weather – Page 3 – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Here Comes the Sun

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beauty and the Beast cast, featuring Martha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Streonshalh

The gardens at Quarry Bank are very popular this time of year, very colourful and with plenty of bees buzzing around, and more butterflies than we’ve seen in one place for a very long time.

The coffee and cake were very nice too. We sat outdoors for a few minutes, until the wasps drove us inside the café. One of the little blighters followed us in.

You’ll be pleased to know that we resisted the temptation to go scrumping.

Liesel and Leslie went out for a walk leaving me at home, alone, to look after the two guys who came along to install our new radaiators. Every Winter since we’ve lived here, we’ve bemoaned the fact that the heaters were not very good at their job. And every year, we’ve said we should replace them. And, until this year, we’ve left it too late. But now, the place should stay a bit warmer in Winter. But, of course, there is some irony in installing new heaters at the height of Summer: we’ve been experiencing some wonderful heatwaves, and what we really need sometimes is an air conditioning system. We can’t keep driving around just to use the AC in the car, can we?!

Less exciting, the following day after a morning walk in the heat and sunshine, I had another hospital consultation. The hospital smelt like the first day of term at school, a mixture of polish, paint, anticipation and nerves. Anyway, all went well and I look forward to the next episode in this never-ending story.

And every now and then, a really busy day comes along, and everything works out beautifully. So on this day, we managed a walk, I took the car in to get repaired (nothing serious, just a corroded headlight cable) but while there, after all this time of managing with just one car key, we purchased a new one, which only cost one arm and one leg. Of course I had a medical appointment, this was my annual checkup at the optician. I also collected some more meds from the pharmacy so it’s very nearly the time to open up my own pharmacy, I have so many drugs rattling around. I remembered to buy some apples, and I found some actually grown in Kent, or so the label said.

The important thing was the car was in good nick for our long drive to the east coast. And we didn’t have to hire this one, which was Plan B.

I’d like to say the drive to Whitby was uneventful. But everybody else was on the road at the same time, all hoping for a nice warm weekend. We’d booked the concert tickets ages ago, but the timing was ideal. The weather forecast for this weekend suggested that Manchester would be several degeres warmer than Whitby, so we’d be a bit cooler.

The b&b was a bit awkward to reach, we had to drive along a narrow cobbled road, through loads of people walking to and from the famous Abbey and just generally loitering. We unpacked, somewhow fought our way through the crowds, turned the car around and left our vehicle in a car park way over on the other side of the River Esk. The worst threat to it would be the seagulls eyeing up the parked cars, looking for targets.

The b&b was a bit awkward to live in too. The stairs were very steep, just 36 taking us up to the third floor, known as the crow’s nest. That’s where Leslie and Liesel slept while I had the room on the second floor, conveniently located next to the convenience. Also, the kitchen at ground level, living room on the first floor. Those stairs though, I don’t think any of our knees enjoyed the experience.

Whitby itself was more interesting, of course. And hilly. Another assault on our joints, but we enjoyed slowly wandering around, looking at the views, and some of the shops. Probably the most famous character we met was Count Dracula, who arrived in Whitby maybe a hundred years ago and immediately ran up the 199 steps.

Yes, 199 steps that lead from the Old Town up to the Abbey. We were saving them for later.

Wanna see some hefty slabs of flapjack? Here they are.

Wandering around the town, we encountered both herring gulls and herring girls. Easily confused of course, so here are some photos to help out.

While it was a warm, sunny day, we noticed the clouds had descended on the next headland to the north. Maybe it would have been refreshing to walk in that mist, but we didn’t venture that far afield.

The beach was as extensive as we’d expected, especially at low tide. But we didn’t go for a walk along this nice, flat surface. Instead, we chose to walk up and down some steep streets, admiring the architecture and the shops.

There aren’t many places in Whitby from where you can’t view the Abbey.

The Abbey from the other side of the estuary

An unexpected gift from Alaska in the form of whalebones is a tourist attraction. They’re a bit weatherbeaten so, like their predecessors, will need to be replaced sometime.

We didn’t expect to see a statue of Captain James Cook here, but it’s to celebratwe the fact that he sailed on four ships built in Whitby, and the locals are rightly very proud.

The Synod of Whitby was convened in the year 664 with a view to setting out the rules for calculating the date of Easter. Over fifty years ago, while still at school, one of the first computer programs I ever wrote was to calculate the date of Easter for the next several years.

The flowchart appeared in a monthly maths magazine called Pythagoras, which I still have, for now, but I am putting a few items up for sale on eBay.

Whitby posties must have fun with the sometimes unusual door numbers

A couple of other sites kept us interested as we wandered around the town. The Alice in Wonderland garden, created by the Whitby in Bloom group. It’s here to mark the mark that Lewis Carroll, the author, stayed in Whitby several times over the years. You enter via an archway which is adorned with large playing cards.

The Paul Nicholas School of Acting and Performing Arts isn’t Whitby, but this playing card attracted my attention. Because Paul Nicholas, under an earlier stage name, Oscar, was one of the first people to record a song written by David Bowie, Over the Wall we go. So, there’s a loose connection between Bowie and Whitby. Remember that for a pub quiz.

The less said about Mick’s Clip Joint, the better.

And so to the 199 steps. After an early dinner in our Airbnb (not really a b&b), we made our way up them for the main reason we’d visited Whitby this weekend. Proms in the Park, in the grounds of Whitby Abbey. The audience sat on their own chairs or blankets, and enjoyed the own picnics or some of the food on offer. I had a really big chip butty: well, we were up north.

The Proms in the Park Orchestra’s performance was introduced by Rob Rinder. He was heckled when he accidently referred to the ruins as a ‘castle’.

This was our first such concert of course, but there were plenty of regulars, many with Union Jack flags and bunting. One comment we overheard: “This is the best weather we’ve ever had, ever since we’ve been coming.”

But first, the support act. The Siglo Collection we saw this evening was a four- or six-piece band with a vocalist, who did a great job singing while most of the crowd ignored her and carried on chatting.

