tv – Page 2 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Big Things

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mud flats and, way over there, whale watchers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helen and Brent’s Antics

Top billing this time goes to my lovely daughter Helen and her new husband Brent. Yes, Helen and Brent were married on Monday 11th in a Registry Office in Sydney. Congratulations and lots of love to you both.

It was still Sunday here in Anchorage as we could only imagine what was happening down under. It was a rainy day as they took the water taxi over Sydney Harbour to the big city.

The happy couple here are dancing to Wannabe, The ceremony was a small affair, just the celebrant and a couple of witnesses. H&B did kidnap an elderly couple though, one of whom used to be a wedding photographer. So there are plenty of photos to look through.

Meanwhile, back here in Anchorage, the vacuum cleaner battery gave up the ghost after half the apartment had been given a good seeing to. Liesel enjoyed her now weekly massage and brought us back some very nice coffee from Kaladi. Asa and Gideon came over and took their Oma away for a while, so Liesel and I went for walk down to the lagoon. The Sun was low. Hmm, actually, from here, the Sun is always low in the sky, but we did go out late, and it was approaching sunset.

There were a few people skating out on the ice, but I had no intention of testing out the thickness of the ice. Especially as, just a couple of hundred yards away, the water was flowing quite hard and fast.

The Tony Knowles Coastal Trail is 11 miles long and we walked a very small section of it. Being Sunday, there were plenty of cyclists too. There’s a machine that counts cyclists as they go by. At the time we passed by, it claimed there had been 39 cyclists today, and 311 so far this month, which doesn’t seem every many, compared with the number of cyclists we witnessed on our relatively short visit. This compares with 5732 cyclists last month and a total of about 125,000 this year.

A passer-by commented on how glorious the alpenglow was, as the sun disappeared behind some clouds, and yes, the mountains did look pinkly beuatiful.

Walking around outside with cleats on my shoes was safer than sliding around on the ice, but it’s very loud, you couldn’t creep up on anybody. Plus, the noise kept the bears away, we didn’t see a single one. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

As requested, I put up some spice racks on the wall in the pantry, and organised the jars of spices alphabetically. Who knew there were so many Cs: cumin, chives, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, chili, chocolate, cheese, chalk, cats, confetti and so many more.

And now for some SRN. I noticed the Alaska’s News Source report on the opening of the Equity Center in downtown Anchorage featured a very special guest: me.

That’s another small contribution to my fifteen minutes of fame

When we first arrived here in Anchorage, Liesel suggested I grow a beard, so that I’d look more Alaskan, and fit in. Well, I’ve given it three weeks and I decided, nah, it’s not for me. My beardy days are long gone. And after seeing it on TV, albeit fairly local TV, that decision was confirmed, so I was, this week, briefly, clean-shaven.

I spent one whole day on my own as Liesel took Leslie into the office again. I entertained myself with loadsa puzzles, loadsa podcasts and radio shows. I did venture out for a fairly short walk, crunch, crunch, crunch up the road to Fire Island, our favourite bakery here, in what I think was the coldest day here so far, -8°C, brrr. I watched an episode of Planet Earth II on TV, something that Liesel can’t enjoy because the animals keep chasing, catching and eating each other. But it’s interesting, and sometimes, I wish I had the job of writing the subtitles.

Liesel took her Mom back to the Sleep Center for the results of her monitored overnight stay last weekend. Leslie’s sleep isn’t great, but now we know there’s a specific problem that can be addressed.

And 24 hours later, down to -10°C, a mere 14°F. Time for a change of venue. After a rotten night’s lack of sleep, I rose early to wash and change the bed clothes.

More exciting and interesting than the domestic chores was a visit to The Dome, an oasis in a Winter city, providing an all-weather training and fitness facility for everybody from serious competitive athletes to casual walkers. With a world-class turf and a 411-meter track, The Dome has room for all kinds of sports. Liesel, Leslie and I met Jyoti there, and we had a nice, long walk, inside, in relative warmth, round and round the athletics track.

