The Bus Run

After a absence of a few weeks I decided to take a run on the weekly bus into Darlington (the promise of another fine day tempting plenty more such that it was standing room only by the time we reached town) where after the usual routine - shopping done, bank visited, tea and scones consumed - I was killing time in the library when time retaliated and slipped past unnoticed until I glanced at my watch to see 13:08 staring back at me, the implication -  the last bus leaves in two minutes from a stop a five minute walk away – prompted a hasty exit from the building, followed by a hurried jog-trot to the corner of the street, then an undignified gimping gallop up the next road towards the shelter from which the bus was setting off; happily the driver, who knows all his regulars, pulled over and opened the doors for me to climb aboard, somewhat out of puff from a different sort of bus run than that I had expected.

Short Uni Visit

Visiting our offspring during their first term at university is a bit of a tradition aimed at easing any homesickness, and previously this meant lengthy journeys to and from Edinburgh, Leeds, Liverpool and Keele, but today’s trip required just a fifteen minute drive along the A66 to Middlesbrough to pick up our latest undergraduate (who shows no signs of missing home) and take him to Teesside Park for some shopping, Costa for a snack, back to his flat to unload and inspect (it passed), before popping over the road for a meal at Al Forno – and we still got home with it barely dark.

Fright Night

A night out at Marton Country Club on both a Halloween and Seventies theme generated an interesting mix of costumes – mostly spooky but some straight seventies, but in their way horrific enough – and otherwise featured in descending order of enjoyment: pie & peas (good); beer (indifferent); music (loud); and a DJ (even louder); and these last two prompt two queries – was there enough good music in that decade to fill four and a half hours, and what makes a DJ think that superimposing his voice over Don McLean’s in ‘American Pie’ any way improves one of its few classic tunes.

Canopy

About this time of year we tidy up the garden for winter, which includes pruning the trees, so today I spent a couple of hours up a ladder in the canopy of our very own rain forest, hacking and lopping away until daylight penetrated, then another hour or so bagging up the leafy residue for the trip to the tip.

Tree Trunk

Four sparkling white tree branches had been procured for wedding table decorations but their instability in their narrow glass vases seemed problematic, so I raided the fire wood store and picked out a thinnish log that cut to size and drilled with a 10mm hole in its centre formed an excellent ‘trunk’ for the branch – rustic and stable; three more needed for December

Wedding Planner

A half-term visit from  my betrothed daughter would be the last before the wedding so a planning update for the big event dominated proceedings with particular emphasis on the table decorations which are to be hand crafted; consequently the afternoon was spent in various stores perusing and purchasing jars for transformation into rustic tea light holders.

Bike Technician

My wife volunteered (when will she learn?) to help out at a holiday scheme at the school providing bike training, and despite prior assurances she did not need to bring her own cycle I received a phone call after half an hour requesting I bring hers over; as it had not been used for several years my bike technician duties extended to washing off the accumulated dust, pumping up the (miraculously intact) tyres, and oiling the gears, before riding it over to the school – and trooping back on foot. 

Shopping 4 Shoes

A day of shopping with a purpose with my wife looking to finish off her (tricky step-mother-of-the-bride) outfit and me looking to replace my recently disintegrated shoes, and she had early success in Stockton with jacket and headgear before stalling on shoes and bag that not even a drive up the A19 to Dalton Park could not resolve; however up there I did have success with shoes, purchasing a good pair of brown leather Clark’s for the obligatory £50 that had the bonus of being eminently wearable with my father-of-the-bride suit – but then I realised that meant preserving them in mint condition for six weeks, so I had to go into another shop and buy, for immediate use, a black pair as well.

Wedding Cones

A necessary component of the table decoration at my daughter’s fast-approaching wedding will be pine cones – eighty-odd of them – which it is my responsibility to collect and customise for their intended purpose; numbers garnered had been modest up to September but during the LGH reunion walk in the Cheviots a couple of weeks ago I hit the motherload near Hethpool, enabling me to pick up and stuff fifty into my rucksack (while my oblivious companions continued ahead then waited twenty minutes for me to appear again, speculating on the reason for my delay – call of nature, boot malfunction, abduction by aliens, or heart attack, none of which prompted them to consider coming to my rescue) which has brought stock to well over target and will enable the weeding out of some poor samples and provide reserves in case of errors in crafting.