The Sun was setting behind us so while listening to the music, I kept my eye on my own shadow so I’d know when to go over and take a picture. I wasn’t the only one. I thought it was nice and clear, but apparently, not as clear as the previous night.

It looks like the Sun will set over the sea, so I got to thinking, maybe at last, I’ll glimpse the elusive green flash right as the Sun dips below the horizon.

The music was orchestral, a mix of classical, film scores and opera. Star Trek and an aria from La Traviata followed by Spartacus was an unexpected combination. Some Enchanted Evening was one of the few songs we could sing along to. At least, until later on, when they played a series of patriotic songs.

There’s a place for us, from Westside Story was well performed, but I can’t help hearing PJ Proby’s rendition in my head, for some reason.

There was a sea shanty followed by World in Union and Sweet Caroline. And we sang Happy Birthday to some strangers.

In the interval, many of us rushed to use the portaloos. But I did laugh when I noticed that the VIPs, those sitting right in front of the stage, had their own portaloos and their queue was much longer, hahahaha!

We’ll probably never attend the Last Night of the Proms in London, but tonight’s performance was a good second best.We had Jerusalem, Land of Hope and Glory, Flower of Scotland, Land of my Fathers (in Welsh), God Save the King, Auld Lang Syne and that most patriotic of sing-along songs, Hey Jude.

No green flash, and the guy behind me was a bit disappointed too.

Hey Jude made me laugh because Liesel and Leslie were just leaving, and they would have heard it as the approached the descent of the 199 steps. And it’s not Liesel’s favourite song, at all.

As I walked away, they began playing the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean: I heard it fade away as I walked the ten minutes back to our accommodation.

After a good night’s sleep and a good breakfast, we returned to the Abbey for a proper look around the ruins, and the museum. 199 steps is a great form of exercise and we were rewarded with great views.

As we walked towards the Abbey, we heard Americans. Loud, and extremely numerous, a horde of young Americans taking pictures of each other, rather than of the ruins, climbing on anything below waist height, and generally being annoying. But there were enough ruins here already, we didn’t let them ruin our day as well.

We wandered around outside, admiring the views, absorbing the history, before spending some time in the museum.

Ammonites are present in the local hills, but of course, people didn’t really know what they were, in the olden days. But the legend is that the fossils were snakes turned to stone by St Hild.

We ate lunch here in the YHA refectory, passing by this very informative signpost.

St Mary’s Church is close to the Abbey on the headland, and we had a look at some of the gravestones here in the cemetery. Open to the elements, wind and rain from the North Sea, many of the stones are, literally, falling apart and are illegible, which is a shame.

We climbed down the 199 steps for the second and final time this visit before negotiating the town with a million other visitors. One bookshop in town had a spiral, wooden staircase that gives the impression of not being supported. No, we didn’t go upstairs to see the ‘more books’ on offer. Nor did I start collecting different editions of Dracula by Bram Stoker, there were so many available, with different combinations of Forewords, footnotes, illustrations, both hardback and paperback.

We saw Eric Treacy in the railway station, the very famous steam engine, not the vicar. On another occasion, we might have gone for a train ride, but not today.

And if a train engine isn’t exciting enough, we also saw a replica of James Cook’s Endeavour.

On another occasion, if offered, we might have gone for a quick voyage on this ship.

Late in the afternoon, we risked driving back to the narrow street near to our place, packed, loaded up and set off for home. The return drive was much quicker, I’m glad to say. But what a great weekend and I think we all slept well back at home, in our own beds.

Tour de Everyday Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope nobody was inside when this happened.

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

David Bowie with a fried egg on his collarbone

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

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

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

Sense of enormous wellbeing

The bus ride into Manchester is always a lovely, long, enjoyable ride. At an average speed not much faster than walking pace, you certainly get your money’s worth from the fare. Well, I do, with my Senior Bus Pass. What we need is an express service from Northenden that picks us up here, then doesn’t stop until we reach our destination.

It was the weekend of the Parklife music festival in Manchester and several attendees joined our bus, some of the girls wearing dresses that they’ve had since they were about 3 years old. So much flesh on display. But Parklife wasn’t our destination. Today was also the Universally Manchester festival, put together by the University of Manchester, a vibrant, free, one-day festival packed with fun, interactive activities for all ages.

Liesel and I had booked places on a walking tour of the campus and we met up with the group in the Old Quadrangle where, once upon a time, Jenny celebrated her graduation ceremonies by tossing mortarboards in the air. That seems a long time ago, now.

The guide was very informative, giving us the history of the now 201-year old university. In fact, the hour was more talking than walking. All interesting stuff but we’d been expecting a longer wander around more of the university’s sites.

We (re-)learned about such luminaries as Alan Turing, Ernest Rutherford, Marie Stopes, Bernard Lovell, all Manchester Alumni. And of course, my daughter, Dr Jenny. She’ll get a blue plaque too, one of these days, I’m sure.

In fact, Jenny and Liam took Martha into Manchester today, and Martha enjoyed taking part in some of the demonstrations and experiments. We all met up for lunch in the Museum Café.

In the Museum itself, we bumped into Maharajah, well, his skeleton.

This poor old thing was ‘encouraged’ to walk over 200 miles from Edinburgh to Manchester in 1872, accompanied by his keeper, Lorenzo Lawrence. They didn’t fancy going by train.

William was away with his Beavers pack today, and his parents arrived just in time to meet and greet him from the coach. Liesel, Leslie and I spent a few minutes in University Place, looking at some of the exhibits. It was very busy, good to see, but what a hubbub.

Continuing our University of Manchester experience this weekend, we visited Jodrell Bank, this time specifically to see A Stitch in Space Time. This is an exploration of the cosmic threads that connect the observatory in partnership with the Royal Astronomical Society. And, literally, threads. Two quilts were on display.

Royal Astronomical Society Bicentennial Quilt

This large patchwork quilt is made from a hundred individually created fabric squares, each depicting astronomical themes such as galaxies, planets, telescopes and stars.

Homage to astronomer Ellen Baker’s 1876 Solar System quilt

Ellen Baker made a quilt nearly 150 years ago and subsequently used it as a visual aid during her astronomy lectures. This modern copy is very similar in style.

