Teesside University

Despite having attended open days at four other universities in the North of England, our prospective student has chosen to pursue his higher education at our local Teesside University, and today I accompanied him there and while he went off to complete some admin I tried to see the place through the fresh eyes of an undergraduate rather than the jaded ones of an ex-college-manager who had spent too many hours there in unproductive meetings and token staff development sessions; I failed.

Cue: Gardens

This late spring bank holiday weekend is the cue for a last opportunity to get the garden into final shape for the summer, with planters filled and hanging baskets hung out; yesterday’s visit to the garden centre and subsequent planting session was followed today by the ceremonial placing of the planters and baskets at the front of the house (and at the back of the house the ceremonial toasting, with cider and cocktail, of a job well done).

Marks for Effort

Lured by the prospect of a new pub quiz we settled into the King’s Arms at Great Stainton and waited patiently, but fruitlessly, for the inquisitor to arrive; fortunately a local resident rescued the event, popping home to run a couple of rounds off the internet and making a creditable effort as stand-in quizmaster (although errors in one answer, and even one question, had to be pointed out) - and the outcome was a bunch finish in which we missed out by a point, with our disappointment ameliorated by both some tasty interval nibbles and a second prize of a meal voucher for four.

Money Laundering

In my role as household laundryman I often pick up a bit of loose change, like yesterday’s freshly washed 20p piece, but today was a better earner as while loading the washer I detected a crinkling sound in a pocket of the young man’s shorts and promptly pulled out a crisp £10 note.

Short Back and Front

Not an edgy hair cut but the state of the garden’s grassed areas once I had finished a mowing marathon, just in time to put out the deck chairs, pour the drinks, and make the most of a sunny end to the afternoon.

Imperfect Ten

Microsoft’s determination, despite my constant declining, to update my laptop to Windows Ten is becoming worryingly persistent, and it nearly succeeded today while the computer was switched on but snoozing with a blanked out screen, as suddenly it flashed into life informing me it was 2% through the update and no amount of mouse-clicking, Ctrl/Alt/Del pushing, or router disconnection could stop it; at 5% I resorted to the good old turn it off and on again routine, which eventually brought up the old familiar Windows 7 Home Premium and the welcome message “Windows 10 update could not be completed, try again?” – no bloody thanks.

King Lear

This afternoon’s jaunt to see King Lear at the Grand Opera House worked pretty well, finishing work at noon, getting a fast train (25 minutes) to York to arrive in plenty of time for the matinee, and enjoying from a good seat in the circle for an intense three hour performance from a good cast led by veteran thespian Michael Pennington; false flattery, duplicity, usurpation, madness, torture, adultery, murder and suicide with only two of the cast left standing by the final curtain – what’s not to like.

Man at Work

Caught up with the third and final program in ‘Grayson Perry’s All Man’ series on Channel 4, revealing not only of the aspects of masculinity he was investigating and seeking to represent in art, but also of his creative process – observation and distillation was the focus of the program but the variation in media and techniques used was impressive producing some stunning pieces full of depth, meaning and in some cases beauty.

Shed Full of Stuff

My dad liked nothing better than mauling about in his shed, as evidenced by the tools and ironmongery accumulated in there over the last forty years, that no doubt included stuff transferred from his previous two sheds, and probably also items inherited when his dad passed away; now it was my turn to cherry pick the stock (all old but things were made to last in those days) either for my own use - a vice, some metal chisels, a tile-splitter - or as a starter set for his grandson whose mauling-about-in-the-shed gene will no doubt emerge sooner or later.

Sweepstake

The good thing about buying into an office sweepstake for the Euros football tournament next month is that interest can often remain beyond England’s early elimination; however as I have drawn England out of the hat, this time I will not have a second team to cheer on and both my emotional and financial hopes will be firmly fixed on the home nation – such hopes not exactly boosted by today’s performance in the friendly against Turkey.

Losing Ten Years

Today it was the turn of the family to celebrate the coming of age its youngest with an excellent meal out at the Blacksmith’s Arms, followed at home with cups of tea and birthday cake, a monstrous grey lump (representing a climbing wall) surmounted with the numeral 8; it should have been 18 but somewhere between the cake shop and home ten years disappeared in the boot of the car never, despite exhaustive searches, to be seen again.

Birthday Barbecue

The boy, now young man, had friends over for a birthday barbecue, for which a borrowed marquis proved invaluable, once erected in a semi-gale it held up well, keeping off the initially light rain, then heavier showers, and combined with the old quarter-size pool table in the swept out barn provided a good setting for an enjoyable evening; they certainly have a good appetite at eighteen as I cooked and they ate the best part of a cow in burgers and sausages.

Job Done

As the boy becomes a young man on his eighteenth birthday my parental responsibilities (legally at least) end with a job well enough done, including, in rough chronological order: changing nappies, rocking to sleep, pushing prams, reading stories, taking to primary school, building sandcastles, enduring Disney rides, building Lego, dragging to swimming lessons, football kickabouts, school parents’ evenings, skimming stones on the beach, Eurocamping, cricket practice and matches, road trips to Wembley, athletics meetings, exams, and driving lessons.

Dibley Lives

With the Vicar of Dibley sitcom no longer on our TV screens the next best like entertainment is provided by the annual meeting of the village parish council at which residents can (and do) make comments and ask questions of the Chair and Clerk; tonight’s topics ranged from the sublime (“why are we paying to repair the church tower clock when the Church of England is the richest landowner in the country”), through the mundane (lack of bus service, dog fouling, speeding cars and inconsiderate parking – which to be fair does reduce the speeding cars), to the ridiculous suggestion of a village event to mark the Queen’s 90^th birthday, not when it happened a month ago but on her “official” birthday next month which will be her 64^th such – hardly a ‘biggy’ that one.

