tips – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Changes

Helen and Brent returned from Wales having not tried a single Welsh cake. Can you believe it? We all met up in Yara, a restaurant in Cheadle that I’d not been to before. It was not only our opportunity to say farewell to the travellers, but an early birthday celebration for Liesel. Helen and Brent were scheduled to fly home the following morning, Sunday, while Liesel, Leslie and I were scheduled to fly to Alaska on Wednesday. The children had made a card for their Oma, which was displayed on the table for a short while. I think this must be how the servers knew it was Liesel’s birthday, so having all decided we were too full for dessert, they sang Happy Birthday while bringing over a huge slice of chocolate cake which saw Liesel’s eyes almost pop out on stalks.

It didn’t last long, though: it would have been very rude for the rest of us not to help Liesel consume the confection. The waiters had several extra forks to wash up afterwards.

When Helen and Brent were not quite half way back to Sydney, Liesel, Leslie and I ventured into Manchester for a gig. I’ve wanted to see Camille O’Sullivan for a long time, and I booked tickets as soon as the show was announced, back in January. I didn’t know then that Leslie would be with us, so a couple of days earlier, I went online hastily to purchase a third ticket.

We parked easily, close to the venue, Band on the Wall, just a five minute walk in the drizzle. Best of all, there were seats. Not like the last time we’d been to this venue and witnessed a fight between other, drunk, audience members, but that’s another story.

The stage was well decorated with various characters and I thought, that’s about right for Camille, yes.

The show was very good, she performed a lot of songs by Shane McGowan and told us stories abouit him and Sinéad O’Connor. We remembered Jacques Brel (Amsterdam), Kirsty MacColl (In These Shoes) and David Bowie (Where are we now? and Quicksand), and I sang along to their songs sotto voce.

At one point, Camille channeled Grace Jones, dancing with a hula hoop.

I noticed that I wasn’t the oldest person in the audience. I don’t think Liesel’s Mom was the oldest either. I could see now why they’d put seats out for all the seniors.

Feargal the accompanyist was really good too, playing keyboards and joining in with a couple of duets, including Sinéad and Shane’s Haunted and, of course, a part of Fairytale of New York. The audience joined in too, quietly.

More medical madness: after a telephone consultation, I made more appointments for next week, grrr. As a result, we’ve decided to postpone our trip to Alaska for a few weeks. I think this decision has relieved both Liesel and myself of a tonne of anxiety. Phew!

The highlight of the week was collecting Martha and William from school, and bringing them home to indulge in a variety of crafts. William is enjoying helping Oma with the 1000-piece Pokémon jigsaw puzzle. He knows all the characters and their characteristics. Liesel just knows there are pink ones and yellow ones…

Meanwhile, I helped Martha make a multi-coloured pom-pom but of course, I didn’t get a photo of the finished item, which is now pride of place in Martha’s bedroom. Or maybe tossed into the back of a drawer.

Jenny and Liam joined us for dinner, Indian food, very flavourful and not too hot and spicy, of course.

On another, sunny but cool day, we walked over to Northenden Community Library which is now located in St Wilfrid’s Church Hall, so just 15 minutes away as the crow waddles. Did we walk that extra little bit down the road to the coffee shop? Nope. Straight home for a restorative sit-down and breather.

I dropped Leslie and Liesel off in Didsbury so they could join a walk with the WI. I then drove over to Wythenshawe with a view to joining the regular Thrive walk. In the end, the distance I walked was minimal. I feel much better on the whole, yes, but my stamina, my oomph, is still not there. If I were a toy, a few AAA batteries would sort me out.

I look forward to the day when my daily step count is once again in five figures. Here’s a tip: never, ever, ever get ill.

Blue and Orange

Well there I was enjoying a bowl of cereal for breakfast when Liesel asked “Whose wine glass is this?” It was mine, from the previous night. We’d opened one of our newly purchased bottles to drink with dinner. A nice shiraz, if you must know. Anyway, somehow, I hadn’t finished my glass last night. But I did now. Never had wine for breakfast before. It was very nice, very tasty, but I won’t be making a habit of it.

Liesel had in fact been out of the house already. She collected our next rental car. It’s a hybrid, petrol and electric, so we’ll see how we get on with that over the next week or so.

Helen came by with a new cover for her garden sofa and chairs. I noticed that our visitor from last night had disappeared. Uh?

A very colourful and chunky moth sat with us for a while last night: as you can see, there is actual photographic evidence, it wasn’t a figment of our wine-infected imaginations.

We all three (me, Liesel, Leslie) packed for our road trip, during which we anticipate the weather will be a bit cooler.

The drive out of Sydney was uneventful. After a bit of a struggle I got my phone to connect with the car’s system, so we can at least hear on decent speakers our own music and our gorgeous Aussie Google Maps girl who usually gives us the correct instructions in a timely manner. Usually.

Our first stop was Mountain Bells Café in Bilpin. Over the road is Bilpin Fruit Bowl and down the road a bit is Hillbilly Cider Shed.

In Mountain Bells, we sampled a couple of non-alcoholic ciders and bought an apple pie for Ron. Later on. We continued our journey after being suitably hillbillified, as per the instructions on the label: the cider was great so we bought some. This whole area is famous for its orchards, but we didn’t stop for the purpose of scrumping, honest, officer.

The next port of call was at Mount Tomah, The Blue Mountains Botanic Garden. Liesel and I have been here before but not for a very long time. The three of us enjoyed a leisurely stroll, yes, and I include the steps and undulations in this.

Botanic Garden, so flowers and trees. But I was especially interested in the equatorial sundial, which I don’t think was telling the right time, even allowing for daylight saving and the equation of time. Maybe somebody nudged it.

Here we are in the Blue Mountains and the first time you see the view, you can’t help but gasp. The lansdscape is stunning, you can see for miles, another reminder of how small and insignificant we humans are.

This tree has a tale to tell. “This genus was known only from fossils up to 100 million years old until a living species was discovered in a remote part of the Sechuan province of China in 1941.” A living fossil!

One of the gardeners pointed out a possum that we’d missed, hiding quite high up in a tree.

He also warned us about the drops bears, but I didn’t expect any problems there. On the road, we’d already been looking out for koalas since seeing the first warning sign.

Even though it’s Autumn here, the narcissuses or narcissi were out in force, usually a Spring flower back at home. We saw a pair of crimson rosellas in a tree. Whether they were a married couple or not, we couldn’t say.

In the visitors’ centre, I was tempted to buy a golf umbrella. Not because I’m a big fan of such things, or even golf, and not because I felt the need to protect myself from the Sun. No, it was the colour. I knew it would perfectly match an old t-shirt that I am not allowed to wear.

It was a fun day, all those years ago, climbing the stairs in London’s Telecom Tower, but the commemorative t-shirt is 100% polyester and I’ve only worn it a couple of times. I wonder which Australian charity shop will have the pleasure of not selling it for forty years before throwing it away?

I was pleased to see a few bees and colourful butterflies going about their business.

We continued our drive along the strangely named Bells Line of Road to Evans Lookout.

A stunning view and just look at the sky. And remember it!

It took a while to unload the car at our Airbnb in Katoomba: we had to climb stairs outside to reach the front door, and then down the stairs to the kitchen and living room. The kitchen tap is just as unusual: you push it down to turn the water on. And if, out of habit, you push the tap down to turn it off, you can spray the water quite a long way.

During the night, we heard the rain. It rained a lot. We were looking forward to a longer walk in the area and it looked like it was going to be wet underfoot. The rain was very loud on the old tin roof. I rolled over and went back to sleep a couple of times!

I took ages to drag myself out of bed. I was waiting for the rumble of the rain on the roof to retreat, but it never did. Not only was it raining, it was foggy, we couldn’t even see the end of the garden sometimes. It was a lazy day, ideal for watching movies on TV. Liesel and Leslie watched five altogether, I just watched just one whole one. And the gasfire was turned on. Such a rotten day, I’ll say no more about it.

In happier news, Jenny and Liam have taken Martha and William to New York for a few days. To celebrate Martha’s upcoming birthday, they’re hoping to witness the total eclipse of the Sun. So we all hope they have clearer skies than ours are right now.

The rain kept on coming all night, and we had to be up early to check out of the b&b. Liesel loaded the car in the rain.

Lots of rain, then, so fast rivers run down the road, not just little trickles and rivulets. Somehow all this water disappears into the drainage system. There are large holes under the kerbs, big enough to swallow you if you’re not careful, not the dainty little drain covers that we get in England that so easily get clogged with leaves and litter.

Despite the rain (have I mentioned the rain that so far had fallen for over 36 hours continuously?), Liesel was quite happy to drive us around the sights. We didn’t expect to see much, so we weren’t too disappointed.

If you’re in the area and you have a toilet emergency or you would just like a cup of coffee, please visit Roasters with Altitude on Evans Lookout Road. The lady there, a former police officer, is very kind. Her husband is a doctor whose oldest patient is currently 107 years old, so he’s obviously doing a good job of doctoring. We had reason to pull in and seek assistance, and we couldn’t have stopped at a better, more welcoming venue. There aren’t many tips for visitors in this blog, but this is a serious recommendation: Roasters with Altitude on Evans Lookout Road. Five star service and coffee.

We’d visited Evans Lookout a couple of days ago, and given the weather conditions now, we didn’t go back. Instead, we drove to Magalong Valley Tearooms for breakfast. This too is a great place, the three of us all had different meals. Anything wrong with the place? Well, it’s hard to decide what was more annoying, a few flies buzzing around or the group of loud Americans over there led by a very loud American. On the plus side, the tearooms do use harvested stormwater to flush the toilets. Yep: stormwater, not rainwater!

The road was winding and we saw a few waterfalls in passing.

We blinked in disbelief as the day seemed to brighten up slightly, and we realised the rain had eased off a bit.

A little excitement was had too when we had to wait at a level crossing for train to pass. It was probably the train we’d have been on if we’d visited the Blue Mountains in that manner. As indeed we did once, many years ago.

