sport – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Antipodean visitors

The most recent post suggested I wasn’t having work-related dreams. Well, since then, I have done. Unusually, not about postal delivery, but a conflation of all the IT jobs I’ve had and the busy-ness of the office and rearranging the desk layout for no good reason and panicking because the computers won’t work and trying to do the right thing but knowing I wouldn’t satisfy all of my bosses – yes, I was reporting to many so-called ‘managers’ in the end. And then I remembered, I’ve retired, I don’t actually have to be here in this hell-hole in the first place. The sense of relief persisted long after I woke up.

I remember scrumping on the way home from school sometimes, near the top of Holloway Hill in Godalming. Apples hanging low over someone’s garden fence. A bit maggotty sometimes, but very tasty. I was reminded of this on the day we visited the Gauntlet Birds of Prey Eagle and Vulture Centre in Knutsford. There’s an apple tree outside the place, and, really, it would have been rude to ignore it. So a couple of apples were liberated to add to our picnic.

We all enjoyed our day out with William and Martha. A lot of the birds were in cages, and they were definitely at their when best flying around. They’re free to escape if they want, but I think they’re so well looked after, they’re happy to return by the 5.30 curfew! It’s a family run business, and they’re doing a lot for conservation.

First stop though was the playground.

Here are some of the birds who seemed happy to see us.

But it was much more fun watching the flying display. One of the hawks nearly gave Martha a haircut when she stood up suddenly. Mostly, they were too fast for this videographer but I captured a couple without wasting too much film.

There was a nice quiet picnic area where we ate our picnic lunch, without being pestered by pigeons. I suspect the local vultures and hawks may have been the main deterrent.

Liesel joined the WI for some litter picking in Riverside Park, even though it was raining, on and off.

In fact, we had quite torrential rain for a couple of days, thanks to Storm Floris. But once the storm moved on to Scandinavia, we were back to a proper, warm Summer.

Which Liesel and her Mom will miss. I dropped them off at the airport for their flight back to an Anchorage Summer, just a little bit cooler than ours.

William sent us his first ‘Make and Create’ videos for his putative YouTube channel. I’m just glad he didn’t start each presentation with a “Hey guys, um…”, which, for me, is pretty much an instant turn-off. He did invite us to “Like and subscribe” however, so that’s promising.

Parking at Wilmslow station is notoriously difficult, but of course, I forgot that fact when I suggested picking someone up there rather than driving into Manchester city centre. Still, it was great to see my sister Pauline, along with her partner Andrew, on their first visit to the UK from NZ since Jenny and Liam got married three years ago.

So, within the space of a couple of days, I swapped a wife and mother-in-law for a sister and a brother-in-law.

Jetlag notwithstanding, we joined Jenny and the family for an Indian meal in Bombay to Mumbai, an Indian (did you guess?) restaurant in Bramhall. The food was lovely but ‘medium spicy’ in this case was just on my limits of comfort! And the waitress (apols for the old-fashioned word) was very friendly too. Some music started and I thought we were in for another round of ‘Happy Birthday’. No, it couldn’t have been more different. She performed an aria from Don Giovanni which left everyone stunned, and she deserved the rapturous round of applause.

It’s been a while since we’ve visited Lyme Park, so that was the venue for a nice Saturday wander on a beautiful day. We (my sister) prepared a wonderful picnic as did Jenny. And a millon other folks: even the overflow car park was overflowing.

From this point of view, there’s usually a beautiful reflection of the house in the lake, making for a fab photo. But the lake is being or has been drained, by the looks of it. Maybe this is for the renovation/refurbishment promised after the floods a few years ago.

It was a perfect day to visit, so many colourful flowers are out in bloom, and we even saw more than a couple of butterflies.

William put on a very half-hearted puppet show: I think he much preferred just running around. I quite agree. Not that I was running around. Although I did get a message from a local group on Instagram asking how my running was going.

Afterwards, we all gathered at Jenny’s where Martha showed off her collection of gemstones, rocks and seashells.

At last, after years of us all moaning about it, the path that we walk along to Didsbury is being fixed. Until now, it’s been a very bumpy stroll, it looks like someone just dumped tonnes of broken bricks and rubble along its length. But soon, we hope to be able to walk along a nice, smooth, flat path. Maybe even as good as the path they already have at the Didsbury end. So, when Pauline, Andrew and I decided to walk over to Didsbury, we had to stay on the other side of the river. We even took a shortcut through Dogshit Alley. Last time we three went this way, with Liesel, three years ago, we turned right and were challenged while we were looking at the allotments. We didn’t risk it today, turned left straightaway, said “hey” to the horses in the field and proceeded to Simon’s Bridge. Golf is supposed to be a nice, gentle relaxing game. But to drive to and from the course, it seems obligatory to drive along the narrow road at no less than 90 mph. Not ideal when you’re a pedestrian.

Andrew suggested that golf might be easier and more fun if the holes were a little bit bigger, because so often the ball misses by a small margin. I thought football would be more exciting if the goals were a bit wider too. Basketball would be easier for short people if the baskets were lower down. And I’ve always maintained that I would have enjoyed cricket more if the ball wasn’t so hard. I spent most of my cricket ‘career’ at school hiding in the pavilion keeping score, because George, the games teacher, refused to let us (me) play with a tennis ball.

We did see a very rare sight though. No, not a heron, nor a family of ducklings. We passed a jogger, not unusual in itself, but she was actually smiling, almost like she was enjoying herself. Weird.

