This sculpture was unveiled in 1992 to mark the 900th anniversary of Chester Cathedral.

If it was surprising to see cactus here, even moreso to see a baby elephant. Not a real one, obviously, a bronze sculpture gifted to the city of Chester by Chester Zoo.

Chester Castle was never successfully overrun.

This sign on the back gate would undoubtedly deter any potential invading force.

But, just in case, a party of school children were being trained in the use of swords and shields.

I missed seeing a steam train by a couple of minutes. I heard the chuff-chuff sound, and I saw clouds of smoke behind the trees, but I missed the steam engine itself.

Outside the Cathedral, the Royal Photographic Society was displaying many prize-winning photographs.

On another occasion, I might ascend the 216 steps up the tower, climbing up through 900 years of history, as the sign says. You have to book tickets, so please remind me the next time we visit Chester.

What would you do with 275,000 Lego bricks? Build a model of Chester Cathedral, of course. This was a labour of love. The project started in April 2015.

A team of enthusiastic volunteers worked on one module at a time, on a separate table by the main model. They showed the public where to put the next brick. Once a module was completed it was fitted onto the main model.

The build took eight years and eight days and was completed in April 2023, after progress was slowed due to Covid and the lockdowns.

The good news is, after checking out, I didn’t make any mistakes on the drive home.

After an invasive procedure under sedation, Jenny collected me from the hospital and looked after me for 24 hours, thank you very much. I’m hoping that was the last one for at least a year. Best of all today, though, was spending time with the grandchildren.

After walking to school with them the next morning, Jenny took me home and I was in time to join the Thrive Walk in Wythenshawe. We commented on there seeming to be fewer geese in the park. Maybe they’ve started heading south for the Winter.

If you need some background sounds while you go about your business, don’t forget you can always listen to Mick’s Music Mix on Wythenshawe Radio. My regular time is now Sunday afternoon, 4pm. Or, catch up on Mixcloud. (Psst, no adverts on my shows.)

After the Wednesday walk this week, we walkers were still welcome to have coffee at Boxx2Boxx despite the fact that they were secretly filming inside. The cake was delicious. We sat outside in the ‘marquee’. Thick black drapes across the windows meant that we couldn’t see what was going on inside. Two bouncers outside seemed a bit over the top, though.

This week’s walk in Wythenshawe was attended by 7 people, and we all made good progress. I know I shouldn’t, but I did laugh to myself when one person slowed down whenever they were chatting. As if they can’t walk and talk at the same time. Planning and plotting an overtaking manoeuvre can be difficult when you’re on a narrow path in the woods.

In the evening, I ventured into Manchester for another gig.The bus ride and the walk to the venue were faster than anticipated, so I had time for a quick walk around the back streets.

The show was at Hallé St Michael’s and I was here to see my second favourite Martha, Martha Tilston. As Liesel said, she always puts on a good show. In support was Alwyn Jones.

Again, he sang his own songs, and I was unable to sing along. But, neither could anybody else. The audience was a nice mix of old farts like me and young people.

Martha, of course, didn’t disappoint. She manages to hold the audience in the palm of her hand, inviting us to accompany her without actually saying so. Again, her final song was taught her by her late step-mother, Maggie Boyle.. She stood right next to me, in the middle of the audience, so I’m sure my boat race has ruined some of the videos taken by some audience members!

She was accompanied by Matt Kelly, who’s been at her side for as long as I can remember, right from the early days, gulp, well over twenty years ago, in the Grey Horse, Kingston upon Thames.

Don’t forget, Mick’s Music Mix on Mixcloud. Here is the latest show, the theme is ‘Goin’ Home’. Plus, as a bonus, at the end of this show, you can find out how I was appointed Governor of the state of Alaska.

Humungous fungus

Liesel took Holly to Whittier and on this occasion, the weather was kind enough to make a boat trip worthwhile. And they all had a great time out on the ocean waves, watching orcas breach and glaciers calve. I can only imagine the smell of the sealions as they (mostly) outswam the predators.

Meanwhile, here in sunny England, I enjoyed a walk with Jenny, Liam, Martha and William over the border in Derbyshire. The car park in Crowden was nearly full, but we squoze in easily.

The path followed Torside and Rhodeswood Reservoirs. Yes, reservoirs that haven’t (yet) been sold off by the privatised water companies. William was pleased to make friends with the smallest frog in the world. They met when William enjoyed the first of several bush wees. (He’ll be pleased to read that when he’s a bit older.)

Martha was equally impressed by the very bright toadstools.