There were some other, younger people, jogging or running fast. I’m proud to say that even though we weren’t walking especially fast, we did manage to overtake a few people. Sadly, these folks were all in charge of a walking frame or walking sticks. I am more proud of the nearly 200-metre long run (jog?) which left me nicely out of breath, not the horrible being short-of-breath for no real reason.

Outside, back in the cold, the sky was clear and we noticed glints of ice in the air, very pretty but hard to photograph. I had more success with the halo around the Sun, even if it was only partial from our perspective.

In the afternoon, Leslie’s sister Buzz arrived from her nice, warm home in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She was in for a shock! Liesel and I therefore moved out for a week so that she can use our bed, and there won’t be four of us adults fighting over the one bathroom.

Catherine and Hans live on the other side of the city, up the hill, and the view from their house is gorgeous.

The view from Cath and Hans’s house at night

We chatted for a long time before going to bed. In the middle of the night, the very bright full Moon illuminated our room, almost bright enough to read by.

While I was writing this post I looked something up on the internet and this message was splatted on my screen.

Of course, I clicked on the link to fix it and hkh afew fkehhcn rkjshfh
                    kiurnv,fvlk
                             klgjsl sdlkjs ..
                     ?<<,//.gd/g…… unghh..%(&%£..
                 jh&%&98.
                               …
                                  ..

It snow joke

It took us an hour to wind our way along the queue to the check-in desk. Behind us were just as many more people. Going through Security was no problem, even if we were sent to Security A rather than Security B to start with. The Security A man maintained his patience as he sent us and every other misdirected passenger to Security B.

Before embarking on our first flight to Keflavik, Iceland, we dined on a sandwich from, er, Pret. Kevlavik provided us with a slice of pizza and we made use of the single toilet, which doesn’t seem enough for so many thousands of passengers passing through each day.

I read my book on the flight and I was delighted to see a place mentioned that I was familar with. My Dad’s Uncle Charlie, who I visited a few times, passed away in St Joseph’s Hospice on Mare Street in Hackney in 1978. The character in the book was in this hospice at about the same time. And, by the way, I can thoroughly recommend Mr Loverman by Bernadine Evaristo. I look forward to watching the TV adaptation when we return to the UK.

The second, longer flight took us to Seattle. We were separated again and I had a window seat, boxed in by two inhabitants of Seattle. The guy next to me said that his mother had called to tell him that the Northern Lights would be visible tonight. Well, from the bowels of Seattle-Tacoma Airport, we saw nothing.

I don’t think we expected to find someone’s laundry drying in the airport, but it was very colourful.

And finally, Seattle to Anchorage. The three of us ended up in the exit row, with more leg room. So that’s a bonus. But glad we didn’t have to do anything in an emergency.

From the airport, we took a taxi home, to Leslie’s apartment. After being empty since April, of course it required a spot of airing. And boy, was it good to be horizontal for the first time in well over 24 hours.

I was expecting see the streets of Anchorage paved with snow, but no, they were clear. It was cold though, just above freezing, as we walked to the bank and to Fire Island for a sandwich and a coffee. Nor were the mountains completely covered in snow, as I expected.

Delaney Park was a bit soggy underfoot. but so far, no signs of frost or frozen puddles. Yes, I’ve been anticipating the most unpleasant of weather conditions here but after 18 hours in Anchorage, I can confirm, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. The forecast though, that’s a different kettle of salmon.

Aaron and his family came over in the evening. I was unable to stay awake, so I went to bed really early. I heard the visitors arrive but I was soon in the land of nod.

Leslie’s car hasn’t been used for 6 months, since she left to join us in Australia, so of course the battery was dead. After one failed attempt, we managed to charge the battery and we went for a drive to Leslie’s hairdresser.

More exciting though was a visit to Carrs supermarket. We nearly fell over the pile of pumpkins inside the door. Yes, Halloween’s not far away.