Due to restoration of the embankment in the Diudsbury area, following extensive flood damage, we had to walk into the village directly, not via Fletcher Moss Park. Somehow, I found myself in La Chouquette, so I bought a gorgeous loaf of sourdough.

We admired the many, colourful planters in Didsbury and visited a few shops before settling for a coffee at FFS.

We wandered around Didsbury Park, I think my first long visit there without there being a fair taking place. We came across several animals carved from wood: some people are very talented.

Walking home always feels quicker for some reason. Two young lads approached us on the narrow path next to the river. They were riding an electric scooter travelling fairly fast, so we stood aside for them. But the thought occurred, one untimely bump in the path and they could easily end up in the water!

Round at Jenny’s in the evening, we played Pictionary. This is the actual game that Sarah and I had all those years ago, including some of our ancient works of art. Tonight, it was Boys v Girls, and of course, we Boys went into the lead very easily. But in a strange turn of fate, the Girls finally won.

We’re experiencing the fourth heatwave of the Summer now which means it’s hot and sticky at night again. So, once again, I reversed the polarity of the electric blanket, so I have a nice, cool surface on which I can push up the zeds. I’m having some funny dreams though. Not sure if that’s due to the heat or the new medication I’m taking.

We all, that is me, Pauline, Andrew, Jenny, Martha and William (Liam was working) met up at Alderley Edge for a more hilly walk. As usual, we tried to follow one of the named trails, kept changing our minds, and finally got lost.

I ended up walking along the road while the others walked up a long, long series of steps that we’d just walked down, me being very happy that we weren’t walking up them! Unfortuantely, the road I was on wasn’t the one I thought it was. From this point, I had a half hour stroll back to the car park, where our picnic lunch was locked in the car. The road was flat thought, and I knew I’d get there eventually. But no, I turned onto Swiss Hill. And what a hill. Incredibly steep, and cobbled. After it levelled out, I thought I was OK. But no. Another steep hill as I turned left again.

This was where Jenny collected me in the car! A quick drink at the café was made even quicker after we were joined by numerous pesky wasps. But we ate our picnic lunch in peace. Martha made a new friend, one with fourteen spots!

This evening’s game, again round at Jenny’s, was ‘Out of the Loop’. It’s a social deduction party game where players try to identify who among them is out of the loop, who doesn’t know a secret word in a given category. Players ask questions of each other, questions suggested by the game, an app, itself. Great fun. But I’m rubbish. I ended up with zero points, while everyone else scored in the hundreds. What a strange scoring system!

Liesel and I have lived here up north for six years now, but we’ve never joined a bus tour of Manchester. Well, today, Pauline, Andrew and I did just that. We joined the ‘hop-on hop-off’ bus outside Bridgewater Hall, where I saw posters for a couple of shows that I might be interested in. But that’s all in the future.

The commentary was informative, no serious attempt at humour. Although a poster on the bus had definite Aussie vibes.

We hopped off at the Football Museum, which, despite my lack of interest in football, I found quite engaging and informative. Lots of fun and games, especially for young fans. Of course, the biggest photo is that of the 1966 World Cup winning England team. A black and white picture, blown up, with the kit colourised. I don’t remember seeing a picture of the England team that recently won the Euros. But they were girls, banned from playing on FA grounds until 1971.

The queue for the penalty shoot-out was too long for us, so we let the lads wearing football shirts have a go instead.

We hopped back on the bus on its next circuit and enjoyed the trip around Manchester and Salford. I realised again, I couldn’t be a bus driver in Manchester, the streets are too narrow, and too many people park their vehicles in really daft places. But our driver managed.

In Salford, we hopped off again and spent a couple of hours at The Lowry Theatre. The immersive ‘Lowry 360’ show was unfortunately sold out, but we enjoyed looking again at other works by LS Lowry. There were some miserable people here though…

… at least, in this picture. Happier folks in this next picture, though. Pauline and I again bemoaned the fact that we don’t have the photos taken of us at Bourton on the Water, standing on the little bridges, when we were about 6 and 4 years old.

Next to the LS Lowry exhibition is another one, celebrating the work of top illustrator Quentin Blake. In contrast, his pictures are very bright, colourful and joyous. And there were plenty of children here having a great time, drawing their own pictures.

We hopped on the bus again, after waiting for just a few minutes at the stop near Salford Quays.

We had a late afternoon date to meet up with Jenny and the family at a restaurant in Cheadle. I’d been to Yara before, but this time, we sat outside, in the shade, which was very pleasant.

I,for one, was taken by surprise when I walked in and saw Helen. My daughter Helen, all the way over here from Brookvale, NSW. Helen and bump! Yes, I am pleased and excited to confirm that Helen is expecting a little chap in November. Yes, I had to look twice. What a fantastic surprise!

Martha, Helen, Mick, Liam, William, Andrew (leaning back), Pauline and Jenny

A video exists of me walking into the restaurant like I’ve just got out of bed or something, taken by surprise and uttering “What are you doing here?” So embarrassing: thanks, Liam! And sorry, Helen, not the best of welcomes! But I really am pleased to see you!

Pauline, Andrew and I had been pretty busy since their arrival and Andrew decided he needed a down day. So, it was just Pauline who joined me for the regular midweek Thrive Walk. What I didn’t realise at the time was, someone was videoing us enjoying our coffee outside Boxx2Boxx. See if you can spot me and my sister.

After which, we caught a bus to Sale where we met Jenny, Liam, Martha, William and Helen at the King’s Ransom pub, right on the Bridgewater Canal.