We didn’t run up any of the higher hills, not on this occasion. No, we just appreciated the leisurely walk on a well-worn, slightly undulating path. However many steps we grown-ups took (17,500 in my case), I’m pretty sure the children ran twice as far.

I have visions of Liesel rolling her eyes when she sees this photo:

The temptation to bend a tall structure in this manner is irresistable. On the other hand, the view was very English.

Rhodeswood Reservoir with Suffolk sheep and a pylon

Only as we were on the home straight, did I see a sign confirming that we were on the Pennine Way. That’s another item on the bucket list, to walk the whole length of the iconic route.

This week, I felt I was fighting technology a lot. My main fight was with Microsoft. I’ve had a Schrödinger’s account for a while. It won’t let me log in because there’s no such account. Yet when I try to create a new account, it tells me there already is one.

This week, my Microsoft Office stopped working. They were unable to verify my licence. Go online to verify, it said. I’m already online, I replied, I can’t get any more online than I am, no matter how much you nag. In the process, my Word and Excel were disabled. I could view existing documents but I couldn’t edit them nor create new ones.

I got to a place where I could enter the Product Key, and it told me that Key had already been used. Yeah. By me. Three years ago.

There is no way to speak to a human at Microsoft. There is a phone number, but when you call it, the automated voice just says to go to the website.

When you go to the website, you go round and round in circles. I had to enter fifteen one-time codes, and my password several times, getting nowhere fast. In the end, I decided to delete the account. It asks 101 questions before you get to actually get to that point: mostly about features that I didn’t even know existed, that I’ve never used, and I won’t miss at all. And then, the account’s not actually removed for 60 days, ‘in case you change your mind’.

Then, if you open (in my case) Word or Excel, that is taken as to mean I want to cancel my request to delete the account. To avoid opening one of those by mistake, I uninstalled all the software.

A couple of days later, I received a marketing email from Microsoft. I don’t need that either, so I’ll unsubscribe. Easy, I thought. To unsubscribe, yes, I have to sign in. If I do that, then my request to delete the account will be cancelled.

The whole set-up is just nasty. Amongst all the big tech companies, I used to think Microsoft was one of the, if not ‘good’ guys, then one of the least worst. Oh well.

I’m now using getting used to Libre Office. It does 90% of what Microsoft Office does, it’s free and open source. So, a big razzberry to Microsoft.

On a lighter note, literally, Una sent some gorgeous photos of the Northern Lights from Anchorage.

Just as glorious, of course, is Northenden’s tiny village green, embracing the season.

Another technology fail. Booking flights to a holiday destination used to be fun, something to look forward to. Now, it’s soul-destroying, it just feels like you’re fighting the system all the time.

I’m visiting Helen in Australia at the end of January. After several days faffing about, trying to find a cheaper flight, it was time to pick a flight and book it.

After successfully entering all the details of my booking, double- and triple-checking (recalling Liesel’s faux pas last time, when we got tickets for March instead of April, oops, but never mind), Etihad declined my credit card, despite me confirming it was genuine via the bank’s app. I called the bank, there was no reason for my card to be declined, they said, the problem must be at their end.

I looked up Etihad Customer Support and being a bit flustered, I clicked on the first link that came up. Connect to our partner for a refundable £1 to get help. Cheeky bastards, I thought. When I did, I saw they want £1 then £24 a month subscription. At this point, I realised this was a con. So, back to the bank who strongly recommended cancelling my card and reissuing. This was a bit disappointing and annoying, and yes, inconvenient, but it was the right thing to do. Some rogue company might have my credit card details.

I still had to pay for my flights, of course: I don’t know whether the booking disappears after a set amount of time. So, I used my other card. This is one that I’ve been running down for a long time. I’ve not used it now for several months, and I’d planned to cancel it in due course. Again, to verify the card, I had to go to this bank’s app to say it was genuine. The payment went through.

So, I’ve decided to keep this second credit card, for just such an eventuality, an emergency, even if I don’t use it on a regular basis.

On my ‘main’ card, the one that was incorrectly declined, there are a couple of subscriptions so I’ll have to go in and change those, once the replacement card turns up.

Also, a reminder to myself, even if the heading in a big typeface says ‘Etihad Customer Care’, check the actual link before clicking on it.

I didn’t spend all week fuming in front of my laptop. I did go out a couple of times for some fresh air, some shopping and, oh alright, a coffee. I had a flu jab and a covid jab, one in each arm, to spread the load of the 5G microchips being injected into my body. But best of all, I went out to a gig.