Compared with the random roadside cascade mentioned above, Katoomba Waterfall was a bit disappointing. It wasn’t at its best of course, as we had to view it through the fog, mist and haze.

Close by is Solitary Lookout. All we could see was the tops of a few trees with a background of infinite whiteness.

Was it worth visiting the Three Sisters? Why not, we had nothing else to do.

This is what we should have seen:

This is what we actually saw:

As the local tour guide said to her group: “Not everybody gets to see the Blue Mountains like this.”

Again, as on previous trips, Liesel and I had thought about visiting Jenolan Caves. But the weather put us off. And just as well, because access to the caves was restricted because of the rain and flooding.

It’s Autumn here but there aren’t many trees displaying Autumn colours in the same way as we’re used to in Europe and Amerca. But there is the odd flash of yellow foliage.

This is in contrast to the dead trees and others that have obviously suffered from a bush fire in the last few years. Burnt, black trunks, yes, but the trees are flouhing.

We drove straight through Lithgow which has a full set of American franchises, McDonalds, KFC, Hungry Jacks and 7 Eleven. We think it’s sad and disappointing that there are no Aussie chains that are just as ubiquitous here.

In Bathurst, we saw a large flock of cockatoos flying around and eventually settling in a tree. If we hadn’t seen the birds in flight, we might easily have thought the tree was in blossom very late in the year.

In a nod to ancient Australian history, we passed three correctional facilities on the drive to Orange.

We passed through Lucknow, seeing what we think are the remains of old gold workings. But not so lucky for us: we didn’t see a coffee shop at which to stop for a break.

By the time we arrived at our lodgings in Orange, the rain has eased off significantly. And while it was good to see there weren’t steps to climb, we had to carry the bags in from the car by stepping over a very large puddle!

In Orange, we did some shopping, hooray! Leslie acquired a new raincoat and a new book to read. Liesel purchased some rice wine vinegar for tonight’s meal. I had a very enjoyable but hard massage in an endeavour to put my back bones back in the right order. I then walked home, arriving just in time before it started raining again.

We had considered visiting the local museum but we feared we might suffer from over-excitement.

Yes, the item they seem particularly proud of is this little memento, marking the occasion in 1967 when Orange had its first set of traffic lights installed. A big day in any town’s history, of course, along with the first roundabout and the first multi-storey car park.

Liesel and Leslie put supper together, spicy peanut butter tofu and broccoli tacos. V n v t. And as we hit the sack, we once again noticed the rain drumming and thrumming on the old tin roof. It was supposed to stop by the morning…

Steel Rigg to Gilsland to Irthington to Carlisle to Bowness on Solway

After leaving the Twice Brewed Inn, we had to retrace our steps to pick up Hadrian’s Wall Path again. First though, let’s take some photos outside.

And, a little bit later, I took the opportunity to cut Liesel’s chin off again.

We made good progress and enjoyed the views. Looking back on one occasion, Liesel spotted a small animal poking its nose out of the wall. The stoat emerged, ran across the field and disappeared into the distance. How exciting to see a wild animal rather than a farmyard favourite.

We passed Winshields, the halfway point and highest position on Hadrian’s Wall. This wasn’t the time nor place for a big party to celebrate, though. Still: all downhill from here then, right? No, no and thrice no. In fact, very shortly afterwards, at the top of another hill, we came across a trig point.

From this point heading west, the Roman Wall was much narrower than it had been. It seems it was taking too long to complete the massive building project, so the legionnaires found a way to make quicker progress. So fast in fact, that they left behind bags of stones and rocks that can still be found today. Jyoti tried to shift one, but other than make us laugh, her efforts were in vain.

Jyoti’s over the shoulder boulder holder

The Wall itself is a dominant feature, but there are plenty of other features.

I like the fact that at each of these forts and turrets, there’s a descriptive sign showing us what the structure used to look like. Many of the missing stones have been used over hundreds of years to build other walls, houses and barns. Recycling at its best. A good example is shown here. The old Roman stones are being used to protect the more worn paths, especially on the slopes.

Today’s route, though shorter, was also described as strenuous. And indeed it was. I find it easier to climb than to descend, since I don’t have very good depth perception, looking down. Still being tired from yesterday didn’t help. Snack and drink water frequently, little and often, are the very basic but sensible customs to follow. Take your time. I followed all the rules and yet after this particularly hard, steep descent, carefully and slowly making my way down the uneven steps, I realised I’d had enough. I bonked. I hit the wall. I had to have a lie down for a while. In retrospect, a bit embarrassing but at the time, I just wanted to stop. In my stupor, I tried to summon up a rescue helicopter.

To be fair, Liesel and Jyoti aren’t laughing at my predicament, but I am so grateful for their support, feeding and watering me like I’m an old nag destined for the glue factory. Teresa and Tammy at this point were quite far ahead and it made sense for them not to wait for us.

After a while, I was able to continue. Slow and steady. Northumberland National Park needs our help. They want us to let them know of all the reptiles we encountered: vipers, slow worms and lizards. Well, my personal total was zero, so that won’t take too long.

Walltown Crags. The crags would have been a challenge to climb, so I’m glad our path went in the opposite direction. Thirlwall Castle was quite an imposing sight. There was a short hill which I decided to pass on. Liesel and Jyoti went up for a closer look while I had a rest on the stone direction sign, which probably didn’t help those folks hiking in the opposite direction to us.

Soon after this, another wildlife bonanza. We saw bunnies and a family of geese with a cute little gosling. It was about this point when I realised how flexible miles are in this area. 3 miles to go. Walk for half an hour. Then another sign saying 3 miles to go. Later, Google Maps suggests 1.8 miles to go. We met a hiker who was carrying a huge backpack. He said he’d walked 18 miles so far today and had a couple of hours to go. I kept schtum, I didn’t want to tell him how hard I’d found the last several miles. But he was philosophical about the whole thing: “The pain’s constant but the views change”.

1.5 miles to our destination, Gilsland. A couple of bridges, a burn, and we thought we were getting close. Liesel called Teresa to say we were close, about a quarter of a mile away. Teresa said it’s probably nearer three quarters.

Brookside Villa must be the most attractive b&b in the whole world. At least, it was today, to me. Right place, right time.

Liesel and I were given the penthouse suite, which meant walking up more stairs. But when I got up at about 1.30am for my usual nocturnal biological demands, I noticed, through the skylight, a nice dark sky and stars. I was so excited, despite being tired and it being the middle of the night, that I got my phone and took a picture of The Plough or Big Dipper. Not the most exciting astrophotography, I know, but I was happy. Not so happy about knocking a glass of water over in the process, but stuff happens.

The day we walked from Gilsland to Irthington wasn’t marked as strenuous. And after yesterdays’ incident, I was quite prepared to walk more slowly if necessary, and I definitely programmed myself to eat and drink more often.

Over the course of their occupation, the Romans built three bridges over the River Irthing at Willowford, each more sophisticated than the previous one.

What an astonish feat of design and construction. Imagine then our slight disappointment when, to cross the river, we had to walk across this modern one. Built in 1999 and I doubt there’ll be evidence of it in 1700 years’ time.

It was a lovely warm day, and so quite refreshing occasionally to take shelter in the woods for a minute. I felt very lucky not to be suffering from blisters on my feet, but the four lambs had to deal with this issue to a lesser or greater degree. While tending to their wounds, I snacked and imbibed.

I’m sure this fallen log has a few tales to tell, but I chose a different one to perch on. Out in the countryside, a few birds and animals hung around, but the biggest surprise was coming across an Honesty Snack Shed. Snacks and drinks for sale, and an honesty box for the payment.

The signs continue to inform and educate, but ridiculous as it sounds, I did find myself thinking sometimes, ‘another one’? We agreed that it would be nice if they could reconstruct one of these forts fully, since all we see in general are just a few layers of stones giving an idea of the building’s layout.

Piper Sike, Turret 51a, a frontier watchtower. This was a stone tower built by the
Emperor Hadrian’s army around AD 122. It originally stood within the turf section of Hadrians Wall which extended 31 Roman miles (44km) from the river lrthing to Bowness-on-Solway. After a few years the turf was replaced by a stone wall part of which abuts the turret’s west wall.

We made friends with a couple of donkeys named Hamish and Dougal. Naturally I asked ‘You’ll have had your tea?’ (Look up I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue and indeeed Hamish and Dougal’s own shows on Radio 4, some now on YouTube.)

And so it came to pass, no, that’s not right… And so, we came to pass Hare Hill, a precious fragment of Hadrian’s Wall, at the same time as a couple of ladies approached from the opposite direction. Megan and her friend were walking from west to east and this was excitingly their first sighting of the Wall. Which meant, it was to be our last. From now on, the Wall would be hidden from us, even if we were actually walking on top of it.

Another thing you don’t expect to find in the middle of nowhere is a shop selling t-shirts. I didn’t buy one, but this one summarises the whole walk quite nicely, I think.

Someone who deserves at least a knighthood is the man (and I’m sure it was a man, no woman would be so daft) who walked the length of Hadrian’s Wall one day some years ago, planting nettles underneath nearly every gate and stile making passage that much more difficult, especially for those of us with bare legs trying to squeeze through a small gap.

Time for another sit down.

Look/Seek for something Beautiful every day

Walking via Newtown, a hamlet very proud of its Cumbria in Bloom awards between 2008 and 2014, we walked down to The Sally in Irthington. Amy supplied ice for Jyoti’s ankle and generally looked after us.

All week, in fits and starts, Liesel has been crocheting a jellyfish. She attached the final tentacles this evening and gave it to Amy who was delighted.

From our room, we could hear sheep and so sleep came very easily.

After walking on grass and mud for many miles, your feet do notice how hard an asphalt road surface is, especially towards the end of the day.

On the morning of Day 7, we had to backtrack a bit to pick up the trail again. Breakfast was big. I think the cook wasn’t used to vegetarian breakfasts, so over-compensated by giving me two huge tomatoes, three veggie sausages (that were disappointing), two eggs, no hash brown, a bowl of baked beans and (cold) guacamole which didn’t do anything for me. Plus toast. I couldn’t eat it all, but I still felt stuffed.