King’s Ransom pub and the Bridgewater Canal

We spent another evening round at Jenny’s: mainly because, as Jenny said, their place is bigger than my apartment. And she’s a far better chef than I am.

Pauline and Andrew are now spending some time in Yorkshire and beyond. I drove them to Oxford Road station, only going wrong once.

So, within the space of a couple of days, I swapped a sister and a brother-in-law for a daughter and a future grandson. As Phil Collins once said, “Funny old world, innit?”

I took a leaf out of Andrew’s book and had a down day. Catching up on emails, real mail (just one letter in a week, as it happens), a bit of tidying up, laundry and again, looking at the long list of things to do and then going off to do something totally different.

Meanwhile, how’s Liesel getting on in Anchorage? Working a bit, spending time with friends, and most definitely not commenting on a heatwave. Presidents Trump and Putin had a meeting in Alaska, but this won’t affect Liesel and her Mom at all, unless of course, Trump gives or sells Alaska back to Russia.

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.

Flatpack and puck

Everyone seems to be using AI tools to do everything these days, and I am no exception. We went to see a local production of the Ira Levin play, Deathtrap, which we all enjoyed. I remember seeing this play with Sarah in Peterborough in the early 1980s, but of course, I’d totally forgotten the story. Until it started this time, then it all came flooding back. But there were still a couple of incidents that made me jump. On the way home, my mind was wandering and I thought it would be good to rewrite the play as a series of rhyming couplets. Well, I don’t have patience for that, but I did ask ChatGPT to do something along those lines. Here’s the result.

Sidney Bruhl, once a playwright famed,
Now sits in a slump, his career badly maimed.
His box office flops, they keep him awake,
A writer once great, now struggling to make.

He picks up a play, with a grin so wide,
Tells Myra, “This script, I can’t let it slide.
A student’s work, by Clifford, you see,
It’s brilliant, a hit, it’s meant to be free!”

With playful reassurances, he adds with a smile,
“Just kidding, my dear, but it’s worth your while.
Perhaps I could kill him, and steal all the gold,
For a script this good, it’s worth its weight in bold.”

Myra’s alarmed, she starts to grow cold,
Her husband’s dark humor’s growing too bold.
Sidney picks up the phone, no time to delay,
Calling Clifford, to have him come and play.

“Come over, my friend, let’s talk through the night,
I’ve got suggestions that’ll make your play right.
Deathtrap’s a hit, and you’ve set it so well,
I’ve got ideas to make it excel.”

And thus begins the game, so clever and slick,
In the world of Deathtrap, where plots tend to stick.

That’s just the first scene. That’s plenty. Obviously American English, less than ideal scanning and not as entertaining as the play itself. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t bother reading it. Northenden Theatre Players Club did a very good job, but their run is now over.

Spring is a bit slow coming this year, snowdrops seem to be winning the race against crocuses and daffodils: there are little patches of them in really strange or unexpected places.

A couple of relatively warm days are invariably followed by a really cold spell, easterly winds straight from Siberia.

Liesel and I have watched Transatlantic Sessions on TV for a few years, not so much recently: not sure the shows are broadcast any more. But there was a live show here in Manchester and we couldn’t resist going to see the performance at Aviva Studios, home of Factory International.

It was very nearly a full house and we enjoyed over two hours of great folk and country music from Scotland, Ireland and USA. It’s a great band, they all play on each others’ songs. We particularly liked Julie Fowlis, Loudon Wainwright and Niall McCabe.

Liesel and her Mom went out for a coffee and by mistake found themselves at Ikea, buying a wardrobe for Mom’s room. This meant I had to blow the dust off my tools and build the wardrobe, in situ since we don’t have enough floor space. It was straightforward enough, the instructions were good, but I found I was using muscles that long ago were resigned to never having to do any DIY ever again. Injuries incurred? A bruise on my left biceps, no idea how, and one broken finger nail, can’t remember how.

This was a weekend well spent and I think Leslie enjoys having somewhere to organise her clothes.

Meanwhile, Jenny and family were in London for the weekend, visiting friends, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. The highlight for me was seeing the children outside the family ballet shoe shop. They were also a little bit naughty and went to see the musical Matilda.

Helen and Brent went for a quick break in the campervan, but it broke down, so they ended up camping at home. Still, it’s all an adventure.

Liesel’s Aunt Buzz lives in Aluquerque, New Mexico (although by the time you read this, Trump will probably have renamed the state New America.) Buzz’s daughter and son-in-law Andrea and Steve moved to the UK a couple of years ago and they now live in Richmond. Well, Buzz is visiting Andi and Steve and the three of them came up north to visit us for a few days. Leslie was very happy to see her older sister.

Late afternoon saw all of us enjoying a meal at Albert’s in Didsbury along with Jenny and the family. This party of 10 was the biggest group we’ve booked a table for in many, many years. We remembered the last time Jenny met Andi. We were all on holiday in Hawaii with many other family members. Yes, 10 of us in the restaurant having a great time and yet none of us took any pictures.

We’d also booked an organised walk in Manchester so we met up at the Alan Turing Memorial statue in Manchester. There were about twenty people altogether on the tour, which was interesting, although I think we all thought the guide spoke for a bit too long before we started actually walking. Standing around in the cold, biting wind is not my ears’ idea of fun, even with a decent Winter hat.

One thing I’ve never seen before is the Monument to Vimto. Yes, that horrible sweet and nasty beverage that is an anagram of vomit. Someone though it would be a good idea to have a statue.