While in the sewing room, we watched a video of astronaut Karen Nyberg attempting to sew in the weightlessness of the International Space Station. All the tools of the trade are held in place with velcro

Of course, we explored the more scientific aspects of the venue as well. The First Light Pavilion opened in 2022 and the current, immersive exhibition was great fun. And interesting. I found it more fascinating than Liesel and Leslie, so they wandered off to the café.

Selfie of the day with an Infrared camera

When I joined them a while later for coffee, they recommended the lemon drizzle cake and I’m glad they did, it was delicious.

We know the universe likes to stay in equilibrium, so after the excitement of an interesting, academic weekend, we had to be brought down to Earth. I was walking along in an orderly fashion when, wham, bam, I was assaulted by even more bindweed.

Nothing I could do except cry inside, and be thankful that this particular infestation is someone else’s problem.

We picked the children up from school and took them to Bruntwood Park where the snack was, again, an ice cream. Earlier in the day, Martha had been at the Bridgewater Hall with the Hallé Orchestra. I thought Martha might have played her ukulele, but no, she tooted on a trumpet instead, ending up with achy cheeks.

At home, Martha and William made stickmen out of pipe cleaners, before we were joined by Liam and Jenny for dinner.

The Ikea wardrobe that I put together a few weeks ago needed a slight repair, to re-secure it to the wall, so that was my job for the day. Followed by swapping a toilet seat. I know how to have a good time. I’m going through a spell of getting rid of stuff, some on Ebay, some on Freegle. Both are ridiculously hard work.

Probably not as hard work as paddling a canoe all the way from Heaton Mersey to Northenden. But that’s exactly what Martha did with a group of friends, and I’m sorry we didn’t wander down to the riverside to witness the event.

Here they are, screaming as they float down the newly repaired weir.

There was a larger group than usual for the regular Thursday walk, and we walked the full distance, despite temptation to take a shortcut in the extreme heat. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and phew, there were some comments about that.

And being a hot, bright, sunny day, I thought I’d take a picture of the Sun.

Another day, another walk and we growled at all the geese for pooping on the path around the pond in Painswick Park. And then in the next park, I thought, what a funny looking squirrel:

Forever Changes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wandered through Didsbry village, nothing new there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some things that fly

Well, that was a most satisfying and long sleep with very few interruptions, thank you. And on waking, I realised I actually felt more dazed than tired and jetlagged.

I had to get up to receive the Ocado and Groobarb deliveries. Otherwise I might have stayed in my pit all day, I don’t know.

For the rest of the day, I fought the urge to have a nap while upacking. And it was good to wander round the streets of Northenden again. Nothing much has changed. The new guy in the Post Office is more grumpy than the old guy.

The weir now seems to be fully repaired. But I did wonder where the bodies were. The whole of Northenden was infested with zillions of small flies. I thought people were being nice, welcoming me home by waving at me, but no, they were just swatting those swarming flies away.

Meanwhile, Liesel and Leslie were flying from Albuquerque to Anchorage, planning to stay for the duration of an Alaskan Summer. Liesel plans to work a lot for Amrit and to go on a few hikes.

For me, the rest of the week was getting back to normal, really: reading, writing, walking, watching a little TV, listening to a lot of podcasts, radio shows and especially music. I didn’t quite make it out for any of the organised walks this first week back.

Veronika from a downstairs flat sent a message to say that our missing wheelie bin bad returned from its holiday and was on the pavement around the corner. I doubt the local council will buy back the replacement that we bought a few weeks ago.

Medical matters managed to make an early appearance, but I was plaeased to see the big bee at Wythenshawe Hospital again.

Sneezebee created by Pam Smart, Michelle Turton and Rose Chapman

The audience had a great time at the local theatre here in Northenden. We heard many old folk songs, some written nearly 200 years ago. The songs were all unfamilar to me, so I coudn’t sing along: a disappointment for everyone, I’m sure.

But Harp and a Monkey are the go-to band for songs about cuckolded molecatchers, Victorian bare-knuckle fighters and much more. Look ’em up!

They did have CDs for sale but I said I would just download their music from Bandcamp instead. Liesel wouldn’t appreciate even more CDs in the house, especially at this time when I’m supposed to be reducing the size of our CD collection.

While walking home, using my phone camera, I tried to get an artistic shot of the Moon and a streetlamp but it didn’t really work.

One thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone lights a bonfire. Another thing I didn’t miss about Northenden was the fact that as soon as we have a couple of sunny days in a row, someone thinks it’s OK to leave their dog outside in the garden, barking all night.

Oh, and don’t forget the fireworks, I missed those!

I was happy to witness one most unusual event though. A fly flew in through the open window, had a good sniff and a look around the apartment, and flew straight back out again, through the same window.

Wythenshawe Park hasn’t changed much. There are still some deep ruts in the grass from where heavy vehicles have been driven, maybe for a circus. Where there used to be a coffee shop, there are now a few trucks, one selling coffee, one offering pizza, and the building itself seems to be permanently closed.

I visited the farm: well, I just followed the smell, whether of other visitors or the livestock, I’m not sure.

Well, I can’t complain about the weather, it’s been warm and sunny and bright, and that makes it easier to go out each day. But, after 40 days of no rain in the area, the water companies are threatening us with a hosepipe ban.

I mentioned reading, writing, walking and all that, but sometimes I let myself get sucked into Instagram. A couple of genuinely good or interesting clips, and then press next, next, next, and suddenly an hour’s gone by. I think that’s my worst habit at the moment.

Jenny picked me up and I stayed at her place for a night. The children were camping out on sofa-beds downstairs and I enjoyed kipping in Aunty Helen’s bed. Or is that Auntie? Neither version looks right, so I’ll leave them both, so you can decide.

No, she’s not assisting a taxiing aeroplane, she’s blowing bubbles. More specifically, sticky bubbles. They stick to your skin rather than bursting straightaway.

He’s enjoying a milkshake through a straw fresh from New Mexico. The flavour comes from little balls of food-adjacent chemicals inside the straw so that the milk absorbs the flavour as it’s slurped upwards.

