music – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Four gigs and a cyclist

I’m sorry Liesel’s missed out, but it’s pure bad luck that some of our favourite singers have chosen to visit Manchester this month, within a few weeks of each other, and while Liesel’s anchored down you know where.

The last time we saw Eddi Reader, she was in a cave with bats flying round. This time, I saw her at the Royal Northern College of Music, RNCM.

I have a bone to pick with RNCM. The ticket said the show started at 8.00pm. So the fact that the bus made very slow progress through traffic didn’t really matter, I’d arrive in good time. There were lots of students on the bus and then, later on, we were joined by a horde of half-dressed, half-cut, young ladies on their way to a hen-do.

So I arrived at RNCM at 7.40. But the show had started at 7.30. The ticket, which I’ve now named Boris, lied. I missed ten minutes of the superb support act, one Eilidh Patterson. Her name is pronounced to rhyme with Kylie, rather than the usual Daily. So confusing. But she’s a wonderful singer,

She sold her own merch but I’m trying to download music these days rather than buy more CDs. There are exceptions of course.

Eddi Reader never performs the same set twice, and there’s always one or two songs I’d like to hear that she misses out.

Her band, which includes her husband and Boo Hewerdine, was ace.

Again, it was a nice mixed aged audience.

I should have moved into RNCM, actually, because a few days later, I returned to see O’Hooley and Tidow on their ‘So Long For Now’ tour. Yes, after 15 years of performing together, eight studio albums, four BBC Folk Award nominations, composing Gentleman Jack as the BBC drama theme tune and performing at hundreds of venues and festivals across the UK and Europe, the much-loved Yorkshire folk duo of Belinda O’Hooley & Heidi Tidow have made the momentous decision to say farewell for now in order to explore other adventures that are beckoning them. Heidi’s going back to University.

There was no support act, but in the second half of the show, Belinda and Heidi were joined by a string quartet, students from RNCM, who tonight, for one night only, played as The Polar Bear Quartet.

At the interval, the queue to buy some of their merch was ridiculously long, and I couldn’t even get close enough to see what they had on offer. Probably didn’t need anything anyway.

O’Hooley and Tidow with Polar Bear Quartet

There I was, minding my own business, watching Autumnwatch on TV, when someone rang the doorbell. That never happens. It was our neighbours from downstairs, newly moved in. Kruti and her cute little granddaughter gave me a present for Diwali, which was very kind of them. I felt bad about not reciprocating, of course.

This year, I set myself the goal of reading the Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes. Well, the stories written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, to be precise. I have succeeded in this endeavour. The 12-year old in me appreciated the use of the phrase ‘He ejaculated’ 26 times during the four novels and several collections of short stories. But there was not one single use of ‘No shit, Sherlock’, which I find baffling. In the early stories there are a few female characters named Mary, including one who became John Watson’s wife. Later on, the Marys seem to fade away. Very enjoyable, but when you read them all like that, one after the other, you realise how formulaic the stories are, and how ridiculous in some cases. For ‘deduction’, read, ‘a series of random thoughts, non sequiturs’.

Since I requested to delete my Microsoft account, I have been bombarded with even more marketing emails than before, and since I can’t unsubscribe without cancelling my request to delete the account, I’ve set up a filter so I never have to see them again.

And I’m sure I’m not the only one playing Whac-a-mole with Microsoft’s efforts to thrust its AI Copilot on me. I don’t want it. It’s even popped up in the noddy utility Notepad. Whinge of the week.

I don’t see the results of a car crash every single time I go for a walk in and around Northenden, but it happens quite a lot. I used to post all the photos to Instagram, but I can’t be bothered to do so every time any more. I think the novelty’s worn off.

More music in Manchester when RNCM took over Band on the Wall for the day. The city was very busy, but at least the rain held off as I walked to the venue. I bumped into Hayley, from Radio Northenden and Wythenshawe Radio. The musicians played alternately on different stages so that was a good way to get some steps in, walking backwards and forwards.