During the walking tour, we visited or passed by a number of places of interest, each with a interesting story.

We learned about the Peterloo Massacre and how it lead directly to the publication of The Manchester Guardian, now the Guardian newspaper that we read online far more often then we buy an actual physical copy. I do miss doing the various puzzles though.

We had a late lunch at The Oast House in Manchester where, although it was tempting to have a cocktail, it was so cold outside, it was more warm beer type weather.

Fletcher Moss Botanical Garden was the venue of our walk the following day. There’s mud everywhere, signs of recent flooding.

The wind wasn’t as bitingly cold as yesterday: I didn’t feel I was verging on earache in the same way. We walked down to the river but the path towards Northenden was blocked, it looks like some maintenance work is taking place.

There are a few plants in bud and very soon, we hope, the park will a carousel of colour. After a quick cup of tea at the café, we wandered into Didsbury, visiting La Chouquette for a loaf of their delicious sourdough bread and visiting none of the charity shops. We had lunch at The Art of Tea after which we went our separate ways for a while. I took Leslie and Buzz back to our apartment where I also picked up my pedometer. Yes, I’d walked miles and miles this morning without the steps being counted: what a waste!

Meanwhile, Liesel went into Manchester with Andi and Steve. I later joined them at Sinclair’s Oyster Bar for a drink. I can’t remember the last time I went on a pub crawl, but I enjoyed today’s.

Next stop, The Old Wellington next door. This pub dates from 1552. In June 1996 a bomb exploded in nearby Corporation Street & damaged many of the surrounding buildings including The Old Wellington. It was repaired & reopened in 1997 but due to the city’s redevelopment, it was decided the building would be dismantled & rebuilt 300 m northward to its present location in Shambles Square, which opened in 1999. So says the plaque inside the pub.

Our final stop today was The Temple of Convenience, you know, the underground pub in what used to be a public toilet. The one where Elbow celebrated their Mercury awards all those years ago. For a while, we were the only customers, so plenty of opportunity to read the posters and the graffiti.

I ordered pizza and we picked it up on the way home. We had a lively discussion about whether to pronounce ‘pizzeria’ as ‘pizzeria’ or ‘pizzeria’.

We said goodbye to Andi and Steve who were returning home to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Liesel, Leslie and I would spend one more day with Buzz. We visited Quarry Bank and wandered around the mill. We couldn’t follow our usual walk down through the gardens as there had been a landslide.

After the tour of Quarry Bank Mill, we enjoyed lunch in the restaurant. My cauliflower pastie was fabulous, much nicer than the scones, although I could have had one of those too!

A few days earlier, Liesel contributed a green crocheted heart to the postbox decoration with her WI buddies. I think this is the first time I’ve been able to put a name to a yarnbomber.

While Buzz stayed at home with Leslie, Liesel and I went to Altrincham for our Valentine’s day date night. We should have more date nights, just the two of us.

We dined at a Chinese place called Gonbay, and it was reassuring to see a big Chinese family enjoying their meal on the table next to ours. I wasn’t expecting to see one of these though:

After the meal, we had a 14-minute walk to Planet Ice. Ooh, a night of ice-skating? Nope. We were here to watch my first ever live ice hockey match. Manchester Storm v Dundee Stars. I didn’t shout it out loud of course, but I wanted Dundee to win, since that was the birthtown of my Mum.

Strangely, ice hockey is a game of three halves. Manchester Storm were 2-0 up after the first period. And, actually, if you trust the announcer, the local team is called Man. Ches. Ter. Storrrrrrrrm.

The group of supporters from Dundee was confined to a small area in the corner, but they were quite vocal at times.

The background music, mainly from the 1980s, was OK, but they only ever played short snippets, persumably so they don’t have to pay royalties. It’s certainly a fast and furious game, you need to be fit. But from the spectators’ point of view, not exciting enough, since we were entertained by a quiz and a raffle during the breaks.

In the end, Dundee Stars won 4-3. The puck travelling at hundreds of miles per hour made it very hard to follow at times. None of the players were injured, well, apart from one incident after which it took a couple of cleaners quite a while to scrape the blood off the ice. And somebody broke their stick.

Who would have guessed, when Torvill and Dean won the Ice Dance competition during the Winter Olympics in Sarajevo, dancing to Ravel’s Bolero, that 41 years later, to the day, I would be watching other ice skaters doing something completely different?

Early in the morning, Liesel drove Buzz to the railway station: she’s rejoining Andi and Steve in Richmond for a few more days before returning to New Mexico.

I’ve been sneezing a lot this week and it took a few days for me to realise that it’s probably hay fever.

Magic moments

Congratulations again to Helen and Brent! Not quite married but we had a lovely day celebrating their impending union. They are having a series of parties all around the world to accommodate friends and family in several continents. Slight exaggeration there.

Dressed in white, Helen illuminated The Ivy in Manchester where thirteen of us met for a fantastic, long lunch. It was lovely to see our former hairdresser and Helen’s friend Tracey and her family after their six-hour drive from Somerset.

The food was great, the company was marvellous, the service fantastic, all the staff were very attentive and friendly. Oh hang on, this isn’t Trip Adviser is it?

Martha and William enjoyed building their own ice cream sundaes. Well, they enjoyed gorging on the various components.

Later on, we all met up at Jenny’s for a party with more friends and family. Magician Matt and Amy were there: we’d not met since Jenny and Liam’s wedding two years ago.