Fine Time in Guisborough?

I drove over to Guisborough for today’s football, getting there early to have a mooch around the market town and take in a tea and scone, and putting three hours on the parking ticket seemed adequate until, on approaching the ground I remembered that in the FA Vase competition they sometimes, in the event if the scores being level after ninety minutes, go straight to extra time and penalties; such an eventuality would put the car over its allotted time, and with ten minutes to go and only one goal in it I was still a bit worried, but two further goals removed the risk of both extra time and a parking fine.

Lost Soles

I clearly do not examine the bottom of my shoes often enough; when I did today, to check for the source of mud on the carpet, I found both the left and right split right across the sole – so it will be hello shoe shop, goodbye fifty quid.

Seasonal Fare

About this time of year a couple of seasonal changes to my regular diet occur as shredded wheat and beer (not together, one for breakfast and the other an occasional kind of supper) begin to make way for more warming fare of porridge and whisky (still not together, though that would work better).

Academic Progress

Is it a sign of progress when a learner, instead of just not doing the minimal homework set, actually makes the effort to fabricate an excuse?

Going Large

For the last few Tuesdays I have driven a split shift in the minibus, spending the down time in a local café having a leisurely hour reading or writing while slowly consuming a necessarily large beverage and a cake; it uses up a decent proportion of my wages and while I can see the justification of charging more for a large Americano (more coffee) the same does not apply to a large tea that still has same teabag just sloshing about in a bigger cup of hot water – I suppose the reality is I am occupying space in a warm room and the larger the drink, the longer the stay, so the higher the rent.

Honeysuckled

My summer long job pointing the garden wall stopped short of one end where the brickwork disappeared behind some bushes, but with autumn here and the leaves falling there was no longer an excuse not to finish the job; even after some chopping back I still had to insinuate myself into the shrubbery and with hands fully engaged with trowel and mortar had to use my back and shoulders to hold the honeysuckle at bay, which retaliated by curling tentacles down my neck and thrusting fronds in my ears.

The Derry

On a whim my wife decided on Sunday lunch out, and we tried The Derry (previously the Londonderry Arms) in Long Newton, now under new management; a good choice too as the food was good, the Theakston’s ale excellent, and the tab was picked up by the good lady.

York Heritage

Today’s visit to York took in an eclectic few of the city’s heritage sites: first the Minster, in view of which I lunched in Bennett’s Café & Bistro; second Bootham Crescent, home of York City FC where I watched their FA Cup tie from a period wooden seat in an old-fashioned stand at the traditionally laid out old stadium; and third Ye Olde Starre Inn, reputed to be the oldest pub in the city, which claim is well supported by serving the hand-pulled ale in vintage pint pots the like of which I have not seen in years.

Orchid View

I am the washer-up in the house, which job I do not mind as the kitchen sink affords a nice view over the back garden and fields beyond, but at this time of year as the nights draw in that prospect disappears to be replaced by my reflection; however my wife’s growing collection of orchids are currently providing a colourful display on the kitchen windowsill that is much more pleasing on the eye. 

Forty-fives

Forgetting yesterday to buy some E45 hydrocortisone cream for my wife’s sore hands nearly resulted in me getting a P45 (termination of employment) for my marriage, so today I shopped early for the miracle stuff for the sake of soothed skin and marital harmony.

Part Time Full On

For a part-timer the last three days have been onerous if remunerative with two driving assignments and three tutor sessions; being away last week meant lesson planning also had to be fitted in, but the advantage of last minute preparation is that it is fresh in the mind when delivering the session. 

Dress Code

Received an e-mail informing me of the dress code for my work at the education centre; the ban on jeans and training shoes won’t give me a problem but I will have to shelve my plans to wear a low cut top.

Service Buses

Agreeing to drive the minibus on the day my car was in for a service and MOT meant relying on service buses to get between the garage on one side of town and the school way out on the other; of the four buses, the first failed to show (though a substitute was easy to find) and the second was fifteen minutes behind schedule, however the third and fourth, providing my return journey, restored my faith by turning up spot on time.

Saltburn Sunshine and Showers

Arriving at Saltburn sea front the sun was shining, folk were in the sea and para-gliders were aloft providing the only intermittent shade as they swooped overhead; we were a mile down the beach before we turned and saw the dark clouds out to sea, that quickly became rain clouds overhead and gave us a good soaking on the walk back to the car.