It was a lot more humid today too, so we were all sweating a bit. Jyoti suggested writing a limerick to mark the occasion. Walking, talking, stalking, looking around and gawking, lots of rhymes, but no single decent poem emerged.

We noticed sheep and cattle were sharing a field in some places. They stayed in their own groups or herds and there was no sign of fighting over a particularly juicy clump of grass.

We thought we’d seen the end of Hadrian’s Wall, but no. We were surprised to see a small section constructed, not from stones, but from old chariot tyres. They’re in pretty good nick for being nearly 2000 years old.

The vallum is the ditch that runs alongside the Wall, another defence against the Picts or Celts from the north.

We stopped at Crosby Church for a break, and the first gravestone I saw was that of an 18-year old girl who’d died in 2005. I want to know her story. But at the same time, I don’t. Very sad, in any case.

A wannabe topiarist had a good go at this shrub, but they need a slightly taller ladder, methinks.

After Crosby, I became aware of a much more diverse chorus of birdsong. I couldn’t identify some of them and my app, Chirp-o-Matic, only suggested three or four candidates. We heard a lot, but didn’t see very many close up. We did see flowers though.

I think it’s Scotch broom, very similar to gorse but without the thorns. And, of course, we’re never too far away from sheep, even when they try to hide behind a bush.

The river Eden would be our guide for a while as we walked by fields with row after row of polythene sheets, underneath which they’re growing, what, potatoes? I didn’t peek.

Later on, in the middle of a field, we saw another Roman fort. No, not really. What is it? Too small to be a grain store. Can’t be defensive, even with those small windows to shoot arrows through.

After a thorough, in-depth investigation, we learn that it’s a folly, and possibly a dovecote built c.1835, for George Head Head, in the grounds of Rickerby House. The tower is Grade II listed. George Head Head, now that’s someone we should know more about, not to mention his parents’ sense of humour.

Rickerby Park on the approaches to Carlisle was pleasant, and a perfect opportunity for a selfie.

We easily found our b&b which is called either Langley or Langleigh, depending on whether you believe the paperwork or the engraved stone gate post.

After dining at the Thai place in Carlisle, Jyoti walked out of her skirt. No video available. Ironic, because just a couple of days ago I’d told the story about Mrs Winter. She was the cleaner in the hall of residence where I lived in my first year at uni. You knew she was coming because of her distinctive tread. Both of her shoes squeaked but at a different pitch. One day, Nick and I happened to be following her along the corridor when her drawers fell down, squ-squeak, squ-squeak, and she just carried on and walked right out of them. There’s no video of that occasion either.

Liesel thinks her triceps are bulging now after using the walking poles for so many days. I’m sure she said Poley Moley when she noticed.

There were so many sheep in so many fields. I tried counting them but I kept falling asleep, which isn’t ideal when you’re trying to walk a long way.

On arrival at Langleigh, we couldn’t get into our rooms. Somehow, someone had double-locked the door and closed it. The only solution was to break the lock on that door. It was Sunday and so locksmiths were hard to come by. I felt bad for Yvette and Norman, but I also felt useless, there was nothing I could do to help.

Langleigh has been a b&b for 50 years, and it still retains some of that ’70s vibe. Candles were lit for breakfast, to illuminate the many, many bird ornaments and pictures that adorn the place.

There was no need to pack here in the morning for the haulage company because we’d be staying at this b&b for a second night. Carlisle isn’t that far from home, yet we’d never been before, so Liesel and I agreed to come back and explore the city properly one day.

The Sun rose on our 8th and final day walking the Hadrian’s Wall Path. It was to be the longest in distance, 15 miles along the river Eden to its confluence with the Solway, fairly flat with some undulation. The most boring section perhaps was a very long, dead straight road that might well have been Roman in origin.

But well before then, I must admit I was amused by the precision of some of the signposts.

I forgot to pack a tape measure, otherwise I might have checked it really was 236 yards.

On the first set of steps, I noticed I had calf muscles for the first time that day. We saw a lot of flowers, wild and cultivated, but sadly, very few insects. We didn’t mind not having to bat away thousands of flies like we did for a couple of days, but a few more butterflies and bees would have been nice.

We walked through what can only be described as the most sheep-shittiest field of the whole trip today. The sheep gave us funny looks as we tip-toed across their lunch. But at least we’re not taking a dump on our own dinner plates.

The directions said ‘turn left’ after the church, We did, and encountered the narrowest path of the whole trip.

Yes, there were nettles here too and somehow I managed to force myself through without being stung.

Another thing I don’t think any of us expected to find this week was a zip wire. But we did, at Beaumont Parish Hall. Did we have a go? Not all of us, but…

And we’re still finding interesting wildlife.

St Michael’s Church at Burgh-by-Sands made us welcome, even if, due to our own incompetence, we couldn’t find the supply of tap water, as advertised!

This twelfth century church was built with stones from the Roman Wall nearby. King Edward I came here to cross the Solway and subdue the rising under Robert the Bruce. He died on the marsh and was brought into the church to lie in state on 7 July 1307. The fortified tower was a refuge during the border raids.

The Eden joined the Solway and we saw Scotland for the first time, another landmark.

After our lunch break, we walked along the flood protection bank. I took a detour into a field where I was able to water the nettles. After which I had to briefly abandon the bank, due to a herd of cows. They were on the bank, in the ditch, walking backwards and forwards along and across the road. They weren’t at all aggressive, just a little intimidating being there in such numbers.

This was the long, dead straight road I mentioned earlier, a perfect opportunity for an entrepreneur to install a travelator.

The big disaster of the day? My shirt sleeve got caught on a hawthorn branch.

Next time we do this walk, we’ll record all the squeaky springs on all the gates and make a symphony. And we should include that bloke’s squeaky shoes too, from Day 4 or 5.

And, we’ll plan to walk both ways if it’s hot and sunny. East to west means the Sun beautifully tans the left arm. Walking back to Newcastle will darken the right arm, restoring that lovely feeling of symmetry.

I commented earlier on the flexible miles in this part of the world. We started the day knowing we had a 15-mile walk. As the day progressed, the signs told of a dimishing distance between Carlisle and Bowness.

It was good to see some seabirds on the beach around Port Carlisle. Some oyster catchers and some little or common ringed plovers, but they were a long way off. I must get a zoom lens for my phone.

Bowness on Solway. Never has the sight of a sign brought so much joy!

And yes, just a short while later, the five of us reached the end of the road.

Welcome to the end of Hadrian’s Wall Path

There were two rubber stamps to add to our passport. Except we didn’t have a passport and hadn’t seen most of the other rubber stamps along the way. I didn’t even have any paper. So, while celebrating on the rocky beach, I picked up a stone as a souvenir, and stamped it.[*]

Cantum meum canto
air seolaidhean-mara na Salmhaigh
leyke a sky-reydin burd
my heart soars high

As you walk down to the beach from the Welcome hut, there’s a handrail that bears a poem. The four lines of the poem along the handrail represent the cultural influences on Bowness on Solway: Roman Latin, Scots Gaelic, Cumbrian dialect and English. In English the poem reads:

I sing my song
of the Solway tides
like a sky-riding bird
my heart soars high.

What a perfect end to the walk. Just a short way to go now to the King’s Arms Inn for a welcome drink. We’d been cheersing each other all week, 10 opportunities to break a glass each time, but it never happened.

The barmaid (sorry if that’s not her official title, it does seem a bit old-fashioned) was kind enough to order a taxi to take us back to our b&b. Strangely, we didn’t have it in us to walk back to Carlisle.

The cab arrived and took us straight to our b&b. In the evening, we dined at The Thin White Duke. We were expecting to be entertained by the music of David Bowie, but disappointingly, that didn’t happen. There were just a couple of allusions to the great man, but the meal was great.

Jyoti managed to walk back without shedding any clothes on this occasion. We did some ironing before going to bed.

One more good night’s sleep before going home.

I’m sure we’re all very proud of our achievement, it was a fascinating, interesting and sometimes challenging hike across the country. If I do anything like this again, I hope it’s in the company of four beautiful, young, funny, supportive American women. Thank you very much, lambs!

A spot of time travel here. This week’s radio show was, inevitably, themed around Walls. You can listen here if you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio. Songs about Walls; the album of the week is Two Hearts by Mary Hopkin and Jessica Lee Morgan but that’s not all! The four lambs each picked a song to play.

[*] Sadly, the ink stamps on the stone faded very quickly, they’re totally illegible. So, if you do this hike, or any other similar one, don’t forget to take some paper so you can collect the stamps.

Morecambe and whys

It’s been a long time coming, nearly two years, but we’ve been to our first gig indoors, in an actual indoor venue. And it was fab.

The original plan was to spend the day in Morecambe and then attend the concert in the evening. At one point, we even thought about spending the night, but in the end, we chose not to. To even be having discussions like this is a great step forward as we slowly get back to normal. Why? Because the pandemic and restrictions imposed have drastically affected our way of life.

The weather on Saturday morning was miserable, making a day at the seaside much less attractive. The drive was uneventful, and we parked close to the venue, More Music. Why? So that we could make a quick getaway after the show, without having to wander around a strange town in the dark. It looked a bit run down to be honest, but we knew we were at the right place when we saw this poster.

And by now, you might have worked out who we were going to see this evening.

We enjoyed a walk along the sea front, but I was surprised that there wasn’t much of the expected sandy beach. We walked along as far as the Eric Morecambe memorial statue and guess who we bumped in to? Jessica and Christian had also made the pilgrimage, and of course, we all had to pose with Eric. Why? Because he and his partner were the best of Saturday night TV entertainment in the ’70s and, as Jessica said, he’d brought us sunshine today.

