moans – Page 2 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

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.

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.

The Mobile Spins

After a busy day yesterday, it was more relaxed today. Liesel and I drove into town, parked up and walked to the Cathedral.

This is one of seven archangels carved in 2005 by José Lucero, a local artist affectionately referred to as Picasso Santero. He created these from the remaining trunks of cottonwood trees that once stood along the river.

Meanwhile, Buzz and Leslie were taking a train from Albuquerque to visit us here in Santa Fe. Meanwhile, Gabe was driving here with Neil. We all met up by the Cathedral, which was too big to fit in the photo.

The Cathedral Basilica of St Francis of Assisi

While wandering around the town, we couldn’t help but notice the old Route 66. In 1937, the route changed so is passed through Albuquerque rather then Santa Fe.

But the first port of call was the French Pastry Shop, part of La Fonda on the Plaza Hotel complex. A nice French place with French pastries and other tasty treats. So for lunch, I enjoyed a French baguette with my default, favourite filling, cheese and tomato.

We visited KESHi, The Zuni Collection, where there was plenty of Zuni artwork to look at. The small animals are known as fetishes, but not ‘fetish’ in the way we usually think about!

So far, we haven’t been lucky enough to see any hummingbirds in the wild. This one is made from onyx, with turquoise eyes and some mussel shell for a beak. Mussels and coral are found locally, left over from the time New Mexico was under the ocean, several weeks ago, at least.

After Gabe left us to take Leslie, Neil and Buzz back home to Albuquerque, the rest of us, that is me, Liesel, Rupert and Jyoti, well, we returned to the French pastry place for coffee and dessert. My choice was something called ‘opéra’, layers of sponge with coffee and chocolate and very tasty, merci.

Jyoti found a ring she liked on a stall in the street, and it needed a slight adjustment. The man said he hoped to have it ready by the end of the day. He did, but by then, we’d returned home so we went back the following day to collect it.

We visited a few galleries in Canyon Road, not all 300, that would be a real labour of love. Some say 300, some say 100. I didn’t count.

Amongst our favourites, I think, were the wind-powered mobiles, which are also optical illusions. There are quite a few at Wiford Gallery. Tempting, yes, but far too big to take back to Albuquerque, never mind England.

When we returned home, I took out my new telescope in an effort to capture some landscape pictures. Without realising, I found a cow’s behind.

The same distant hill was viewed though the phone and through the telescope. You can see how good the magnification is.

Unless my detective work fails me, this image shows Cerro Chiflo, located near Taos, a volcanic plug in the Tusas Mountains of New Mexico. Cerro Chiflo’s peak reaches approximately 9,000 feet. The landscape includes piñon and juniper trees, and desert sage.

And of course, I had to have another look at the Sun.

While eating our evening meal, the Sun went down and we had a beautiful sunset, nearly as good as those we see in Northenden.

What was on the menu? Lamb curry for most people, but I believe my potato curry was far superior, thank you very much, Jyoti!

After all this time in NM, I was disappointed that I still wake up every day with a nosebleed. The other side effect of the lack of humidity, and possibly the lower air pressure at this altitude, is that my skin is a lot drier than usual, and my phone doesn’t always recognise my thumb print.

As mentioned before, we returned to town to collect Jyoti’s new ring. We also had breakfast. The green chilli that accompanied my huevos rancheros was perfect, nowhere near as hot as the stew I’d wrestled into submission a couple of days ago. A local delicacy is sopaipillas with honey, but I passed on this occasion. And yes, I am inconsistent with my spelling of chili, chilli and chile, but then so are most New Mexicans.

We visited the New Mexico Museum of Art, in a building that could have been transplanted from a pueblo. The main exhibit on right now is Eugenie Shonnard: Breaking the Mold. She was a locally acclaimed sculptor, being a pivotal figure for the history of art and sculpture in the Southwest, widely recognized during her own time for her contributions to the visual arts, yet largely overlooked in recent decades.

Chest of Drawers by Eugenie Shonnard, ca 1931

“Marsden Hartley traveled widely, taking in the people, cities, and culture of places like New York, Berlin, Paris, Bermuda, and Santa Fe. During his travels, Hartley frequently wrote letters to friends and family about his experiences. In the early twentieth century, writing a letter meant picking up a pen or pencil, or even sitting down at a typewriter, such as the one in front of you. Take a sheet of paper from the top drawer of the desk and write a letter about a place or experience you would like to share. Feel free to take your letter and send it to someone or leave it in the tray to share with other museum visitors.”

How could I turn down such an invitation? Well, it’s been a few years since I last bashed out a missive on a typewriter and I’d forgotten how loud they are. The clicketty clacketty noise I made reverberated all around the rooms, there was no way I could be stealthy. If you want to read what I wrote, you’ll have to pay a visit: I left my sheet of paper there, typos and all.

There were plenty of items out in the courtyard too, including frescoes.

Voice in the Sky by William Shuster, 1934

Here are some lovely people in front of the sculpture Abstraction by Georgia O’Keeffe.

Next stop, Iconik Coffee Roasters for some iconic coffee followed by a quick visit to Beastly Books.

Something scary with an animatronic werewolf behind

What a great shop for lovers of science fiction and fantasy. (We could do with any kind of bookshop in Northenden, thought grumpy old Mick.)