It was a gorgeous day to sit around in the garden, drinking, chatting and ‘plane spotting.

The more formal part of the day was Martha and William acting as joint celebrants, conducting their own marriage ceremony, and a very good job they did too.

Despite appearances, the certificate was not signed on the desk in a mobile phone and cuddly toy shop.

Even after a huge meal at The Ivy, we still found time and space to enjoy the various snacks, thanks to Jenny, Liesel and Una. Yes, for the first time in quite a while, I felt that I’d eaten too much.

Evening entertainment was provided by Matt whose warm-up act was Martha. She managed a conjuring trick perfectly.

Matt got Helen and Brent to choose numbers from an apparently random set on a board. When added up, the total was, as predicted by Matt, 111,124. Which, by coincidence, we believe to be the chosen date for the actual wedding, 11/11/24. Spooky.

Many of us suggested questions to ask Helen and Brent. They sat back to back, each holding one shoe of their own and of of their partner’s. The questions were answered by each raising the shoe belonging to whoever they each believed satisfied the question best. And yes, we were still sitting outside well after dark.

A good night’s sleep was had by all, I’m sure.

After breakfast, Martha and William came over. We looked after them for a few hours while Jenny, Liam, Helen and Brent spent some time together. We picked some litter… no… We picked a lot of litter while walking from our place to the playground in Riverside Park. In the end, we left two full bags to be collected by the contractors. Still, it was a nice day for litter-picking, and the children had fun in the playground too.

Fun, yes, but exhausting. Poor old William!

The walk home via a coffee shop was uneventful, until it very suddenly got dark, started to spit and then, whoosh, a torrential downpour soaked us. How we laughed!

It was lovely to meet up with Helen and Brent for lunch before they continued their tour of the UK and Ireland. I took a bus to Greens, Sale, the first time I’d been there. The food as always was great, but I did have to take some excess patatas bravas home for Liesel!

Martha and William returned to school and Helen and Brent drove off to Snowdonia for a few days to complete thir British adventure.

I’m still having all but daily medical appointments, consultations, examinations, check-ups, but you know, mustn’t grumble.

Liesel and I had a night out. Laughterama in Manchester’s Castlefield Bowl. Outside. And I’m so glad I wore a long-sleeved shirt, a coat and long trousers, as it did get quite cold and windy towards the end of the evening. All five comedians were very funny. One in particular was very rude, and we learned the BSL sign for a word that we’ll never use in real life.

Jen Brister, Stephen Bailey, Janine Harouni, Rhys James and Dara Ó Briain

Dara commented that he likes Manchester because of all the theatres, especially the ones with roofs…

I went for a walk on what must have been one of the hottest days of this Summer, although I didn’t realise that when I set off. I visited a few shops. Liesel and her Mom have been out a few times with the WI ladies for coffee. And we’ve been watching far too much TV: la Vuelta, the Paralympics and the Tour of Britain (Men) started this week too. I checked, but my eyes haven’t gone square like my Mum said they would.

Citius, Altius, Fortius – Communiter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I do like extended birthday celebrations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Croeso i Gymru! Part 2

Before setting off in a westward direction, we thought we’d explore the area around Mermaid Quay in Cardiff. We were delighted to see a postage stamp size area of blue sky, but definitely not yet enough to make a pair of sailor’s trousers. But it expanded and we were blessed with a beautiful, sunny and later on, warm day.

Cardiff Bay looked more appealing today: well, we didn’t have to view it through mist. There was a group of male singers to entertain us down on the dock, deliberately performing songs that I couldn’t sing along to. We passed by a guided tour group, and briefly thought about joining, but I think we would have been hampered by the Welsh narration.

We spotted some TV cameras near the Welsh Parliament building, and assumed that wasn’t unusual. Well, today was the day Vaughan Gething resigned as First Minister so there was a lot of coverage on TV. Later in the evening, we failed to spot ourselves wandering around in the background of news reports.

We’re invited to hold the torch and make a wish for peace. Cardiff Bay is historically one of the first multicultural ports in Britain. Many people from across the seas of the world have come here, bringing with them their cultures and histories, their hopes and dreams. Cardiff welcomed them and now welcomes YOU.

Well, thank you very much, we did indeed feel very welcome here in Cardiff.

This memorial commemorates the Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration and in particular Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s Scientific Expedition of 1910-13. The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.

The memorial overlooks the point from which Scott’s expedition ship, the SS Terra Nova, left Cardiff on the 15th June 1910.

Designed and created by the sculptor Jonathan Williams, the memorial depicts Scott and the faces of his four companions, Wilson, Oates, Bowers and Evans, who died with him on the return journey from the South Pole.

Torchwood‘s HQ is accessible by a secret lift secretly accessible via a paving stone next to the water tower in Roald Dahl Plass plaza. I never knew Roald Dahl was born in Cardiff. So of course, we had to visit the water tower along with many other visitors, fans, pilgrims even.

Barry Island is the setting for another TV series, Gavin and Stacey and as we drove past a road sign pointing in that direction, we thought, why not? It’s not really an island any more, not since the 1880s, but that fact doesn’t detract from the fun we had here in the resort. And the Barryians(?) are very proud of Gavin and Stacey.

Liesel and Leslie had an ice cream but I chose to have that most Welsh of delicacies, a cheese and onion pastie. And we walked the length of the beach along the promenade. The funfair attractions weren’t in operation, so there was no debate about whether or not to have a go on any of the rides.

