New Year’s Eve

Hard on the heels of our Christmas came New Year’s Eve, and so another feast (a rather delicious tagine made with slow-cooked shin beef) enlivened by a murder mystery game after which, replete, we rather sedately saw in 2016 with the Jools Holland Hootenanny on TV.

Moveable Feast

With blended families and children's partners’ families, Christmas has become a bit of a moveable feast, and at our house this year it moved a full five days, but today we finally hosted our festive meal and exchanged the last of the presents; and, none the worse for the delay, both meal and gifts went down well.

Mod Cons

Returned from Salford tonight but left my dad better equipped in his improvised downstairs bed-sitting room having fitted a clip-on lamp to his bedhead (enabling him to read if he wakes during the night) and installed a wireless doorbell, with the push-button stuck on his bedside table and the chime in the upstairs bedroom (enabling his minders – me last night – to retire to bed confident they can be roused if needed).

Timeless

My basic but functional Casio wristwatch lost its original strap a few months ago, and its ill-fitting replacement fell apart yesterday, which required hauling out the less functional (no light, no alarm, no stopwatch) old Sekonda (with a dead battery) for my latest trip down to Salford, but towards the end of the two hour drive I sensed a cold patch on my upper arm that on investigation felt like a £2 coin up my sleeve, and when I pulled up and got out of the car a tiny battery fell to the floor, swiftly followed by the back of the Sekonda sliding down my sleeve into my waiting palm; so I am left with one good timepiece with no strap and one good strap with no timepiece but no convenient way to tell the time.

Cutlery

My wife and I have been looking to replace our mixed up and mysteriously diminishing stock of knives, forks and spoons for a while, so when I saw a promising boxed set in Wilkinson’s this morning I paused and began to discuss its merits with her, but on getting no response I turned to find I had been talking to a complete stranger, my wife having wandered off up another aisle; however the bemused but friendly woman I had been addressing, reassured of my sanity once my wife reappeared, did confirm my opinion (having recently bought some of the teaspoons) so we went ahead with the purchase.

Rain Persisting

It is as well that we had no plans to go far today as the rain persisted and the water levels on the roads rose; however we put on wellies and walked from one end of the village to the other to get some fresh, if damp, air and check the exit routes for the likelihood of them being passable tomorrow.

Going with the Flow

In tune with the unrelenting rain outside we had a low key Christmas day, which is not to say it wasn’t enjoyable, as we three exchanged presents and chilled before heading out into the wet to my in-laws for a traditionally excessive dinner (and more exchanging of presents) after which we made our excuses and left in an attempt to get home before the roads into the village become impassable; and we just about made it through the final 200 yards of flowing water, thankfully downstream, in time to flop on the sofa to watch the Downton Abbey finale with a couple of glasses each of Prosecco laced with Limincello.

Driving Home

The more you drive a route the shorter it seems, so the trip back up to the North East was a breeze, aided also by the words of Chris Rea echoing in my head – “Driving home for Christmas, Can’t wait to see those faces”.

Day Nurse

The first full day home after my Dad’s discharge from hospital meant getting to grips with the medication (which arrived by taxi sometime later) – eleven different sets of tablets needing a total of fifteen doses in six separate time slots – so it a good job his mind is in better nick than his legs.

Night Nurse

Back in Salford at short notice with my Dad discharged and installed in his front room complete with hospital bed (delivered that morning); to keep an eye on him overnight I took the night shift on the sofa, ministering to his not excessive needs in between dozing; at least it was not the longest night of the year – just the second longest.

Christmas Shops

The hordes were out in force at two of the local retail hotspots, which meant vehicular crawling and pedestrian plodding around Bolams in Sedgefield, where groaning trolley loads of meat and veg were being pushed around on their way to what must be vast ovens in some homes, and Teesside Park in Stockton – the last desperate port of call for the more clueless gift buyers; naturally we were the exceptions, skipping round Bolams with a hand basket and surgically sniping items off the gift list in Teesside Park.

Christmas Three

Made up for some lost time with a rash of Christmas activities: in the morning visited the Bowes Museum Christmas market, which was a bit disappointing with the fewer than usual stalls representing poor value for the £2.50 entrance fee; in the afternoon the Christmas tree was assembled from its fifty plus constituent parts and draped in lights, baubles, tinsel and a few old favourite novelties like the balding snowman and the wonky reindeer; and in the evening we took part, not very successfully, in a Christmas themed pub quiz.

Making a List

With me returning from Salford and my wife recovering from laryngitis neither of us felt full of the Christmas spirit so it was ‘bah humbug’ for a while until late afternoon when, as a concession to the imminent festivities, we compromised by doing a bit of planning – producing lists of outstanding presents, family comings and goings, the implications for meals and the associated food shopping; all quite complicated so perhaps we should have taken Santa’s lead and checked it twice.

Two Alans

A quiet hour on my own at my Dad’s house was interrupted by a knock on the door from a seven year old girl who, when I answered, asked if Alan (my Dad’s name) was in, so I explained that he was still in hospital and then we had a chat during which she asked who I was and was told I was Alan’s son, and my name was Alan too; she wished my father a speedy recovery and as she left said “goodbye Alan 2”.

Puncture

My plans to drive back to Salford this afternoon were punctured by a puncture on the Juke discovered last night and although the offending nail was embedded tightly enough to enable re-inflation long enough to get to the repair shop today, sufficient damage had been done to the tyre to require a new one, which had to be procured and would be delivered by late afternoon; however they slapped on the “space saver” spare wheel (so that was £240 well spent last year) and sent me on my way, so at least I was able to get on with some belated Christmas preparations (as the big day approaches faster than my currently woolly head can cope with) before returning to change wheels in a time that would not shame Louis Hamilton and get on my way down South.

Mr Driver

Mr Driver is my professional name while chauffeuring, twice a week, the eight two and three year-olds to and from their nursery school, a job that concluded today after 14 weeks – that’s 56 journeys with them on board mainly happily chatting and singing, and only occasionally screaming and shouting; from next term the transport is no longer needed and though no redundancy package is in order, Mr Driver did receive from appreciative parents a few Christmas paper wrapped parcels that were welcome more for the thought than the substance.

Maggie’s Place

The driving duties compressed into a half day to accommodate the children’s Christmas party, and the need to pick the boy up from college mid-afternoon, made for a hectic day criss-crossing Darlington, so I was grateful for a half hour of peace and calm with a pot of tea and a cheese scone in the excellent Maggie’s Place on Duke Street.

National Football Museum

While in Salford I decided to nip across the Irwell into Manchester to visit the National Football Museum, a modern shard of glass on the outside, and a typically modern museum on the inside with lots of flashing or fragmented screens pandering to those (maybe now a majority) with the attention span of a gnat but the ability to see seven things at once; to be fair much of the contents are of interest, with old memorabilia – shirts, photos, programmes, trophies and even balls – displayed among the video booths and interactive games, but the higgledy-piggledy nature provided no discernable narrative to me, although one pleasant surprise was some interesting artwork ranging from the sublime (exquisite – and very expensive - footballer portraits by royal artist Darren Baker) through the eccentric (King Eric by Michael Browne after Piero Della Francisca’s Resurrection of Christ) to the downright bizarre (the statue of Michael Jackson recently removed from outside Craven Cottage).