And here they are relaxing with their tablets, playing games that are beyond my understanding: another side-effect of getting old.

On the way out of the house, I did a double-take. I don’t know why this strikes me as being a bit spooky, but, well, it just is. Scary too.

Martha and I played a game of Backgammon, and she’s picked up the rules pretty well. It won’t be long before we’re playing for real money, using the doubling dice and everything.

Time to go Home

It’s not often I watch Doc Martin on TV while eating breakfast and chatting with Liesel’s Uncle Neil, but it happened today for the first time. Neil has one of the shortest email addresses in the known universe, just ten characters in total, which is great, except that some modern sites don’t accept it as a legitimate address.

As well as being a scientist and a mathematician, he’s a bit of a philosopher and has spent the last several decades researching and writing a now 80-page long document about his theory of, well, everything. Having exchanged email addresses, he sent me a copy which I look forward to reading.

While online, I came across a ‘Truth’ or whatever it’scalled by the President:

Donald J. Trump
@realDonald Trump

After visiting the beautiful city of Albuquerque earlier this month, I decided that it is disrespectful to America to have a state called New Mexico. It is surrounded by America so it should be called America. I plan to sign an Executive Order renaming the Land of Enchantment New America!

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Actually, I suspect it’s a fake, but who knows? It’s so believable these days.

As I was packing for my departure, I thought about some things that I’d observed here in Albuquerque, and beyond.

Piñons are very small nuts and the trees are prolific. The nuts are so small, that some of us just find it easier to eat them whole, shells included, rather than trying to peel them.

Indoors is very dry too, very low humidity. So, often I would touch the light switch, or the fridge door handle, or Liesel, and I would experience a static shock. Every time was a surprise.

When out and about, almost everything is covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s a dry, dusty old state. It is being modernised though: we passed by a few solar arrays on our various trips.

Also, while out and about, I was greatly entertained by the many adverts for lawyers on billboards by the highways.

• Do your research: the husband and wife law team.
• $1 billion recovered for clients
• Hurt? Call Bert
• Injured? Get more. Dial 4…
• Semi truck collision? Call…
• Dead? Call Fred

No, alright, I made the last one up.

There’s one infamous sign that I was hoping to see out on the road, but, disappointingly, it never materialised.

• Eat here and get gas

We didn’t have a barbecue at all here in New Mexico. No Abq bbq, so to speak. Yes, all this time, I could have been using Abq as an abbreviation for ‘Albuquerque’ instead of writing the word ‘Albuquerque’ in full every time I mentioned ‘Albuquerque’.

I know Americans don’t have the monopoly on mangling the English language, but there were a few times on this visit when my ears wanted to pack up and go home. Just a couple of examples:

• When we were in Europe forever ago…
• Hope you guys enjoy you guys’s lunch

This sort of thing is very common too: you see a discount on an item but no actual price. So this conversation was very common:

• That’s 50% off
• So, how much is it?
• Ummm…

Meanwhile, outside the weather was not conducive to a return visit to the Bosque, the Rio Grande River Loop Trail. It rained, again with huge raindrops. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the rumbling thunder was accompanied by a hailstorm. Hailstones as big as peas. There have been larger though. On one occasion, Buzz returned from Phoenix in a car that resembled a golfball. Someone may have been exaggerating, of course!

Helen and Brent called from Australia and Liesel and I had a very nice chat with them. Helen is very happy with her new car, a Toyota.

Liesel and I did get out briefly, though, Gabe drove us to see the storm drains after today’s extensive precipitation. The water was indeed flowing fast.

What a boring picture, I know what you’re thinking, so here’s a nearby, colourful, mural.

And so it was timefor me to say goodbye to our fantastic hosts, Buzz, Neil and Gabe. Liesel drove me to the airport. Now, usually, Liesel drops me off and I’m left to check in by myself. But on the way to the airport today, I received an email telling me that my second leg flight, from Atlanta to Manchester, had been cancelled. I always feel anxious about this aspect of travel, dealing with airlines and airports, because something will always go wrong, right? Well, not always. But this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a cancelled flight.

It was a short queue to check in, because, guess what, Manchester Airport, there were several members of staff working on the counters, all at the same time. Revolutionary.

Tiffany, my Delta agent was great, though. She fought through Virgin Atlantic and Air France’s BS and rearranged my trip back to the UK. I could have postponed the whole thing until the next day, but there’s no guarantee that Virgin Atlantic wouldn’t cancel again, for ‘technical reasons’.

So, rather than Abq to Atlanta to Manchester, I now have three flights: Abq to Atl to Orlando to Manchester. And I would arrive just two hours later than originally planned.

So after all the excitement and fun and places of interest in New Mexico, my fear and anxiety of travelling through airports was, today, fully justified.

In Security, I was patted down, because the poppers on my shorts lit up on their very fussy scanner. As someone else joked, rather riskily I thought: usually I’d get dinner and a drink for that.

At the gate, we learnt that our plane was arriving late so we’d be departing late. So of course, I am now more worried about not making the connections. Whereas my original schedule had a 3-hour layover in Atlanta, it was now 1½ hours. Even less with this late departure. Tiffany was at the gate so again I thanked her profusely.

My window seat was OK, but I couldn’t see anything other than the wing. After an uneventful flight, people with connections were allowed off first. Everyone had a connecting flight.

In Atlanta I walked and took the train to my departure gate, arriving with less than an hour to spare. I took more slow, deep breaths before going for a quick wander to find something to eat. A very nice, tasty tomato, cheese and basil crêpe was the best option.

I don’t know why I worry about the size of my carry-on bag when people seem to get away with bulging backpacks and antique Victorian trunks. Well, very nearly.

This flight was late taking off too, for which they apologised but offered no explanation. I had an aisle seat this time, sitting next to a very rude Italian man. He was upset because he’d been made to check his oversize bag but I didn’t laugh out loud: never mess with the Mafia.

And of course, I was now worried about making my connecting flight in Orlando.

My English accent did me no favours on this flight: I failed to get any milk for my welcome cup of tea. While in New Mexico, only one person had accused me of being Australian, but I still can’t recall the circumstances.

