The Dog on the Stage

Thanks to the elder daughter's Christmas present my wife and I headed off to Newcastle's Theatre Royal to see the National Theatre's production of 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time', cleverly transformed from Mark Haddon's excellent book (read many years ago) into an entertaining and moving piece of theatre, the spare set (reminiscent of some 3D illuminated graph paper) forming a flexible backdrop against which the cast created whatever, wherever or whoever was needed to back up a great lead performance.

Old Town House

This year’s get together for the old management team took place appropriately enough at the Old Town House, a stylish, welcoming and well-appointed bijoux hotel and restaurant in Durham City; the set lunch menu, with four or five choices for each course, was excellent value for money and my choices (smoked haddock and hot salmon roulade, herb rubbed chicken breast in a lemon & garlic linguine, strawberry cheesecake) were just perfect, overall a fine setting in which to discuss old times and new interests.

Snow

The first proper snowfall of the winter hereabouts, and on the one day of the week I work, which meant a slow, slippy-slidey drive through the morning rush hour for the nine am start; at least my two learners turned up, stayed for the session, and only playfully bombarded me with snowballs as I left at twelve.

Royal Mail

Things may change post-privatisation, but for me the Royal Mail provides a good value for money service, recently getting an item from up here in the North East to the furthest point in the South West in under 24 hours; of course the worry is always that once something is consigned to the red pillar box there is no absolute certainty that it will arrive at all, so for two items prepared today, containing some original (and problematic to replace) documents, supporting a tax repayment and the feed-in-tariff application, a trip to the Post Office will be needed to utilise the ‘proof of delivery’ system – still a snip at just £1.72 to get it there next day.  

Well (i) Played

I have been somewhat dismissive of the on-demand TV services, partly because there is so little unmissable on offer, and partly as I assumed the programme would come across jerky and buffered to bits, however having managed to miss the opening episode of Wolf Hall I gave it a shot tonight and was pleasantly surprised at the quality of sound and picture, even on my Hudl; of no surprise was the quality of the production – sets, costumes, script, acting all superb – vintage BBC drama.

Sale of the Centuries

I am not usually one for the new year sales but having bought (and more importantly read) the last two editions of the BBC History Magazine at the cover price of £4.60, the January sale offer of the next five issues for £1 each was too good to miss.

Cup Shocks

This season my round by round attendance at FA Cup ties went well up to Round 1 at Hartlepool but then other commitments took priority and I have seen none since, and only saw last night’s Round 4 TV highlights today, when I was surprised that the Man City game was not first up on MOTD (having been gleefully informed of the result by Boro fans while out last night) but soon realised why as Chelsea crashed out in even worse fashion; with Swansea losing too and three other premiership clubs (Man Utd, Liverpool & Sunderland) failing to beat lower league opposition, it was definitely a day for the underdogs with the journeymen taking the fancy-dans down a peg or two.

Burns Night

A day in advance of the actual night, nine of us left the village by minibus to join a Burns Night celebration at the Croft Hotel, although not so much join it as be it, with only one other couple also in attendance, but credit to the hotel for honouring the booking and persevering regardless with the Caledonian themed food (cock-a-leekie soup, haggis neeps and tatties, inch thick Scottish beef with a whisky enhanced gravy, some much-maligned cranachan, macaroons and a nip of single malt) and music from a violinist (fiddling while Burns roamed?) and a virtuoso piano-accordionist (who somehow incorporated familiar TV theme tunes into the relentless highland reel he was playing); we had a good night and even stumbled our way through some dances – our strip the willow earning an encore – before climbing back aboard the bus for the short hop home.

PIzza Delivery Man

I rarely make pizza these days, at £4 for two at Morrison's (tasty too) why bother but I was cajoled to play the pizza home delivery man for tonight's DVD movie night and whipped up a couple -chorizo & pepperoni and sweet chilli chicken - that went down quite well; however I thought the text from my wife (sat on the next sofa) to order acup of tea was taking the role play a bit too far.

Boy to Man

With the bulb blown in the boy’s favourite room and my stiff neck remaining a hindrance to looking skyward, it was time today to initiate my son into the manly task of changing a light bulb; he did it admirably, proving if you’re big enough to reach it, you’re old enough to change it.