No Beef with Beef

My ex-butcher Dad likes his meat, so meals at his house tend to the carnivorous, even during his absence in hospital, which has put me on a high protein diet of (so far) sirloin steak on Friday, roast beef sandwiches on Saturday, and braised beef steak today; but there will be no complaints from this ex-butcher’s son.

Weather Worries

The pouring rain in Salford was the least of my weather worries today as my sister set off by train for deepest Cornwall via the stormy Welsh Borders, where her scheduled connections were thrown off by a fallen tree on the line; then the message came of snow and flooded roads in the North East to potentially strand the boy (and his car) at his weekend workplace, which led to his mother checking the route in her car and then returning in convoy; after which news came through of my sisters safe arrival some thirteen hours after departing – oh, and it finally stopped raining in Salford.

Bedpan Rudolph

Back to Salford for hospital visiting, with some light relief provided by an imaginative Christmas decoration on the ward – a red nosed reindeer head constructed from the ubiquitous cardboard bedpan and bottles.

No Show

The non-appearance of my learner enabled me to use the two and a half hours scheduled to tidy up my lesson plan (now better for next week), write a book review for the book blog, and most importantly get away early and get to the butchers in time to buy one of their excellent pies for lunch.

Not So Smart

My wife’s Smart car, left inexplicably untethered by its handbrake, was reported to her at lunchtime as having rolled into the car park fence and so was duly retrieved apparently unharmed; consequently, after school, when we got in the car we sat trying to work out if it was possible to leave the semi-automatic parked in gear or not, my wife trying the key in and the key out, the ignition on and off, and the gear lever in every conceivable position – N, R, and 1 to 5 (there is no P) – which so confused the poor little thing that, when the time came to start the engine for real, she (the car not my wife) just wheezed and coughed to no avail, potentially leaving us stranded in the dark, until we adopted the tried and trusted remedy of turning it off, waiting a few minutes, and turning on again, at which point the old girl (the car, definitely not my wife) burst into life again.

Truncated Team

It was a truncated team of just four that participated in tonight’s Vane Arms Christmas Quiz, and although our breadth of knowledge was thus constrained, there were some positives: only one car needed to get there; able to squeeze round a small table on a night crowded with seasonal diners; and only four different opinions (guesses) to debate (argue over) when answering the questions.

On the Road

A day spent mainly, or so it felt, on the road with a return trip to Manchester enveloping two local commutes between my Dad’s house and his hospital ward; the longer journeys were trouble-free, the shorter ones somewhat congested, with the most stressful drive being around the hospital car park, hawk-eyed for someone leaving whose place we could nab.

Shopping by Numbers

We found Darlington surprisingly and helpfully quiet as we hit the shops to make as big a dent in the Christmas shopping as possible and, well prepared with an extensive list, the numbers four hours later were impressive: 34 presents bought from 10 different shops, and the plastic if not melted was at least floppy as the spending rate approached £100 per hour.

Storm & Yawn

With storm Desmond blowing hard enough to ruin any local football match I remained indoors and watched the snooker semi-final which, in contrast to the weather, was becalmed as Liang Wenbo and David Grace took about six hours to play ten somewhat erratic frames.

Controlled Turn

After a couple more hospital visiting sessions I set off back home at about eight o’clock and despite the windy conditions made good time until the A1(M) ground to a complete halt somewhere north of Wetherby, sadly due to a fatal accident up ahead; after a couple of hours the police finally got round to clearing the four miles of stationary traffic and with a “controlled turn” led us back, twenty vehicles at a time, to junction 47 from where I was able to find an alternative route via York – not without a final detour about a mile from home to avoid a fallen tree blocking the road, most unwelcome at what was by now half past midnight.

Hope

A year and a few days on from accompanying my dad on his trip to the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham to sort out his right leg, I found myself visiting him and another problematic leg in another hospital – Salford Royal in Eccles; when I last lived thereabouts the building was about a tenth of its current size and was called Hope Hospital – after the locality but echoing the sentiment of many of the patients and visitors just like, today, us.

Igloo

In concert with another ‘volunteer’ I spent much of the daylight hours in the outside classroom of the primary school constructing an igloo out of used (and variably rinsed-out) plastic milk containers, held together by my pre-prepared cardboard rings and adhesive from a hot glue gun – although with the day cool the hot liquid glue rapidly became cold set glue, requiring a quick-fire technique in squeezing the trigger and placing the container – that turned out pretty well, good enough to form the centre-piece of the temporary Arctic play area; after gluing about 200 cartons together my trigger finger had gone numb from the continuous pressure exerted – either that or some psychosomatic frostbite had set in.

Red Button Snooker

A night in on my todd, and thank goodness for the BC red button channel that gave me uninterrupted coverage of the UK Snooker Championship, taking in the whole ten frames of the Judd Trump – Liang Wenbo match, that confirmed that in sport, it is not how you start that counts, but how you finish.

Toiletries

Price-cutting supermarkets have made the local discount wholesaler less competitive to the extent that I now visit just to buy two, albeit essential, bulk commodities; thus today my trolley was loaded with the usual ‘toiletries’ – four 20 litre bags of cat litter and 32 toilet rolls.

Decreasing Circles

For once my going round in ever decreasing circles was quite productive as I cut out of a very large cardboard box seven concentric 12cm wide rings of decreasing diameter that will form both a plan and a framework for a milk carton igloo I am committed to build at school next week.

American Pancakes

Tried the smoked bacon and American pancakes with maple syrup option on the Vane Arms brunch menu; for “American” read “enormous” as I was presented with two fluffy pancakes, each as big as my head, effectively providing two courses, one savoury with tasty bacon and one sweet with sticky syrup, both delicious and filling enough to easily get me through to teatime.  

Black Pudding Friday

The seasonal shopping frenzy largely passed me by, although I did get 50p off two packs of pork medallions at the butchers, while resisting the special offer on black pudding.

Box Clever

As part of the eye-watering insurance arrangements for the boy’s car, its driving has to monitored by a ‘black box’ that records speed, acceleration, braking and cornering g-force to provide reassurance that he is no boy racer (other than on GTA of course); as the equipment was fitted to the Fiesta today I think I will now stick to driving the Juke where my driving stays unexposed.

Fired Up

It has been an odd November, weather wise, mild at the start, wet and stormy in the middle, and mild again today in the sunshine; but the clear sky made for a cold evening – cold enough to get the wood-burner fired up for the first time, and not before time according to my wife and, more obviously, the black cat.

Starters for Ten

That could have been an appropriate order for the first course at our quiz team’s annual dinner at the Talbot in Bishopton, but only four of us plumped for starters; these along with ten mains and nine desserts racked up a reasonable bill of just under £200 (excluding drinks) and applying our accumulated cash winnings of £40 lessened the individual impact - so good food and a pleasant night out with, for once, no pesky questions to interrupt the conversation.