A very good folkie, I thought.

This band were rockin’ the joint.

Theo (if I have his name right) was a bit folky, he sang falsetto.

There were ten acts altogether but for reasons I won’t go into, I had to leave early.

Of course, I needed to complete my hattrick of visits to proper RNCM. So I went to see Julie Fowlis. She was great, but the lyrics were mostly unintelligible. Not because she’s a bad singer, but all of the songs bar one and a half were performed in Gaelic.

The songs, being Scottish, were of course gorgeous. We should get some more of her music in our collection, not just the soundtrack from the film Brave!

What I didn’t expect, when Julie walked off stage halfway through one of the final songs, was to see her come back playing the bagpipes.

After the show, again, the queue to have a chat with her was very long, so I made my way home.

This week saw the final Wednesday Walk led by Chantel for Thrive Manchester. It was very well attended, despite the dodgy looking weather. In future, we’ll risk getting lost in the woods on a Wednesday as we wander round without a leader.

Oh, by the way, I have been reading books other than Sherlock Holmes stories this year. I’ve just finished Peaches For Monsieur le Curé by Joanne Harris, a second sequel to her best-seller Chocolat. And, between you and me, I think it’s better than Chocolat.

Google Maps can be a bit annoying sometimes but I’m glad it took me to Bramhall a strange way this week, given the roadworks currently taking place in Gatley. The venue for this very popular event was moved from Simply Books to St Michael and All Angels parish church. When I arrived, people were queueing outside, and we made slow progress. And then, on crossing the threshold, we realised the queue then wound its way all round the church hall.

We were here to meet Sir Mark Cavendish, possibly our favourite cyclist of all time. He’s written a book called Believe, which I’m looking forward to reading. And there is already a short waiting list, someone’s waiting to borrow it.

I’ve been preparing a couple of radio shows this week, so I’ve probably not been out as much as I would like. The most exciting moment for me was speaking to Tasmin Archer, fulfilling a 32-year ambition! She was great and I hope the end result informs, educates and entertains on Wythenshawe Radio.

Last week’s show featured Unusual and Unexpected Duets. Listen here on Mixcloud. and feel free to sing along.

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.

Tour de Everyday Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope nobody was inside when this happened.

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

David Bowie with a fried egg on his collarbone

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

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

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

Out and about again

Once upon a time, I stayed over at Jenny’s house, and even though I anticipated an early morning invasion, neither of the children came into my room to bounce on the bed.

Jenny took me home later in the day and I changed into my eveningware for a musical recital in Manchester. Well, no, I didn’t. But I did go into the big city for a gig.

I joined the queue, and I wonder if you can guess who I was here to see?

The venue is not one of my favourites, O2 Ritz, but I decided early on that I would head straight for the balcony where I could stand at the front, and lean on the barrier, or, sit down, actually sit down, on a chair or a bench.

On stage appeared Mark Radcliffe and Marc Riley who told us that the last time they introduced a band on stage together, it was David Bowie with his band. Tonight, they were happy to introduce us to Woody Woodmansey and Tony Visconti’s Holy Holy, performing some of the Best of Bowie. With about 500 songs to choose from, they did well to keep the show down to about two hours.

Who else was in the band? Glenn Gregory from Heaven 17 is a big Bowie fan and he still seems excited and honoured to be singing the songs. Jessical Lee Morgan played guitar and saxophone, not at the same time. Janette Mason did a great job on keyboards and, one day, I hope to see her in concert in her own right.

From my vantage point at the front of the balcony, I could watch Chris Thomas working hard on the merch stall. One of the items on sale was a copy of the set list, signed by Woody and Tony. So that saves me having to try and remember what songs were performed.

There was no support act. No, the band played solidly for two hours, and the audience sang along. A comment from the stage and repeated later on, on Bluesky, suggested this was the loudest crowd of the tour so far.

A young lady was pleased that I let her squeeze in beside me by the barrier. She cried at Life on Mars. There were a few emotional people around, mostly oldies like me, but there were a few young people too.