Our nephew Gideon has been playing American football recently, and tonight was the final of the Alaska High School Division 1 championship. None of us were that keen on driving out to the Matanuska-Susitna Valley to watch the game: instead we watched it from the comfort of the apartment. It took a while, but I downloaded the relevant app to the much larger than ours TV, subscribed, and tuned in at the right time for kick-off. Or whatever it’s called in this sport. A funny old staccato game is American football so that what starts off as four 12-minute quarters ends up taking nearly three hours to play. Gideon took three punts, kicks during the game, without which his team, West High, would have had a much worse defeat against Dimond High. This was the first American football game I’ve watched from start to finish. The commentary was good but what a shame there was only one camera. Also, we couldn’t hear the half-time entertainment, which was very disappointing. But what did come across was how windy it was there. The referee would place the ball on the ground and, before one of the players could kick it, it would be blown away.

At least on this TV channel, we weren’t bombarded with innumberable, shouty, negative election adverts.

One of my favourite DJs announced his retirement a few weeks ago. I was determined to listen to the final edition of Johnnie Walker’s Sound of the Seventies, which is broadcast at 3pm on a Sunday. Nine hours difference between Anchorage and home so that makes it, er… And this was the weekend that British Summer TIme ended, the clocks went back an hour, adding even more complexity to the calculation.

Anyway, at 7am on Sunday, I tuned in and enjoyed the very moving show. Johnnie’s final link was heartfelt and the last song was Judy Collins’ version of Amazing Grace. Lovely way to go. But then some crass jingle crashed in and ruined the moment.

We drove over to Point Woronzof Park where we’d arranged to meet Catherine and Hans. We’ve all walked on this path before. The car told us it was 27°F outside, below freezing. On this occasion, there were patches of ice in places.

The trail begins right near the airport and as the planes take off, you feel you could reach up and caress them.

Looking over the water, another picture postcard, snow-covered mountain range.

You can see how crisp and clear it was today, but, because I’d put on so many more layers of clothing than I’m used to, by the time we returned to our vehicles, I was sweating. But it was good to catch up with Catherine and Hans again after all this time.

After studying this picture with or without a magnifying glass, you may be wondering why Leslie’s chin is bruised. Well, f’narr, f’narr, you should see the other chap… But actually, a few days ago, after our very first walk, just before we arrived home, she face-planted on the sidewalk. Sandwich went one way, coffee the other and slam, straight down. It took a while to work out where the blood was coming from, nose and/or mouth, but mostly, she was just glad that no teeth were broken. Nor glasses. I can only imagine how much more lethal Anchorage becomes when the snow arrives.

Which it did the very next day. I looked out all of the windows, and there was no escaping it.

Knowing the snow was imminent, we’d been over to Amrit’s office the previous afternoon to pick up a pile of folders so that Liesel can work at home. So, there was no real need to venture out today, apart from a very short walk, over the road to the New Sagaya City Market. I like the crunch of new snow, but I feel I’ve had enough for now. It continued snowing most of the day and overnight and it was several inches deep the next morning.

Next day, I watched a guy over the road with his (by American standards) small truck and his DIY snow plough. He was clearing the snow from the road in front of his house. I say ‘clearing’, but what he was doing was pushing snow into piles in the middle of the road, and then parking his truck on the relatively clear space. I know, I know: who’s the real weirdo, him for doing that pointless task, or me for watching for so long?

Having avoided going out in the car for a couple of days, we’d waited for the main roads at least to be ploughed, oops, plowed, and we again drove to Carrs for the big shop of the week.

Already there are big piles of snow at the side of some roads. Gravel has been spread around the supermarket car park, so the ground isn’t as slippery as it looks. I still find it a bit disconcerting that from a fairly normal place like this, you can see the beauty of the mountains way over there in the distance.

But the most surprising thing is that we haven’t yet seen a single snowman. I thought there’d be a few around now, at the start of Winter. The novelty of all this snow might wear off eventually, I know, but how disappointing. If you’re wondering why I don’t go out and build one myself, I’ll just say: In these shoes? I need a new pair of boots that can protect my feet from snow that is too deep for my trainers.

And so to Halloween. We bought some treats in case we were visited by Trick or Treaters, but nobody came by. So we’ll just have to eat those peanut M&Ms ourselves. Oh well. It didn’t stop snowing all day, but in the afternoon, we did wander over the road and you should have seen the witch that served our coffee.