Liesel and I visited the library and sat down for a while. After meeting the others, we dined at The Shed, a Mexican restaurant not too far from The Plaza. I’d been a bit worried that I’d struggle to find vegetarian food in New Mexico, but so far, there’s always been something for me. Tonight, a Tamale Plate: green chile vegetarian (green chile, onion and corn) tamales, served with beans and Spanish rice, a side of red or green chile, and garnished with lettuce & tomato. Again, relatively mild green chile, it didn’t blow my head off.

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.

Mud, mud, glorious mud

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it’s a southern English thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the season

One thing I never do in Anchorage is take a bus somewhere. I did once, on my first visit. I fell asleep and ended up at the airport. So, back home now, we’re again in the habit of taking buses here and there. But this news was a little disconcerting:

Thanks to whoever put this up on social media, it potentially saved me from a very long wait.

The gardeners came and removed all the fallen leaves from the communal car park. We no longer have to slide on or squelch through ankle deep leaf litter to reach our car. That was an exciting day, watching the workers.

We drove over to Cheadle Hulme to watch Martha and William swimming, and again, Martha’s diving was impressive, something I’ve never been able to do

Wythenshawe Radio offered a quick course which I attended, in a training room above the library in Wythenshawe Forum. It felt strange walking through a classroom to get there, but it was a fun couple of hours.

My wife, mother-in-law and I ventured into Manchester, walked through the Christmas Market but didn’t engage. No overpriced Glühwein for us. A quick spot of Christmas shopping but en passant, I couldn’t help but notice the odd typo. Maybe there’s a competition taking place that I’m not aware of.

Manchester has been well decorated and we were impressed by the tree. The photo of Liesel and Leslie in front of it wasn’t very good, so I photoshopped them out.

I visited the pharmacy for my booked Covid jab but they hadn’t yet received the delivery. Another sign that the whole of society is going to the dogs. They did call a few days later though, and I am now fully vaccinated and I feel invincible, cough, cough, splutter.

We didn’t visit the RHSGlow light show at Bridgewater. But Jenny and the family had a simply wonderful time there.

Somewhere else we’re not is Christchurch, New Zealand, a city proud to home my sister Pauline and her other half Andrew. It’s meant to be Summer there, so imagine my delight when Pauline sent photos after a recent, heavy snowstorm. Or maybe it’s hail?

Where else didn’t we go? We didn’t see Paul McCartney in concert at the Arena in Manchester. It may just be old age, but we didn’t really like the venue last time we went. Plus, the last time I saw him perform, at the O2, with Jenny, a few years ago, I thought it was the best Beatles concert I’d ever see and it probably couldn’t be topped. Now, of course, a few days after the event, I wish I’d gone. (Apart from Hey Jude, which would have been my cue to visit the toilets.)

Leslie’s birthday came and on the day, we collected the children from school, brought them home for a spot of craftwork, specifically decorating pine cones that they’d picked up in Formby on a recent visit, after which, we joined Jenny and Liam for a birthday meal.

You can tell William’s a proper little boy. Just look at the state of this:

One major event this week. I have reached the end of the classic Doctor Who series on BBC iPlayer, including the film made in 1996 starring Paul McGann as the 8th Doctor. The film was much better than the final couple of storylines in the TV series. A character made of licorice allsorts and cats riding horses, that’s all you need to know. Now, we’re all looking forward to this year’s special Doctor Who episode on Christmas Day.

In fact, Liesel bought the Christmas special edition of Radio Times. I thought it would be nice to see what’s on the radio over Christmas. This is Radio Times. Radio gets a mention after a mere 250 pages, national, local, BBC, commercial radio, and all the listings squoze into a mere 33 pages. Whinge of the day.

Oh, alright, here’s another one. When you want to unsubscribe from an email that you don’t remember signing up to in the first place, and you have to do several Captchas to prove you’re not a robot and the pictures aren’t clear enough so you go round and round in circles and you end up swearing you’ll never ever do business with that company. Grrr.

One thing I miss about Anchorage is that we no longer have to be on the lookout for bears. Imagine my surprise then when I encountered one here in Northenden.

This will be the final post before the big day. Liesel and I would like to wish you a very Merry Christmas and lots of good fortune for the new year.

This is our Christmas tree, beautifully and expertly decorated by Liesel. But, a Christmas tree made of wood? What a ridiculous idea!

Big Things

We returned to the Bear Tooth for an evening meal with Liesel’s brother Aaron and his family. On this occasion, I chose a pizza but it was too big for my dainty stomach and I couldn’t finish it. By various logistical manoeuvres, we eventually returned to Cath and Hans’s place for one final night. Alas, not a full night’s sleep for Liesel: she got up at 4am in order to drive back across the big city and take Buzz to the airport for her return trip home to Albuquerque. During the night, the temperature had dropped to -15°C so I was quite happy to stay under the covers for a few more hours.

Meanwhile, newlyweds Helen and Brent were slurping their way through the newly released film Wicked. Liesel, her Mom and I saw the stage version in London, with the original Broadway cast, a mere 19 years ago. Feeling old.

After the airport run, Liesel and her Mom collected me and we enjoyed a big breakfast at Southside Grill. Liesel’s choice was reindeer and cheese skillet with eggs. I meant to go and check up on our near neighbour, Star, later on, but I forgot. We did learn something new about American cuisine, though. Eggs ‘over easy’ means you get runny egg white. If you want solid whites with slightly runny yolk, you ask for ‘over medium’. My meal kept me going for the rest of the day: no need for lunch nor dinner.

