Northenden – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Walking boots

Each school holiday the parents of a local primary school, Broad Oak, run a Hearts Trail in Fletcher Moss Park. This lets children explore and get to know the park and is always on a different theme. There was a Halloween theme this time, and Martha and William enjoyed the walk around the park, looking for spooky hearts. Plenty of other families were out for a walk too.

But I think more exciting even than finding hearts was testing the waterproof properties of their Wellington boots.

After the walk, I fancied a coffee (of course) but the queue was longer than we’ve ever seen it.

Autumnal colours shone through, especially given the exotic nature of some of the trees and shrubs in this garden.

One thing I didn’t have on my bingo card for 2025 (don’t you get fed up seeing this formulation on social media? I do and yet here I am, using it myself) was seeing William on the shoulders of a lacrosse player.

This is just one a few decorative park benches in Fletcher Moss Gardens.

Later in the afternoon, the children went roller-skating with their cousins Emily and Annabel. I went home and thought about going out litter-picking but, well, let’s just say, it’s the thought that counts. I did some stuff indoors instead while listening to the radio.

The management company warned us it was coming, but I was surprised when a large vehicle parked up in our communal car park.

I think it’s a cherry picker but really it’s a JLG articulated boom lift, probably a JLG 340AJ model.

It’s a noisy beast and it followed me around the flat as the young painter decorated the exterior of the building. A bit disconcerting when you’re sitting there when the boom appears outside the window and the painter waves. You have to wave back, before ging to hide in a different room. In the end, I think it was only the woodwork that was painted. Plus a few splatters on our window. But I’m sure that’ll soon be sorted out if our window cleaner ever makes another appearance.

On my quick trip to purchase a new charging cable for my phone, I wandered through the book department. I won’t be buying this one:

Everyone knows a dice has the number 6 opposite the number 1. I don’t trust this cover so why should I trust the rest of the book? A lot of people do, though, it seems, following its publication in 1937.

Nothing much has changed in Northendedn and Wythenshawe. More leaves are falling from the trees. Posts are still being driven into. Despite all the rain recently, the river hasn’t risen noticeably. I did have some rotten luck though.

The pen I acquired from Saddlers Creek Wine last year has dried up. It’s a shame because it was one of the smoothest ballpoint pens I’ve ever used. I’ll just have to go back sometime and pick up a new one.

They’ve been going off for a couple of weeks now, but I was pleased to hear the excessive fireworks on November 5th. I can’t believe so many people, strangers, wanted to commemorate what would have been my Dad’s 100th birthday.

And as we remarked the following morning on the walk, in the olden days, the morning after bonfire night would always be foggy and cold, with the smell of gunpowder everywhere and discarded rockets all over the place.

There is nothing worse than making a cup of tea and then the milk comes out of the bottle in lumps. Yes, it was still in date, always kept in the fridge. Nightmare.

Earlier, I suggested nothing’s new in Northenden. Well, Spring must be just around the corner. These beauties have just come into bloom.

Evening? This picture was taken at about noon.

Much of my time at home has been taken up with producing radio shows. I want to get a few spare ones under my belt before Liesel comes home in a couple of weeks. Speaking of whom, a few days ago, Liesel told me that after falling for 17 hours continuously, they now have seven inches of snow in Anchorage. It takes over an hour to put on enough clothes to go outside and walk over the road to the shop. From my point of view, the longer we retain higher than average temperatures in November here in Manchester, the better I like it.

Anyway, I interrupted myself there. Last week’s show had the theme of Chocolate, but in the end, it was mostly a long chat with Tasmin Archer. You can listen here on Mixcloud. It’s an extended version of the radio broadcast, because I didn’t want to waste all the chocolatey tunes I’d found.

Humungous fungus

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

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

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

Martha was equally impressed by the very bright toadstools.

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

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

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

Rhodeswood Reservoir with Suffolk sheep and a pylon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One two tree

It feels like it rained continually for a week after I returned home to Northenden. But that doesn’t matter, because I was sleeping for most of that time anyway. I was vaguely aware of the passing of time and the rain splashing against the windows and the wind howling through the trees and eating every now and then, but I’ve no idea why it took much longer to get over the jetlag this time than it usually does.

Still, the rain did stop eventually so I went for a wander down to the river, to see how high it was, and to see whether there was a realistic chance of any flooding.

The water was no higher than usual. I’m not saying I was disappointed, but I was certainly surprised.

The trees in the woods were taking a while to dry out, though. And if the rain didn’t cause any damage, the wind certainly did.

The last half dozen blackberries didn’t look very appealing, either, so we left them for the foxes. And the last half dozen bees are slurping the last of the pollen from the sunflowers, sunflowers that look a bit sad now that Autumn is approaching.

In Manchester Central Library, I joined a group of writers. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but in the end, after a bit of a chat, we just wrote for an hour, uninterrupted, and with no expectation to read out whatever nonsense we came up with. I’d never been up to the 3rd floor before, so of course I had to take a picture of the dome.

It was fun meeting Kimberly and Sarah, both published authors. The good news is, I was able to get a seat on the tram home.

Walking through the woods, we don’t often see birds. And when we do, they usually fly off pdq. But one little chap was sitting on the fence, yes, he just couldn’t decide whetehr to stay or not.

He wasn’t bothered by us, and he wasn’t in distress, so we just said hello and walked on by.

And in Painswick Park, there seemed to be far fewer geese than usual. Maybe they know something we don’t, and they’re heading south before the weather deteriorates.