While Jess and Chris wandered off for an ice cream, we continued our exploration of this strange little seaside town. Some of the sights weren’t very nice: the bloke sitting immobile on the pavement for instance. We later learned that he was probably under the influence of ‘spice’, a new (to us) recreational drug. Some of the shops could do with a lick of paint too. Comparing this town with the relatively well-kept splendour of London is obviously unfair, a tangible sign of the north-south divide.

We were impressed by the flood defences all along the front, though, with a nice wide promenade for pedestrians and cyclists and scooterists and skateboarders. Why? Flood defences were beached here in 1977 causing extensive damage to property. The West End Pier was lost, the remains being removed the following year.

There were a few people on the beach, soaking up the Sun. Yes, by now it had warmed up nicely, and the rain had moved away. The mudflats extend for miles, not somewhere we felt like exploring today.

They do like their bird sculptures here, fulmars, cormorants, maybe even pelicans. But other than common or garden gulls, I don’t think we saw any living seabirds. Those sitting on the water just floating by gave an indication of how strong the current was.

We walked along the pier, where someone was flying his drone. I gurned at it, just in case it was filming us. Why? Well, why not? Another bloke at end of pier was loudly regaling us with his drone stories. He’d gone out for a bike ride with some friends in order to fly his drone over the farms. The day started off badly when he didn’t open the garage door far enough and it came down with some force on his head. While flying his drone, a farmer came running out after him, shouting and hollering. He was complaining because some people use drones to photograph what farm equipment is left out and can therefore be stolen easily. Our friend here was totally innocent of course: my drone doesn’t even have a camera. The farmer promised he’d shoot it down if he ever saw that drone again. If he had a shotgun.

Our story-teller here had a bad experience with a glider once too. On its maiden flight, it nose-dived somewhere, never to be seen again.

Well, that was plenty of entertainment for the day, you’d think. But no. A woman was on the phone:
Were you bulk buying?
Did you get rid of that toilet paper you got last time?

That was probably referring to the current petrol shortage here, and the queues of cars at the forecourts. We filled up successfully, but that was because we needed fuel if we were to be able drive all the way home from Morecambe at the end of the day. Why? Because, as I said, we thought about staying the night and decided not to, weren’t you paying attention?

The pier itself can keep you entertained. There’s a maze and a hopscotch pitch as well as some jokes.

On what side does a lapwing have most feathers?
On the outside.

We dined at Morecambe Tandoori, which seems very popular with the locals. Why? Our first choice of pizzas didn’t work out, but really, we weren’t that fussy. With some time to kill before the show, I went for another quick walk, really just an excuse to eat my daily apple. West End Gardens is a nice place to explore. Some sculptures depicting the ancient four elements certainly draw the eye.

“It was decided … to connect Wind with Sound and to make a sculpture inspired by the ancient aeolian instruments, where wind creates random changing sounds. As we began to explore ways of making this happen, the design developed into the form of seven stainless steel trumpets of varying heights, shapes and angles standing like sea horns proudly calling out in all directions. The 4m high, stainless steel sculpture has wires set in the trumpet spun cavity allowing them to resonates when the wind passes over them.”

“It was decided that the Element Earth should take the form of Rock and relate directly to the geology of Morecambe. This evolved into a ‘rock’ seat, a unique sculptural bench using found glacial stones. Six different shaped stones were split in half and and their top face polished. These were set into a curved section of Corten steel. The effect was a very unique looking seat 3m in length with six obvious seating points.”

And to think, when I first saw this, I just thought what a clever, different, park bench.

If you think I’ve undersold Morecambe, well, this mural should convince you to go for a week or two of its bracing sea air.

We joined the queue at the venue, and when we took our seats, by a table, in front of the stage we noticed that I was not the oldest person there, and Liesel was not the youngest. Each table had two or three chairs, and were quite apart from each other. It was organised to be as Covid safe as possible. I made my bottle of ginger beer last all night: no need to be walking about more than necessary.

Jessica and Christian came on first for a wonderful set, all their own songs, including a couple in which we, the audience, were invited to sing along. I caught myself singing along to most songs, but not too loudly, I hope.

Robyn Hitchcock was as entertaining as always: The Cheese Alarm again reminding me that there aren’t enough pop songs about cheese. Sadly, he didn’t perform No, I Don’t Remember Guildford, but maybe he remembers the time he sang that song in a radio studio with me sitting behind, breathing down his neck.

Because we were so close to the stage, it was difficult to get a good photo, so this will have to do. All three performed Robyn’s Brenda’s Iron Sledge together, a song I would like to join in with but not knowing the lyrics is a bit of a handicap. Don’t call him Reg. Why? It’s not his name.

What a great experience. Covid’s always at the back of our minds of course, but we felt safe tonight and enjoyed a terrific few hours of live music.

Late to bed, late to rise, of course. West Didsbury Makers’ Market takes place once a month on a Sunday, so we walked over to see what was going on. It was a pleasant walk along the river and to the market, which was very popular, much busier than I’d expected. Lots of craft stalls, but plenty of food too. The scones were huge and very tasty.

Liesel picked something up from Lakeland, the shop that is, not the gorgeous geographical region, after which we went to Quarry Bank Mill for a quick walk. Autumn is here so we expect to see some colour, but it was fascinating to see so many different colours here today.

We enjoyed more wandering around our local streets, despite the weather. After the storm, I looked for and found a rainbow, hiding between the houses.

It wasn’t really a storm on this occasion, just a bit of rain.

I haven’t been to a proper Macmillan Coffee Morning for a while, but I made up for it this year. The venue was Boxx2 Boxx and they were very busy on this occasion, good to see. Why? Well, I’ll always support Macmillan Care since they looked after my Mum all those years ago.

Liesel and I joined the well-being walk at Wythenshawe this week too. I thought about walking all the way there and back, as well as doing the walk itself. Driving all the way again to do a walk, like I did last week, felt wrong. So we compromised, drove halfway and then walked the rest.

I have no idea how somebody can build up enough speed in the short distance from the car park to cause this much damage.

We walked to the Lifestyle Centre, joined Chantel and a few others for a walk around Painswick Park and beyond.

Yes, of course I was tempted to have a go on this zipwire, but it’s probably for children, and I didn’t want to lag too far behind the group. Why? I don’t know, maybe I just didn’t want to get left behind or maybe I didn’t want to risk breaking the equipment or more likely, I was pretending to be grown up.

I had a couple of nasty technical issues this week that caused a few moments of panic. Acast, the app through which I listen to many podcasts, forgot all my subscriptions. It acted like I’d only just signed up. And the one podcast it claimed to know about wouldn’t play anyway. It looked like I’d have to re-subscribe to everything. And how can I possibly remember them all? In the end, I thought I had nothing to lose, maybe it’s just a stack overflow or something stupid, so I did a Force Stop on the app, and that fixed it. In other words: turn it off and turn it on again. There’s a tip for you.

The other one was when my PC forgot how to use its ethernet connection. It’s happened before, and it’s been resolved, but I’ve never found out why it’s gone wrong and why, seemingly, just as spontaneously, it’s started working again. So this week, I had to do the radio show via wifi, having turned off all the other wifi-connected devices. It seems to have worked.

The show itself was about Manchester. Why? Well, it only seems fair after the London-themed show last week. You can catch up here, if you missed it.

This is the first post in a somewhat cooler, damper, Autumnal October. When it was dreich and drizzly the other day, I wanted to go to bed and set the alarm for May. Why all the stupid questions? Purely so that the pun that comprises the title makes sense. As much as anything does in this neck of the woods.

Bug bites and batteries

There’s still a moment in the morning when I wake up and wonder where I am. And still a momentary flash of disappointment when I remember that we’re back home, but away from the midges. Itchy legs and arms still and I even have a bindi where one of those little blighters bit me while in the Highlands. We are glad to be away from those microdots of torture. No other animal bites you and leaves a mark a thousand times larger than its own body size. I bet they miss me though: I’m quite tasty, they didn’t go for Liesel at all.

Wythenshawe Park looked nice and tidy, freshly mown, and I even had the place pretty much to myself. Sneezes erupted and followed me around and I realised I couldn’t carry on much longer without taking some anti-histamines. My hay fever really is much worse here at home than it was in Scotland, but then maybe my immune system was concentrating on attacks from those nasty little black beasties.

In our flat, when we leave the windows open, we get visits from flies the size of small humming birds. They can find a way in, but we have to open all the windows wide before they find their way out again. I say ‘they’, but it might be the same one coming back every day.

Welcome to our first exciting day out out since we returned from the extreme north. We’ve wanted to visit Tatton Park, a National Trust property, for a long time and today was the start of The Foodies’ Festival. Neither of us were particularly interested in the Foodie side of the Festival, oh no, we went primarily to see some live music.

We wandered around the gardens, yes, still socially distant from other visitors. So it was a bit strange seeing a large group, maybe a coach party, having a guided tour all in close proximity, some with masks, some without.

It was relaxing hearing the birds singing, but the peace of the Japanese Garden was disturbed by the noise from the robot lawn mower. They have modern tech like this, but one of the gardeners was trimming the edge of the lawn with shears that really needed sharpening. Or replacing!

We didn’t see as much wildlife as we would have liked in Scotland, so to see some today was, well, wild. Some deer way over there in the distance and this little chap:

He is a very small frog, barely bigger than my thumb nail.

This is a very pretty flower, we had some in our garden in Chessington. I never knew what it was. [Thanks to Stella, we now know this is St John’s Wort. No wonder I didn’t recognise it, the last time I saw St John’s Wort, it was in the form of little off-white tablets in a bottle.]

There’s a big kitchen garden here at Tatton too, which must take some looking after, but all the indoor venues were closed. As midday approached, we wandered over towards The Foodies’ Festival. The queue was quite long already and Liesel and I were both bemoaning the fact that our poor old backs needed a rest. We knew we were in the right place when we heard the strains of Texas Angel wafting across the fields.