After watching our first TV rubbish in a week, Liesel went to work in the office, taking Mom with her. And while I didn’t go and visit Star, I did go for a long walk to visit some more wildlife, even though I really, really, really craved a nap. It was -9° with no wind. Footwear is so much better nowadays: even though it was cold out, my feet didn’t turn into blocks of ice like they used to when I was a child. My exposed face was the most uncomfortably chilly.

I had crampons on my shoes too, and the noise they made as I walked on ice was very strange. Crunch, crunch, crunch as usual, but in places, a squeak or a slight echo gave the impression that the ice was hollow underneath. At the right pace, there was occasionally an almost continuous roar coming from my footsteps. Great sound effects. Where the pavement was ice-free, my crampons sounded like I was wearing several pairs of high-heels.

My destination was a dead, beached whale that had made the news a few days ago. I know, sad that it had died, but still an interesting thing to see as a visitor: we don’t get much washed up sealife in the Mersey.

I walked by Jupiter, the biggest planet, another stop on the citywide Planet Walk, and I smiled at the uncharacteristic snow-covered Jovian north pole.

I didn’t know how close I’d get to the object of interest, so I started taking photos as soon as I saw the crowd on the frozen mud flats.

Mud flats and, way over there, whale watchers

I was in two minds about whether to walk on the mud flats. I wouldn’t in Summer, too risky with quicksands and, I suppose, quickmuds.

But, ‘do something scary every day’, as a friend once said. I figured that if I were to fall through the ice, someone from the fairly large crowd would come to my rescue once they’d stopped laughing.

It was icy, and bumpy, and I felt better prepared for the adventure than many others whose shoes and boots appeared to have no grip at all.

As I approached the whale, its odour became more obvious. Being this cold, the body wasn’t decomposing very fast. I’m sure it will smell stronger before the next really high tide takes the corpse away.

The deceased juvenile fin whale is 47 feet in length. Fin whales are the second largest cetacean after the blue whale. Their name comes from the relatively small dorsal fin.

A lady with zero grip on her sheepskin boots asked me to help her across the ice. In the end, I helped Valerie walk all the way back to her car.

The biologists have taken some large samples away to determine the cause of death. There are no signs of a collision with a boat, so it’s probably natural.

Much of the baleen seems to have disappeared: I suspect people other than native Alaskans have, illegally, taken it as a souvenir.

You can tell by how dark my glasses are that the Sun was very bright, and very low down, so it was hard to avoid looking towards it.

After dropping Valerie off at her vehicle, I quickly debated with myself whether or not to walk across the ice-covered lagoon. I decided not to on the grounds that I’ve already done something scary today, but also, at the edge of the lagoon, there was water, actual liquid water, running out from underneath the ice, and I thought that maybe it’s not as solid as it looks, even if there are plenty of other people out there skating and even practicing their ice hockey skills.

I did like the machine out on the ice, a caterpillar tracked snow plough and I thought, I should get something like that to better negotiate the potholes of Northenden and Gatley.

Over in the old country, we’re sorry to have missed William’s 7th birthday, but we did have a quick video chat with him as we were just going to bed and he’d just got up for school.

Happy birthday William. And what did we do to celebrate the occasion? Well, we binge-watched a TV series Dark Winds, which takes place in the Navajo nation. I think we can all recommend it, although I’m not likely to read the 27 books on which the series is based. The only exercise today was a quick walk over the road to do some shopping.

Liesel’s doing a lot of work right now in the office: I wish I could help in some way, but my legal experience is limited to watching one session of a Superior Court case recently..

After another breakfast out, this time at Jackie’s Place, where, by the way, I only got two eggs ‘over medium’, remember, instead of the three I’d had at Southside, Liesel took me next door to Play It Again Sports. I don’t know who Bob is but I had a feeling that he deserved a damn good whacking, as the song says.

But, apparently we’re not allowed to thump him. What a great sports shop though. If only I were interested in skiing, skating, playing ice hockey, football, soccer, working out, weight-lifting or lacrosse. I could have bought specialised gloves for many different sports, even for different positions in some sports. And then there are so many different socks available. I might have had a go at the unicycle I spied in the corner but (a) it was chained to the fire extinguisher and (b) I still can’t ride a unicycle.

Another day, another dollar. While Liesel was in the office, Jyoti took me on a tour of Anchorage. Well, kinda. First stop was Chugach Mountain Roasters, the coffee shop where Suvan, Jyoti’s son, works. The coffee was so nice, I had a second cup, thanks very much, Suvan.

Next, we visited Natural Pantry for some natural food items. What a strange place. At home, we buy aloe vera gel in nice plastic bottles. Here, it’s all natural. And what big leaves they are.

I was very happy to see this sign though, an employer actually looking after their staff. So Jyoti and I returned all our cannabis and hemp based products to the relevant shelves.

We paid a quick visit to SK, Jyoti’s boyfriend’s daughter, on the occasion of her birthday, after which, I was dropped off at the office.

In the evening, Liesel, Leslie and I went round to Monica’s house for a lovely meal. A huge pork joint was the main attraction, while my falafels were a close second. Jyoti, Una and Phil joined us too and it was good to see Gregg again and especially Neha, back home from Washington DC where she is studying.

For whatver reason, we’d decided previously that we wouldn’t make a trip to Talkeetna on this occasion. For which I am very grateful. This is how cold it was there.

So, as you might have anticipated, I ended this post with another whinge about the climate here.