York

York won the ‘best Christmas market at least distance’ competition, being just an hour’s drive, having plenty of seasonal stalls and being a good city to visit at any time, and despite the paucity of gift ideas we had a very pleasant day mooching around the markets and shops, sustaining our efforts with morning coffee (Nero), lunch (Ask), and afternoon tea (Bullivant’s); just four presents were actually bought, two of which I know will be well received, as they are destined for me.

Tardy Lists

The Christmas wish lists, indicating acceptable presents, have been a little slow in arriving from family members; that is unfortunate as, with my wife due a rare day off work, tomorrow is pencilled in for some seasonal shopping, and those sluggish with their list may regret it come the big day.

Seaham Red Star

The FA Vase match between Seaham Red Star and Maltby Main enabled me to add another ground to my ‘been there’ list - Seaham Town Park, a neat and tidy ground featuring a colourful clubhouse and a tiny refreshment counter, the latter doing good business in Bovril as the kick off temperature of two degrees in the bright sunshine dropped to zero as the sun sank; Red Star didn’t sink, they went two goals ahead, then conceded one and lived dangerously for a while, before adding a third near the end to secure progress to the next round.

Waffle Biscuits

I was pleased to spot these delicious confectionary items in Aldi during my last shop, having been introduced to them when my daughter brought us a packet back from Amsterdam; the trick is to place the waffle on top of your hot drink for a while until the biscuit softens and the caramel melts – a continental version of dunking really.

Indoor Athletics

Took the boy up to the indoor athletics meeting at Gateshead College’s impressive facility next to the International Stadium, where as well as a full program of 60m sprints and hurdles there was shot put, high jump, long jump and even pole vault going on keeping, on a cold November night, a couple of hundred young people positively engaged in sport, and me out from in front of the telly.

Ladder Luck

While a wet day is a good one on which to diagnose issues with a roof, its adverse effect on the coefficient of friction makes it a poor one for using a ladder, and having climbed one to gain some elevation to investigate things at a mercifully low level it was a bit of a shock to feel the rungs disappear from under my feet as the ladder slid down and away from the wall, leaving me in a tangled heap of limbs and aluminium; most surprising was the lack of damage – the ladder suffered a severe cursing, I got away with a grazed ankle and a scraped shinbone, with the guttering, that I grabbed on the way down, coming off worst with a couple of broken brackets.

Top Scone

My first visit to the Toshach Tea Shop in Sedgefield will not be my last, as the cherry and almond scone I had there today was delicious – light, fluffy, melt-in-the-mouth, and served with butter, jam and clotted cream; apparently there are another fourteen varieties of scone on offer from time to time, a claim I feel I will need to verify over the next few months.

Nous Sommes Paris

Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite; and soldarity

Radio Four

A prickly throat and pounding head (possibly man flu on the way) sent me to bed for the afternoon, and unable to read meant resorting to BBC Radio Four and being treated to the usual eclectic mix of programmes that I would not have sought out but enjoyed thoroughly – a satire on 1930s Hollywood, an appreciation of a Welsh miner (not minor) poet, and an analysis of the British criminal involvement in people smuggling; ironically the one programme I may have chosen (Open Book) I have no recollection of, so must have slept through.

Dinner and a Film

While pursuing our respective Saturday afternoon activities (me football, she retail) my wife and I independently homed in on the best way to spend the wet November evening; I called in Tesco to pick up a DVD and she had already purchased an M&S ‘two dine for £10’ meal, so it was duck in plum and brandy sauce, garlic mushrooms, a bottle of rose wine, and The Grand Budapest Hotel.

Car Park Pounded

The midweek TV documentary exposing Aldi’s cost-cutting, corner-cutting practices did not seem to have any effect on the supermarket’s popularity, or at least the popularity of its car park in Newton Aycliffe, which I circled twice in vain before giving up, parking elsewhere and going to the bakers to buy some bread (the only necessity on the shopping list); my subsequent check back on the Aldi car park was more successful, enabling me to slot into the only one of the seventy-five bays free, however with no more than twenty or so in the store it was apparent that the rest of the drivers were queuing at the tills of the newly opened £1 shop next door.

Brave New World

With the (unbelievably first) stage adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ showing at the Darlington Civic, I took in this afternoon’s performance and found it vibrant, absorbing, and still worryingly relevant; it was well received by a small but appreciative audience with a demographic evenly split between school children presumably studying the book for GCSE and retirees like me, who probably last read it when they were that age, back in the 1970s. 

Forgottence

A confession: I meant to go to a local Remembrance commemoration at Sedgefield, but forgot and missed it.

Class Documentary

Caught up this evening with the recorded concluding part of the excellent “Class of 92: Out of Their League” documentary that followed the ex-Manchester United players’ first season as joint owners of non-league Salford City; it was refreshing for such a programme not to focus on the celebrity angle but instead spread the coverage across all aspects of the club – owners, managers, players and volunteer staff – to give a realistic view of the non-league scene that may encourage more to try it out and discover why even the likes of Messrs Scholes, Giggs, Butt and the Neville brothers can get drawn into the intensity and immediacy of this level in the beautiful game.

Adverts’ Effect

Despite my scornful comments, the avalanche of Christmas advertisements on the box must have had some effect on me as while in Stockton town centre to do some banking I found myself browsing in Debenhams and purchasing someone’s present; actually it is the third in the bag, which with 45 shopping days still to go must be a record.

Dead Balls, Deaf Ears

Watching the FA Cup first round highlights today I paid particular attention to the dead ball situations following a football question at last night’s quiz, which posed “in which two dead ball restarts does the ball have to be kicked forwards” that stimulated heated debate over the second one (the kick-off was agreed), that the protagonists then missed the next three questions in getting to an impasse over the interpretation of “forward” – I took the absolutist view that forward was towards the opponent’s goal, which by a process of elimination gave the penalty kick as the answer, while others took a relative point of view that forward was the way the kicker was facing and so reckoned a corner, with my reductio ad absurdum counter-argument that in fact you could back heel any dead ball so none had to go forward, falling on deaf ears; so a corner kick was included in our answer to be duly marked wrong.

Beginnings

Attended our final campus open day today with a two hour drive to the University of Cumbria, small but perfectly formed on the edge of the compact city of Carlisle; the weather over the Pennines was foul but cleared up on the return trip sufficiently to permit a detour to Piercebridge to have an early evening meal in the George Hotel, a strangely disconcerting place to mull over at which institution the boy’s independent adult life will begin, a prospect that would have seemed impossibly remote when his parents got married in that very room eighteen and a half years previous.

Red Riding Hood

Being the driver for the school trip to Hardwick Country Park generally means a good day out and today was no exception, with the weather mild and the multi-coloured leaves plentiful to collect and later stick on paper crowns; another highlight was hearing and re-enacting the story of Little Red Riding Hood (the sanitised version for five year-olds where the wolf just gets knocked unconscious by the woodcutter and transported safely to the wolf reservation and grandma is found locked in a cupboard) which had to be performed six times by my group of six boys as they all wanted a go at being the wolf but could only do so on condition that they agreed to also take a turn at being Red Riding Hood.