The plane landed in Orlando, and we taxied for ages and ages before the pilot announced that there was currently no gate available. Apparently, after a big storm yesterday, they were still catching up on a backlog of delayed flights.

After about half an hour, we were able to disembark. I’d not been to Orlando Airport since 1992 and couldn’t remember it at all and it’s probably changed anyway since then so I really hoped it would be easy to find my next, and final, departure gate. It was, and again I plonked myself down with much less than an hour to go.

I looked around, but there were no ads for Disneyworld, so I failed in my mission to take a selfie with Mickey or Minnie. There were no food outlets either nearby so I was very glad of the cheese sandwich Liesel had made for me.

Annoyingly, I wasn’t able to order a vegetarian meal for this flight. I’d asked at every opportunity, but no, because the flight is within 24 hours. But it was your airline, Virgin Atlantic, that cancelled my original flight. Oh well, never mind was the official response.

My seat was in the back row, right in front of the toilet and I sat next to a nice lady with an English accent. Well, it turns out she lives in New York state, moved there when she was about 2 years old, and was now visiting her cousin in Chester.

I couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I watched two movies: Paddington in Peru, and Heretic, both of which I can recommend, especially if you’re a Hugh Grant fan.

There was just one thing left for me to worry about. Given my flights were late and the connection times were tight, would my checked in bag make it home on the same flight as me?

After landing, disembarking, walking a long way to Passport Control in Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2, the moment of truth. Along with hundreds of other dazed passengers, I watched the baggage carousel with a mix of excitement at being back on home turf and dread at the thought of the bureaucracy I’d have to go through again if my case didn’t turn up. But, no, look, is that it? Yes, is that the right label? Yes, yes and yes.

The taxi driver took me home the long way, but that meant he just got a smaller tip than otherwise.

Arriving home is always a bit of anticlimax. A quick walk to get some milk then I had a cup of tea and, despite my best efforts, a nap.

I managed to stay awake for the duration of the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who before going to bed properly. Good night.

Oasis v Blur

I woke up early, soon after sunrise, and was so glad I’d risen in the middle of the night to take some photos of the night sky, and yes, alright, just to gaze at the night sky with zero light pollution.

Neil hoovered the place, well, until the circuit breaker broke because the batteries had lost too much charge. The solar panels will charge them back up during the day.

First breakfast was cinnamon and apple flavoured oatmeal and a cup of tea.

We drove out from the cabin once again via Zuni Canyon. And again, I marvelled at the extent of the lava flows. A squirrel wasted no time in running across the road in front of us, phew. A family of ground hogs (same as prairie dogs?) standing in the middle of the road quickly dispersed in all directions. All except one who defiantly stood up on his hind legs until the very last moment, realising that a heavy American car is not to be messed with

‘Do something scary every day’ is one motto I try to live by, although there’s not always the opportunity to do so. Well, I admit, I did forego the opportunity to climb a ladder yesterday. But today, my challenge was, for the first time since about 1979, to eat an Egg McMuffin. We’d arranged to meet Buzz, Liesel, Gabe and Leslie at McDonalds in Grants at 11 o’clock. On arrival, I gave my order, being sure to enunciate to the best of my ability and to emphasise that I didn’t want any bacon on my Egg McMuffin. Loudly tapping the desk, the server who most definitely was not channeling Ronald McDonald’s jolly demeanour, told me that they don’t serve breakfast after 10.30, like everyone knows that, right?Scary Mary was so scary, I was too scared to order anything else to eat, so I just had a cup of tea.

Liesel and co arrived shortly afterwards and after a bit of a chat over tea or coffee or in Neil’s case, a small McFlurry, we all set off again. Neil returned to Albuquerque. The rest of us, almost in a convoy, set off westwards towards Window Rock.

We ate lunch at the famous Earls Family Restaurant in Gallup. It first opened in 1947 . This date reminded me that I would miss out on visiting Roswell on this visit to New Mexico. My huevos rancheros was accompanied by more green chili, which was just borderline acceptable to my taste buds: a few more Scoville points and my ears would have blown off again. Even so, Liesel did ask whether I was red because of the chili or was I sunburnt?

Window Rock is just over the border in the next state. So I was looking out for a big, brightly coloured sign saying ‘Welcome to Arizona’, maybe with flags flying, accompanied by a troupe of dancing girls and a big brass band. But no. A small, insgnificant, almost apologetic sign coyly saying ‘Arizona State Line’. That’s it? Well, what an anticlimax.

In Ganado, we visited the Hubbell Trading Post, established in 1878, now the oldest continually operated trading post on the Navajo reservation. J. L. Hubbell, whose family operated the trading post for nearly 90 years, was known among the Navajo as trustworthy and honest. His trading post became a pillar of the community, playing a large role in helping Navajo families rebuild their lives after the Long Walk.

The place was full of rug dealers, many beautifully woven rugs that would look good anywhere. Lots of jewellery too, they all seem very talented, the earrings were made by the maintenance supervisor.

Arizona and the Navajo nation have a love/hate relationship with Daylight Savings. For a while, the times on my phone and Liesel’s phone were an hour different, even though we were in the same room. Another quirk in this place: no sales tax.

The Navajo Nation Museum was interesting, and quite moving. But the first thing you notice on arriving and parking up are the large rocks on an otherwise flat terrain.

The next thing we noticed was the big, black cloud that appeared almost from nowhere. And indeed, when we were inside, it did rain for a while.

Between 1863 and 1866, more than ten thousand Diné prisoners of the U.S. were marched to the Bosque Redondo reservation, known in Navajo as Hweéldi, in present day southeastem New Mexico. The Long Walk is actually a series of forced marches, no less than fifty-three, during which captives walked anywhere from 250 to 450 miles, depending on the route taken.

Many of them (Navajos) died from starvation. The kind of food they had, they died from that. Also, I think a larger percent of deaths was caused by homesickness. They wept from day-to-day, many of them, “I wish I was on my own land bark at Chinle or Kayente.” — Dághá Chíí Bik’is, son-in-law of Manuelito and one of the first Navajo Council members (1951).