Socks and tiles

Several thousand words omitted describing Mick’s medical emergency and its aftermath. More medical appointmets in a week than there are atoms in a water molecule. The worst thing is, training for the 2032 Brisbane Olympics has been on hold, so there’s some catching up to do.

But slowly, slowly, Mick climbed back through the treacle to a more resonable, stable landscape. Just in time too. Writing in the third person because it all seems like it was happening to somebody else, over there, and I was merely an observer.

Some lovely friends from Germany paid a quick visit to Manchester and we three, Mick, Liesel and Leslie, enjoyed entertaining them for a few days. I last met Fe a couple of years ago in Anchorage, but this was the first time I’d met her mother, Gabi, and her 10-month old daughter Charlotte.

We caught a bus into the city and Charlotte kept us entertained on board.

Our first destination was The Whitworth Gallery. Liesel and I have been before but it was fun to act as guides for our guests. As if we knew what we were talking about! Charlotte wasn’t bothered by the artwork, but she did like to move around a lot.

The exhibition of Carnival pictures was alright but I think we were all too busy talking and catching up on family news, I didn’t take many pictures. I was feeling much better, but still nowhere near 100%.

In fact, after lunch in the café, I went home for a nap while our visitors wandered around some other Manchester sights and sites.

The weir in Northenden is broken, no idea how that happened, but it means that the annual Northenden Boat Race was cancelled.

To be honest, I needed a nap at home too, but in the evening, we all met up for a meal in Albert’s, a restaurant just along the road from Fe and Gabi’s b&b: what are the chances? Lovely, sociable Charlotte made friends with everyone, including the serving staff. She can just about walk, as long as she holds on to one or two grown-up fingers, and she and I circumnavigated the restaurant a couple of times.

We all returned to Manchester for another full day of sightseeing.

Our guests admired the architecture of the Midland Hotel, and all I could think of was the very small cup of coffee I had in there once when I visited with my other mother-in-law, many years ago. And, we were reminded that Manchester Pride is imminent.

I think they could have made this statue of Abraham Lincoln even taller if they’d given him his stovepipe hat. John Rylands Library is always good to wander round, look at the books, and the architecture. Liesel and I joined an organised tour a while ago, but they no longer run these. Someone asked, did the building used to be a church? No, but it was designed to resemble a church. And it was good to see thet we weren’t the only overseas visitors today.

We continued our tour of the city at the Museum of Science and Industry. Disappointing that the loom wasn’t in operation today due to lack of volunteers. On the other hand, it’s quite a noisy machine and maybe a bit too loud for Charlotte’s little lugs.

But Charlotte did enjoy time in the soft play area, even while being a bit discombobulated being pushed round and round in an oversize cotton reel.

We paid a visit to nearby Castlefield Viaduct too. Gabi and I climbed the stairs, and that was almost too much for me, on this occasion. Fe and Liesel pushed the buggy the long way round since the lift is still out of commission.

The various gardens on the viaduct are a wee bit unkempt right now, maybe the volunteer gardeners have been enjoying a nice, lazy Summer. Still, it was interesting to see and hear Gabi’s take on some of the plants, I wondered whether she was a herbalist (a witch?) in a previous life.

Royal Mail offer a very different service in Manchester, as we discovered on our walk back to our bus stop.

Fe and Gabi’s visit came to a sudden end. We paid a return visit to Albert’s for a farewell meal, thank you very much, after which we wandered back to their b&b for a quick glass of wine. It was quite late in the evening, but Charlotte showed no sign of needing to go to sleep.

Meanwhile, what’s Helen been up to? We saw her briefly when she arrived from Aus, but since then she and Brent have been on an extensive tour of the UK and Ireland. Lake District with Jenny and the family. Edinburgh for the Festival Fringe, Ireland for a wedding, Brighton to visit Amy and then to Kingston for a meal at Riverside Vegetaria, celebrating its 35th anniversary.

I came into our living room and saw this apparition. Don’t worry, it’s only William. You can tell by the odd socks on his odd feet.

When we were at the Museum of Science and Technology, we saw there’s a room full of old video games, and we thought Martha and William might both enjoy this. They both play games on parents’ phones, after all. The adventure started with a tram ride into Manchester and I met up with everyone at the Museum. Why didn’t I travel in with them? Sod’s Law, innit. The last few weeks, our Ocado delivery has arrived at about 9.30, or even earlier. Today, because we’d planned to go out, he didn’t arrive until an hour later. Of course he didn’t.

Anyway, while I was excited to come across a working BBC Microcomputer, I was very disappointed that I couldn’t remember enough to help Martha write a BBC Basic program.

I like this photo because we have a very similar one featuring young Jenny programming my own, original BBC micro.

While she and William were playing with Sonic the Hedgehog and Pokémon, I did manage to insert a single line of code which I hope later visitors will appreciate.

The children spent a few more hours at the museum, playing these video games but also exploring the exploration area, causing earthquakes, studying viscosity, playing with magnets and much more. But William delighted us by persevering and building a Soma cube from seven differently shaped pieces.

And then Martha and I played a game of Jenga with some very sticky tiles. The tower was precarious and guess who made the final, fatal move?

I had the first of the week’s three medical appointmets in the aftrernoon so, after lunch, I departed, leaving Liesel and Leslie in charge.

And here’s little Martha relaxing in the cotton spool recently vacated by little Charlotte.