I saw Frankie Archer at Low Four Studio in Deansgate, Manchester.

Yes I’ve been busy preparing shows for Wythenshawe Radio, after a break of very nearly a year. It took a while to recall how to use some of the software and, inevitably, new ‘features’ have been introduced that I’m not interested in. That’s progress, apparently!

The venue was intimate, and the audience enjoyed the support act, Satnam Galsian. She sang songs in Punjabi and in English, and played her own shruti box, a bellows that provides a drone to accompany the vocals.

Frankie Archer herself bounced onto stage and performed several ‘dark’ songs, promising to sing some more upbeat ones in the second half. When playing her fiddle, dancing around the stage, you can tell she’s really enjoying herself. And I don’t know how she can keep on top of all her equipment, samplers, keyboards, pedals and other gadgets.

The Demon features in the video for her latest single, The Demon Lover.

If you would like to hear more from Frankie, listen to my latest radio show, now up on Mixcloud. As well as Frankie, there are some great songs which (sometimes inadvertently) namecheck other bands or singers.

Here Comes the Sun

While in Whitby, we lost track of progess in the Tour de France, but just like Tadej Pogačar, it didn’t take us long to catch up. Another day, another hospital appointment for me. This one wasn’t very nice. Oh look, here’s Mick, let’s find another orifice and stick a camera in it. But all the medics I’ve seen have been really nice. All the nurses, doctors, consultants, registrars, receptionists, radiographers, all of them have asked me for my date of birth and and my address. So I’m expecting lots of cards for my next birthday.

Usually when we drive over to collect the children from school, we have to allow for a traffic jam in Gatley. But this week for some reason, there was no serious hold-up. So, for the first time ever, we were the first to arrive. We’ve never seen the playground empty before, so that’s a result.

Yes, it’s wet, it had been raining. Later, back at home, William made a bracelet for his teacher: thank goodness we still have the right combination of letter beads. He and I played hangman and Martha beat Liesel at backgammon. William went downstairs and outside to greet his parents. The trouble is, they hadn’t yet arrived. And he let the back door close behind him. So, we tried not to laugh as William, locked out, in the communal car park, called for help. Don’t worry, we rescued him quickly. Mummy and Daddy arrived soon after and we dined nicely, thank you Liesel.

The house round the corner is proud to have sunflowers once again. They seemed to be growing slowly but suddenly, over night it seems, they’re six feet tall.

Later in the week, we returned to the school to watch Martha star in a production of Beauty and the Beast. The children all did very well, but we thought the backing tracks could have been a bit quieter so that we could hear the performers singing more clearly. Glad to say, Martha sorted out her barnet after Crazy Hair Day.

The choreography was well executed, and it’s a shame there are no boys in this particular drama group. I’m glad Martha enjoys performing though, not like her old Grandad.

Beauty and the Beast cast, featuring Martha

The other grandparents enjoyed the performance too, and afterwards, we all went to the Red Lion in Cheadle for our evening meal, all nine of us. My cheese and onion pie had actual cheese and onions as a filling, so much better than the gloop in the pies from the chippy up the road from us.

Liesel, Leslie and I went for a walk to the Co-op, via the river and the weir. On the island, a shag or a cormorant was playing with me. He’d had his wings out to dry, and every time I thought about taking a picture, he’d put them down again. I’ll make a video then, and screendump one of its frames. It knew, it knew. It did not cooperate. Instead, it decided to fly off somewhere, probably to tease other potential photographers.

Liesel planned to take her Mom out for a regular coffee with the ladies of the WI. I was surprised to see them back so soon. The car had a puncture. A mechanic turned up, changed the tyre, and was gone within about 15 minutes. Last time I changed a tyre, it took over an hour and a half. But he had much better equipment than I have, plus the necessary skills.

Changing the subject, we’re looking forward to seeing the total solar eclipse in a few years, maybe back in Coonabarabran.

Apart from anything else, this will be a good opportunity to see Mercury, which I’m not sure I’ve ever observed in real life.

Yes, sometimes I have too much time on my hands, so I mess about with apps on my phone, specifically Stellarium in this case.

Another hospital appointment, more birthday greetings coming my way. I had to bring my travel insurance company up to date with all my various medical issues. Of couse, that increased the premium. I paid an extra £22 which includes a £15 admin fee. I suspect that if things had gone the other way, they could have given me a bit of rebate. But I’d still be liable for the admin fee. What a rip-off. Anyway, now that’s sorted at last, I can make plans to travel.