The Long Walk, then a Treaty between the Navajo Reservation and the United States that is, literally, not watertight. Disputes about the Treaty are still taking place, resulting in ongoing court cases. One current issue is the water supply. The Navajo nation depends upon just three rivers, and they’re being affected by climate change, like everything else.

Diné Cosmic Order by Donovan Snyder, 2018

At the time of the White Land (Ni’halgai), First Man (Áłtsé Hastiin), First Woman (Áłtsé Asdząą), and other Divinities were choosing rock-star mica chips that were laid out on a buckskin robe to place in the sky. They were forming our constellations to light up the dark night.

Mischievous Coyote (Mą’ii) came along and wanted to help, but after witnessing the slow and methodical placement of the constellations, he became impatient. He grabbed the buckskin and scattered the remaining stars into the sky, which is why some stars today are not seen within in the orderly constellations.

After the rain, it was only a quick downpour, we drove to our final destination of the day, Window Rock. At the first sighting of this natural phenomenon, I took this picture:

Window Rock is over there at the back, but, a flying saucer? How cool! Yes, I know it’s a raindrop on the windscreen, but still…

The rock with a big hole in it is well protected, fenced off, we really aren’t invited to go up for a closer look. It’s a great venue for graduation photos, as enjoyed by one new graduate today, having a good celebration with his family.

Here is a fascinating story, we learned a lot about it at the Museum, and there’s a monument here.

The Legendary Navajo Code Talkers:

During World War II, in the South Pacific Theater, the Japanese were extremely proficient at breaking into military radio communications and transmissions. Thus they were able to decipher U.S. Military codes. The U.S. Armed forces needed to find a secure method of communication if they were to have any chance of defeating a clever and intelligent foe. To counter the cleverness of the Japanese cryptographers, 29 Navajo Marines were recruited to devise a secret military code using their native language. By war’s end, there were over 400 Navajo Marines serving as code talkers and the code vocabulary had doubled. So successful was this innovative code that the Marine Corps commanders credited it with saving the lives of countless American Marines and soldiers. It enabled their successful engagements throughout the Pacific Theater which included the battles for Guadalcanal, Wake Island, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Midway, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The code paved the way to early victory for the allied forces in the South Pacific. Major Howard M. Conner, 5th Marine Division Signal Officer stationed on Iwo Jima, commented on the gallantry of the Navajo Code Talkers: “Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would not have taken Iwo Jima.”

Far from their homes, these brave young Navajo Marines served our nation with honor and dignity. The tale of their exploits remained a closely guarded secret for decades in the event that the Navajo Code Talkers unique talents would be needed again. In 1968 the Navajo code was finally declassified. In July 2001, at the National Capital Rotunda, United States President, the honorable George W. Bush, awarded the Congressional Gold Medals to the first 29 Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. In November of 2001 at the Navajo Nation capital of Window Rock, Arizona, the Congressional Silver Medals were awarded to the rest of the Navajo Code Talkers, their surviving spouses or children. Sadly, many of the Navajo Code Talkers have passed on never knowing of the honor a grateful nation has bestowed upon them. The Navajo Code Talkers will never be forgotten.

Diné Bizaad Yee Atah Naayee’ Yik’eh Deesdlii.

We checked in at our Holiday Inn before wandering over the road to Navajo Westerners Ace Hardware. Some of the fabrics on sale here are very pretty.

Another shop in this Navajo Nation Shopping Center was the supermarket from where we bought a snack: still full from a big lunch, we didn’t need a big evening meal.

We were followed back to the hotel by a stray dog, but I think it didn’t speak English, since it ignored all my stern commands. Another reason to learn Spanish, I suppose. Or maybe even Navajo.

Going down for breakfast in the morning provided the first chortle of the day. Shouldn’t laugh, really, but… There was a poster outside the hotel shop with a mugshot of a young lady. The caption: Anyone know who this is? They stole our security device.

Buzz and Gabe are here at this time for a weekend of fun with the Girl Scouts.They were at the breakast table along with Liesel and Leslie, plus three other Girl Scout leaders, by the time I arrived.

Liesel looked at a very pretty necklace in the shop, but decided not to buy it in the end. ‘It’s only stuff’ and ‘I’ll probably only wear it once’.

Over the road, the famous Flea Market was being set up. We wandered around, admiring all the jewellery (of course), ignoring the car tyres and electronics up for sale, and just passed some time until the Navajo Arts and Craft Enterprise opened. More locally made jewellery, and this time, Liesel did buy something, an unusual pair of earrings.

Leslie chose to stay with Buzz today, with the Girl Scouts, so that left Liesel and me to drive back to Albuquerque. Having plenty of time, we paid a visit to El Morro, for more local culture and a walk. Thanks to some roadworks, we found ourselves driving along the rumblestrips at the side of the road, and that’s a very uncomfortable feeling after a while. You’re doing nothing wrong, but we’ve been programmed to think that that noise means we’re too near the edge. Weird.

We listened to Classic Rock 93X: Putting the rock into Window Rock! Well, classic rock? Over half of the songs they played were new to me. They may have been big hits and very popular in the USA, but it was reassuring when the odd, genuine classic, came on.

On to El Morro, then. This cuesta has long been an oasis to the travelers who left their mark upon it. A reliable waterhole hidden at the base of a sandstone bluff made El Morro (the headland) a popular refuge for hundreds of years. Native Americans, Spanish explorers and missionaries, and American soldiers and pioneers carved over 2,000 signatures, dates, messages, and petroglyphs. Atop the cuesta are the remains of the fourteenth-century pueblos of Atsinna and North Atsinna where the ancestors of today’s Puebloan communities once lived.

A most enjoyable and interesting walk. The guide lent us a book, and we followed the route more or less as suggested.

These artefacts won’t last forever, being carved into sandstone and where they’ve tried to hide post-1906 markings, the surface looks unnaturally smooth.

As we walked back to the Visitor Centre, we felt a few spots of rain. Big spots. But, just as quickly, we stepped over a crack in the concrete path, and it wasn’t raining any more.