Monkton PB

The boy needing additional sprinting video footage for his college PE course sent us grumbling up the congested A1(M) on a wet Thursday night to Monkton Stadium at Jarrow, but the trip was worthwhile not only for the successfully recorded images but also for his surprise win; less surprising was beating his personal best time for sixty metres, as it was set eight years ago running outdoors as an under twelve athlete.

Thanks, Suckers

Spotting council workers in the village raking and blowing autumn debris off the green and paths into heaps to be vacuumed up, I took the opportunity to brush the growing carpet of soggy leaves off our driveway into their route, where they were sucked up and carted off.

Cask Night

An added attraction of the Vane Arms quiz night is the availability of guest cask ales, tonight White Rat (hoppy and golden) and Victoria (dark and tasty); the latter was the nearest I was going to get to victory, with the quiz including a picture round of fashion designers and a music round of arcane tracks on the theme of Halloween and Bonfire Night.

Rail Ranger

Taking advantage of a Northern Echo reader offer I purchased, for £10, an unlimited day pass on Northern Rail, not as good a deal as you may expect as the company’s services are limited to rather parochial lines, but I was able to plot a route from a fog shrouded Darlington to a grey Middlesbrough (involving five stops) and then to a blue-skied Hexham (fifteen stops), the latter journey enjoyably scenic in parts, first up the misty North Sea coast and then along the sunlit Tyne valley; a couple of hours in Hexham was enough to have a wander round and a good value lunch upstairs at the cosy ‘Deli at number 4’ opposite the Abbey before getting back to the station for the three hour return trip.

Riding Shotgun

The boy passed his driving test yesterday but having learned in a modern diesel powered Peugeot he now needs to familiarise himself with the twelve year old petrol-engine Fiesta, so it was back on the road with me riding shotgun as he practiced balancing an unfamiliar clutch and accelerator; not too scary with just one stall and one wheel-spinning getaway start that had me thinking I really was riding shotgun.

FA Trophy

The Trophy is the FA’s knock out tournament for the top end of the non-league pyramid and today’s first qualifying round pitted Darlington against Mossley, two teams that represent my current and (35 years) previous home towns; I have followed both teams to Wembley finals in this competition, Mossley in 1980 and Darlo in 2011, and today’s game, played in good spirit and (for once at Heritage Park) perfect conditions, mirrored the Wembley results – Darlington won and Mossley lost.

R and R

With my wife and son out, each pursuing their social life, I was left home alone (not unwillingly) to enjoy a bit of R and R - both rest and recuperation at the end of a busy half term holiday and, phonetically at least, reading and writing with a book finished and reviewed for the book blog and a match report finalised and posted on the football blog.

Credit Due

Some excitement today when my credit card company got in touch to check if I had suddenly attempted an out-of-character spending spree in the US that seemed to consist of pizzas, hotel rooms and on-line entertainment, but with my normal spending pattern being somewhat less exotic they were happy to accept my non-involvement, confirmed all transactions had been declined, said the account would be closed immediately and a new card issued within days; the RBS gets a lot of stick in the media but credit to them today for seeing off this attack.

Cats’ Chorus

When we are away the cats stay in very nice, exclusively feline, boarding accommodation but still, when picked up, voice their complaints loudly from the back of the car; and with two on board they coordinate their yowls and breathing most effectively to produce a sustained racket all the way home.

Time Travelling

Returned from Nottingham by sticking to the Great North Road in its alternating guises of A1 and A1(M), and though the journey seemed lengthy, and included a stop at Wetherby Services, I was shocked on arriving home and glancing at the mantelpiece clock to see nearly five hours had elapsed en route; then I realised that the household clocks were still on British Summer Time and I had in my own small way travelled back to the future.

Spectre

Went to see the newly released Bond movie with a mixture of anticipation and misgivings: anticipation driven by the media hype and heightened by a packed cinema where instead of the usual hushed murmuring during the adverts and 'coming soon' there was a rising babble of excited conversation; misgivings as to whether the stunts and shocks would outweigh any subtlety of plot, meaning and performance - Skyfall got it right, Spectre not so much.

Tapas

In Nottingham today to visit the younger daughter and her fiancé, and among the way-off wedding talk we dined at the Escabeche Tapas restaurant, covering the table with small dishes of excellent quality food that just kept coming as we all dipped into each other's choices - too many to mention but mine were a mushroom and pasta risoni, a seared salmon fillet with lime and coriander, and a fillet of Lamb served on a thin slice of aubergine.

Northumbria

Another Saturday morning, another university open day, this time Northumbria, based in Newcastle upon Tyne, where we found the City Campus had a good, vibrant feel to it; and of course the city has many attractions - the quayside, the theatre, galleries, shopping centre, and more dubiously the football club - all mirrored just over the river in Gateshead, including a football club playing poorly as I witnessed later watching them exit the FA Cup.

Stop Cock

While putting out the recycling this morning I fortunately ran into one of the boys from the black stuff who was taking up the masking tape used to get a protect the kerbstones and manhole covers from the tarmac slurry applied yesterday, so I was able to enquire about my now buried stop cock; he reckoned it was already uncovered but I knew better and after indicating the general area where I had last seen it, he was able to locate and pull up some more masking and reveal the unobtrusive metal plate under which that vital valve resides.

Daisy Chain

While scouring Stockton for upholsterers to renovate, or furnishers to replace, a couple of armchairs, comfy but battered by the cats’ claws and the boy’s bum, we called into the Daisy Chain Charity Superstore on Portrack Lane; it is a cavernous space but well laid out, with an interesting security system consisting a woman who challenges anyone who tries to leave without making a purchase – we mollified her by having cups of tea and bacon Panini in the pleasant café area, and by buying five paperback books for £2.

The Black Stuff

The village pavements are not paved at all, but smeared with tarmac slurry that after deteriorating alarmingly over the years is finally being relayed by two boys from the black stuff who arrived in a tar-splattered old lorry and who use what looks like an old road-sweeper’s cart to lay down the new surface; it may look tin pot but it seems effective as the sidewalks are steadily turning from shifting shades of grey to a firm and uniform black top.

All Change

My bank let me down today, unable to furnish my requested withdrawal of £60 in pound coins (needed to supply the boy’s daily dinner money for the next four weeks), their best efforts producing just £20 in two-pounders; I made the best of a bad job by then going into three shops and buying a £1 item (none superfluous to my needs) in each of them, so generating a bit more shrapnel for the dinner money tin.

Leaves

It has been a mild and, more relevantly, still autumn so far, which has kept the leaves where they look best – on the trees providing stunning displays of golden browns, oranges and reds that transform the roadsides of the most mundane industrial and housing estates into picturesque avenues; even better the same conditions have kept the leaves off my front lawn for the time being.