From the balcony, It was quite hard to get a decent photo. But we have to try. Unlike some folks, though, I didn’t bother with a flash!

T-shirt wars. Tony Visconti was wearing a Hype t-shirt. Hype was the band he was in with David Bowie, even before Space Oddity. This was apparently an original t-shirt. Hmmm. On the other hand, his daughter Jessica was wearing this one, an allusion to one of the encore songs. IYKYK, as the young people say.

Yes, after the show, I went down to the merch stall to see Jess and Chris. I didn’t buy the set list but I did buy a Holy Holy t-shirt, first time I’ve bought a band shirt since about 1994.

I couldn’t fight my way through the crowd to say hello to Woody but it was good to see him enjoying being in the spotlight.

The tour bus was parked outside, disguised as a bus from Manchester’s Bee Network: bright yellow.

I walked down the road a bit to book an Uber but with perfect timing, I was able to flag down a black cab.

After being home for a couple of weeks now, I felt it was time to go for a long walk. So off I went to Quarry Bank. Sadly, the route that we often follow was still closed, thanks to flooding a few weeks ago. Still, it was good to see some colour.

Where’s Liesel when you need someone to identify the flowers?

Since I couldn’t walk where I expected to, instead, I wandered along a path I don’t think I’ve paid any attention to before, and came across this.

This cross was originally situated at Cross Farm, Styal. Around 1860 it was moved by Robert Hyde Greg to Holly Lane where it stood until 1930 when it was demolished in a car accident. The base, thought to be medieval, was rebuilt in 1983 on this site but the upper column remained a truncated stump until 2010. A campaign, instigated by the Styal Village Association, raised sufficient funds to rebuild the upper half and restore the cross back to its original state.

But the highlight of the visit was the cheese and onion pasty I had for lunch. The last one available. I got there just in time.

In local news, the occupants of Flat 3, below us, have moved to Stockport.

Like I mentioned, I’ve been back home for two weeks now, and it was time to do some laundry. I’d forgotten how long the wash cycle is on our machine, compared with the bigger American ones. I think washing machine companies here must be in cahoots with the electric companies.

I drove over to Trafford General Hospital for a medical consultation and found it easy to park, despite warnings from other folks who have been. Yes, I have a full collection of hospitals now, but I suppose that means I’m being well looked after.

While waiting in the waiting room, I was messing about with my phone camera.

Annoyingly, it was so much quicker to drive to Crewe than to go by public transport. If I’d gone by bus and train, I might have missed the end of the show: either that, or I would have needed to find some accommodation.

In the past, I’ve seen Danny Baker on stage in Salford and in Buxton, but the nearest show on this latest tour was at the Lyceum Theatre in Crewe.

Another three hours of fun for old and young, without a hint of vulgarity. He got his 10,000 steps in again, pacing up and down the stage as he told us one funny anecdote after another. A bit more name-dropping this time than before, maybe, but he’s the first to admit he’s been very lucky with his career and with the people he’s been able to work with.

The theatre is magnificent, but the view from the stage must be a bit intimidating, surely? Not for The Candyman, it seems.

It was good to join one of the local organised walks this week and to have a coffee afterwards. The other two walks? Well, I missed them for other reasons which you can read about if you press the red button.

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.

Powwow

Smile, you’re on Candid Camera, said the world to the Moon. As a thin crescent, with Saturn and Venus both in the right place, we should have seen a big smiley face in the sky just a bit before sunrise. Not me. I got up in time, the sky was clear but I couldn’t see through the Sandia mountains to the east. So I crawled back into my pit.

Liesel, me, Gabe, Elizabeth (Gabe’s daughter who I met for the first time today), Buzz, Lisa, Hannah and Leslie: we all visited Frontier for breakfast, a very popular eating spot here in Albuquerque. It’s a big place too, it was quite a challenge carrying the meals from where they were served up to where we were sitting.

There were far too many interesting things to take pictures of in here, even though the main point of our visit was to eat breakfast. Which was very good, actually.