Bulldog Clip

Things arriving in the post that do not require immediate attention find themselves in the grip of my biggest bulldog clip where they stay until a day when necessity, whim or an urge for admin takes hold; such was today and the various items were methodically dealt with as appropriate – filled in & filed, submitted & sent off, discarded & destroyed – until all that was left was a double Nectar points token, looking lonely and forlorn, like a rag doll in the grip of a mastiff, sorry its use by date hadn’t expired allowing it to be binned with its older fellow vouchers.

Benefits

Providing some private maths tuition for a neighbour’s child tends to produce, in addition to a modest stipend, some benefits in kind; tea and biscuits are a given, last week I came home with some freshly baked bread, and today my complaint of a stiff neck brought forth a heat pack that was duly charged and draped around my neck for the duration of the lesson.

Snowdrop

A thin layer of snow on the ground and some wintry sunshine made for an inviting scene but, with accounts to do, I got no further than the back garden to burn some confidential waste; there, peeping out of the melting snow, was the welcome sight of the first, tiniest, snowdrop of the year.

No Masterchef

A cold day with swirling snow was one for staying indoors and watching the Masters snooker (a one-sided affair with Shaun Murphy racing to an unassailable 5-0 lead over Neil Robertson) before preparing a shepherd’s pie for tea, however my usual mastery of the dish deserted me: I forgot to include the peas with the mince so had to simmer them separately; my swede, despite being boiled for almost an hour, would only combine with the potatoes once extreme violence was perpetrated on it with the masher, and even then the resulting volume looked a bit short and needed a comb-over technique to produce a complete layer over the meat; finally, having put it in the oven and started the washing up, I discovered the grated cheese was still in the grater; it is possible I was distracted by the radio commentary on Man City losing to Arsenal but I did eventually manage to rescue a good result (unlike Man City and Neil Robertson).

Mood Lifter

A day to lift my wife's mid-January mood: booking a February half-term city break in Barcelona: lunching on panini in the classy Aubergine cafe; and an evening in with a good DVD and a tasty Indian take-away.

Taxing Time

With two weeks to the deadline for submission of tax returns I made a start on my sister’s accounts for 2013; fortunately they don’t take long to do, after which I can make abusive responses to the irritating HMRC reminders on the radio with a clear conscience. 

No Life

My learner today was inattentive, unable to resist playing a game on his phone, and his excuse - “Angry Birds is mint and if you haven’t played it you’ve never lived” – made me reconsider the last 62 years: attending school for A-levels, university for a degree, and polytechnic to qualify as an accountant; 15 years working in one of the finest town halls in the North of England interacting with some of the wackiest left-wing politicians of the time followed by 20 years keeping a college financially afloat in stormy economic and political waters, with a year of self-employment between; playing at least 8 sports competitively (excluding darts, pool and snooker) and watching some top class events at iconic venues; reading over 1,000 books; walking the Cleveland Way, the Tees Valley Path and Hadrian’s Wall; owning, driving and swearing at 11 cars; owning, living and weeping in 6 houses, and otherwise occupying space in another dozen or so; travelling widely in the UK (to every English county and most Welsh and Scottish) and holidaying in most of Western Europe, and America twice; plus personal highs and lows not to be detailed here - but apparantly it all counts for nought if you’ve never played Angry Birds.

Chocolate Drop

Later than usual (due to other priorities) I today ventured into the temporary tip known as the barn where the non-perishable detritus of Christmas has been piled up awaiting sorting, recycling and disposal; and among the cardboard boxes being collapsed I found reward for my industry in the form of a box of chocolates discarded with the bottom layer of treats lying untouched (but not for long).

Revised Reading

My mental list of early year reading treats has had to be revised with the BBC’s serialisation of Wolf Hall commencing later this month, and although I read Wolf Hall over the summer I now need to follow up with Bring Up The Bodies, to ensure I keep ahead of the TV, which will include the sequel; it is no chore of course as the first volume was excellent, and at least its events and extensive cast of characters are still relatively fresh in my mind.

Home Posting

My tour of filial duty in Birmingham ended today with an incident free drive North back to home comforts – wife, son and cats; a home cooked (by me) meal; a hot shower; and an internet connection allowing the backlog of e-mails to be dealt with and arrears of blogs to be posted.