So what have we been up to while stuck indoors? Liesel’s been working hard. I’ve been reading a lot and doing (attempting) plenty of puzzles. I did complete the New York Times crossword one day and I was looking forward to the following day’s, but thanks to some administrative anomaly, Leslie’s subscription to the Anchorage Daily News was limited to Wednesday and Sunday. D’oh! Leslie’s been reading books and is as despairing about the weather as I am. She does have a Netflix account though, and I’ve been watching 3 Body Problem, a science fiction series released in March. I’d enjoyed reading the trilogy a few years ago and at that point, I think it was the best SF story I’d read for a long, long time. The TV series is pretty good too. So far. We also have Apple+ TV here, so I’ve managed to catch up with and finish watching Ted Lasso, as recommended by Liesel and many other folks.

It was good to see Aaron who came over, and Asa who visited twice, once bearing coffee and shortbread and once bearing chai which he brewed up for us.

And so to November. The snow finally stopped. We knew we were being treated to something special: this turned out to be the snowiest Halloween on record for Anchorage.

Not sure if this link will work outside the USA, apologies if not.

Of course, pristine, white snow doesn’t last long. Just the next day, I had to walk through slush to get to the shop over the road.

Meanwhile, back in relatively tropical England, Martha marked the day as a Times Table Rock Star.

Well done Martha!

Magic moments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun, yes, but exhausting. Poor old William!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Letters and numbers

One more week of Olympics kept us entertained, up to but not including the Closing Ceremony. No, we didn’t wait up for the speeches.

Jenny, Liam and the children sent us some sunshine from Menorca.

Our own travels took us as far as Northenden. Leslie and I joined about 15 others for the regular wander through Kenworthy Lane Woods. After taking Leslie home, I caught the bus into Manchester for another walk, starting at Aviva Studios, home of Factory International. I looked around for familiar faces, but saw nobody I knew. I decided sit and wait and while browsing Instagram, I saw a message telling me this walk had been cancelled. Well, I thought, that’s disappointing. So, had a nice cup of coffee, enjoyed the music being played in the background before setting off on a walk around town.

I didn’t have a route in mind but I saw a couple of birds waddling along and decided to follow them. And then, around the corner, I came across a whole gaggle of them, leading me all the way to Castlefield.

There are some activities that I haven’t enjoyed since I was a child, and I was delighted to relive some memories this week. Our fresh veg box included peas and my mission, which I chose to accept, was to pod them. I used to pod my Dad’s home-grown peas while sitting on the back doorstep. Today, I just sat on the sofa, indoors, enjoying the feeling and the scent of fresh peas.

Liesel, Leslie and I joined the regular walk through the woods and parks of Wythenshawe, followed by a nice cup of coffee. Except today, I had a mango and passionfruit cooler instead. Well, it was a warm day and even hotter inside the café.

Shelling peas qualified me for another job at home. Martha and William enjoy making bracelets with beads and some of our beads have letters, so they can spell their names and the names of some school friends. My mission, which I chose to accept, was to sort these letter beads in order to determine which letters we are now short of. And what a fiddly labour of love that was.

As you can see, unlike old Letraset sets from fifty years ago, there is no shortage of letter Ds here.

Another major achievement this week was, after several months of trying on and off, completing the 2048 puzzle on my phone.

2048 is a single-player sliding tile puzzle game. The objective of the game is to slide numbered tiles on a grid to combine them to create a tile with the number 2048. When you slide tiles up, down, left or right, neighbouring tiles of equal value merge into one, Two 2s become 4, two 4s become 8 etc. Each move also results in a new tile appearing in a random location, with a value of 2 or 4. Hours of fun.

Watching TV late on Thursday afternoon, suddenly I felt really cold and shivery. I went to bed and turned the electric blanket up to 11. This was the start of a more than week-long illness, during which time, I have not left the flat except for a couple of medical appointments. First thought was flu, but no. And the covid test was negative. Sordid details on request only, in triplicate and countersigned by a member of the aristocracy.

Citius, Altius, Fortius – Communiter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I do like extended birthday celebrations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Croeso i Gymru! Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Croeso i Gymru! Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pigsty, built in 1800, reconstructed 1977

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Allez allez allez

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

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

We are very proud of our grandson!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good News Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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