A few of us had a discussion about the colour of this car:

Grey with a slight hint of blue was the consensus. But Google told us is was Cape York Green Metallic. Green? Sure enough. When we looked up the registration number, it did say green. I’m sure if I reported an incident to the police, I’d describe this vehicle as grey rather than green. So I won’t bother. And in any case, as far as I know, it’s not been involved in any criminal activity.

Over in Anchorage, the Autumn colours are a bit ahead of ours.

Later in the week, Liesel had a visitor, a young American, Holly, all the way from Washington. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the Autumnal colours.

I’m getting back into making radio shows so keep an eye on the Wythenshawe Radio schedule. It was a joy this week to have a chat with ‘one to watch’ Frankie Archer, the feminist Northumbrian electro-folk musician, who is going on tour very soon. Yes, I have my tickets. Mostly though, I was refamiliarising myself with the various software. Inevitably, there were ‘updates’. And updates almost always means adding in more features that you’ll never need. I’ve always thought, if it ain’t broke, don’t break it. So that’s my little whinge of the week.

AK, AI and AG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It said:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Songs with Specific Numerical Times

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

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

2. “Time” (Aladdin Sane, 1973)

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

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

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

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

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

This response is Al-generated, for reference only.

I said:

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

It said:

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

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

Nah, I’m good, thanks.

So, to summarise, AI stands for Absolutely Useless.

Here Comes the Sun

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beauty and the Beast cast, featuring Martha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tour de Everyday Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope nobody was inside when this happened.

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

David Bowie with a fried egg on his collarbone

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

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

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

A fringe and a whinge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forever Changes

It was a bright and sunny morning so I set off, on foot, towards Didsbury. The route that we dubbed ‘Dogshit Alley’ is a lot more overgrown than the last time I saw it. I must remember to take along some secateurs next time. I’ve said that before, I know. But I did buy some cheap ones to cut back whatever bush it is that grows above where we park our car and deposits tonnes of sticky sap all over our erstwhile pristine vehicle. They were cheap, not all that strong and I should buy a decent pair at a garden shop one day. A sticky car was not something I’d expected to come home to. But it was well worth a tenner to have it washed.

Where were we? Walking along what is now basically a tunnel on the way to the river.

The Riverside Residential Park now seems to consist of proper buildings rather than the caravans all up on stilts.

Recent floods have washed away part of the path and there are still barriers up preventing our passage. Well, with a bit of clambering, it’s quite easy to get by.

I made it to Fletcher Moss where I couldn’t help but notice a very big bee on a tree.

The reason I visited Fletcher Moss park, gardens, whatever, today, was to see the Didsbury Pop-up Cultural Market. I found it in the Parsonage Gardens. There were two stalls with artists displaying their paintings. Is that it, I wondered? Well, there were more arts and crafts on show indoors, in the actual parsonage, I guess. Lots of stuff, some well done, some should have stayed in a bottom drawer somewhere, but just stuff, really, and we don’t need any more stuff.

I tried to get a coffee from the machine but it refused to believe my phone was the source of my spending money, so even the coffee machine lost a customer that day!

I wandered through Didsbry village, nothing new there.

I hadn’t visited Marple Locks before but it was a good venue for a walk with Jenny, Liam and the children.

A narrowboat approached the lock and Martha and William were both keen to help open the gates.

We walked along the Peak Forest Canal for a while and in the end, completed a large loop. Glad I brought some water, but a bit disappointed there was no coffee shop halfway round.

It could have been a bit scary walking along the tallest masonry arch aqueduct in the UK, designed by Benjamin Outram and built between 1794 and 1800.

Marple Aqueduct is one hundred feet above the river Goyt, and we walked down the bank so that we could follow the river for a while. Martha spotted a frog trying to climb out of the water but as she leaned over to help, it panicked, dived and we haven’t seen it since.

William spotted some cows in a field that turned into horses as we approached more closely. So, for the rest of the day, cows and horses were always mis-identified.

We were above the Etherow, a tributary of the Goyt, part of which once formed the boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire.

With two young, energetic and loud children with us, we were unlikely to see any interesting wildlife. Well, apart from horses that thought they were cows and cows that identified as horses. So here’s a nice family portrait instead.

This bridge has been restored fairly recently, to mark its 200th anniversary.

After finding our way back to Memorial Park, Marple, we had some fun in the playground. William also found a tree to climb. No health and safety considerations, no risk assessment, I blinked and there he was, twelve feet up in the branches.

Nearby in the park, we found some gym equipment. I had a go on some of it, but, er, let’s say I just hadn’t warmed up properly. I spent a couple of minutes on the stationary bike, burning a whole 7 calories, ‘riding’ 0.3 miles. That’ll do.

Not saying the children misbehaved at all, but, well, this is the sort of punishment they could appreciate.

Meanwhile, Liesel was having a good time in sunny Hope, Alaska.

On returning to Anchorage, Liesel packed, and she and her Mom caught the plane to Seattle, where they ate at the vegetarian place, Floret, before the long flight to Reykjavik and then the final leg to Manchester. This is where I met them. And what better way to celebrate their return to England than by going out for a meal at Zumuku with the family.

Both Martha and William had a jolly good shot at eating everything from the restaurant’s stock room. They’d need the energy for the next week or so in Disneyworld.

Sadly, and annoyingly, the Manchester sunshine was replaced by rain to coincide with Liesel’s return. So we had some soggy walks around Northenden.

As I was walking along, I heard the sound of horses behind me. As the empty hearse passed by, I was very tempted to tell the driver that the corpse had fallen out the back. But I resisted the urge.

The regular Thursday walk was well attended this week, but on Friday, there were just the three of us.

Liesel and Leslie are now, slowly, getting over their flight induced sleep deprivation and jet lag.

And in Florida, the grandchildren are having a Mouse of a time.

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.