Top Rugby

On paper the second two quarter finals of the Rugby Union World Cup looked unlikely to be competitive but I thought I’d put the TV on and see how they went; they went very well providing a feast of open attacking rugby, with Argentina shocking Ireland by taking a substantial early lead, surviving a spirited comeback and then finishing with a flourish to win 43-20, while in the other game Scotland hung on to Australia’s coat tails before taking a late lead, only to lose 35-34 to a last minute, and dubious, penalty.

Material Girl

My wife likes little better than a good root around a fabric shop so news of a discount day sent her scurrying off to Leven Crafts in Guisborough for some bargain dress material, with my presence required to discuss the relative merits of the cloth on show; once in the shop, bolts were taken of shelves, unravelled, draped over shoulders, and found wanting in some aspect or another (in some promising cases it was the quantity that fell short) before finally a purchase was made enabling us to leave – after which the staff no doubt sighed with relief and began to put the premises back into some sort of order.

Community Centre

My tutoring takes place in a community centre, and the community it is in the centre of is a challenging (or challenged) one, as illustrated this morning when just outside my tutorial room (aka a cupboard) there was a commotion with a man demanding the primary school give him his kids (now!) to take away as they had allegedly suffered some sort of violence or intimidation; meanwhile in the adjacent meeting room an old chap was complaining about many things including abusive girls and knife-wielding boys, but why he was telling this to the man from the credit union is a bit of a mystery – perhaps he wanted a loan to buy a shotgun or was coming up with an excuse for his arrears.

Personal Statement

Provided some editorial assistance to the boy in completing the first draft of his personal statement which forms part of his university application, working to get some structure in and some spurious detail out; the actual content is, I think, encouragingly relevant to the course applied for, mainly due to several years of parental cajoling (i.e. bribes and threats) to get involved in competitions, courses, casual employment and volunteering activity.

Hobgoblin

The rhythm of the week has developed a small but significant element that on a Wednesday fills the lacuna between returning the minibus to school at four-thirty and getting my lift home at five; the half hour is just sufficient time to pop into the village pub and enjoy half a pint of Hobgoblin ale, a packet of flame grilled steak crisps, and read a chapter or so on the Kindle.

Spilt Milk

The top of the two litre milk container has embossed upon it ‘store upright when opened’ so I did, only to discover it sometime later sat in a pool of the old cow juice that had seeped out of a hole in one side; I decanted what I could fit into a jug, mopped up the mess and then, screwing the lid on tight, returned the container to the fridge in its pre-opened, non-leaking, non-upright orientation.

Opera House Dash

More through another’s misguided generosity than our own design we had tickets for the Monday night show at the Grand Opera House in York, necessitating a fifty mile drive down the A19 after work, a ten minute scamper across the city from the car park, a sixty second decision on a Tex-Mex menu, an anxious forty minute wait for the chicken fajitas and a ‘prairie’ burger to arrive, and a ten minute wolfing down of the same when it did, all of which enabled us to then stroll into the adjacent theatre foyer as the three minute bell sounded; once in our seats the non-stop action shifted to the stage with an energetic performance of Jesus Christ Superstar - great words and music of course but the quality of singing was variable on the night, both from the cast (apart from Mary Magdalene who was spot on throughout) and me in the car on the long drive home.

Sound Investment

After about a year’s umming and ahrring about the value of getting a sound bar for the TV to improve the acoustic quality from rubbish (somewhat inevitable when the speakers point backwards out of the rear of the flat screen job) to somewhere on the scale between acceptable and better than my ears can appreciate, I today bought one in Tesco that had three things going for it: made by Goodmans, which used to be a decent brand back in the old hi-fi days; inexpensive, supposedly half price at £50; and not too wide – most I have seen previously would have stuck out about a foot each side of the TV.

Bay Watch

Such is the cleverly named and well produced match-day programme of Whitley Bay FC, purchased today while attending their FA Cup third qualifying round game against Chorley FC, and it provides good value at £1.50 with its 36 pages containing plenty of reading, photos, statistics and even a half time quiz; watching the Bay proved good value too (£5 for a senior) as they gave as good as they got against their higher league opponents, producing a cracking cup tie before losing by the odd goal in five in front of 782 vociferous spectators – which in non-league terms almost constituted a crowd.

St Cuthbert's Way II

Starting where we left off yesterday, on a cloudier but still fine day, we were soon back on the banks of the Tweed, then Jedwater, before climbing up and over Cessford Moor to end up at our Inn in Morebattle, completing another ten mile leg.

Company Dinner

The walk worked up an appetite in us all, even the non-walking (knees even dodgier than mine) guest for the evening who, as ever, gave impetus to the flagging group; the dinner provided tasty food, good beer, lively conversation, and just great company to keep.

St Cuthbert's Way I

With, or despite, a combined wisdom in excess of three centuries, the five of us set off walking from Newtown St Boswells and soon reached the River Tweed, where the blue sky and bright sunshine brought out the stunning autumn colours of the tree-lined banks, with us until lunch (taken on a weir at the Mertoun Bridge); from there it was up a section of Dere Street past Lilliard's stone (commemorating a Scots heroine who fought and fell bravely hereabouts) and on to the Harestanes visitor centre, completing the ten mile leg, crucially just minutes before the tea shop there closed for the day.

Templehall Inn

Breaking our journey north up the A68 at the point where it crosses the line of Hadrian's Wall for a meal at the Errington Arms (last visited when we walked the wall) we arrived in Morebattle about nine-thirty and entered the bar of the Templehall Inn where we were greeted like long lost friends, not only by our long lost friend Dave but also by the few locals enjoying a drink therein.

Happy Dentist

I may be cynical but I thought what made a dentist happy was the prospect of a complicated and expensive intervention, however today my chap was happy that I needed no more than a quick scrape between the lower front teeth; as for me, I was ecstatic.

Key Issues

The first key problem arose when a neighbour locked herself out of the house (been there, done that, never again had a Yale lock on the front door), which we overcame via my ladders but thankfully someone else to climb up them and squeeze through the bathroom window; the second problem was a less dramatic but equally classic missing key scenario – that on, or rather not on, a tin of corned beef, but I remedied that one without assistance other than a pair of pliers and so was able to prepare, as planned, a rather good corned beef, potato, sweet corn and cheese (just a bit) pie for tea.

World Cup Exit

Yesterday’s packed schedule - university open day, FA Vase second qualifying round tie, and first cricket club quiz of the season – squeezed out the Rugby Union World Cup, including the crunch match between England and Australia, so it was lunchtime today before I steeled myself and turned on the recording to watch the not unexpected exit of the national team from the competition; the consolation is that when hope is extinguished, peace of mind follows.

Sunderland University

Today’s university open day was at Sunderland, at less than an hour’s drive away easily the closest contender for some student loan company cash, where a well organised event enabled us to check out the St Peter’s Campus next to the National Glass Museum and the more central City Campus, the latter housing some impressive sports science equipment; we each got involved in the demonstrations there, testing my coordination (not bad for an old ‘un), my wife’s balance (pretty good walking backwards in heels) and the force of the boy’ s left jab (definitely sufficient, as my dad would say, to knock the skin off a rice pudding).