A couple more medical appointments later in the week that encouraged me to walk in places I’ve not wandered before. I like a bit of street art but I just wish the artist would arrange things so that I could get a decent photo of the whole thing without having to clamber up a drainpipe and balance precariously on someobody’s wall. So this picture is a bit distorted.

And yes, I must be feeling a little bit better, more myself, but nowhere near 100%, because I let Liesel persuade me to join her and Leslie on the regular Friday morning Thrive walk in Wythenshawe. It was alright although I was aware of walking more slowly than I usually do. I was glad to take a load off in Costa afterwards.

Yes, I can see the irony in me feeling a bit down at the moment thanks to a, hopefully temporary, impairment in my abilities, while, at the same time, watching and admiring the Paralympians on TV living with, coping with and even overcoming their permanent disabilities. They are amazing.

Citius, Altius, Fortius – Communiter

After our expedition to Wales, it took a couple of days for us to recover from the jetlag. And to find our land legs following the three nights kipping on the water bed.

It was a beautiful Summer’s day when we picked the children up from school, the final time this term. We brought them home, where, as requested, we once again spent time making sushi. Martha and William also constructed some delightful models with sticky Wikki Stix.

Jenny joined us and we all fought the sticky rice that sticks to everything rather then the roasted seaweed sushi nori that it’s supposed to stick to. Well, that’s my experience. Wet your fingers before manpulating the rice, then, they said. That just means I have a bowl of water with rice grains floating around. The children managed OK, their worst crime maybe overloading the nori with too many other ingredients.

The streets of Northenden and Wythenshawe are flat, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that before, and that’s why we found the hills in Wales more challenging, but more interesting. Nothing much has changed here, except the signpost in Royle Green Road has been driven into again.

Good job there weren’t any children around at the time.

One of my most exciting activities this week was deleting my stuff from Liesel’s laptop. She’ll be investing in a new one soon, and there’s no need to transfer over any of my nonsense, er, I mean valuable data. So I backed it all up even though I’ll probably never look at any of it again, and removed it. I was unable to delete my user account though, which would have made things tidier for Liesel.

The three of us went over to Dunham Massey where we replaced our usual National Trust grounds wander with an enjoyable, longer walk in the neighbourhood, through the woods, beside the canal and back to the NT property, via the back entrance.

We followed the Bridgewater Canal and carefully made way for the many runners and cyclists and other groups of promenaders who steadfastly refused to accommodate us by breaking their three-in-a-row formation. Yeah, we’ll just jump into the bushes and let you amble on by, don’t worry about us… yes, very tempted to accidently push them in the water.

We feasted on three or four blackberries and a few raspberries, but hundreds of other walkers had been there before us, so even if we’d thought to bring along a container, I don’t think we would have filled it with wild berries.

A few people were on the water enjoying their time in a narrow boat. Of course, we waved from the bridge.

As I was leaning on the bridge parapet, I felt several pings, stings on my hand, and when I looked down, I noticed it was being eaten by ants. Dozens of ants poring out through the mortar and making a meal of my skin. Apologies to those I brushed off in haste that ended up in the water.

We walked through a golf course where there was a tournament taking place, so we took advantage and, from the stall close to the 7th hole, we bought some refreshments for ourselves.

A narrow path proved to be treacherous for a bit, when the nettles, brambles, holly and thistles all conspired to overgrow the path, attacking our legs despite our best efforts to avoid nature’s own weaponry.

One of the highlights of course was seeing a wide variety of dogshit. Some freshly laid in the middle of the path, some carefully picked up in a plastic bag and hung in a bush or on the barbed wire fence. You have to admire the gall of dog walkers serenely vaping and looking away into the distance, away from the mutt, pretending not to notice that it’s taking a dump.

We sat down for a minute opposite St Marks Church, Dunham Massey. I admired the flowers growing there, and the bonus cones not quite concealed.

The loop took us back to the back entrance of the National Trust and after a walk along the long Charcoal Drive, we decided to have a late lunch. The restaurant’s upstairs, but downstairs smelt of old, hot, wet dog, a fetid stench I’ve not experienced since I was a postman.

In more pleasant news, here are Martha and William on the last day of term.

We watched the children swimming and then joined the family at their home for a welcome coffee and lovely cheese and tomato sandwich. As it was Manchester Day in Manchester, I took myself off to Manchester by bus. It didn’t take me as far as I’d planned, a car crash was being cleared up in Oxford Road.

It was a busy city, all sorts of people were there either celebrating or protesting, street food vendors, Morris dancers, a saxophone player, a group of drummers, Ukrainians, acrobats, a few hen parties, skate boarders, singers and a couple of drag queens celebrating Manchester Gay. As the promoters said, it was a big, fun day of games, music, performances, dancing, food, sunshine, sports, and lots of big smiles.

I was sorry to have missed the snail race but I did catch up with them, eventually.

In our old garden in Chessington, sometimes we’d erect poles up which we grew a splendid harvest of beans or peas. Well, if I’d seen this person climbing up our beanpoles and doing acrobatics, I would’ve said, “Oi, no!” in an Angry Frank style.

To get away from the crowds, I wandered over the bridge into Salford, and then back over another bridge towards Aviva Studios, home of Factory International. The outside area has temporarily been turned into a skateboard park, which was fun to watch, but of course, I found myself in the middle of another large crowd here.

The last Sunday of each calendar month sees the famous Makers’ Market at Didsbury. The three of us walked over there, enjoying what, at last, is proper, warm, Summery weather. We passed many people on the path by the river, which was hard to see in places because the weeds, especially the Himalayan balsam, was very overgrown.

