The Short Sighted Chef

My sister and I took our mixed feelings of sadness and relief to Monton Village in the hope of finding some solace in nostalgia as well as somewhere for a light lunch in that suburb of Eccles and erstwhile site of our secondary school, where much has changed in the intervening forty-five years, and our schooldays catering choice of a ham balmcake from the bakers or six-pen’orth of chips from the chippy has blossomed into quite a hot spot of café culture, from which we chose the Blind Pig “coffee, bar, kitchen”; the food quality was excellent though the chef may be as short sighted as the pig as our requests for no avocado on my club sandwich and no lemon mayo on my sister’s ciabatta both went unseen.

Last Arm Wrestle

The requirement for stronger pain relief for my dad sent my sister and me on a three hour trawl to the doctors’ surgery twice and three separate pharmacies (one of them twice) before we were able to source the stuff, even then, once administered by a nurse the desired effect of a calm and peaceful rest proved elusive and old fashioned gripping of the his hand seemed most effective, reminding me of when as a child we would arm wrestle and he would only occasionally let me win; tonight he was wrestling with something he could not beat and eventually, mercifully, he relaxed and peacefully surrendered.

It Takes Two

With my dad now bed-bound it takes two of the local authority contracted carers to twice daily tend to his needs, but both last night and this morning one of the pair arrived in advance of the other and, unsure if their colleague would turn up, made a start with me pressed into service as an untrained auxiliary for ten minutes until the second carer turned up just in time to sign out; thankfully by this afternoon the District Nursing service had assumed responsibility, and working in pairs did a super job this evening.

Clunk Click, Every Grip

On my trips down to Salford I take not only a small suitcase of clothes to see me through a few days but also a satchel bag containing essentials such as hudl, phone, chargers, book, diary, notebooks, puzzle books, tissues, mints, and glasses that combine to such a weight that placing the bag on the passenger seat of the car requires the seat belt to be fastened around it to prevent the warning beep being triggered; at least it is comforting to know that in the event of a crash my belongings won’t be ejected via the windscreen.

Libraries

Maintaining the ‘use it or lose it’ approach, this morning I visited the mobile library that for the time being is still calling at the village every three weeks, and yesterday spent my regular hour in the reading room of the Central Library in town; however my patronage is likely to be in vain as the local council, submerging under the tidal wave of austerity, is planning to scrap the van and even worse sell off the fine old building, relocating the service to the leisure centre where it will become a sad adjunct to a busy swimming pool instead of a purposeful centre for reading, research and quiet contemplation.

Grey Crowned Bus

Monday is the day the weekly bus service runs into town from the village, and working on the principle of ‘use it or lose it’ I have become a regular commuter, joining a select group who climb aboard, each clutching a bus pass permitting free travel; mind you the pieces of plastic are superfluous as the driver could just scan the hair colour to confirm eligibility – all shades of grey in evidence with the only exception being the odd bald geezer.

Potto Luck

A quiet day in today that gave time to reflect on last night’s quiz at Potto Village Hall, our second visit to this annual fund-raising event, where eleven teams of eight were given a good grilling by a well-practised quizmaster who clearly loves the job and supports the questions with projected images on a big screen and witty asides; some good rounds and overall very enjoyable (including the pie & peas) and, combined with some good luck on the raffle, we had not a bad result, finishing just out of the prizes in fourth place.

Rhucello

Our annual visit to the Bishop Auckland Food Festival meant we could fill our baskets with produce from our favourite stalls – curries from Spicy Monkey, cakes from Tarte & Berry, cheese from Parlour Maid – as well as new treats - sausages, bacon & pies from William Peat’s and more sausages from Mainsgill Farm; another intriguing novelty was a bottle of Rhucello, a rhubarb based liquor in the style of limoncello, that should equally well spice up a glass of Prosecco.

Clearing the (Cheese) Board

With the Bishop Auckland Food Festival on tomorrow I thought it wise to create some space in the cheese box for the tasty varieties we will no doubt purchase there; most of the Wookey Hole cheddar was consumed for lunch and at suppertime the Blacksticks Blue was reduced to the scale of blacktwigs blue.