Nor did we have a go on the climbing wall, but we know Martha and William would love this.

The beach looked very inviting and by now, it was very warm. I’m sure it will be chocker once schools have broken up for the Summer holiday. Today, though, we just came across groups of children from three different schools, and they were all very well behaved.

I do like shop names that are good puns, and to see two so close together in one location, well, it made my day.

I think after our relatively long walk, we could have relaxed here in Barry all afternoon, but we had a bit of a journey ahead of us. Liesel drove us to our next port of call, in Haverfordwest, and I was surprised that our route included a bit more of the M4. We stopped just one more time en route. Our b&b was above a now non-operating launderette and after unloading the car, we had to park a bit further along the road.

We had a wander around town. Let’s just say, it was challenging being incredibly hilly. Again, it reminded us just how flat Northenden is!

There seems to have been an outbreak of yarn-bombing here in Haverfordwest. Many lampposts, fences, pillar boxes, bollards, trees brightly and brilliantly decorated.

And after walking up a long, steep hill back to our b&b, we were all hot and sweaty. Liesel did some work on her laptop and even had a chat with her boss, Amrit. No, of course I wasn’t in the background heckling…

After a rubbish night’s sleep, we drove to St David’s, the main reason for visiting Pembrokeshire at all, really. We explored the cathedral, and the lady who welcomed us there was repeating ‘no entry fee but donations are always welcome’ in such a way that we couldn’t not make a donation.

I admired the organ but I wasn’t allowed to have a go. I just wanted to hear the 32-foot long pipes making a very low note.

We loved eating a pile of Welshcakes for lunch thanks to Mamgu’s little place right next to the Cathedral.

We drove the short distance to St Justinian’s, the idea being to walk along a short segment of the Welsh and Pembrokeshire Coast Path. The views over the sea were of course spectacular and I’m sure some of the many islands we saw don’t even have names.

We found the path and followed it for a mile or so. Two of the reasons I enjoyed this hike were that I never once felt short of breath, my intermittent but chronic and annoying condition, plus, even though we were at times close to the edge of high cliffs, I didn’t have sweaty palms. And I even get sweaty palms even when I see certain views on TV. By now it really was a hot, sunny day, no sign of rain at all.

This lifeboat launched at some point while we out on the path, having walking around a couple of headlands, so we didn’t see nor hear it go out to sea.

We passed many other hikers, and their dogs, on the path and I’m sure some of them were walking a long distance. But I am glad I wasn’t wearing a backpack as heavy as some of theirs looked.

The Pembroke Coast Path is 186 miles in length while the Wales Coast Path is 870 miles in total. Today, I think we managed a bit over a mile before turning round and walking back. Still, it’s a start, maybe 0.11% of the whole.

Another night’s, let’s say, challenging sleep, up in the attic of our b&b above the erstwhile launderette. The place was lovely and comfortable, in a quiet(-ish) area. I say (-ish) because we did hear people walking by and talking late at night, and then we heard the refuse collectors in the morning.

Liesel was still working so I went for a solo jaunt around town. Of course, I smiled at the newly enhanced church gates as I walked by.

And the stone-built houses are very attractive. I wonder if they keep warm and cosy, or are they old and cold and draughty?

‘Seen one river, seen ’em all.’ Well, maybe, but it’s always good to walk beside a waterway for a while. And I’m glad I did because I came across a very good guitar player on the bridge.

Busker, or not? He wasn’t expecting cash from passers-by for his entertainment, he was just promoting his guitar lessons.

And if you haven’t yet been convinced of just how steep some of the roads are in theis lovely town, this is a good example.

It must be great living here, with gorgeous views over the countryside, but I wouldn’t want to have to carry too much shopping up that slope every day.

Today’s excursion took us to Pembroke Castle. And, following our experience with Dyffryn Gardens a few days ago, I double, triple and quadruple checked that I had set Google Maps to take us to the actual, real Pembroke Castle, in Pembroke, and not, say, a pub in Yorkshire named The Pembroke Castle.

We could have hired boats and rowed around the moat, but we didn’t need to risk any interaction with the swans. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it. Instead, we walked up the hill from the car park and wandered around the castle, not joining the official guided tour on this occasion. There’s a lot of history here, including some familiar and a few unfamiliar characters, some familiar historical events and some new to me. Ask me to tell you about the history of Pembroke, Wales, England, the kings, the wars, the battles, and I don’t think I’d be able to give you a coherent story.

Many battles have been fought in this castle and beyond, of course, not forgetting numerous invasions fought off with skilful swordsmen and archers and so on. But the main deterrent to any future incursions must surely be this, the simplest of obstacles.

We climbed a few of the towers, and I was pleased to see that from such high vantage points, you could look down on the whole of Wales.

After lunch in the large courtyard, we bade farewell to the fish in the moat and made our way back to the car.

Our downstairs neighbour at home had recommended a beach in Pembrokeshire, and now was our chance to visit as it’s not too far from Pembroke.

Barafundle Bay is a 20-minute walk from the car park, but the trek is well worth the time and effort. And it’s not until you’re right above the beach that you see it.

The sign said: You may be on your way to the beach for some sunshine, but Wales has been heading north for hundreds of millions of years. The rocks here tell the story of its incredible journey. And don’t worry – we still get plenty of sunshine!

The only sounds we heard were the wind whistling and the sea crashing on ricks below. And even the few sea birds were having a sponsored silence day.