PS4

I bought a Play Station 4 today, or at least I had to be present in the shop since the boy (not quite 18) was under age for some of the trade-in games; I passed that test by some margin and fortunately there was no test of competence on a console as I struggle even to turn it off when necessary - usually as part of my late night sweep of the house knocking off all the electronic gadgets and gizmos left on standby.

Roamers’ Logistics

Having settled on the walk route yesterday, today’ planning had a focus on logistics, coordinating the arrivals and departures of the diaspora of the Lloyd George House “class of 75” (yes it is 40 years since we departed that student house in Edinburgh; as well as working out how many cars we need to leave at the start and end points, I thought it prudent to identify a few “escape points” at which the way crosses A or B roads from where, if necessary, strugglers (possibly me) can just phone a taxi.

Roamers’ Route

I spent the afternoon looking in detail at the first stages of the St. Cuthbert’s Way walk route, checking distances and contours in an attempt to determine suitable sections for next week’s LGH old boys’ two day walking event in the Scottish Borders; given my recent knee troubles, “suitable” means no more than about ten miles and no challenging gradients, and I eventually managed not only to identify a gently undulating twenty miles that split well over two days but also optional add-on hills at each end for those who feel the irrepressible urge to go further and higher.

Library Find

I was surprised and pleased to find on the shelves of the mobile library a copy of ‘Go Set a Watchman’, Harper Lee’s follow-up (or pre-cursor) to her classic ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’; published just this year to some (if not all) bad reviews it will tick those two boxes on the reading challenge, but irrespective of that its curiosity value should make it worth reading.

Fun Day Monday

With my week for the time being structured around my work commitments Tuesdays to Fridays (albeit only two and a half hours each day) Monday has emerged as the day for trips, outings or just relaxation with time to catch up on my reading, writing or household admin; no outing today following yesterday’s trip down to Manchester so it was a case of reconciling the bank and credit card accounts and reviewing the finances (counts as fun for me), progressing Moby Dick (we have finally set sail), and writing up Saturdays FA Cup game on the football blog.

Long Awaited Meal

Drove down to Manchester to celebrate the first day of my Dad’s 91^st year with a family gathering and a meal at the Barton Arms in Worsley, a pleasant enough pub restaurant, built since my youth when I used to ride my bike down this way on along the adjacent Bridgewater Canal towpath; the food was pretty good and the prices very reasonable but the service was not so much slow as desultory as twice we had to send a delegation to search out the waiting on staff, remind them of our very existence and ask them first to remove used crockery and then offer some dessert (while some additional drinks never arrived at all), but we stayed cheerful throughout and filled the long gaps between courses catching up on family gossip, it being particularly good to see my far flung sister for the first time in over a year.

Photographic Memories

Ahead of tomorrow’s trip down to Manchester to celebrate my Dad’s 90th birthday I hauled out the crate of pre-digital photographs and made a selection to take with me of black and white prints, mainly taken on family holidays (when else in those days would you take a photograph given the hassle and expense of getting the film developed and printed); I got a couple scanned, enlarged, printed and framed (done while I waited at, of all places, Timpsons) to give my Dad – after all, as you get older, what is more valuable than good memories.

Birthday Card

Today, needing a card for my Dad’s special birthday tomorrow, I took a trip to the Card Factory shop only to be presented with the dilemma of whether to get a “90 today” card or a “happy birthday dad” card; with 90^th birthday cards clearly not a mass market (only three to choose from) I plumped for a suitable “dad” card, supplemented with an unexpectedly available and tasteful “90 today” sticker that saved me from attempting a do-it-yourself job with the felt tip pens.

Fish-less Pie

Fish pie, featuring smoked cod loin, salmon fillets and prawns, is one of my signature dishes, and having neglected it of late I decided to make one for today’s tea; an immediate setback was the absence of smoked cod loin on the fishmonger’s slab so instead I bought some smoked basa (a fish not previously heard of that looked similar but was considerably cheaper), and then in the hurly burly of the cooking, having applied the creamy mashed potato and cheese topping, I noticed the pawns still sat in their bowl on the worktop – so not one of my best efforts with two of the three key ingredients missing, and although the basa seemed an acceptable substitute the prawn garnish did not go down so well.

Learning Bus

Three weeks completed on the nursery bus run and we are all learning new things: I am learning the children’s names, how to reverse a big minibus into a small gateway, and how to play I-Spy when you are too young to spell; the children have learnt that when they get on the bus in the morning it is to take them somewhere nice (they cheer when we arrive) and that when they get back on the bus in the afternoon they should ask each other (repeatedly at the top of their voices) “did you have a good day”.

Cat v Stick

The white cat is under the impression that the rubber ferrule on the end of my elbow crutch is a new toy that he can stalk, pounce on, hold in his vice-like claws and chew; which would be fine if I wasn’t using it at the time to negotiate a path across the living room.

Code & Cross

Both words combine with word to give a word puzzle, which were today’s ‘sitting down while I rest my leg’ activity: the codewords I usually manage to solve, particularly if one of the given letters is a vowel; the crossword was in the BBC History magazine and so knowledge based rather than cryptic, but I gave it a good go and using Google to check / correct some guesses got there in the end.

Shredded Wheat

During a day resting a gammy knee the mind wanders to all sorts of trivia, including how much the packaging of shredded wheat has improved over the years, the biscuits now coming in well-sealed packs of two rather than the often gaping (staleness-inducing) packs of three – itself curiously inappropriate for a cereal that ran a whole advertising campaign around the inability of anyone (including the mighty Ian Botham) to eat more than two for breakfast; perhaps, rather datedly, they were designed to provide two for the man of the house and one for the little lady, but I’ve never known a woman (little or large) eat even one shredded wheat.

Feet Up

Whether it was the steep railway incline, the equally steep descent of Jackson’s Bank, or just the ten mile distance that did for my knee yesterday is uncertain, but whatever the cause the result is a need today to dig out my Naproxen tablets from the back of the drawer and the crutches out of the back of the barn in an attempt to make a swift recovery; also needed is rest, so it was without guilt that I put my feet up and watched the succession of opening games in the Rugby World Cup on TV, highlighted by Japan’s thrilling last gasp victory over South Africa.

Extended Walk

Did one of Tom Scott Burns’ Walks in the Cleveland Hills – this one going from Ingleby Greenhow along the track bed of the old Rosedale ironstone mining railway, including up the steep, straight and intimidating incline, along the top of Urra Moor then back down via Jackson’s Bank – that included interesting archaeological aspects, which along with details of the geology, flora and fauna feature prominently in Scott Burns’ commentary, more so in fact than the route does, making finding the right way tricky sometimes, like today when we lost concentration towards the end and as a result put an extra two miles on to the walk.

Coffee Stop

A bad morning with a couple of learners who show great tenacity in their determination not to learn; so to sooth my banging head I routed my drive to Newton Aycliffe (for shopping and banking) via Jacksons coffee shop in the industrial estate where a large latte and a proportionately large caramel slice did the necessary.