Whitby Town

As a precursor to this evening’s big match at Whitby Town’s Turnbull Ground I met up with walking pal Pete for an afternoon stroll along the coast to Sandsend where we sat in the sun and partook of a cup of tea and enormous piece of almond slice at the beachside café before walking it off on the return to Whitby to make room for classic fish and chips for tea; the match itself fulfilled its potential to crown Darlington 1883 as champions of the Northern Premier League (and secure a third promotion in four years) in some style, the visitors going 5-0 up in twenty minutes and ending up 7-1 winners in front of a 1,800 spectators, most of whom had like me made the way over the moors early and had given the fish & chips based economy of the seaside town a bit of a mid-week boost.

In Sit You

Two coats of yacht varnish applied and dried, the garden bench was restored to its place in the garden, in situ just as the weather warmed up sufficiently to spend, this afternoon, a pleasant half hour sat reading in the sunshine.

No Brexit

A quiet day, as with most Tuesdays, mainly spent preparing tomorrow’s maths lesson plan and materials, so I was able to ponder a moment or two on the EU referendum campaign, and while it is a complex issue shrouded in a fog of misinformation any way forward led by Michael Gove, Nigel Farrage and Boris Johnson (not so much the good, the bad and the ugly as the smug, the mad and the cuddly) is likely to send me scurrying in the opposite direction.

Undercover Marcella

The Sunday night drama slot on BBC is currently filled by ‘Undercover’ (trying manfully to maintain the standard set by ‘War & Peace’ and The Night Manager’) which now is followed twenty four hours later on ITV by the Anna Friel fronted ‘Marcella’; each is a complex modern day thriller (although Undercover does flash back twenty years, unhelpfully to a time when the protagonists fail to look or dress twenty years younger) that on its own would take concentration to keep track of, but in tandem, both set mainly in London with a bewildering array of minor characters (who may turn out to be not so minor and would fit comfortably in either show), both with a key witness bumped off this week, and with both heroines having dodgy partners the two of them are starting to merge in my mind – both leading ladies even throw wobblers at times of stress, and I could follow suit soon.

Feel the Noise

A bright but cool day could have been spent quietly pottering in the garden but for a garden party a few doors down the street that for some reason required as a soundtrack a pop music radio channel complete with jabbering DJ and inane jingles played at distortingly high volume; with no prospect of quiet we joined in (or retaliated) with a medley of lawn mower and, more tellingly, chainsaw before retiring indoors.

Seel Park

The home ground of Mossley FC enjoys an elevated position which makes it a little exposed but provides great views of the Saddleworth Hills if the action pales – no danger of that today as the home team and visitors Farsley Celtic served up a lively three-all draw; weather wise it was a game of two halves as I spent the first forty-five sat on concrete steps in the sunshine, then spent the second forty-five sheltering under cover from the sleet and hail.

Bullseye

My dad’s late night viewing choice, in the absence of any sport on the terrestrial channels, is Bullseye, the 1980’s game show combining darts and quiz, a strangely compulsive offering on channel 46 that provides an authentic view of the decade from the mullet hairstyles and polyester based clothing to the ultra-desirable (in that era) prizes - tonight’s included a VHS recorder, Atari computer (and games), crystal sherry glasses and decanter, a stacked hi-fi system and a plastic patio table with matching chairs; the prizes may pale in comparison with Ant & Dec’s ‘win the ads’ but at least the audience show some decorum and the contestants are rewarded for genuine skill (with the arrows) and proper general knowledge.

Salford Diet

Back to my dad’s for the first time in three weeks, but little changes down there and my usual lunchtime treats of a meat pie and egg custard tart were waiting for me, as well as, to be enjoyed with the football highlights tonight, cans of Salford’s finest – Boddington’s Bitter.

New Term

My wife and son were back at school and college on Monday, and today I too resumed classes; surprisingly so did my learner - so that has used up the lesson plan a bit early and means I have to prepare another for next week.

Fixing the Roof

The roofers who started some maintenance work on the roof to the rear of the house yesterday finished the job this morning, initially to my complete satisfaction, and left, after which I spotted, only visible from the end of the garden, a gap in the tiles and a brush-head in the gutter; fortunately the gaffer was calling later with the bill so he was able to shin up the ladder, put the offending tile back in place, and retrieve his brush before making off with the money.