Another thought crossed my mind today, too. The seaside doesn’t smell like the seaside any more, not the same as it did when we were young children. That odd mix of the sea, ozone, fish and chips maybe, it’s just not there any more. Barafundle was no different. Maybe there are just too many other chemical pollutants in the atmosphere.

We sat on the beach for a while watching the water and the people. We should have brought a picnic. And a blanket to sit on: that would have been more comfortable that the scratchy marram(?) grass we plonked ourselves down on. Oh well, we’ll plan better next time.

I walked up and down the beach, spotting only two jellyfish just above the water line. It was approaching high tide, so I suspect the young girl trying to rescue the jellyfish was wasting her time. I’m sure there are days when the beach is much more crowded. Under these circumstances, it must be hard to find your family and friends if you become separated. But they’ve thought of everything here. In the middle of the beach, there is a prominent meeting point in the form of an old, dead tree trunk.

We returned to the car, and back to our place in Haverfordwest. Being our final night here, our evening meal was mainly finishing stuff off. No need to take food back home with us.

In the morning, Liesel and I again discussed our rotten night’s sleep. But, you see, neither of us have slept on a water bed before so it’s been a bit of an adventure. Every time one of us moved, so did the other. It got to the point where we had to issue tsunami warnings whenever we needed to roll over. Or even scratch an itch. So altogether now, to the tune of Split Enz’s Six Months in a Leaky Boat: 🎶 Three Nights in a Water Bed… 🎶 Even climbing on and off was difficult. Why was it so bouncy, we wondered? Because they filled it with spring water, said Liesel.

After packing in the morning, we set the controls for a 5-hour drive home. A long journey, yes, but uneventful. We passed through a town called Bethlehem. And we passed by several opportunities to buy produce. The range eggs were free, but we didn’t stop. We could also have bought potatoes (Pembrokeshire potatoes are the best), straw, fish and chips, oil paintings, interlocking concrete blocks, budgies and more eggs.

The nice open, empty roads gave us beautiful views of the Welsh hills and valleys. Until we gained some altitude, and then we were almost in the clouds.

We stopped for lunch at a great place, Dolwen Valley Café. Liesel and Leslie’s first choice was fish and chips, but they had no fish left. My first choice was the vegan burger, but they’d run out. But, it was a great place, and the staff, well, she was very friendly enough and the coffee was good too. And I had exactly the right amount of chips and salad to keep me going for the rest of the day.

Welcome to England, said the sign, as we entered Shropshire. Seeing raod signs in only one language now seems weird. Shrewsbury was within a short distance, a place where Liesel once fell off her bike, an incident that she’s still trying to blame me for!

This visit to England was short lived, as we found ourselves back over the border, approaching and then bypassing Wrexham. The second time we entered England, there wasn’t even a welcome sign, just a small embarrassed sign telling us this was Cheshire.

Back at home, we unloaded the car, unpacked, and opened our mail box. Guess how many letters were delivered by Royal Mail while we were away for a week? That’s right: zero. Just the way we like it.

And I can’t tell you how much we loved being back in our own bed. So comfortable, relaxing, and… stable. A good night’s sleep was much appreciated by us both.

Croeso i Gymru! Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pigsty, built in 1800, reconstructed 1977

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Allez allez allez

I don’t like spiders and snakes
And that ain’t what it takes to love me
Like I wanna be loved by you.

Well, that’s how the song goes and, actually, personally, I don’t mind spiders and snakes. And neither does William. He went away on Beaver camp and received a Certificate of Achievement in recognition of his amazing animal-handling skills. Yep: he wore a snake like a scarf.

We are very proud of our grandson!

The Tour de France continues to entertain and enthrall us, especially on the day when they had to ride on fourteen stretches of gravel. The megatonnes of dust reduced visibility, and at the end of the day, we had to give our TV set a really good wipe.

Who won that stage? I can’t remember, I’m just pleased that they all finished without feeling the need to cough their lungs up.

We were invited to babysit while Liam and Jenny socialised with friends much later than originally planned. Its still a fun challenge putting the children to bed at a reasonable time while letting them believe they’ve stayed up later than usual.

It’s that time of year again: my annual visit to the optician for a checkup. Everything’s OK, and I was able to see the wonderful mural round the corner. I don’t mean I could see round the corner, it was located round the corner from the optician’s in Didsbury and that’s where I saw it.

A family member who shall remain nameless asked if I was the ‘Man who slipped in puddle of Baileys on way to BA flight could get £4m.’ No, not this time. But I am planning such an ‘accident’ for my next visit to an airport since investing in the National Lottery seems to be a waste of time. And money.

We looked after the children again a couple of days later, picking them up from school and taking them to the nearby park. On the way, we crossed a bridge over a small stream, and William had to demonstrate just how waterproof his shoes are.

We had an ice cream and lots of fun in the playground before taking them home. William’s other achievement was running around the whole of the BMX course. If only that were an Olympic event in its own right.

The regular walks were back on this week, Wednesday’s attracting over twenty people. The drinks are now sponsored by a local firm of solicitors and I was interviewed by one of their reps, asking about the benefits of these walks. And then on Thursday, there were just the three of us. Still, nothing wrong with a bit of light exercise in what passes for fresh air around here!

Liesel joined a couple of organised walks without me, one to Alderley Edge which was much longer than anticipated and one for ‘ladies only’ to Fletcher Moss Gardens. Yes, ‘ladies only’ but they stull let Liesel in.