The market itself was busy, and, being warm, I opted for a cold drink rather then hot coffee. Rum punch, since you ask, but I don’t think there was any alcohol involved! On the walk back home, we saw a really unusual sight.

Two people in a small boat drifting down the Mersey: we never see boats on this stretch of the river. Maybe they were going all the way to Liverpool?

I drove over to Heald Green to meet with a representative from our luxury apartment’s management company. I was also tasked with buying falafels for dinner. I found some in the end, that was a relief. I also went over to Simply Books in Bramhall to spend the book token that Pauline and Andrew gave me for my birthday, all those months ago, when we were in Australia. Three new novels to enjoy once I’ve finished one or two of the books I’m already in the middle of.

I do like extended birthday celebrations.

The official Thrive walks were not taking place this week, but that didn’t prevent Leslie and me from joining three others at Boxx2Boxx to walk through the woods. Liesel was otherwise engaged. For the second time recently, I left the flat without my phone. I couldn’t believe how often I reached for it, to take a photo, to look something up, to see what the time was, to show somebody a particular picture.

Liesel went for a walk with the other group, WalkaDay, a return trip to Romiley. I stayed at home with Leslie watching the Olympics. Ah, the Olympics.

We’d watched the Opening Ceremony on the Friday night, and even though it went on a bit, it was quite enjoyable. The weather in Paris was atrocious, I think it rained harder and harder as time went on.

Sadly we don’t have tickets for any of the events, so we’ll have to watch it on TV. Sorry to say I agreed with many comments on 𝕏 complaining about the BBC’s coverage. Because they didn’t get the full rights, they’re only allowed to show two live events at a time, on broadcast TV and online. So what do they do instead? Show hours and hours of pundits in the studio talking about the sports we’re not seeing. Or building up a competitor by giving us their ‘journey’ and thus jinxing them.

Anyway, at Liesel’s bidding, I signed up to Discovery+ for a month so we can see more action on Eurosport. And I think that was a very good and worthwhile investment.

You have to admire the skills on display, and all the atheletes and competitors deserve much kudos for their dedication to their sport and the discipline required to do all that training. And they make things look so easy. How often did I say, ‘I could do that…’ while watching their performances?

I decided I’d like to take part in the Olympics one day. Not so keen on Los Angeles, so I’m saving myself for Brisbane 2032. So I have eight years to find something to be good at.

Swimming? I’m not a very strong swimmer, and having seen the successful medal winners this week, I realise I just have the wrong body shape. And I’m not very fast either. When my old friend Peter took 14 strokes to swim a width of the Kingfisher pool in Kingston, it took me 40 strokes. And I don’t think you get medals for taking the most strokes to cover a given distance. I’d be worried too if the atmosphere in the area were electric: electricity and water don’t mix.

Show jumping? No way José. I haven’t been on top of a horse for 63 years and I have no intention of changing this state of affairs. It was at Epsom racecourse, possibly on Derby Day that year. I was put on top of this huge stallion and I remember being told to hold on to its mane, which I thought would hurt the poor beast. I looked down on my parents a long way below, wishing to be lifted off. Do I want the horse to walk a bit? No flipping way, thank you, thought this traumatised 6-year old. The idea of sitting on such a huge animal is bad enough. While it moves? Terrifying. Jumping and actually leaving terra firma? I have sweaty palms just typing this.

Gymnastics? My only experience here, apart from messing about at school, bounding over the vaulting horse, was when I first lived in London. In those days, on crowded tube trains, you would hold onto the overhead hanging straps. On less busy journeys, I sometimes pulled myself up on two of these straps and did a complete somersault. I always landed on my feet and my arms soon recovered from being pulled out of their sockets. So, with a bit more practice, I might be alright at this.

Skateboarding? Again, probably not. I had a go on a skateboard once, thinking it can’t be that different to roller skating. It was. One, two, three scoots, then I went flying one way while the skateboard zoomed off in the opposite direction.

BMX Freestyle? Well I do like cycling, but I have never been able to ride no-handed and I can only just do a bunny hop on a good day. Again, I think the thought of leaving solid ground is just too scary.

Badminton? Ooh that’s a good one. I did play when I was at school and even when I worked at Thomas Cook in Peterborough. It’s a nice, gentle game. Except having watched it this week, I realise that my colleagues and I were only playing at quarter speed. Plus, while playing doubles, my most significant memory is that of the noise that rackets make when they clash. I think my team mate and I weren’t always properly coordinated.

Surfing? Well, as I said, I’m not a very strong swimmer. But in any case, this isn’t for me. Once on a beach in Hawaii, I turned my back on the ocean. Suddenly, I was being tumbled and buffetted in and out of the water, an experience as close to being inside a washing machine as I ever need to live through. My sinuses had a good clear out, but the Pacific continued to pour from my nose for several days afterwards.

Trampolining? Again, the only experience I have is from school. I didn’t mind the jumping up and down bit, and I did manage a couple of pikes and other simple tricks. But my main fear was getting my fingers caught in the springs holding the bed tight. Imagine my shock and horror when a few years later, while watching trampolining on TV, probably the Olympics, I noticed the springs were covered with a nice thick pad. If my school trampolines had had such padding, I might well have become a champion in due course. Except, even if I was any good at the complex tricks, triple twists with a double backflip and all that, I would never remember what order to do them in.