Fair Weather Football

With family commitments taking precedence on Saturday I not only missed the FA Cup ties that day but also the good soaking I would have got in the pouring rain; and my hopes of an accessible replay were fulfilled tonight when I was able to go to the King George V Stadium at Gainsborough to see a game that was not only well contested but also played in perfectly dry and still conditions.

Wet Weather Driving

When the rain pours like this morning and sections of the road disappear under puddles, pools, ponds and streams of surface water it is not much fun driving on our country lanes – unless you are in a minibus and then you can plough serenely on regardless; what is a problem, with eight children in sopping wet raincoats on board, is the water vapour inside the vehicle that continually condenses on the windows.

Tax Return

Although I had gathered the information and done the calculations a couple of months ago, only today did I pluck up courage to do battle with the HMRC on-line tax return submission system; however it all went smoothly and by the end I had not only submitted a valid tax return but also a confirmed I was due a substantial return of tax.

An Inspector Calls

Viewed the new BBC adaptation of the JB Priestley classic tonight with interest but felt the insertion of on-location flashbacks to supplement the characters’ testimonies added little drama and reduced the ambiguities and uncertainties that are such an important feature of the original; definitely third place behind the 1954 film version that had the incomparable Alastair Sim as the inspector and which better avoided the temptation to expand the setting, and the brilliant Stephen Daldry directed stage version we saw three years ago at Newcastle’s Theatre Royal.

Leeds Trinity

A wet day in Leeds was not the best one on which to visit one of the boy’s prospective university choices, but Leeds Trinity put on a good, well organised open day on their bijou campus on the edge of the city; whether it’s self-contained and supportive or isolated and claustrophobic depends on your point of view.

History’s Footsteps

On a fine afternoon I took a short, five mile, circular walk from Royal Oak that was packed with historic connections, heading down a remnant of  Dere Street along which Roman soldiers tramped en route from York to Scotland, then crossing the original line of the Darlington & Stockton Railway (no rails now - just a track), before returning through the gnarled and twisted ancient oak and birch trees of Brusselton Wood; on this last leg my route card failed me, a petering out path leaving me waist deep in ferns, through which I pressed on, creating my own historic route that, with good reason, no-one had ever used before (and probably won't again).

Potato Crop

Harvested the fifth of my six potato tubs, the three plants therein producing twelve smallish potatoes, which does not seem much of a yield to me; however they were beautifully formed and went well with the lightly smoked salmon fillets, steamed broccoli and cheese sauce at tea time.

School Run

It is a good few years since I had to do a regular school run (regularly late as my daughters often remind me) but my new role as a two-day-a-week nursery school bus driver requires me to get back behind the wheel and once more do battle with the rush hour traffic with three- and four-year-olds in the back, but with two important distinctions – there are a couple of minders in the back and I get paid; a third less welcome difference is that I have to be punctual.

Accounting for Taste

When people say there is no accounting for taste they must be unaware of the custom whereby retired accountants, like me, perform valuable auditing services to worthy voluntary organisations for no remuneration (while receiving the occasional non-pecuniary benefit); so it was today as I handed over a set of corrected and certified accounts and received in return several bottles of premium ales – hence proving that, for me at least, there is some accounting for taste.

Three Books in a Day

The 2015 Reading Challenge includes a book you can read in a day, a book written by an author with your initials (AP in my case), and a book set at Christmas, so “A New York Christmas” by Anne Perry at only 154 uncluttered pages looked a good bet when I found it on the library shelf, and today I easily romped through the lightweight crime caper; however it provided little in the way of plot, character, atmosphere or literary merit – such is the downside of reading challenges, but I tick three boxes and move on to better choices.

Bushed

A lovely day, as good as any seen over summer, was spent largely in the garden tackling our elderberry bush (more like a tree really), which having escaped our attention last year was heading up and over the barn roof threatening to impair our solar energy production; stage one, shinning up the ladders into the jungle canopy and lopping off branches was strenuous enough, but having left the lawn submerged in a foot or two of greenery (fortunately the numerous berries had not yet ripened otherwise it would have been squidgy and purplery as well), stage two entailed spending a couple of hours cutting it to size and bagging it up for the tip – which all left us, by teatime, somewhat bushed.

Crook Town

This football season my plan is to use the FA Vase competition to explore a few new grounds, and today the first qualifying round took me to Crook Town (FA Amateur Cup winners fifty years ago but now trying to recover from a relegation season that saw them concede 169 goals), whose home ground, now called the Sir Tom Cowie Millfield, has an expansive feel - a big pitch surrounded by grassy banks, with a terrace behind one goal, and a couple of rickety stands along one touchline; one of these is fitted with wooden benches and while the other meant for standing, the locals seem to have dragged out padded chairs from the bar to provide more luxurious seating, conveniently close to “Only Food and Sauces” (the ingeniously named refreshment hut), and from where they can view in comfort their team’s valiant but fruitless efforts, as they lose 0-2 to near neighbours west Auckland Town.

Non-mobile Library

Visited Sedgefield Library for the first time in a while, having transferred my allegiance to the mobile unit that comes into the village every three weeks, and as I wandered unhindered among the unfamiliarly large number of shelves I was able to locate a couple of books that will help me achieve my reading challenge.

Teaching Unknowns

Teaching maths began again today, although in which room, to whom, and to what qualification aim were three unknowns (not unusual with the disaffected client group) in my personal equation; the solution method in such circumstances is a mixture of trial and error and iteration, so I bagged a small room, waited to see who turned up, and taught them some basic number theory.

Reading Challenge

Checked up on how I was doing in the 2015 reading challenge to read 50 books covering 50 sometimes spurious categories and so far, with just my normal reading, I was able to tick off 31 (and a third – one category is a trilogy of which I am one book into) helped by the fact that one book can sometimes satisfy more than one category; for the same reason I worked out that I could complete the challenge with another 14 carefully chosen books, six of which I have in stock, four are identified but need procuring, leaving four to be determined (or three if I can find a play whose title contains antonyms).

Third Year, Third Place

Today marked the commencement of the blog’s third year and in harmony with it our team picked up third place in the pub quiz, helped by a couple of inspired answers that correctly named Sherlock Holmes’ dog (I didn’t know he had one either but apparently it shares its name with an old prime minister so a guess came home) and identified Chuck Yeager’s claim to fame (known due to reading Tom Wolfe’s excellent book on astronauts ‘The Right Stuff’).

Summer’s End

The late summer bank holiday, being as late as could be, signalled the end of (my calendar-based) summer with a grey day spent girding loins for the new academic year commencing tomorrow and the consequent switch from the unstructured continuum of the ‘six weeks’ holiday to the seven day rhythm of term time.

Tartan Games

For this last track and field meeting of the season, the Tartan Games at Gateshead International Stadium, the boy emerged from semi-retirement (or idleness as I term it) to run the 100m so we could film his technique for his college coursework; as to be expected after zero training he trailed in out of the medals but managed to keep ahead of a pretty speedy disabled athlete.