In local news, there is a big pothole in Gatley and a few nights ago, we managed to not avoid it. One tyre punctured so it was replaced as was a second because its tread was well worn. I don’t think we can claim back from the local council, but whenever I visit this garage, I always enjoy having a quick chat with the fishies.

Good News Week

Well, the big news this week was of course the UK General Election. No spoilers here, but I will say more about it later.

The other big event was Martha and William’s school Summer Fair. It was a typical Summer’s day, blue skies, scorching sunshine, the stench of sunblock fighting the stink of burnt offerings from the barbecue.

We met up with the other grandparents, Alan and Una, and we all enjoyed the perfomance of Matilda indoors, starring the one and only Martha. As she and the others sang, sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.

I mentioned the barbecue, and the best thing on offer there were the homemade samosas: I think we all indulged. Plenty of fun at all the stalls, although I did forget to buy a raffle ticket before we left.

Liesel needs a new computer so on the way home, we visited John Lewis where we had a look at the current generation of laptops. Lots of info from a very helpful sales assistant but as usual, almost too much information to process. So, for now, Liesel continues to work on a laptop that is the same age as Martha, and that sounds like it’s about to take flight with its Rolls Royce aero engine.

This was also the weekend of the Glastonbury Festival. We didn’t go, but we watched some of the performances on TV, such as Coldplay and Idles, Shania Twain, Cyndi Lauper, Dua Lipa, Avril Lavigne and Paloma Faith. Guess whch two of these artistes Liesel and I have seen performing on stage? No prizes, just for fun. I was disappointed that Frankie Archer’s set on the Acoustic Stage wasn’t shown in full, not even online. I should demand a refund on my TV licence.

This was also the weekend that the Tour de France started, so we’ve been watching that on TV this week. We didn’t expect to see Sir Mark Cavendish at the Tour again, yet here he is, hoping to win a 35th TdF stage and beat the 34 stage wins of Eddie Merckx, a record held since 1977. And he did, at the end of a very exciting, fast day’s racing.

We joined the family for a meal at Gusto late in the afternoon: I think William wanted to be home in time to watch England’s football team play in their next game in the Euros.

Fletcher Moss was the destination for our only organised walk this week. It was a big group, nearly 30 people, and amongst all the Himalayan balsam was some delightful bindweed, with pink rather than white flowers. As rare as a four-leaf clover, apparently.

Afterwards I continued walking into Didsbury where I had some errands to run, while Liesel went to the pub with some of the others. A fair distribution of labour, I feel.

A visit to Quarry Bank resulted in another very enjoyable jaunt through the woods. We were blown away by the number of hydrangeas in bloom here.

In fact, there was a lot of colour, thanks to the poppies, dandelions, marigolds and there was plenty of produce in the kitchen garden. We took the volunteers up on their offer and took home some rhubarb.

The regular Thrive Manchester walks were cancelled this week due to illness (get well soon!) so Liesel, Leslie and I went for a walk along the river instead.

It wasn’t that warm, there was hardly any wind, so ideal conditions for insects to be flying about, but we encountered hardly any at all, which is very sad.

And so we come to July 4th, Election Day, the day we’ve been waiting for for over four years. For the first time, I had to take ID so that I’d be allowed to cast my vote. I took three forms of ID, just to be on the safe side. But the clerk hardly looked at mine. Probably because of my totally honest looking physiognomy.

I was accompanied by Liesel and her Mom, who I think appreciated the short stroll. I came back the long way, via Rose Hill Woods, where I’ve not been for a long time. I’d forgotten that when you emerge from these woods on the other side, there’s a golf course. I wasn’t wearing a hard hat, but I wasn’t bothered by low-flying golf balls.

Liesel and Leslie went to bed and I set myself up for a long night in front of the TV. I don’t think I’ve stayed up all night to watch election results since 1997. But I thought history might be made tonight.

The exit polls at 10pm looked good, and as the night progressed and the results came in, I cheered silently. Those of you who know me personally will know that I’m not the biggest drinker in the world. In fact, until tonight, I’d only consumed one beer since I returned home from Anchorage. But tonight, well, I marked the occasion in style.

By the time I retired to bed at 6.50am, I had collected plenty of glassware for the recycling bin. We have a Labour majority in the House of Commons, some prominent Tories have lost their seats, and things are looking up again. While watching so much politicking on TV, mostly Channel 4, but also dipping into BBC, ITV and Sky, I realised just how many dinosaurs there are still in positions of influence, and relatively few young, inspiring politicians there are. The best couple of minutes was watching Carol Vorderman not holding back her opinion on the last fourteen years of “corruption and lies and gaslighting.” And now, a couple of days later, our new Prime Minister Keir Starmer has dared to appoint actual experts to his Cabinet, people who know about the ministries and departments that they’re now responsible for. What a novel idea! So, let’s hope to see some real changes soon.

Whinges of the week: (1) When you’re wasting time on Instagram watching loads of stoopid little videos, and then you click on the option that says ‘I’m not interested in this crap’, why does it then give you the option of watching it again? (2) When I have occasion to put a plaster on my fingertip, my phone can no longer recognise my fingerprint. The phone’s not that smart, after all.

Did you guess? Liesel and I saw Shania Twain perform one year in Hyde Park as part of Radio 2’s Festival in a Day. She’s just recovered from Lyme Disease. And we saw Paloma Faith in 2010, one of the guests in Rob Brydon’s TV chat show. It was the first show to be recorded, but not broadcast for a few weeks. Other guests on the show were Ronnie Corbett and Lucy Porter. It seems a long time ago now.