Horns and a Springfield model 1884 ‘trapdoor’ rifle

I assume the weapon is real and I was glad to see it glued to the wall so well.

The rest of the day, we spent at The Gathering of Nations, north America’s biggest Powwow. It was a beautiful day, and even apart from the performances, it was fun to watch people changing into their various tribal outfits, whether in the car park, or in the queue to get into the venue, or later on, on-site. It was a very colourful display.

Buzz, Leslie and Lisa went into the indoor arena and reserved seats for the rest of us while we wandered around, admiring the various food offerings and watching people.

In a couple of the buildings, more jewellery and artwork was on display and for sale. Again, we wanted to buy more than we could afford, or store. The different Indian nations each have their own style, and I think, slowly, we’re beginning to pick them out.

Liesel did buy some earrings, made by an Alaskan Athabascan. I bought a print of a painting that caught my eye from across the room.

We found our family inside the Tingley Coliseum in good time for the Drum Roll Call and the Grand Entry of Dancers. The auditorium seats over 11,000 people and it was pretty full. A number of drum groups were located around the outside of the floor, they woke us up with their very loud rhythms.

We witnessed Elders, Chiefs and other Dignitaries lead the parade, with dancers from the many tribes joining the throng in the arena, dancing round until the whole floor was covered. It was a very colourful sight, exuberant and quite loud. I went as far as tapping a foot and trying to drum out the rhythms on my leg.

I took several picture like this during the day. You can see how busy the place was, but it’s hard to focus on any one individual, so here are a few of those:

Liesel and I went outside for a quick walk and found lunch, an Indian taco in my case, and very tasty it was, too. When Liesel returned to her seat indoors, I found some shade to sit in and eat while I listened to a band, Sandia Sons, performing a couple of songs.

One of the main events at the Powwow is to select Miss Indian Nation 2025-26. The incumbent for 2024-25, Kassie John, performed a dance for us, very nimble footwork.

There were of course a few speeches, all uplifting and positive, apart from one lady who went on and on losing everyone’s attention: this event wasn’t supposed to be about her and her personal religious beliefs.

Some of the performers had cool names: Sharpshoort Singers, from Saskatchewan; Iron Bear; Albert Nicotine; Dark Canyon, although didn’t he used to be a Musketeer?

Outside again, and Liesel commented that she’d forgotten to bring her hat. Let’s buy a new one, then, I suggested. So she did.

I get the impression that Liesel’s not as fond of it as I am, but at least it will keep the Sun off, to a certain extent.

By now, Liesel and I were on our own. Everyone else in our group had gone home. They don’t know what they were missing.

Near to the place where we found this hat, we saw badger with feet, grey fox, Arctic fox, coyote with feet, river otter, dyed black coyote and silver fox. No, not a display of local, wild animals, but a selection of fur coats up for sale. Well, I hope they’ve all still got fleas.

Back outside, we lined up with thousands of other people for the next event, The Traditional Horse and Rider Parade. Here are some of the runners and riders:

Nope, look more closely, it’s not a unicorn – and sorry about the decapitation

Back inside for one more session, I realised that at least one of the MCs reminded me of the DJ who appears at the beginning of The Carpenters’ song Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft, just a bit over-excited.

One of them got the audience to perform what can only now be referred to as a New Mexican Wave. When the folks to your right stand up, arms in the air, woohooing, it’s your turn to do the same. And so this wave goes round and round forever, well, four times on this occasion.

The Sacred Eagle staff was carried by an important representative from the Pawnee nation, but he couldn’t get far without being closely pursued by the paparazzi.

To our ears, many of the songs sounded the same but the rhythms of the drums kept up the overall sense of excitement.

At one point, relations of the performers were invited to join them on the dance floor, and then, so were we, the rest of the audience. I thought there was no need for me to be stomping on other people’s feet, so I stayed seated. There came a time when Liesel and I both felt we were fully saturated in Indian culture, and it was time to go back home.