We heard the thunder in the distance, relieved that we weren’t caught in a major storm.

Our journey back to Albuquerque continued. We saw sheep and horses close to the highway, mostly behind a fence, but not always. Not ideal when the traffic is moving at 60mph or more.

We can sort of understand why people might choose to live out here in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town. But, then, why would you build your house so close to the noisy highway?

We drove over the Continental Divide, elevation 7200 feet. This was a much more interesting sign than ‘Arizona State Line’. And if there was such a sign, we missed ‘New Mexico State Line’.

But we couldn’t miss the thunderstorm ahead of us, so of course I had to try and get a picture of the lightning. Liesel wasn’t keen on me almost leaning out of the with with my phone. But it was worth it!

Back at home, we took Neil out for a meal at Monroe’s, a return visit for us. I enjoyed my final New Mexico meal: #6 Veggie Tostadas (Gluten free) 2 bluecorn tostada shells stuffed with avocado, whole beans, pico de gallo, mozzarella, lettuce and tomato. Served with calavacitas and salsa. Hey, I remembered what I ate! But only because I screenshot the menu.

Final NM meal? Yes, my time here was nearly up and I had to do some packing. I have more to take home that I came with, especially the Seestar S50. Four weeks here, and it’s all a bit of a blur right now. I need a holiday, as they say.

Oh, and WordPress has just told me that this is the 600th post on this blog. What a lot of antics!

Seeing Stars

There was no point in revelling in our success at the pub quiz last night, since we didn’t have any! We came joint last, but it was all good fun. In the morning, we left Tammy and Aaron in peace and drove into Santa Fe city centre for breakfast in Clafoutis, the French bakers. No, we didn’t mind sitting at a ‘communal table’. But our ‘companions’ left as soon as we sat down. We had the table to ourselves until a couple of ladies joined us. One from Colorado, the other from Pennsylvania.

Liesel and Tammy had had a great massage last week, so Liesel took me to the same place and we were pummelled and poked for an hour. I think it was a good massage. To recover, we spent a little time in the book shop next door. So many books to catch up on, both new and old.

The drive back to Albuquerque was quick, I think I nodded off for a bit and missed a lot of the stunning New Mexico scenery.

As a prelude to a visit to the zoo, I spotted some wildlife in the courtyard.

There was nothing special about these millions of ants apart from their speed: they were very busy, or at least, running around, looking busy. Fudgelling, I think, is the word.

Liesel drove Leslie and me to Albuquerque Zoo , or more accurately, ABQ BioPark Zoo. We had a nice wander around the place, which wasn’t as crowded as we’d expected, having seen how packed the car park was.

It wasn’t only the animals we were here to see: some of the plantlife was fascinating too. There were some bigger animals, as well, don’t worry. The polar bear here seemed to have a lot more room than that poor old thing in Chessington World of Adventures a few years ago. This one appeared to be having fun too, climbing rocks, diving and swimming.

The kookaburras responded to my recording of their cousin, made in Australia some years ago. It was mean, really, they probably think they have a new friend. Sorry. That’s nearly as bad as little boys chasing ducks.

In the café, the man had to show me how to order food on the touchscreen because it was too hard for him to listen to my order with his own ears. Having placed the order electronically, he then read it out to me from his own screen, just to confirm what I wanted. Anyway, my bowl of fries was very nice, just what I needed. Liesel and Leslie had an ice cream instead.

The sign on the fence told us there were zebras in this enclosure. Well, that small rodent with a fluffy tail looked more like a squirrel to me, it didn’t even have any stripes.

One of these characters is preparing to add some charcters to the mural, the other is playing hide and seek with his troop.

The hippos were very active, although Liesel was disappointed that none of them did the thing with their tail, spinning it round and round to spread the love from their bottoms.

The cutest thing was undoubtedly the Mum gorilla carrying her baby around.

Time for a return visit to the cabin. Neil and I left quite early and spent the day and night there, seemingly out in the middle of nowhere.

I helped Neil with a few odd jobs. Fixing a light fitting was OK. Attaching the fan was OK, I just let Neil climb the ladder. Fitting the fan blades was a bit of a let-down, because the wrong size screws had been supplied.

Another job was plumbing related, definitely not my favourite thing. But we succeeded without losing too much water from the system.

The most interesting job though was to affix a Moultrie Edge cellular trail camera to a tree, facing the cabin, so that from home in Albuquerque, Neil can keep an eye on the cabin and monitor the weather.

It can be set up with a motion sensor so that any passing wildlife will be captured on film too. Well, not literally film, but you know what I mean. The first animal it took a picture of was, er, me, posing by a tree.

Walking around the area surrounding the cabin cannot be done stealthily. There’s always something crunching under foot, leaves, wood, pine cones.

Later in the evening, I prepared my new Seestar S50. The Moon was easy to spot, but the sky was pretty much obscured by clouds, which was disappointing.

I also found Jupiter and its four brightest moons, but I couldn’t discern the coloured bands on Jupiter itself. As it got darker, more clouds moved in, so I went back inside, and very soon, it was time for bed.

At about 1.30, I woke up for the usual reason, and while outside, I couldn’t believe how clear the sky was, how many stars I could see. No clouds at all. Well, even though it was cold, I decided I would take the Seestar out on the balcony again and do some stargazing.

I was very impressed with these pictures, but I wasn’t so impressed with the how cold it was outside, brrr, apparently it was about 40°F, that’s so different to the daytime temperature. So I went back to bed.

Valles Caldera

After last night’s Seder feast, today we celebrated Easter with a big breakfast. Gabe had retrieved a crate of Easter paraphernalia from the garage and the house is now suitably decorated.

And so, it came to pass that it was time for Jyoti and Rupert to leave this place and return to Charlotte, North Carolina. After saying goodbye to them at the airport, Liesel and I failed in our next mission, to find vegetarian gravy. Oh well. One thing I’ve realised recently was that you don’t see cows with cabbages on their heads these days.

The nearby mountains were patchily covered with snow, probably not enough for a decent skier. Plenty for me, though, to observe, from a distance.