Jessica and Chris were playing the music to welcome all the guest to the Festival. ‘Ah, you must be Mick’, said Jessica from the stage and I thought, where? It was good to see them live and in the flesh: usually I see them on YouTube each Tuesday night playing for an hour or so. Jessica’s cousin David and Viv also watch the online shows, and this was the first time of course that we’d met them in real life. Jessica and Chris performing songs without buffering issues: priceless!

They sung a mix of their own songs and covers such as Big Yellow Taxi and You’re So Vain.

We sang and clapped along of course. Sang or sung? The more you think about it, the more wrong both words seem to be. Most people just walked on by, paying no attention to the music. Looking around the stage, it was interesting to see that all the nearby stalls were offering alcohol: prosecco, gin, Kent cider (I took some home), Pimms, beer on an old London bus. Really? Yes, really!

We properly met Jessica and Chris after their first set, before wandering off for a coffee and a sit-down. A sit-down in the marquee where the cookery demonstrations were taking place. Before the second set, we bought some cheese and some desserts that we wouldn’t normally look at. There was even a CostCo stall, bizarrely, which I thought out of place amongst all the local produce on offer. What a nice day for wandering around a field and then sitting down to watch more music. I feel bad about not staying for the other musicicans, including the intriguingly named Maybe Gaga, but I had a radio show to do later on.

It was fun to watch this little girl dancing in front of the stage and, in the end, sitting down for a rest. Of course it made us think about taking Martha and William to a performance like this one day.

And yes, of course, afterwards, I asked for a selfie with the stars of the show.

The radio show this week was a Postcard from Scotland. Some Scottish singers plus plenty of other great tunes, including, of course, one from JLM. I started at 4pm this week rather than 2pm, the idea being that, like today, if we go out on a Friday, we don’t have to rush back: I have to allow a good half hour for the PC to boot up and for me to run all the necessary software.

The Tour de France continues to entertain. Spoilers coming up. Today, Mark Cavendish won his fourth stage this year, making a total of 34: this equals the record achieved by Eddy Merckx, probably the greatest male cyclist ever, in 1975.

This morning we went over to Didsbury, Liesel had things to do, while I walked home, the long way. I was pole-axed on reading the news that Jono Coleman, top radio presenter here in the UK and in Australia, had died. I had to sit down and recuperate in Fletcher Moss Park, with a coffee and a fried egg barm.

While I was walking back along the river, there was a downpour in Northenden. I could tell by the wet pavements, plus, it was confirmed by Liesel. I stayed dry though, chatting with the duck family who couldn’t swim away from me fast enough.

Yep: another photo of animal rear-ends. I think my phone emits a signal that warns them that I’m about to take a picture.

Liesel told me there were three crates of empty milk bottles in front of the neighbour’s car, in our communal car park. When I looked out, I could see no crates, so I told her they’d gone. A little while later, Liesel told me the crates were still there, in front of the car. I looked out but still couldn’t see them. Was I even looking at the correct vehicle? Yes I was. The car is parked facing the fence. The crates were between the front of the car and the fence. So, in front of the car. But to me, in front of the car would place the crates between me and the offending vehicle. Liesel maintains that this would be behind the car, as the crates are closer to the back of the vehicle. We tried to come to some agreement, but basically, the English language is a bit fluid and ambiguous. Imagine the car was, say, a sphere, without a front or a back. Where are the crates now? I still think, between the ball and the fence, they’re behind the object. From our point of view in our second floor luxury apartment, if the crates were in the neighbour’s garden, are they behind the fence or in front of the fence? You might think it doesn’t matter. But if we were trying to direct someone to defuse an unexploded bomb, she would need to go straight to the device, she wouldn’t want to be wasting time climbing over fences looking for it, just because we can’t agree on what’s in front and what’s behind. So from now on, we’re going to use absolute terms to describe locations. Something will be north, east, south or west of something else, or some combination thereof. I hope that’s clear.

It’s a bit of a joke these days that when some thing goes wrong, the advice is to turn it off and back on again. There was an item on radio recently which agreed that, because most things are basically just computers now, this will work. It’s a way of clearing the temporary memory in the device. In the old days of computers, you’d get a message such as ‘Stack Overflow’, which meant you’d run out of memory. Not, you, the computer. So today, when my phone wouldn’t pair with the portable keyboard via bluetooth, I resorted to turning both items off and on again. They still didn’t want to acknowledge each others’ existence. I pulled out some of my hair, not that I have much to start with, and wondered what else I could try. I know the keyboard likes to be top of the list of bluetooth devices that pair with my phone, so I made sure the others were all (both) turned off. So, just the phone and the keyboard now. Will they shake hands and play nice? Nope. Then, in a flash, the thought occurred: batteries. The phone was 85% charged. I changed the two AAA batteries in the keyboard, et voilà, we have lift-off. This is the first time I’ve had to change these batteries, so I’m glad that was the only problem. Here’s a tip: ‘turn it off and on again and check the batteries’ should be the more complete advice when something stops working properly.

Durness to Ullapool

All good things come to an end and that includes our first ever experience of glamping, here at Durness. Glamping? Yes, even though we were staying inside a modern day shepherd’s hut, it qualifies as glamping. No yurts here, or big tents with all mod cons.

Part funded by the European Union. I wonder what you’d have to do to join such an organisation. We couldn’t bid farewell to our host Sandra because, overnight, she had to take her husband to hospital. In Inverness. Let’s hope he recovers soon, that’s a long way from home. Many of the photos today will be of the spectacular highlands scenery. There are not enough superlatives to describe the place. It’s big, it’s stunning, it’s almost overwhelming.

We thought we’d fill our flasks with hot chocolate. But, the first disappointment of the day was finding that Cocoa Mountain is closed on Mondays. And so to Ullapool, about 90 miles south. We didn’t stop at Smoo Cave in the end, we just pointed the car in the right direction and followed the one-lane road with passing places.

It was bright and sunny but quite windy. The further south we drove, the warmer it became and the wind died down a bit too. But looking at the scenery genuinely does put real life into perspective. These mountains will still be here long after our current inept government has been forgotten.

During the day, I was reminded of a few works of art that have entertained us over the decades. Here at Keoldale for instance is the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

There were very few trees and bushes, which I think makes the landscape appear more rugged. Plenty of sheep and lambs around but we realised that other than on warning signs, we haven’t seen any deer yet. Then we saw on Twitter that that bloke from Location, Location, Location has been shooting them all.

This could easily be somewhere dark and menacing from Lord of the Rings.

We stopped briefly near Scourie. From about this point, the road had two lanes including white lines down the middle. It’s funny how you get used to using passing places, you miss them when there aren’t any more.

This selfie was taken from Kylestrome, looking over, we think, Loch a’ Chàirn Bhàin. Sometimes, we just don’t know exactly where we are, which is a shame.

You’re driving along, gasping at every new vista, and suddenly, even something manmade can jump out, someting with a ‘wow’ factor.

This bridge should look out of place, but it really fits in, as minimalist as a bridge can be, not attempting to draw attention from what nature has to offer.

Everywhere you look, there is something stunning, almost out of this world. The next scene took us back to New Zealand.

Nothing to do here except wait for the slow one at the back to catch up.

We pulled into laybys a couple of times, just to look around. Sometimes there’s a map. Here’s a tip to whoever produces these maps: please don’t put South at the top. We’re all used to North at the top. There’s no good reason for it, other than to wreak havoc and cause confusion amongst visitors and tourists.

Lunch was taken by the cool, clear waters of Loch Assynt.

Another couple stopped at about the same time as us, and, being British, we each complimented the weather and engaged no further in conversation.

From our picnic position, we could look over at Ardvreck Castle. Why didn’t we stop and have a closer look at the castle? Mainly because everybody else had.

Closer to our picnic site though was what’s left of Calda House, a Scheduled Ancient Monument.

It doesn’t look like there’s enough rubble there to rebuild the other two walls, so I suspect a lot of the stone has been recycled into other buildings.

Did I mention Lord of the Rings? Well, we found a place called Elphin. In fact, we stopped at Elphin Tearooms for coffee and cake, and sure enough, all the locals have pointy, elfin ears.

Knockan Crag National Nature Reserve is just a short distance along the road and by the time we arrived, we were well fortified, full of beans and ready to go. Why? Because the elfin barista made non-decaffeinated coffee for us by mistake, and it would have been churlish for us to reject it. We just tweaked her ears instead.

If you’re interested in geology, this is the place to come. So many different kinds of rock to study but first, we looked at the deer much higher up the hill, behind a fence unfortunately, but it was exciting to finally see some in the wild.

No, I don’t know if Spot is really his name.

The rocks here have been accumulating for over a billion years.

There is a beautiful hike here up to the top of the crag. There are slopes and steps made from the local rocks, and the whole track is reassuringly solid. Hard to believe that the views can become even more spectacular as you climb, but they really do take your breath away.

The geological history of Scotland over 600 million years is fascinating. It’s certainly moved about over the millennia.

Inevitably some people will look at 200 million years ago, when dinosaurs ruled Scotland, and they’ll think, huh, nothing’s changed then. Not us, of course.

Up and up we go, stopping to look around every so often.

It was hard work climbing some of these steps, plus it was a lovely warm day. We certainly felt like we were getting to know the crag. It’s high and mighty and again, makes you realise that something like not having a wifi signal is not really a big problem in the great scheme of things. Not having a 4G signal here though, what a disaster. Here’s a tip: if you’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s no realistic chance of acquiring a 4G signal, put your phone into aeroplane mode, otherwise it’ll drain the battery as it keeps searching for non-existent radio signals.

There came a time when we had to turn back. A number of factors combined to help us make the decision. I felt bad about not going any further with Liesel, but she said she was beginning to feel uncomfortable too:

I’ve never been too keen on heights, and I suddenly realised I was too high, well outside my comfort zone;
It was surprisingly hot, even at this altitude, and we’d brought no water with us;
After some short flights of steps, my legs were shaking, and taking a couple of minutes to recover;
Similarly, I was getting a bit out of breath;
Even though we wanted to climb to the top, we just couldn’t see how much further there was to go.