The event has been run continously, apart from a couple of years for Covid, and this was the 42nd Annual World Celebration. When invited, a few people in the audience claimed to have been to every one, so far. Well, this was our first and what a fun, educational and entertaining day it was too. Not so say,exhausting. Thanks to Buzz for sorting out the tickets for us.

The next day was a day of rest, of writing, reading and relaxation, the alternative three Rs. I caught up a bit with emails, Liesel caught up on a bit of TV.

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.

Places to go

It’s been a while since we’ve been to an author’s event, so it’s time to fix that. Before going into the venue, we visited the Long Bar, just down the road in Bramhall. Pre-show cocktail? I don’t mind if I do.

Amongst the fellow guests in this emporium was comedian Jason Manford. When, a couple of days later, Liesel told one of her WI mates that we’d seen him, she said, “Oh, yeah, I used to teach him.” Small world isn’t it?

Liesel and I joined about 16 other folks in Simply Books to see and hear Emma Hinds talking about her new book, The Quick and the Dead. I was one of just three blokes, and one of the others was a friend of Emma’s.

It was a fascinating chat, the story taking place in 1597. It’s funny how most of the historical novels we read are about the Tudor period. I look forward to reading Emma’s book and I said I’d catch up with Elle’s soon too.

It’s finally happened. The door of the dishwasher is broken, kaput. For years, we’ve had to lower the door by hand because the spring keeps breaking. Now, it only opens halfway. Time to invest in a new one. So I’ll be handwashing the dishes for a week or so.

I’ve been listening to Tony Blackburn for 60 years on the radio, and in his own words, he is quite sensational. Not just because he was born in the same hospital as me, Mount Alvernia in Guildford. He was the first DJ to read out my name on the radio, during his Radio 1 Breakfast Show. The slot was called School Salute, and even though my class, 3F, requested a Bee Gees song, he played Here Comes the Judge by Pigmeat Markham, but the disappointment was outweighed by the excitement of hearing our names on the radio. I wonder what happened to Ian Cordery, Howard Heather and all the others? The only one I’m still in touch with is Andrew Webb. Hello Andrew! This week, for the first time, we saw Tony on stage, in the flesh, at Bridgewater Hall. He hosted a show based on his long-running Radio 2 programme, Sounds of the 60s. The all-star band and the two vocalists performed about 100 songs from the 1960s, insterspersed by some of Tony’s best/worst jokes. The musical director and sax player was Leo Green, whose Dad Benny I used to listen to in the early days of Jazz FM.

Before the show, we dined at a different venue, HOME, and as we left, we told the server where we were going, and he said everyone seems to be going there tonight.

The venue was pretty much sold out, and as Liesel observed, we’ve never seen so much grey hair in one audience.

Sounds of the 60s Band and Singers and Tony

I chatted a bit with the old chap I was sitting next to. As we were leaving, he asked if I watched Corrie? Never seen a whole episode of Coronation Street and I’m not about to start now. Then he told me, he was a regular extra in the show, and has been for years.

As you can see from the photo, we were way up in the Circle, and, on the way down, I captured another Manchester Bee.

The plaque next to the bee told us about the bust of Sir John Barbirolli, and didn’t mention the bee itself. But we’re very grateful to Sir John for reviving the fortunes of the Hallé Orchestra during the 1950s.

Everyone was looking forward to seeing the blood red Moon, a partial lunar eclipse, just before sunrise. I got up, looked out, noted the 100% cloud cover and returned to my pit.

We debated whether to go by train but in the end we drove to Stratford-upon-Avon. It’s an interesting place and a nice halfway point between Manchester and London. Our friends Trudi and John are visiting from Hawaii along with their niece Haylee. They came by train and we met at the station. I’m sure they noticed the cold north wind welcoming them to England.

John and I walked to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage while Liesel drove the ladies there. We’d not been to this venue before, but the guide was informative and the house itself very interesting.

We had lunch at The Dirty Duck, in the Actor’s Bar, which is adorned with photos of many actors from stage and screen. One of the few I could immediately put a name to was Richard Burton.