If you mention Red Arrows at home, you’re probably talking about the aerial display team. Here, it is a popular landmark in the city centre. The Giant Red Arrow was constructed in 1961, is 20-feet tall and stands opposite the Whole Foods Market, very convenient.

It is now iconic, a landmark, and most people like it being there. Not so much the guy that would like to rip it up to make room for a few more parking spaces.

It can literally be seen from space, look!

The rest of the day was quite relaxed. Some TV, a spot of reading, a bit of writing.

Liesel had some work to do, and after writing for a while, I went for a walk, locally, with Neil. We didn’t go far, but it was nice to get some exercise.

Even this close to home, cactuses can be seen to grow wild. They’ll take over, one day. This stormwater storage area was home to a couple of deer until the rotten authorities cut the vegetation back.

In the park, a group of young people were having fun sliding down a homemade water slide.

I hope they remembered to take all their buckets home afterwards. There was one hosepipe leading to someone’s house over the road. I suspect their water bill will be higher than usual next time.

In an alleyway next to the tennis courts, we collected 23 tennis balls that had been hit out of bounds. Neil, Buzz and Gabe take them to the local dog park where the dogs have a great time. I can’t work out how the dogs hold the rackets, though.

Liesel prepared dinner tonight, a festoon of vegetables, thank you very much: very nice, very tasty.

We did get out and about next day, we weren’t confined to barracks. It was a hot drive to Jemez pueblo and we passed through some more stunning landscapes.

Again, the photo doesn’t show the scale of this place (which, incidentally, Google thinks is in Namibia, but even using Google Maps, we rarely get that lost).

The red rocks really showed up against the normal sandy colour.

In places, yes, it did remind me of the Australian desert, but not everywhere: the red here doesn’t appear to ‘glow’ as much, maybe it does when it becomes much hotter. Today was a very pleasant temperature. There were even little pockets of snow still present on the ground, not enough to make a whole snowman, but I think we were both surprised to see so much of it, so long after it fell.

But surely, we saw some wildlife? A cow and a man on a horse. Not the actual things, of course, just the yellow signs warning us of their presence.

There are many geological formations in the Jemez Mountains, and we were spending some time here in Jemez National Recreation Area just looking and going ‘wow’.

On a more human scale, I’m still surprised at how strong the Roman Catholic church is in New Mexico.

Jemez Springs is a very small town, so it feels like this church is in the middle of nowhere.

Further along the road, we came across Soda Dam, so we screeched to a halt to investigate it. (We didn’t really screech, Liesel was in the driving seat, and we came to a well controlled stop just off the road.) Not my words, but:
This spectacular formation has built up over the centuries by deposits of calcium carbonate from a spring that bubbles to the surface at this point. The river flows under a dome that is still building. The dam is 300 feet long, 50 feet high and 50 feet wide at the bottom.

I clamboured over the crash barrier for a closer look, but I was reluctant to walk over what looked like a very slimy, damp area, the result of water running in from under the highway.

We’d noticed that many of the cottonwood trees were a much brighter green now, whereas even a few days ago, we were commenting on how dead they seemed to be.

My ears knew we were on a road trip that involved changing altitude quite a lot. They kept popping, the left one more than the right, and feeling asymmetrical is a sensation I’m not that fond of.

More geology now: Valle Grande is a large caldera. There’s no sign of the volcano erupting again any time soon, but it’s strange to imagine what might be gurgling away beneath the surface.

We decided not to go for a hike on this occasion: it’s been here for millions of years, it won’t change much before our next visit. As we were driving away, Liesel thought she saw a wolf by the watering hole. I missed it, and on reflection, it was probably a coyote.

We passed a couple of places where the trees showed signs of having been burnt

Lunch was taken in Los Alamos, at a place called ‘Beef and Leaf’. I wondered whether it was related to the ‘Pig and Fig’ where we’d been the other day. Two things of note in this emporium. The coffee cup and saucer were fun to play with. You could spin the cup around, and it would rotate almost frictionlessly for quite a while before stopping.

The other thing fulfilled a nearly lifelong ambition.

Yes, we saw a cow with a cabbage on her head. Wonderful!

Being in Los Alamos, we thought we’d visit the Historical Museum. Yes, the place is most famous now for the Manhattan Project, but there was plenty of history before the second world war.

Ancestral Pueblo People started arriving on the plateau in the 1150s, about the time St Mary’s Church in Chessington was being built.

John “Mike” Michnovicz, born in 1923, documented the people and activities in Los Alamos, and there were plenty of his pictures on display here. Such a big project, with such devastating results, yet all the participants look like normal people. And no, I don’t know what kind of being I was expecting to see.

A highlight for me was seeing Richard Feynmann’s drum: just a bit sad it’s behind glass and I couldn’t have a bash.

The History is Here campaign was a major fundraising effort conducted by the Los Alamos Historical Society during 2012-2016 Our motivation was to enable the preservation and communication of the remarkable history and inspiring stories of Los Alamos. Through the generosity of these donors the Society bas been able to protect its archives and collections, expand the museum, preserve historic buildings, create new educational programs, sustain its publishing capability and collaborate with the Manhattan Project National Historical Park.

I always look at such things, but very rarely do I actually find a long-lost relation memorialised. Thank you Uncle Arthur and Auntie Nancy.

Dr J Robert Oppenheimer and General Leslie Groves

We explored Hans Bethe’s House too and a gallery of local artwork.

On the way home, the end of the world as we know it. For some reason, Google Maps decided to speak to us in Spanish. I have no idea why it did this. Random emissions from a secret laboratory in Los Alamos? Punishment because we’d decided not to go and pester Tammy and Aaron? The text all appears in English still, but my Aussie Sheila has been replaced by a Spanish lady. All the internet could offer was to check the settings. I did. Nothing appears to be changed. The only way I could resolve this ridiculous problem was to uninstall and reinstall the app. As they say: to err is human, to really mess things up, get a computer.

We ate pizza at a place called Farina in Albuquerque and when we arrived home, nobody else was in. Where were they? The cars were still here. Phones on the table. Another mystery.

But still, a cow with a cabbage on its head, how exciting.