Winners and Losers

An early return from Wooler provided an opportunity to get back into a familiar Saturday routine of watching a non-league match in the afternoon and competing in a quiz at the cricket club in the evening; Shildon won a close game of football, we didn’t win the quiz, and it wasn’t close.

St Cuthbert’s Wet and Dry

Hethpool to Wooler was today’s leg of the St Cuthbert’s Way walk and we slowly climbed the flank of Yeavering Bell up onto the moor and more disconcertingly into the clouds where mist became drizzle, became rain, giving us a bit of a soaking for a few miles before the weather lifted and enabled us to dry out and enjoy the impressive Cheviot views, atmospheric under the glowering skies, for the last few miles into Wooler; once there we dried off fully and refuelled in the cosy Terrace Café, warmed with tea and fed with scones.

St Cuthbert’s Way and Stray

The LGH reunion walk resumed along the St Cuthbert’s Way walk, commencing at Kirk Yetholm and heading steeply up to the Scotland – England border, then more gradually down to the Elsdon Burn and along its valley bottom to finish up at Westnewton near Hethpool where we had left a car; from there we probably strayed from the saint’s footsteps with a prolonged pub crawl involving refreshments in the Border Hotel back at Kirk Yetholm, a pint in the Angel Inn back at Wooler, and drinks a-plenty with our evening meal back at the ‘Tanky’.

Tankerville Arms

After passing the inviting ivy-clad frontage of the Tankerville Arms on the A679 at Wooler many times on drives to and from Edinburgh, I finally got to stay there as it forms this year’s base camp for the now annual Lloyd George House old boys reunion walk, and tonight four of us arrived ahead of tomorrow’s walk and spent a few hours in the bar, noting that for three of us this week forty-five years ago was when we met as freshers at Edinburgh University; actually it was a group of seven in the bar as we were accompanied by our outsize ‘Tanky’ teddy bear key rings, an incongruous addition to a table of grumpy old men.

Wardrobe Malfunction

While I was helping a friend to erect an enormous flat packed wardrobe, he noted that the drawers, when fitted, did not fill all the available space, which left a sizeable void between them and the back of the unit, the point of which he questioned; “just right for hiding your stack of pornography” I quipped, receiving a horrified look from my wife who clearly thought such a remark inappropriate, particularly to a church pastor.

Leaf Sucker Sucks

As a labour-saving time-efficient garden appliance the leaf sucker/shredder falls a bit short – the receptacle for the shredded leaves is fiddly to fit, even harder to take off, awkward to empty once full, and counter-intuitively, the shredding of the leaves seems to increase rather than reduce the original volume; to make matters worse today the failsafe safety mechanism (a bit of plastic on said receptacle that bridges a gap between the on/off trigger and the motor) got out of alignment (rendering the equipment perfectly safe by preventing the motor working at all), which required some jiggery-pokery with a screwdriver to sort out, the sucker coming back to life just as I was about to consign it to the scrapheap and instead fetch the rake and grabbers.

Barnstorming

Our barn becomes the resting place, temporary or permanent, for items that fall into disuse but are retained in anticipation of potential future need, no matter how remote that possibility – toys, bikes, golf clubs, racquets for tennis, squash & badminton, paint of various hues, empty boxes whose gadget’s longevity remains in doubt, cables for unknown IT, obsolete IT, books, long playing records; the list is endless, but my wife’s patience is not, so periodically we have a barnstorming session like today’s to thin out the accumulation and produce three piles to go – one for back into the house (small), one for the charity shop (medium), and one for the tip (large).

Farsley

As the FA Cup progresses through the qualifying rounds the number of matches diminish and with them the options to see a game locally, and though I could have gone back to Spennymoor (whose game I watched last round) I took advantage of the benign weather to instead visit a new ground, Farsley Celtic’s Throstle Nest, to see Bishop Auckland; public transport looked a good option and the trains and buses worked well getting me a few miles out of Leeds to the unfussy little mill town, its stone built main street fronting more modern residential developments behind, though in one stone terraced street I spotted some resistance to the march of time in the shape of a full washing line strung across the road between two opposite first floor windows.