Magic Mo-ment

Having missed last week’s 10K race in Beijing I turned on the TV today in time for the 5K final and saw Mo Farah take on the rest in a race that started slow and tactical (with Mo employing the unusual tactic of making a lengthy diversion on an early lap to pick up a drink) but ended fast and furious, won predictably but imperiously by the main man Mo.

Fenland Norfolkman

It was a surprise when my wife suggested taking a six hour trip to Norwich aboard a charter train, the vintage diesel hauled ‘Fenland Norfolkman’, provided of course that we went ‘Premier Dining’ which meant first class and fine dining, but I readily concurred and so we got ourselves to Darlington station for the 07:18 departure and were soon tucking into our full English breakfast as the sunlit countryside passed by in yellows and green under skies of blue and white, through Yorkshire, Lincolnshire and over the pan-flat fenlands of Norfolk to Norwich; on the return journey the dining was not only fine but extensive, leaving us slumped in our roomy seats in the old but elegant intercity carriages, a little warm for a while as the vintage air conditioning did not so much fail as go into reverse, but comfortable again well before we pulled back into Darlington, on time, at 22:45.

Norwich

The destination of Norwich was attractive as I had never previously visited the city, and although the splendid weather showed it in its best light I was still impressed as we walked via the riverbank and Pulls Ferry to the cathedral (complete with cloisters), round the centrally positioned castle, and through the arcades to the busy open market, opposite which we stopped for a cool drink at Caley’s Café located in the attractive old Guildhall; at each tourist spot we found a different brightly decorated four foot high fibreglass dragon on a concrete plinth (providing a photographic challenge to avoid), their purpose unknown until we reached The Forum arts complex and read about the community arts project that had conceived, commissioned and installed them to provide a fun trail for the kids over the summer holidays

Not-so-good Drying Day

If a strong breeze makes for a good drying day then today was potentially a very good drying day, perhaps too good as shortly after loading up the two washing lines (risking 40 lashes from the flailing shirt sleeves and trouser legs) I glanced outside to see nothing flapping but a lawn strewn with hitherto clean laundry and a severed line; fortunately I had a new one ready and waiting, but unfortunately to affix its ends required leaning a ladder up against trees that were wavering in a near gale, however I managed and after a second lashing the only slightly soiled washing was re-pegged and set again for a very good drying.

Box of Memories

When my two daughters were aged seven & five I made two boxes out of chipboard and plastic joint blocks, one bigger than the other, on which they could stand to reach the otherwise unattainable heights of the kitchen worktops, sink and draining board and so begin to make a contribution to household chores, and although the girls are now in their mid-twenties the boxes have continued, despite increasing dilapidation, to serve various purposes in the house, barn and garden, often causing us to comment with a smile on their original purpose; but no more – the larger box was scrapped some years ago and today I finally dismantled (before it collapsed under me) the smaller, consigning the chipboard to the firewood store but retaining the plastic joint blocks as they could come in handy should I need to make a similar box for the next generation.

Fuel Shortage

While awaiting the delivery of heating oil (get it while it’s cheap) we pottered about in the garden and barn and by two o’clock both front and back lawns had been mown, paths weeded, borders tidied, barn de-junked, and even my ‘new’ dartboard mounted in there, but there was no sign of a tanker; enquiries revealed we had been bumped to tomorrow which was not good news, but at least I will be able to have few games of 301 while waiting.

Wynyard Rose Garden

In fulfilment of a birthday pledge we took my wife’s mother to Wynyard Hall to see the newly opened visitor centre and rose garden, and after an effusive welcome and a cup of tea on the sun-baked terrace we spent a good hour or so wandering the artfully arranged paths around the flower beds containing, among a strong supporting cast of other plants, 140 varieties of rose, as interesting for their names as their form and scent (with the small but helpful guide book putting names to petals) – including such as Jude the Obscure, Port Sunlight and Darcey Bussell; further treats were to follow with the café supplying interesting salads (and prosecco) and the shop some gourmet items such as the wild boar ragu and real pasta that we took home for tea.

Slow Start

I knew the Athletics World Championships were due to commence soon but absent-mindedly missed yesterday’s first day (and so Mo Farah’s win); I made up for the slow start by getting the TV on early today to see Jess Ennis-Hill complete her gold medal performance in the heptathlon, and then watched Usain Bolt overcome his slow start in the 100m semi-final and go on to beat Justin Gatlin in the final – to the relief of those who care about the integrity of the sport.

Pitch Perfect

Entering Shildon FC’s Dean Street ground for the first time this season I immediately noticed something different – the pitch was a strange green colour due to a lush covering of grass, when even at this time of year it is normally pale and patchy and just waiting to turn into mud and sand; the programme confirmed that much work had been done over the summer, presumably to support the team’s preferred passing style of play (and it worked today with a 2-0 win), but the question is how well it stand up to the rigours of  Northern League season?

Requiem

Today attended the requiem for a teacher whose insight, generosity, humour and positivity provided the highlight of possibly every single day of my son’s five years at secondary school, throughout which he was fortunate enough to have him as his form tutor; even the hour long Catholic mass could not diminish the rapt attention of family, friends, colleagues and ex-students who attended in numbers to say their final thankyous and farewells.

Cliff Hanger

Checked out of the Palm Court but before leaving Scarborough met up with my old walking buddy Pete for tea and cake at the St. Nicholas Café, which occupies the top station of the disused cliff lift – in fact we appeared to be sitting in one of the old carriages perched out above the cliff, with excellent views of the South Bay – in which we discussed the developing plans for the next instalment of Ancient Roam (our long distance walks) at …. a place to be revealed later.

Scarborough Luck

The summer season at Scarborough’s Stephen Joseph Theatre always tempts, and to make the trip worthwhile we like to arrive early and do the seaside bit before enjoying a pre-performance dinner and then staying over in a nice hotel, and all went well with a stroll along the prom, a drink in the Spa, a walk back along the now sun-drenched beach and back up into town (via a coffee at the quirky Solid Rock Café), a fine meal at Lazenby’s on York Place, and a comfortable room at the Palm Court Hotel, with the only discordant note being my splattering from a height by an incontinent seagull; some say this is good luck but evidence to the contrary was provided later when, in response to the fire alarm, we had to evacuate the theatre and stand in the rain until the fire engine came and went – perhaps the good luck was that it happened during the interval with no detriment to the show.

Neville’s Island

Enjoyed this excellent performance in the round, which pitches four colleagues on an outward bound management training exercise onto a fog-bound island in the middle of Derwentwater where, under the stress and humiliation of their situation, layers of civilization are peeled back to reveal, with alternate humour and drama, some uncomfortable home truths.

Rain

Today it rained, all day, not torrentially but incessantly, what we used to call persisting down, and the furthest I got from the house was the mobile library and the village hall pop-up café.

Grit

The boy’s underwhelming AS exam results could have made for a difficult return to college today, but our session with his tutor ended positively with a plan for his second year that will require effort and commitment – a bit of grit if you like; if only you could buy it by the 20 litre bag like the grit we purchased later in the day for the cats’ litter trays.