Cycling? Well, I can ride a long way maybe, but I can’t go fast, I can’t race. And I shouldn’t be pedalling in affairs that don’t concern me.

Commentating? I’m not sure I could keep a straight face if, for instance, I were to say that a kayaker was tight on the downstream sausage. And if I said that he had a silver medal in his pocket and then, in the next breath, that he had a silver medal around his neck, I think I’d just hand the microphone over to someone more competent.

Hmm, that all sounds so negative doesn’t it? ‘Do something scary every day’ is something I try to live by, as well as, ‘I’ll try anything once’. But give me a minute, and I’ll come up with some good excuses…

Plus, if I were to win an Olympic medal, regardless of colour, I wouldn’t want to have to bite it for the photographers, I’d be worried about breaking my teeth.

One thing I was good at for one Summer term was the 110-yard hurdles. This was in my first year at secondary school. The following year, the hurdles were raised by two inches, but I certainly wasn’t. So I was now unable to get my leg over.

I’ll keep an eye on the events for the next few days, there must be something I can train up for. But, listening to the various commentators, I’m not sure I could manage to do what they say I should, whatever the sport. Just doing my thing, hitting the ball or something, somehow I have to ‘Send a message to the crowd’. I’d have to ‘Put down markers’, whatever that means. Naturally, I’d like to win a medal, not just ‘claim a medal’, a phrase that has always annoyed me. Plus, I don’t have a sob story to tell that they can put out as my ‘journey’ accompanied by melancholic piano music.

Still, I have a few years to sort my issues out and do a bit of training. And I am now saving up for tickets to Brisbane.

Another ongoing project of mine is to watch all of the old, classic Doctor Who series on BBC iPlayer. Well, I’ve got to the point where my least favourite companion has just died, left the series. A young boy called Adric: I didn’t like him in 1981 and I didn’t like him this time round either. To paraphrase an expression used by David Tennant’s first incarnation as the Doctor, Adric was an annoying ‘tiny, whiney thing’. However much I might whinge about things, I’ll never be as irritating as him. Glad to see the back of him. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as we used to say. Even if the dinosaurs all died out as a side-effect of his demise.

Meanwhile, in real life, our grandchildren are enjoying a week in Menorca, soaking up the Sun and soaking in the sea.

Liesel’s been working hard this week, and her laptop fan is determined to break the sound barrier. The sooner she acquires a new machine, the quieter!

Croeso i Gymru! Part 1

Earlier in the year, we spent a wonderful couple of months in New South Wales. Now, it was time to visit old south Wales, but only for a week.

Our long drive to a small village near Cardiff included a stretch on the M5. The gantry displayed a warning: Reports of Pedestrians, and the speed limit was reduced from 70 to 60mph. And I thought, how thoughtful: it’s so much kinder to hit pedestrians at 60mph than 70.

The reason for visiting Wales at this time was determined by the scheduling of Jessica Lee Morgan’s one and only live show this year. So imagine my disappointment when, halfway to our destinations, I received messages telling me the gig had been cancelled. Jessica’s bass player and partner Chris needed emergency surgery, and of course, people’s health has to come first. Still, I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed at the news, but we were determined to have a good time in Cymru.

The route took us along some very narrow roads with passing places. And in most places, the hedges on both sides were very tall, so obscuring what we feel were some spectacular views. A couple of people riding horses in front of us pretty much blocked the road, there was no way we could overtake them. They pulled over into a driveway by a gate to let us pass, for which we were grateful. A little further along the road though, we realised that actually, that was the gate to our b&b, so we returned once the horses had passed by us.

Unusually, the b&b had no milk in the fridge, so I set off to what we thought was the nearest supermarket. And, as if to rub salt in the wound, this small shop was opposite what would have been the venue for the gig the following night! What are the chances, eh?

In the evening, we watched the Tour de France highlights on TV with, unusually, a screen even smaller than our own TV set at home.

In the morning, breakfast was accompanied by the rural sounds of, well, the smoke alarm beeping, because it needed a new battery. I disposed of a cluster of what we believe to be spiders’ nests. And I repaired the broken window blind in one of our rooms. Not having a gig to go to tonight, we could have explored further afield, but in the end, we stayed fairly close to our accommodation.

First stop: Dyffryn Gardens. Liesel was driving and I set the destination in Google Maps. As we approached, within the last mile or so, we commented on not so far having seen a sign to the gardens, but also, this is a very residential area, how can there possibly be a large National Trust property here? Well, there wasn’t. Instead, we laughed at the Welsh sense of humour, having a small road in a housing estate also named Dyffryn Gardens. I’m sure the locals are kept entertained by visitors making the same basic mistake with modern technology. I reprogrammed the thing, specifying Dyffryn Gardens National Trust. Well, it was a long but pleasant drive, and we saw more tractors than any other vehicles.

Apart from mopeds, that is. I suspect there was a moped rally somewhere. I wondered what fans of mopeds are called? Liesel told me: mopedophiles.

The gardens are well laid out, and we enjoyed our saunter around the various beds and displays. It was quite busy, but relaxing in the sunshine.

It was good to see lots of insects too. For lunch, I had a coronation chickpea sandwich, which was nice, but it was really hot inside the restaurant.

Not having any grandchildren in tow today, Liesel took it upon herself to enjoy the adventure playground to its fullest, bounding from log to log like a gazelle.

We stayed clear of the giant hogweed, but of course, really, it was just giant, Chilean rhubarb.