Sainsbury’s

Under-reported in the annals of my sojourn in Birmingham has been the role played by the Northfield branch of Sainsbury’s, which has provided warmth and sustenance on more or less a daily basis: the café (open fashionably late) with tea, coffee, meals, scones and more custard tarts than strictly necessary; the shop with eminently edible microwavable meals and Sunday papers; and the petrol station with fuel to get home, supplied at market leading low prices - all of which leads me to believe that my Nectar card is now the most valuable item in my wallet.

St Andrews

Second on the list of places to visit while in Birmingham turned out to be the home of the city’s football team (it being Saturday afternoon and the only game in town) but on the way I got my first wander around the Bull Ring, which was quite an impressive centrepiece to the city, possibly worth revisiting with more time on hand;  as it was I found a blue and white scarf to follow and after 25 minutes got to St Andrews where I saw a good even game (Birmingham City 3 Wigan Athletic 1)  amid a friendly and welcoming crowd of Brummies, and even got a chance to join in their long-standing anthem “Keep Right On to the End of the Road”

Bournville

From Northfield’s Victoria Common I followed an intriguing path signposted ‘Bournville Village’ that took me through three or four linked suburban parks before eventually emerging opposite the gates of the Cadbury factory; and though the Cadbury World tourist attraction was closed, the village itself was charming with The Meeting Place tea rooms well able to banish any regret at missing out on the chocolate with a splendid slice of caramel apple betty and an excellent pot of tea.

New Normality

A year ago, today’s events would each have been noteworthy, but now they are notable only as representing the new normality; I resumed tutoring my now regular Thursday morning maths class (starting the graphs topic without drama); then drove the well-worn route to Manchester Airport to drop off my Mongolia-bound daughter; then continued down the M6 (slowly) to resume residence at the Birmingham hospital where my dad is recovering from his surgery.

Last Suppers

A quiet day ahead of tomorrow’s departures, which were presaged by a good early-bird tea at The Talbot in Bishopton; my daughter savoured a couple of favourites difficult to come by in Mongolia (salmon and cider) while I favoured a slow roasted lamb shank before I return to Birmingham to resume relations with a microwave.

Four Exhibitions and a Monument

Undertook my roughly annual visit to mima (Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art) where four exhibitions were on offer: International Exchanges – classic modern art including works by Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicholson and even a Jackson Pollock; Diary Rooms – a revealing collection of notes written by serving soldiers in Afghanistan collated and presented by Derek Eland; Contemporary Jewellery – some too stunning to possibly wear; and Naming – a David Lynch (of twin Peaks renown) collection of art, photos and video; then, just outside, the Bottle of Notes – a monument celebrating the maritime and industrial heritage of Teesside, with the bottle made of words from Captain James Cook’s log, fabricated in locally worked steel.

Giant Wombles

Despite the third round of the FA Cup being spread over five days, other demands and an unlucky draw meant I was unable to take in a live game, but tonight’s televised tie provided a good game with AFC Wimbledon making Liverpool work hard for their win; impressive for Wimbledon was centre forward Adebayo Akinfenwa whose bulk belied his mobility and skilful feet, but he still left me wondering which Liverpool player ended up drowned in his swapped shirt, which would have easily fitted the home team mascot (surely a giant Womble) padding and all.

Yule Log

"A log shaped chocolate cake eaten at Christmas" confirmed the Oxford English Dictionary, so why make and sell one of my festive treat choices with a best before date of 14 December; my inattention to one eat by date had made me legless at Christmas but I refused to let the oversight of another make me log-less at New Year, and so tucked into the aging confection anyway.

Catching Up

With all the comings and goings over the holiday period, today was about catching up: first on events at home, second by posting the blogs held up by lack of WiFi during my sojourn in Birmingham, and third by finally watching the Christmas Day edition of Downtown Abbey (which I found both predictable and enjoyable).

Handover

My sister arriving in Birmingham enabled me to hand over filial duties and return home (for a few days at least) but not before sharing a couple of hours over tea/coffee and custard tarts; also handed over were the key cards to the room and key, hard-earned advice on how to get by as a full time hospital visitor.

Happy New Knee

Such was my greeting to my Dad this morning after yesterday’s surgery, and despite the post-operative pain and discomfort he looked and sounded better than he has for a while, with a weight of worry clearly off his shoulders, and his main concern as I left him for the night was whether or not the ward TV would be turned on and tuned in to Match of the Day by ten-thirty.