Do something scary every day, they say, and this was quite scary for a while. Really glad we got as far as we did, though, it was a physical challenge and the view from such a great height was definitely rewarding. Photos just can’t give a realistic idea of the scale of it all. But they’re a great reminder of a fabulous adventure.

Another surprise was seeing this homage to the Alaska pipeline.

And here we are, back in ‘civilisation’. Ullapool always reminds me of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds, because the Martians’ death cry is ‘Ulla’. (Sorry, spoilers.) We’ve been in the footsteps of Susan Calman to a certain extent, as featured in the TV series Secret Scotland. She tells the story of when she went on holiday as a child, with her parents, in a campervan. The only cassette they had to play in the van was War of the Worlds. Where was I? Oh yes, back in civilisation. How do we know? There are way too many people in the streets of Ullapool. Plus, there are double yellow lines on the roads.

This clock is the lovechild of Cogsworth and Lumiere from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

We wandered down to the harbour to watch people. So many to choose from. One family group were putting on their waterproofs, about to embark on a hair-raising, fast, boat ride. This guy from the Orkney Islands was very busy mending ropes.

Well, I hope his name is George, but I didn’t ask. (I did ask if I could take his picture.) He loves it here in Ullapool, but he’d rather be reading a book and looking at the view.

We found our accommodation, Ceilidh Place, hotel, bar and restaurant, bookshop. After settling in, we went for a walk and joined the queue (yes, a queue) outside the chip shop. We took away our supper and ate al fresco, on the grass opposite our place. Very nice, very tasty.

Now, back in our room, I’m writing, Liesel’s crocheting, I’m listening and Liesel’s (occasionally) watching the Tour de France. There is a family of seagulls outside, three cute, fluffy chicks, and we’re glad their parents haven’t yet told them how to steal chips from tourists.

What a beautiful day.

Two distilleries and another castle

What else has gone wrong? Nothing really, just a few more bug bites. Mick is obviously more tasty than Liesel, she hasn’t reported any bites so far, not even a tickle. It’s not nice being bitten, but it’s still sad to see so few insects around. We were talking about how, in bygone Summers, you’d arrive at your destination with a windscreen caked in dry, squished bugs. You’d have to scrape them off with a hammer and chisel.

The first exciting port of call after leaving our Inverness b&b was, wait for it… Aldi. Yes, already, we had food shopping to do. But it was nice to meet Dorothy, our host, just as we were leaving. She’s hoping for more guests later in the year as Covid restrictions are lifted.

Aldi, yes. The less said, the better, as the song goes.

We drove over a couple of bridges today that I cycled over way back in ’91. Kessock Bridge out of Inverness and Dornoch Firth Bridge. The latter was opened in 1991 by HM The Queen Mother, but two or three weeks before that, a group of us cycled over it on our way to John O’Groats from Lands End. We felt very privileged: I think it would have been a 60 mile detour without that bridge!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Kessock Bridge was longer than I remembered and soon after the crossing, we stopped for a short walk. Path to North Kessock, the sign said, 100m. I hoped it was 100 metres rather than 100 miles, and so it was. Down steps. 146 of ’em, that we had to walk back up again.

While at the bottom, we had a quick chat with a couple of locals. They were saying that they used to see dolphins and seals all the time in this, the Beauly Firth. All we saw today was a man fishing. The other attraction here was a Costcutter supermarket. If only we’d known. We could have bought our shopping here instead of Aldi and lugged it all the way up 146 steps.

The first distillery we visited, Glen Ord of Singleton, was probably very interesting. We would have loved sampling the wares. But it was closed. It’s Monday. Oh well, onwards and upwards. Here’s a tip: check that places are open before you turn up unannounced.

We checked and the Glenmorangie distillery was open. And very popular. I tried one whisky and it was so smooth, we had to buy a bottle. I know, I know, we buy whisky faster than we drink it at home but, new year’s resolution: we will finish at least one bottle soon.

What is the significance of all the giraffes? There are pictures all over the place, and several models, all with extremely long necks. This distillery has the tallest stills in Scotland, which we could just see through a mesh, not ideal for taking pictures, so it’s a good job we’re not into industrial espionage.

Yes, I sampled about a quarter of a dram of whisky so of course I found it hard not to nod off in the car. The scenery is always spectacular of course, and we’re not even in the highest of highlands yet. But I’m sure I missed some beauty spots while resting my eyes. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Liesel was driving.

It wasn’t raining today, but we still ate our lunch in the car, admiring a field of barley or something like that. The seeds had spread far and wide, encroaching onto the precious space set aside for a lay-by off the A9 or wherever we were at the time.

Today’s castle was Dunrobin.

I found this one more interesting than the other two, partly helped by the fact that it was well illuminated. The Covid-inspired one-way system worked well too. Lots of stags’ heads on the walls, and lots of portraits of Dukes and Earls of Sutherland and their gorgeous wives. The portrait of Queen Victoria was I think the best I’ve ever seen of her, but not easy to take a picture of, unless you want to look up the royal nose.

The castle looks out over some well maintained gardens, and beyond those is the North Sea. We’d pay extra for an Airbnb with this view.

I’d like to say our selfie skills are improving, but this one disproves that assertion. If I lost some height or if I could persuade Liesel to wear extremely high heels, that might help. Still, we keep ourselves amused by trying.

Cups of coffee were taken here before we left for our final destination today: a cottage way up a hill, just south of Helmsdeep. No, not Helmsdeep, that was the site of a big battle in Lord of the Rings. We’re just south of Helmsdale. I was last there 30 years ago, on the same bike ride referred to earlier. We set up our tents on the beach, close to a shipwreck. In the morning, I noticed what must have been a rabbit hole between the inner and outer sheets of my tent. Do rabbits really burrow on sandy beaches?

Tonight though, after driving up the steepest road imaginable, we are indeed enjoying a beautiful view.

Over the water from left to right, there is Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium and Scotland. We can only see the last one on that list of course.

After supper, I went for a quick walk. I couldn’t get much further up the hill because the vegetation was too dense. So I walked down.

The length of that shadow! And there are still three and a half hours until sunset. This is the day of the Summer Solstice, so days start getting shorter now. It’ll soon be Winter. Yeah, I know how to bring the mood down! And yes, that lump in the middle of the road is horse manure. That horse must have had 27 pints and a huge curry last night.

The yellow of the gorse was very nearly surpassed by the purple and the white foxgloves.

Our evening music was provided by Wings, the London Town album, and by Martha Tilston, as many albums as we can fit in before bedtime. We haven’t turned the TV on anywhere except briefly so we could listen to BBC 6 Music. I finished my book last night, a detective story that was good but, I think, a bit long, just one too many false leads being followed. But we’re in Scotland now and I am looking forward to reading Fireflies and Chocolate by Ailish Sinclair, a depiction of more historical Scottish events that we don’t learn about in school. I loved her previous novel, The Mermaid and the Bear, so I know I’m going to enjoy this one, even if the use of the Scots language slows me down a bit!

Our host Ruth has left us these treats. Well, it would be rude not to. Cheers! Slàinte Mhath!

The Wall

It’s Quiz Time! Yes, however long it takes you to read this post, that’s how long you have in which to guess what I did today for the first time since about 1996/7. So, not really a quiz at all, just a guessing game. And there are no prizes either. If you scroll straight to the bottom, then you are a rogue and a vagabond.

Most of the country were looking forward to the final episode of Line of Duty on TV. I even rustled up a snack for me and Liesel.

I broke into the bottle of whisky that Liesel bought for my birthday. Sorry to say my birthday chocolate was nowhere to be found, long sinced enjoyed secretly in my secret lair aka my studio.

A lot of viewers thought this final episode was an anti-climax, but I’m not so sure. There are still a lot of unanswered questions and loose threads. No spoilers here, but having watched all, yes all, of the preceding episodes during the week, it does make sense, there were clues.

Whinge of the week can be summed up in two words: the weather. Meanwhile, in NSW, they’re backburning in the bush, so Sydney catches the smoke and residents can’t breathe. On the plus side though, all that muck in the atmosphere makes for some pretty sunsets.

This is what Helen has to look at from her flat every evening. The bad news is that there are now a couple of Covid cases in NSW, with all that that implies: visits to other states may be prohibited.

Northenden continues to surprise me. I’ve been walking the same streets for a couple of years, but I’m still seeing things I’ve not noticed before. Often for the simple reason that I’ve been on the other side of the road.

The outside wall of this house has been beautifully(?) decorated, I can only imagine how glamorous it is inside.

As Spring (sort of) makes progress, the leaves on the bushes on the island in the river are nicely hiding all the plastic rubbish that was caught up during the floods a few months ago. The heron has been a bit elusive this week, but he knows how to tease: I can just see him lurking behind the fence!

Liesel was having problems with her laptop this week. It spontaneously reboots for no obvious reason. I had some ideas and so did Liam, thank you, Liam. Part of the diagnosis involved leaving a Zoom call open while doing something else on the laptop: not quite testing to destruction but trying to see if it was over-heating or something. I had installed a program to show us the temperature of the innards (sorry about the technical language). I was the other participant in Liesel’s Zoom call and I was messing around with different backgrounds.

I wasn’t really Zooming on the beach. And my hair isn’t really in a cloud of candyfloss. Have you guessed yet what did I do today for the first time in nearly a quarter of a century?

The other thing I did was turn off the laptop’s option to automatically reboot. So, if something does go wrong from now on, we should have a chance to see any error message that might pop up. And yes, of course we’ve done the first thing any decent IT support person would suggest: we’ve given the computer a jolly good talking to.

We had a lovely walk at Quarry Bank again this week, and I won’t mention the weather.

Except to say, blue sky and fluffy clouds in one direction were very pretty. The solid grey lumps of lead in the opposite direction not so much! We felt a few spots of rain and even hail, but nothing too horrible.

As I’ve mentioned before, we love a splash of colour, that always lifts the mood.

As Liesel pointed out, this rhododendron is more of a tree than a bush.