We enjoyed the wide variety of cacti and succulents in the very humid greenhouse. And as for wildlife, the only wild mammal I saw was a shrew, looking for a hole in the brick wall.

Some mysteries you can explain, some mysteries you can’t explain, and then there are mysteries that you didn’t know were mysteries until one day, you see something and begin to wonder:

Why is Spot the Dog called Smot in Wales? I really hope ‘spot’ isn’t a naughty word in Welsh.

St Fagans Museum of Welsh Life is a fascinating place, too. It’s a bit like the Weald and Downland Living Museum in Sussex, in that there is a collection of old, rebuilt houses and buildings from years and even centuries ago.

Pigsty, built in 1800, reconstructed 1977

We watched a couple of iron age men at work in the foundry. Well, working iron, anyway, I don’t really think they were that old. We could feel the heat from the fire, I can only imagine how hot it feels when you’re working right on top of it.

Slow walking gets to us all after a while and we have to sit down for an ice cream. So we did. We visited an old shop where the items weren’t really for sale, but still priced in old, pre-decimal money. I had a nice chat with the man behind the counter. We shared stories of how we used to go and buy cigarettes for our Dads and pick up a small treat for ourselves. Innocent days.

When I was growing up in Guildford, we lived close to a set of prefabs, buildings prefabricated and built after the second world war, as a temporary measure to house many people. My parents’ friends Pearl and Eddie lived in a prefab and we visited a few times. I think they were finally demolished in the 1970s. The prefabs, that is, not Pearl and Eddie, I’ve no idea what happened to them, nor Eddie’s very loud motorbike. But I felt that Proustian rush today when I walked around an old prefab here at St Fagans.

It’s been a long time, of course, but it certainly felt the same inside, as it was decorated in 1950s style, with plenty of old artefacts that I remember growing up with.

In the evening, we didn’t have a gig to go to (best wishes, Chris!) so the three of us sat around and looked at each other. A football game was on TV in the background: the Euros Final: England 1 Spain 2, but ‘we’ll always have 1966, eh?’

We were expecting lots of rain in Wales and on just one day, the weather met our expectations. We drove along more narrow lanes on our way to spend a day in Cardiff, starting off at the Castle. On the way into the city, we passed by some stunning Victorian houses, and wondered as we often do, whether the people that live here really appreciate how lucky they are to live in such a gorgeous place?

My first attempts at taking a picture of the castle keep were thwarted by big signs for the toilets and, from another angle, all the fast food outlets. We joined a guided tour which was interesting, and not only because the nearly 2000-year old Roman wall is still there. Well, some of it.

Inside the castle, each room was different, and the text written on the walls is in many different languages, English, Welsh, Latin, Hebrew, Greek. One previous occupant learned 27 languages because he wanted to read the Bible in as many different languages as possible.

There are many animals decorating the walls too, the occupants were great animal lovers, even going to the extent of banning hunting at some point.

This coal from The Lewis Merthyr Colllery was donated by Rhondda Heritage Park Museum to commemorate all those involved in the 19th century Welsh mining industry. Their labours transformed the fortunes of Cardiff and its Castle. It reminded me of Sarah and me taking Jenny on her very first march, aged 1 or 2, in London, in support of the south Welsh miners about to have their communities thatchered. Walking along Piccadilly chanting ‘Close the Ritz, not the pits’ is still a fond memory.

After the official tour, I braved the drizzle and walked up to and around the keep.

On a clearer day, I suspect there are better views but I just enjoyed the challenge of walking up stairs and steps with an ever increasing gradient.

Wandering around Cardiff afterwards, we couldn’t help but notice the many graduates in their gowns. There were also people from many nations and tribes, it felt more like London than it did Manchester. Having read about it in a few places, we found our way to Uncommon Ground Coffee Roastery, where we enjoyed the best coffee imaginable. I even had a second cup here, something I don’t do very often.

Liesel and Leslie drove to the car park while I enjoyed a walk to the Millennium Centre, in the very light drizzle. It was good to see some fantastic signposts for the National Cycle Network, Route 8. This is the sort of thing I buy lottery tickets for.

It wasn’t really a surprise to see that the Millennium Centre was the venue for the day’s graduation ceremony. Lots of grads and families milling about inside and out. Despite the weather, many young women were dressed for an all-nighter, in their Summer frocks or party dresses.

The poem inscribed on the outside of the building is very difficult to photograph. You have to get the right angle, try to avoid people and obstacles, try not to stand in the middle of the road and then there’s the contrast of a dark building against the bright cloudy sky.

Words by Gwyneth Lewis. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a pilgrimage to this place, but it is somewhere I’ve wanted to visit since we saw it featured in the TV series Torchwood all those years ago.

I met up with Liesel and Mom in the car park at Mermaid Quay and we drove back to our place, in the rain. I like the dual language road signs, I’ll probably pick up some Welsh that way. But the word for ‘miles’ seems to vary between ‘filltir’ and ‘milltir’. It seems the inital consonant migrates depending on the preceding vowel. Liesel pointed out that, during the pandemic, when I was learning Māori pronunciation, maybe my time might have been better spent learning Welsh. She might have a point.

I would like to register a complaint. My Google Maps normally has a young, Aussie Sheila telling where to go and what to do. But sometimes, a harsh, bristling American woman jumps in with a fierce instruction. Why? I’ve got nothing against American women, obviously, I even married one. But what manner of bug is this, eh, Google?