Of course, we had to visit Anne Hathaway’s husband’s birthplace, which is situated on the main street, very handy for the shops.

There’s more of an exhibition here too, celebrating Shakespeare’s plays, sonnets and life. Playwrights were the rock stars of the time, said one of the hosts, quite wealthy, some of them.

Again, I regret not taking more photos of the visitors, but here they are.

For dessert, we visited Prospero Lounge. With a name like that, I thought there might be some Shakespearean theme, but there wasn’t. The sticky toffee pudding was fabulous though.

I was quite happy to walk from venue to venue while Liesel drove all the others, even if it was a tight squeeze in our little car. We said our farewells back at the station, having spent a really nice (if cold) day with our delightful buddies.

As on the journey to Stratford, the drive home was easy, no hold-ups at all on the M6 which is most unusal.

Did I mention the sticky toffee pudding? Well, that meant we didn’t need much to eat when we got home.

Liesel, her Mom and I drove into Manchester for a very funny comedy night.

Another great night’s entertainment from two comedians, only one of whom I’ve seen before. Yes, they are wearing the same shirt. I won’t repeat any of the jokes here, some of them are not suitable for a family audience. Luckily, mother-in-law was sitting behind me, so I can only imagine the look on her face, knowing that Klaus would have been laughing like a drain. Do drains laugh?

Going out out

There was a lot of discussion online about how long January was this year. It did seem to go on a bit, didn’t it? Yet here we are now in February and wondering where did January go? One whole aisle in our local Tesco has been taken over by Easter eggs. Soon we’ll be counting down to Christmas again.

Liesel and Leslie enjoy their frequent get-togethers with the WI, for a coffee, in a variety of venues in Didsbury. We all go out for a walk every day. Well, that’s the ideal but there are some days when we don’t quite manage. We’ll keep ourselves entertained at home with TV, radio, books, puzzles, crochet, cooking, eating, washing up, looking out of the windows to see what the neighbours are up to, whingeing about the weather and bemoaming the state of the world.

I felt a little bit sad when I had to relinquish my old driving licence and replace it with a new one. I am approaching a certain age. So I need a new licence. I’m still not sure why: there was no test, I just had to confirm that I can still see where I’m going most of the time.

On the other hand, I didn’t feel sad when I deactivated my 𝕏 account. More a sense of relief and, of course, there’s not much else I can do to get back at Elon Musk. There are a few folks and groups there that I’ll miss, but I’ll catch up with them on another social media site one day. A few days later, Liesel followed suit.

There has been a lot of helicopter noise recently. They’re shoring up the bank of the river Mersey where it collapsed following all the rain last month. The weir should be repaired soon too, hopefully in time for this year’s Northenden Boat Race.

There are some early signs of Spring. A few crocuses are peeking out but more prominent are the snowdrops. So far, at least. Maybe I’m cynical but my memory is that it often gets colder in February and the frosts kill off the early blooms, so they have to start again.

Storm Éowyn did its worst in our local woods. At least a couple of trees succumbed to the gale-force winds, toppled over and blocked the path. A nice, unexpected challenge on what is usually a straightforward, flat, uneventful stroll.

Liesel often says she’d love to wear a purple hi-visibility vest and at last, the opportunity presented itself. Her WI group went litter picking in Didsbury and they provided the perfect uniform.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, we ventured into Manchester for a concert. But before that, we dined in the Indian Tiffin Room. We’ve always liked this place but we hadn’t been for ages.

We watched the Hallé Orchestra conducted by Roderick Cox performing a relatively new piece, The Insects Become Magnetic, composed by Christopher Cerrone. This was followed by Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 21 and Tchaikowsky’s 4th Symphony, both of which I hummed along to, a bit.

The best day of the week of course was when we brought our grandchildren home from school and got them to sweep our chimney. No, hang on, that’s not right. They made dreamcatchers and we were all impressed with their skill and imagination.