And as Liesel reminded me, I don’t think we ever saw Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park at the real height of its flowering rhododendron gorgeousness. Just before and just after, yes, but not on the actual day.

It was that time again: I visited the dental hygienist. Meanwhile, Liesel visited her beautician way over there in Gatley. But then she drove to CostCo, a trip that I missed out on. After loading up the trolley, queueing at the checkout and being invited to pay, Liesel realised that her debit card was out of date. It’s so long since we’ve been to proper shops and she’d forgotten to put the new card, received a few weeks ago, into her wallet. Fortunately, CostCo now accepts credit cards, so they didn’t force her to replace everything on the shelves.

Here’s a tip: when you go shopping for the first time after a long lockdown, make sure your payment cards have not expired.

I was feeling quite relieved about having dodged a trip to that place. But Liesel realised she’d forgotten one important item, something we can’t find anywhere else. So, as we were driving away from Quarry Bank, she asked, would I mind if we went back to CostCo to pick up the missing item? I was so shocked by this unexpected invitation, I couldn’t immediately think of a good enough reason to say ‘no way, José’. And off we went. Things are getting back to normal. I know this because we both whinged about the amount of traffic near the Trafford Centre and also the quality of some of the driving.

I thought I might as well have a quick look at the DVD players while I was there in a big warehouse, but we couldn’t find any. Neither could we find what Liesel had forgotten earlier in the week. There was none on the shelf. Yes, we were looking in the right place, there was plenty of similar stuff, but not specifically what we needed. Instead, we just bought baked potatoes for lunch, which we ate in the car, since the restaurant seating has all been removed, presumably because of Covid restrictions.

We have made a guest appearance on someone else’s blog this week. Thank you Jacob for inviting us. So here is another small contribution to our Warholian fifteen minutes of fame.

This week’s Radio Northenden show was all about The Letter Z. Jazz, pizza, ZZ Top and Iz. Catch up here if you mizzed it!

So, here it is. Did you manage to guess what I did today for the first time in nearly 25 years? Well, here’s a clue:

Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Then I spotted some new hair ties that Liesel had bought the other day. I couldn’t resist the temptation to tie my long lockdown locks into a pony tail. It won’t last long, though. The pony tail is, as I’m sure you’ll agree, a total delight, but the large ill-defined bald patch on top is just embarrassing. Sometime during the next couple of weeks, I should visit a barbershop and have a slight trim.

Bulldog clips and fences

You just can’t find a bulldog clip when you need one.

We enjoyed a few local walks this week, by the river, and beyond. It’s colder, especially when wind fresh from the Arctic comes along.

Of course, it’s not really a croc. We’re not in the Northern Territory any more, sadly, but we’re still on the look-out for dangerous animals. I wonder how far this log travelled? Is it now lodged on the part-time island in Northenden? Or is it a potential threat to shipping in the Irish Sea?

It wouldn’t be a proper walk without encountering mushrooms. Are these liberty caps? Magic mushrooms? We now need a mycologist on our panel of experts, along with the botanist, arborist, architect and historian who can help out with my embarrassing lack of knowledge in those fields.

Liesel went to bed, but as the loyal fan I am, I stayed up until midnight to watch Erin McKeown online. She was performing outside her home in New England, celebrating the 20th anniversary of the release of her first album, Distillation. It was a fun show, and I slept well when I eventually turned in.

Sometimes, we glimpse a half-decent sunset from our living room, it’s just a shame about the intervening buildings.

We wandered over to Fletcher Moss Park and enjoyed a coffee under The Joshua Tree. ‘Not the Joshua Tree’, said Liesel, but I disagreed, pointing out the commemorative sign attached. I never knew Josh of course, but I was moved by seeing the lyrics from an Oasis song.

Elsewhere in the park, tree surgeons were at work. I say ‘surgeons’, but another word came to mind. This was a very nice tree, it didn’t harm anybody.

If it’s Tuesday, it must be time to watch Jessica Lee Morgan online again. So I did.

We don’t see our herons every time we go out, but it’s always a delight to be the first to spot him. Or her. This one was sitting there, surveilling his territory. Sometimes, we see one rooting about in the grass, maybe tracking something, but definitely treading quietly and carefully.

Indoors, Liesel is busy with her crochet and now, some more needle-felting with the WI. This chap with a big hat is very cute on our bookshelves. While Liesel was busy with this, I continued my search for a bulldog clip.

For the first time in a very long time, we walked over to Cheadle Hulme and back. Just because we can’t see William and Martha in the flesh doesn’t mean we can’t give them books from time to time.

This was by far the longest walk of the week, and we both felt much better for it. As we walked over a stream, I looked it up. It’s called Micker Brook, and, look, according to Google Maps, just over there a bit, there’s a bagpiper for hire.

What a shame that so much of our road system is geared up to cater for the worst of the bad drivers. This barrier makes it ridiculously difficult for pedestrians to cross the side road at this point. I wouldn’t want somebody driving into my house either, but that’s what speed limits are meant to be for.

This is the ever evolving ricketty fence in Gatley. The elderly gentleman can often be seen repairing it, introducing new branches, planks and, as you can see here, a couple of wooden pallets on this occasion. Apparently he’s always refused any help in repairing the fence properly, once and for all.

As we wandered through Gatley, I spotted this shop. Hooray! I went inside and asked for a bulldog clip. ‘Sorry,’ was the reply, ‘we don’t sell bulldog clips.’ But you have loads in your window, I pointed out. I was glared at, so I still don’t have a bulldog clip. Oh well.

Ah, this fence looks much better, especially now with its new Autumn colours.

And, sorry, but here’s the oblogatory weekly photo of fly-tipping here in Northenden. This time, a carpet and lots of garden waste.

Anyway, never mind that, here is some much more uplifting (I hope) family news.

Helen and Adam have been together now for fifteen years, and it don’t seem a day too long. To celebrate, they went for a balloon trip over the vineyards and the curious kangaroos of New South Wales. What an adventure!

Nearer home, Martha is doing very well at school. The first parents’ evening revealed nothing embarrassing, and the teacher is very happy to have Martha in her class, very interested, very observant, even to the point of noticing something that’s lined up for a surprise later on.

William told his Mummy one morning ‘I can’t get the puff out of my nose.’ A wheat puff, a vital component of his breakfast. Mummy and Daddy looked up the orifice but couldn’t see anything. Was he joshing? Hovering between laughing and sheer panic, a solution was found. I’d never heard of a ‘mother’s kiss’ or ‘parent’s kiss’ before but it’s very effective. So here’s a tip for parents of little ones with foreign objects rammed up the hooter:

Tell the child they will be given a ‘big kiss’
Place your mouth over the child’s open mouth, forming a firm seal as if performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
Close the unaffected nostril with a finger
Blow until you feel resistance caused by the closure of the child’s glottis
Give a sharp exhalation to deliver a short puff of air into the child’s mouth, which passes through the nasopharynx and out through the unoccluded nostril
Repeat if necessary

In William’s case, the wheat puff shot out and ricocheted around the room. But if not, you might shift the object enough for it to become visible.

The following morning, at breakfast: ‘Mummy, I can’t get the Rice Krispie out of my nose.’

And finally, if you’d like to hear two hours of fabulous music about my desires to be a spaceman, listen to the show here on Radio Northenden.

Not tired of London

After a day babysitting, it’s advisable to have a good night’s sleep and maybe a lie-in. This is exactly why I booked an early train to London. The real reason was the relatively cheap fare, of course. The bus that took me to Gatley Station carries on to Stockport. I could have done that and joined the train there rather than riding all the way into Manchester Piccadilly. Oh well, we’re still new here and still learning the ropes.

It made sense to go straight to my Airbnb in Kingston to drop off my heavy bag. Not that heavy, but no need to lug it around more than necessary. It was a relatively cheap b&b too, so a relatively cheap weekend away altogether!

The Fighting Cocks in Kingston, where we saw Tom Hingley and the Lovers play a few years ago

Out of Order, by David Mach, refurbished by him in April 2019, so it still looks sparkly and new

First on the list was to revisit the Press Room Café in Surbiton which was closed last time. Delighted to see it’s now reopened, and equally good to see the staff haven’t all been replaced or refurbished too drastically. The coffee was very welcome but, again, I chickened out of ringing the bell, by the door, on the way out to tell them so.

Press Room newly refurbed and open for business

After sitting on buses and trains most of the day, it was liberating to go for a walk, now. So, I set my controls for the River Thames.

As I joined the riverside path into Kingston, I was accosted by a very nice lady. She’d walked from Kingston and was disappointed that the path deviated from the river at this point. She was hoping to get to Hampton Court. I explained that she was on the wrong side of the river. We walked into Kingston together, swapping stories about our families. Hers involves India and Birmingham and the recent sudden death of her husband. Her name’s G’day but I’m pretty sure it’s not spelled that way.

Within a swan’s wingspan of Kingston Bridge, we shook hands and bade farewell, she turned round to walk back towards Surbiton.

I visited John Lewis where, as I passed through the TV department, two partners asked if they could help. I didn’t say that I was only there to use the facilities. Which, in the end were closed, so I had to visit the Bentall Centre too.

There’s a new cinema complex coming to the Bentall Centre and this crane is doing the heavy lifting

I was taking this picture of the butterflies when an (even more than me) elderly gent said I should have been here when all the umbrellas were up there. Oh, when was that? A few months ago, he said. I didn’t tell him I’d seen such displays of brollies in more exotic locations than Kingston’s Eden Centre, but that didn’t matter, as he’d already shuffled away.

Surbiton’s iconic art deco station frontage

As planned, I met Helen and Steve at the Allegro café in Surbiton. The owner wasn’t in tonight so we didn’t have to explain our recent, long absences. Pizzas all round and I had a Peroni for a change. It’s always good to catch up with old friends, and some of us are really old, now, with frequent reminders of our own mortality.

Back at the b&b, I met my host, Jenny, and her young daughter whose name wasn’t Ermintrude, nor Peppa, nor Jehosophat, nor Pickle, nor anything else I suggested.