Marcella

In contrast to Undercover, the ITV serial Marcella managed to tie up most of its plotlines with an excellent reveal in tonight’s final episode, my only criticism would be the liberties taken with the police procedure, with personal conflicting interests, cover ups and doctored evidence that were huge even by police drama standards; maybe it should have been set in South Yorkshire?

Undercover Undiscovered

The BBC Sunday night thriller concluded last night, but only in the sense that the last episode occurred leaving me, for one, very much in the dark about who did what and, more importantly, why (not helped by lead characters having key conversations in plain sight but out of earshot of the hapless viewer); were the loose ends just sloppy writing or, more likely, deliberate ploys to pave the way for Undercover 2, which would be an undercover too far for me.

Gazebo Enigma

My predilection for puzzles was given a 3D challenge today as the boy and I worked out how to put together, without the benefit of instructions, the frame of a borrowed gazebo from its 54 pieces, several of which had their joints bent, deformed or had their connecting clickers out of place; inspired by last night’s DVD viewing of “The Imitation Game” we cracked the code, fixed the faulty bits, and produced a plan that will enable us to erect it for real for a barbecue later this week.

Supermarket Sweep-up

While packing up our supermarket shopping at Aldi a dish, procured earlier in the morning, inexplicably leapt out of one of my wife’s bags on the worktop and shattered on the floor sending fragments to all points of the compass, resulting in a call for an assistant and brush to sweep up; she has previous form, though last time the shattered item was a large jar of pickled eggs (and boy don’t those slippery sob’s travel some distance) but to be fair that was a long time ago – actually a lifetime as then she was heavily pregnant with the boy and today’s broken dish was destined to hold nibbles at his imminent eighteenth birthday party.

Ubiquitous Sausage

Trying out the early bird menu at the Blacksmith’s Arms in Brafferton we found our choices strangely dominated by chorizo as the boy’s starter consisted a bowl of the stuff and my main though billed as pan fried sea bass on a chorizo salad was more like pan fried chorizo on a sea bass salad: so it was with some relief that I examined my desert of mixed berry crumble and found no sign of the ubiquitous sausage.

Comfort

After the emotional turmoil of the last week I sought comfort in a quiet day with familiar things – books, puzzles, computers, cats (although their yowling on the journey back from the cattery, though familiar, was anything but quiet) and cooking: comfort food of course in the shape of a classic shepherd’s pie.

RIP Dad

A funeral for, but also a celebration of the life of, a good man and a great dad.

Henry Boddington

Down to Salford for tomorrow’s funeral, we stay at the Premier Inn in Swinton next to the “Henry Boddington” pub, which enabled me to quaff a pint of the celebrated local brewer’s excellent beer in a toast to my dear departed dad whose favourite tipple it was.

The i Has It

With the non-league football season effectively at an end I have swapped our morning paper away from the Northern Echo, which provides good coverage of the local sport, to the i; although the Echo provides a reasonable mix of local, regional, national and international news, I tended to do no more than scan it, whereas the i with its succinct matrix briefings, broader range of stories, and interesting, well-written features provides a more meaty read – and at half the cost.

Chipping Away

Made a start on the backlog of jobs that need doing around the house and garden, including a garden wall particularly prone to frost damage that requires loose and crumbling bits hacking off, the holes filling with mortar, and then the whole thing painting; so I spent a few hours chipping away at the wall, which also chipped away at the list.

Breakfast of Champions?

Probably not the best morning to turn up early at the Vane Arms for brunch as it was the day of the “Boro special” – a pre-match breakfast (including lager for some) followed by transport to and tickets for the Middlesbrough v Brighton match – but we found a table in the corner and enjoyed our food in the noisy but good-natured atmosphere and then our tea and toast in peace and quiet after the minibuses departed; while the 1-1 draw did not make Boro champions as such it did secure promotion to the Premier League, which is not a bad second prize.

Rolo Roll

The rapid climate shift from snow and hail to hot and sunny caught me out in respect of my in-car snacks, such that setting off for home I felt for my half eaten pack of Rolos and recoiled at their squidgy touch; an hour and a half later, despite the air-con at full blast, they remained a softly fused cylinder of chocolate and caramel, but with hunger overcoming propriety I managed to gingerly unwrap the whole lot with one hand and slip the congealed mass onto my mouth, with only a little of the gold foil attached to add a bit of crunch.

Eccles

A trip to the solicitors’ office in Eccles provided an opportunity to revisit the town for the first time in over thirty years and I found, despite many changes, much was still familiar, particularly the cornerstone municipal edifices of the library (where I often studied), the post office (where I worked once delivering the Christmas mail), and the parish church (attended annually for the school carol concert); the last mentioned looking splendid on a sunny day with its warm two-tone stone offset by a flowering cherry and weeping willow.

Certified

Drove back to my dad’s in Salford, except it is no longer my dad’s, a fact made more official with a visit to the registrar’s office at the town hall to obtain the death certificate.

Eulogy

Started yesterday and completed today, I penned a memoir of my dad to provide the celebrant for the funeral with sufficient information to fashion a faithful précis of his life and character; the life was long and the character was good.

Champions

Back home for the bank holiday but spent the day quietly before, in the evening, watching Leicester grab the honours in both the snooker world championships in the form of Mark Selby, and the football premiership in the form of Leicester City (courtesy of Tottenham’s failure to beat Chelsea); despite the geographical connection the results came from opposite ends of the probability scale with Selby being the number one ranking player in the world while Leicester City were 5,000 to 1 outsiders for their title.

Funeral Direction

A morning spent pondering funeral arrangements for someone who always preferred “no bloody fuss” and who given half a chance would have knocked up his own casket from scrap table tops and drawer fronts stacked up in his shed.