Martha’s is very nearly complete and William’s just needs a few more adornments.

Northenden sometimes treats us to a pretty sunset and we had a couple this week. Such a shame that the foreground is comprised of neighbouring houses rather than rolling hills or fields or something a bit more easy on the eye.

Time for another visit to Bridgewater Hall, this time for a lunchtime violin recital. Music for solo violin is never going to be amongst our favourite musical genres, but Kryštof Kohout is a very talented player. With my eyes closed, it was hard to believe that all that music and those sounds were being produced by one instrument. No humming along on this occasion, as I was unfamiliar with the tunes. And the bonus was, he played a traditional Czech folk song.

The saying is that we do things differently in Manchester. It’s wonderful that the city is being developed, with all those tall glass and steel structures, right? Well, not everyone agrees.

I, for one, would like to see some green spaces in the city centre.

I can’t remember the last time we went out to an event two days in a row, but we did this week. We really enjoyed the comedy night at our local Northenden Social Club.

Charlie Lewis, Harriet Dyer, Ryan Kenny and Rob Rouse

All were a little bit rude, a little bit naughty, but all very funny. I made my one pint of beer last until the first interval.

For the first time in a very long time, I made it out to all three of the Thrive wellbeing walks, negotiating muddy paths through the woods, dodging fallen trees, and rewarding myself with a coffee or a hot chocolate afterwards.

Pipes and pins

As I’ve said before, it’s always a bit of an anticlimax when you get back to normal after a break, however short. Which means we’re back to our normal day-to-day inactivity.

Amongst the ‘normal’ were our infrequent but frustrating fights with the internet: forgotten passwords, forgotten subscriptions, things that worked last week but don’t any more for no obvious reason. Our devices don’t know how lucky they are sometimes, not having had an axe embedded in their nether regions.

Having been disappointed by only seeing a stuffed fox in London, it was delightful to see a couple as we drove over to Sale Water Park. I don’t think the M60 slip road was the best place for them to play, to be honest.

From Sale Water Park, we took the tram into Manchester and had a ten minute walk to Bridgewater Hall. Not for a concert on this occasion, but to have a close look at the very impressive organ, with its 5,500 pipes. I counted them. David Wood was our very informative and interesting host. He maintans the organ, as well as hundreds of others in the north of England. I was hoping for a blast of Toccata and Fugue, but, instead, he regaled us with the history of the instrument, its construction and installation.

There were about 8 of us on this particular tour, and David took us up a narrow staircase to the second of three floors that the 22-tonne organ occupies. We had to duck under and carefully step round various obstacles, but it was fascinating to see the inner workings.

We didn’t see it, but apparently there’s a mouse in the organ. Way up high, carved into the wooden ceiling, with little leather ears, visible from the top floor where we mortals weren’t allowed.

We wandered back via the back of the Central Library, where what we thought were left-over Christmas decorations were actually something else, looking to the future rather than the past.

It will soon be Chinese New Year, the Year of the Snake.

The building work at Martha and William’s school continues, meaning that access to the car park is restricted. Usually, when it’s our turn to pick the children up from school, we walk back to their home and then drive them back to our place. Today, though, we drove to the school and took them to Parrs Wood.

My ten-pin bowling skills are, let’s say, limited. We played two games, Martha won the first and I won the second mainly because William and Martha were losing interest and getting tired!

After the bowling, they spent some time in the arcade, playing many of the games, winning hundreds of tokens which they redeemed at the end for some cheapo sweeties. Great fun, they enjoyed themselves, that’s the main thing, but I thought the prizes were rubbish.

For dinner, we took them to Zumuku Sushi in Cheadle, a place they visit often enough that Wilma was happy to see them and knew their names. Frequent visitors, or notorious for some reason?

Going back to the internet, Liesel and I have both X-communicated ourselves. Yes, we have deactivated our X, formerly Twitter, accounts. A small way to fight back against the new American oligarchy, I know, but other than referring to Elon’s vehicles as Swasticars, what else can we do?