In the morning, as invited, I helped myself to breakfast before catching the bus to Chessington.

While all this was going on, Liesel was buying shoes in Anchorage so I think I win that one. On the other hand, daughter Helen was at the Intercontinental Resort Hayman Island, in the Whitsundays, and I have to say, the photos are stunning, so either it really is a gorgeous location or they have the best Photoshoppers in town!

Helen having a whale of a time on Hayman Island

With perfect timing, I hopped off the bus in Chessington and bumped into Michael the postman, who hasn’t aged more than about 22 years since I last saw him 18 months ago (only kidding). I thanked him again for continuing to forward mail that is still sent to our old Chessington address, although it is now a mere trickle, a rare drib and drab.

Peter and Janet can no longer easily tend their own garden but their neighbours are very kind, helping to keep the weeds under control and the grass cut. Peter invited me to join them for lunch which was kind: they usually go out for lunch these days and while the meals may feel boring and repetitive, having a reason to leave the house has to be a good thing.

We dined at Las Iguanas which has a menu of meals from south America, both meaty and veggie. I had an Argentinian beer, Rothhammer Real Golden Ale which was very acceptable.

We walked towards the station and I left them shopping at Waitrose while I took the train into London. I changed at Clapham Junction, catching an Overground train to Shadwell, somewhere I’ve not been, I think, for 40 years.

I walked to Gallery 46 to see an exhibition The Most Powerful Woman in the Universe, celebrated in blood, hairiness and art.

The artwork was variously funny, thought-provoking and just a little intimidating, although this may be because I was the only visitor at the time. It was a pleasure to meet the organiser, curator, whatever, Kelly.

Madonna with Safeway Bags, by Nancy Fouts

My best buddy(!) Salena Godden, who I met on a march last year, is here on video, reciting her poem, Red. It is worth watching, here.

The gallery is close to the Royal London Hospital, where Sarah trained and worked for over a year back in the late 1970s. I found her old residence, but the statue of Edith Cavell wasn’t to be seen: I wonder if I just misremembered? Maybe I was thinking of this royal personage

There is a blue plaque for Edith Cavell on Whitechapel High Street, but it’s currently hidden behind the hoarding surrounding the building works.

A Lone Protester but I think he was on his way home from a big protest in central London

Whitechapel Market is just as busy and colourful as I remember: the fruit and veg displays are a work of art and the clothing is so much brighter than typical western offerings.

Looking west, the skyline has certainly changed over the years: you can see The Gherkin and many other new buildings. I thought about walking in that direction, but a bus came along and forced me to climb aboard.

Sight-seeing from a London bus is one of my favourite things: I just have to remember to get off somewhere useful. This time, I ended up near Tottenham Court Road, from where I walked to Waterloo.

Stretch limo near Soho Square, attempting a 3-point turn

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child – one day, we’ll get tickets, one day

London is open but this fountain in Trafalgar Square certainly isn’t

London Eye and the Moon viewed from Jubilee Bridge

Waterloo Sunset viewed from the Royal Festival Hall terrace

Charlotte Campbell performing Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ at Waterloo

Me and my aching feet went straight to bed and I read about half a page of my book before drifting off.

After breakfast, I started walking towards Chessington. The plan was to catch the first bus that came by. Even though there were people waiting at most of the bus stops, I didn’t see a bus. I just kept walking to the next stop. In the end, I was off the bus route.

Good to see Tolworth is still the fly-tipping centre of the world

I didn’t see a single bus until I reached Hook Library and there was no point in catching that one, it was going in the wrong direction. So I continued south, towards the World of Adventures. Not only did I get my 10,000 steps in by 11am, I was bang on time at my destination!

Good to see the little children enjoying the playground in Woodgate Avenue

Stella and Ian shared their coffee and battenburg cake, and it was good to catch up on their news too. I mean, they shared with me, not just each other, that would be weird. Their family day out at Chessington World of Adventures the previous day reminded me that, yes, one day, I suppose we’ll have to take Martha and William there!

The train journey into Waterloo was uneventful, other than having to change trains at Wimbledon. Still, on the bright side, it wasn’t a replacement bus service, I suppose.

It was the final day of the Kiss my Genders show at the Hayward Gallery on the South Bank.

For me, the main problem with all this gender fluidity mallarkey is using the correct pronoun, he, she or they. I don’t want to upset or annoy someone by getting it wrong. The people I spoke to here, albeit briefly: I think I got away with ‘you’!

I didn’t recognise many of the names, but Marc Almond is one of my favourite singers.

Marc Angelo Almond, by Del LaGrace Volcano

Del LaGrace Volcano seems like a fascinating character: they “have possessed and been possessed by a multitude of names, bodies and identities”. And the rest of us just plod on unchanging, never mutating nor migrating.

There was probably more to the film Looners, by Jankyn van Zyl, than I realised. In other words: I didn’t get it.

But I found The Memorial Dress quite moving. The names of 25,000 known victims of AIDs-related illnesses have been printed onto a black ballgown. It slowly rotates as you watch.

Outside, I strolled along the South Bank for a while, while my over-stimulated mind calmed down. The tide was out and so were the mudlarks. Some are very scrupulous, minutely inspecting every item that isn’t obviously just a plain old rock or stone.

Obviously, I have no idea what treasures these people found today, but there’s a small display of photos showing the types of artefacts found over the years, things lost in or deliberately thrown into the Thames over many centuries.

I’m so pleased Liesel made us dispose of the human thigh bone we found on the Thames foreshore a few years ago.

It’s strange being in a stranger’s house while they’re there, even as a paying guest. Before getting up and potentially getting in their way, I waited until Mum had fought her daughter to get ready for school and then leave. Other people’s cereal choices are always interesting. Small, bitesize Shredded Wheat with raisins glued in plus a few Cheerios, today. Not the ideal start to the day if I were about to embark on a long bike ride, so it’s a good job I wasn’t.

I rearranged the magnetic letters on the fridge into a small message of gratitude before making my way to London, to the Tate Modern.

Very light drizzle accompanied me as I walked along the South Bank. The Royal Festival Hall is closed for a few days so I had to miss out on my usual natural break there.

Today’s show which I’d pre-booked was at Tate Modern. Olafur Eliasson In Real Life. This exhibition runs until January and is highly recommended. It’s fun, funny, clever and the perfect depiction of an imaginative soul with too much time on his hands!

Conveniently, I was able to leave my big bag in the cloakroom all day for a mere £4 donation. There’s a tip for anyone travelling to or through London.

This exhibition is well laid out, the map actually makes sense, which isn’t always the case.

Just one of Olafur’s hundreds of polyhedra

The Blind Passenger is a 39-metre long tunnel filled with fog. You can’t see more than a few feet in any direction. And while it’s easy to shrug off the warnings about possible claustrophobia, when you’re in the fog and all you can see is yellow, all you can smell is something slightly sweet and all you can hear are the squeaky doors and the other visitors trying to be quiet, it is a little bit spooky. Then you blink and you’re surprised by how thick, solid, heavy and purple your eyelids are. Maybe that’s just me.

The Moss Wall is made from Reindeer Moss. You’re not supposed to touch it but I think most people look around to make sure nobody’s watching before reaching out and having a quick, soft touch.

The Big Bang Fountain is a water fountain in complete darkness but every few seconds, a flash of white light illuminates the water. Every flash is a momentary, white Rorschach test. A map of the lower 48 states. A jellyfish. A brassiere. A bull with big horns. A bald man.

Your Uncertain Shadow is responsible for one of the images used in publicity for this show.

If you haven’t been yet, go to this exhibition. Every item is interesting in one way or another.

Not my review but it could well have been

I walked outside for a while, braving the slight drizzle.

The Ship of Tolerance by Ilya and Emilia Kabakov

The Ship of Tolerance will be here until early October. Each picture is drawn or painted by a local school-child.

One item on my bucket list relies on my (infinitesimal) musical ability. One day, I want to glue two old woks together, bash them about a bit with a hammer then take this contraption busking. Well, someone’s beaten me to it. He was sitting and playing outside the Tate and, to be fair, he was making a rather nicer, more melodic sound than I would have.

Liesel and I have seen The Merry Wives of Windsor in the past, at Stratford upon Avon, and Dame Judi Dench was the big name on that occasion. This play is being performed this evening, nearby, but I would be on my train home by then. So, to compensate, I joined a rather large tour group in the Globe Theatre, just along the river from Tate Modern. The guide was Italian, of course, but it was a fascinating tour. It included sitting in two different parts of the auditorium to watch the rehearsal for tonight’s performance. Out of context, it wasn’t obvious whether the fits of giggles were part of the script or the actors just making each other laugh.

After watching a play, you’d want to acquire some props in the shop and reenact some of the more exciting scenes. But sadly, you’re not allowed to.

Back in the Tate, I spent some time in the drawing room. It’s actually the Bloomberg Connects Drawing Bar and you can have a go at drawing pictures on the screens which then get displayed and posted to Flickr. My drawing skills are on a par with my musical ability, but I enjoyed creating a special message for my beloved all those miles away.

There are thousands of other such drawings, so start here and look around.

You can see my more overtly political offering here!

Blackfriars is a lovely, modern station, straddling the river. I caught the Thameslink train to St Pancras from where it’s a short walk to the British Library. There, I tapped away at the keyboard with all the other young and studious people.

And from there, a short hop, skip and jump to the ever-congested Euston where I began the long ride home: two trains and a late, late bus. In the bookshop, the sight of this outfit brought me up short. I know it’s from a novel, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, and it’s publicising the sequel, The Testaments, but, whoa, that was unexpected.

Two trains and a bus, he said. Huh. The first train was over ten minutes late which was enough to mean missing the second train. So, a quick taxi ride it was instead, to round off a wonderful weekend.

TFL’s are no longer the only bikes for hire in London

These few days in London and Kingston, between two Grandchildren Days, was a good opportunity to catch up with old friends, visit some old haunts and explore some new ones. Taking such a late train home the night before an early rise is something not to be repeated too often, however!