Be Prepared

My boy scout first aid knowledge was tested last night having burnt the palm of my hand on the ceramic hob when I absent-mindedly decided to see how warm it was before I put some plates on top (it wasn’t warm, it was exceedingly hot) and once my brain had registered the pain it correctly shifted the hand into a bowl of cold water (to restrict the damage?) and then seemed to think smearing it with ointment and putting it into a disposable vinyl glove (to keep the air off?) was a good idea; luckily the treatment worked well and today all I had to show for the incident was a couple of shiny tender patches on my palm and a bit of burnt skin on the cooker.

Park Life

A lovely spring day with bright sunshine and blue skies, so we took one of our favourite strolls around Hardwick Country Park where we did feel a bit of an odd couple - no kids, no dog, no bike and no pushchair; however it did make fitting into the café easier than for those encumbered with, in some case, all of those.

Grass Roots Football

Part of the attraction of non-league football is the proximity of the action, where you can park the car close enough for it to get hit by a ball hit wildly over the bar (and the stand), and you can stand adjacent to the pitch to see the action close up, and even join in by returning the ball when it bounces over the barrier; a less welcome element of grass roots football is when the mud off a flailing boot flies, as today at Bishop Auckland, into your carton of chips to leave you picking out some more literal grass roots.

TGI Not Friday Often

On the last day of the Easter school holidays we dragged the boy into the open air for a short walk up and down the Tees at the Barrage where we scouted out the new ‘high ropes’ attraction (busy due to the holidays), watched some paddlers on the white water kayak course, then headed over to TGI Friday’s to reward him with some lunch; as ever it was busy, noisy, and full of excited kids (each provided with a balloon to wave, noisily rub or burst according to taste) so the service was slow, however the food was good and filling enough to obviate the need for any more meals during the day, and I look forward to my next visit in another twelve months or so.

Pie & Polenta

I gave the new recipe book a try and produced a couple of chicken and chorizo bean pot pies with a chilli polenta pastry crust, which turned out quite tasty; in fact the most difficult thing was locating the polenta in Sainsbury’s as I searched through sixty-three varieties / brands of flour before realising it was (sensibly enough) in another aisle with the pulses.

Chain Saw Seen

The case of the disappearing chainsaw was solved by the age-old method of looking for one thing and finding another; seeking out some long-forgotten copper coins for a charity event at the weekend I found the missing power tool on a low shelf in the barn, so the father-in-law is now blameless and off the hook, but some wood is going to get seriously cut down to size.

Efforts in Vane

Tonight was one of our better efforts at the Vane Arms pub quiz, finishing just two points behind the winners, yet this was only good enough for fourth place in a tight finish; still the beer was good and the chips free so the disappointment was easily borne.

Leftovers

A bit of a tidying up leftovers theme this evening as I combined the remnants of last night’s chilli with the surplus mashed potatoes from Sunday’s sausage and mash to feed the boy and myself, and utilised the last rasher of bacon in the fridge to produce an omelette for my wife’s tea; I later scraped out the Philadelphia carton onto some crackers, stuck on the scraps of unused grated cheese (that didn’t make it onto the chilli or omelette) and washed this supper down with a whisky mac that drained the last dregs from my current bottle of Famous Grouse.

Chain Saw No See

You would think it difficult to misplace something as big and unwieldy as a chain saw, but when during a long session of cutting up the lopped tree branches I looked for some mechanical assistance for the bigger boughs it was nowhere to be seen; I suspect my father-in-law is the non-returning borrower culprit but he denies the offence and as he is an ex-copper I will need some hard evidence to secure a conviction.

Heads You Win

The big game in the Northern League pitted top of the table Shildon against second placed Marske United (sixteen points behind but with an extra five games to play) but it turned out to be no contest particularly in the air as uncontested Shildon headers scored three goals and set up a fourth, so the game was over even before the home team rattled in a fifth with an unstoppable free kick to end the match with the ball, familiarly, in the Marske net.

Few Witnesses

An enjoyable theatre night took in a couple of tasty ‘early bird’ pasta dishes at the Tuns in Sadberge before heading off into Darlington to see ‘Dial M for Murder’ at the Civic; the cast did the classic thriller proud, presenting the intricate plot with pace and clarity, the only negative being the disappointing size of the audience which meant there were pitifully few witnesses to this murder.