Martha has recently started synchronised swimming lessons, so we went to observe her. Her skills in the water are amazing. She has achieved her 100-metre freestyle badge. My best was 25 yards, at about the same age.

Express Solicitors, a local firm, have been sponsoring our walks on a Wednesday for the last year. To mark the occasion, Simon came along with a videographer and he spoke to a few of us. Here is the resulting video. Well, it keeps us out of trouble.

I haven’t mentioned the weather. It’s been alright, a lovely temperature for walking, sometimes a light, refreshing breeze. But we’re in for another heatwave soon.

Streonshalh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Abbey from the other side of the estuary

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

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

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

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

Whitby posties must have fun with the sometimes unusual door numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tour de Everyday Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope nobody was inside when this happened.

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

David Bowie with a fried egg on his collarbone

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

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

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

A fringe and a whinge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parks and Wreck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks to Pauline for the photo!

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

Some things that fly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sneezebee created by Pam Smart, Michelle Turton and Rose Chapman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go west

Problems with plumbing always cause me more grief than is strictly necessary, even when it’s nothing to do with me. The fact that my shower leaked ino the bathroom below while I was using it was just pure bad luck. The shower hasn’t been used regularly for a long time and the seal around the drain had dried out over the years. Neil fixed the problem with the help of a friend.

By way of escape, Gabe drove Liesel and me to the Three Guns Spring Trail, a hike postponed from a few days ago.

I thought this was a good place to balance a large boulder, just above the car park.

From here, the trail was up and up. In places, the gravelly path was quite steep. Gabe was a good guide, both as a geologist and a cactus-specialising horticulturalist.

It was very quiet. I could hear the silence even above my tinnitus. Strangely, no birds and very few insects.

This pair seemed to be having a good time though, we look forward to seeing the next generation in due course. There were a few other beetles, including stink bugs. And later on, a couple of bees did buzz around.

I think this was the longest, continuous climb I’d done for several months, and of course my old issue, shortness of breath, affected my performance. We reached a point where reluctantly, I had to stop. I parked myself on a rock, in the shade, and listened to the silence. A gentle breeze cooled me down. Liesel carried on, reaching our erstwhile goal, The Post, and a bit beyond.

The Post (not much to write home about, is it!)

Sadly, neither of us saw the spring that gives the trail its name. Nor three guns, come to that.

Surely, there was other wildlife? Liesel saw a single lizard but most/least exciting was seeing less than 25% of a deer on the trail on our return to the car park.

At least my chest no longer felt like it would explode. But other things happened too. Dear body of mine, if I’m so dehydrated, why do you keep producing so much snot? Just stop it.

There’s a house on the road leading to this trail’s car park that is very well decorated. I for one didn’t expect to see this famous statue here.

This guy (I assume it’s a guy, a gal would have better things to do with their time) has built a bird house in the style of an old pueblo dwelling.

Lisa arrived tonight. She is Buzz and Neil’s daughter, Leslie’s niece, Liesel’s cousin. I really should draw up a family tree.

The following day, I went on a road trip with Neil. Neil and Buzz have a cabin near the Zuni Mountains about 80 miles west of their home in Albuquerque. On the drive, Neil and I had a good conversation about philosophy, even if I didn’t recognise many of the names that Neil dropped.

We saw a few long trains on the way too, including a couple passing by each other. Another great photo opportunity missed.

Once we turned off the main road, the bumpy road was a roller-coaster ride. Luckily, we’d come in a vehicle with plenty of clearance underneath.

The cabin is at an altitude of 8200 feet, significantly higher than the house, so lower air pressure and more chance of a nose bleed, grrr.

The second building will be Buzz’s design studio in the fullness of time. It’s definitely a remote location, and Neil should be very proud of having constructed the cabins pretty much by himself.

After enjoying the packed lunches carefully put together by our spouses, we went for a short walk towards Cinder Cone, through the woods, more of a forest really.

Lisa and her sister Andrea (Andi, who now lives in Richmond, England) used to play on this tree when they were younger, according to Neil. No wonder it’s bent.

There is quartz all over the place here in the woods, plus fir cones and all sorts of things that our grandchildren would love to pick up and collect such as…

We drove back along the old Route 66 as much as possible, through Grants. At least Route 66 is paved, not like this road through the Zuni Canyon as we left, which has been newly gravelled (if that’s the right word), so we left a cloud of dust behind us.

The canyon itself was stunning, more stratified rock structures than you could imagine.

By the time we arrived home, Hannah was there too, she’s Lisa’s daughter and you can work out the rest of the relationships yourself.