The Last Post

At least for now, after four years of daily reportage Life Is A Sentence is taking a break to review its format, frequency, focus and future.

Beer and Brains

The twin attraction of happy hour prices ahead of a quiz drew us to the Tuns at Sadberge for an enjoyable evening of beer and brainwork; the beer, Timothy Taylor's Boltmaker, was more successful than the brains, our quartet finishing just out of the prizes at fourth of the eight teams.

Iron Men

A marathon ironing session was made light of thanks to watching the Rugby League Cup semi-final live on BBC, the iron men of Hull and Leeds providing a fast open game full of skill and physical endeavour, close until Hull steamed ahead in the second half to win comfortably.

Handlebards

Went to see the Handlebards, a bicycling troop of Shakespearean players – this year the females, perform As You Like It in the walled garden at Raby Castle, preceding the performance with a picnic; the four girls were excellent, playing the full cast with panache, humour, and no little skill, even through the rain that arrived at the interval, simply incorporating anoraks into their various costumes.

Lunch on Me

Met the undergraduate son and his girlfriend for lunch in Middlesbrough to hear all about their recent Italian holiday, which they evidently enjoyed, managed well and most surprisingly returned from with some Euros unspent; however as the café dealt only in sterling I still ended up footing the bill.

Norwegian Noir

In preparation for a holiday in Norway I scoured the library shelves and Amazon for some appropriate Scandi-noir thrillers to read on the trip, settling on books by Anne Holt and Karin Fossum; hopefully their grizzly tales are no more representative of life in Norway life than those of Ian Rankin’s are of Edinburgh or Colin Dexter’s are of Oxford.

Cupboard was Bare

Today we tackled our version of what my mother used to call the glory hole, a cupboard that holds a multitude of items ranging from the essential to the obsolete, but it all came out, got sorted, rationalised, reorganised, thinned out with goods redirected to elsewhere in the house, the barn, charity shop, or rubbish; the outcome was the unfamiliar sight of some clear shelf surfaces – a state of affairs unlikely to last long.

Job for Life

At Coopers Tea shop and Coffee House (a regular Monday morning haunt) the coffee was off the menu as the expresso machine was in bits getting repaired or serviced by an engineer and what looked like his young apprentice who, given the mushrooming abundance of such equipment, should have a career for life; fortunately the kettle was still working so my pot of tea continued to be available.

Craft Day

My wife having a crafting day left me largely to my own devices, able to devote time to reading, watching the finale of the Tour de France, and completing most of the History Magazine crossword - provided I kept her supplied with cups of tea; her output included a chalk painted picture frame, a decoupaged tea light holder and a flock of scary looking sheep.

Bus and Boat and Plane

A day punctuated by pings on my wife’s phone recording the progress made by the elder daughter jetting off back to Costa Rica and the undergraduate son returning from Italy on coach and ferry; thankfully both ended up safely where intended.

Milk Race

I have clearly been watching the Tour de France to excess as this morning I awoke from a dream featuring the race, but in a version in which several of the bikes were being ridden by cows – perhaps a throwback to when the old Tour of Britain was sponsored by the Milk Marketing Board and so dubbed the milk race.

Sabbatical

My wife’s usual haul of end of term presents was bigger than normal due to her not returning in September, not exactly retiring but more taking a sabbatical to fully share with me for twelve months or so the benefits of a work-free lifestyle; of course money will be tighter but at least we now have enough prosecco, chocolate and scented candles in stock to see the year out.

Garden Statuary

The disposal of the old washing machine from the back garden had created a void that needed filling, a job completed today as I fixed a repainted flower pot holder to the wall and put the finishing touches to my up-cycling of an old Singer sewing machine frame into a plant stand.

Well Gelled

The NHS continued what seems to be my 65,000 mile (or 65 year) service by giving me an unsolicited appointment for a formidably sounding abdominal aortic aneurysm screening, which I nevertheless attended today; having sat through many a scan on a pregnant partner, this time I found myself on the receiving end of a copious amount of gel and a hand held implement that the nurse wielded like a smoothing iron on a creased duvet cover, however the outcome was OK - father and aorta both fine.

Bishop Auckland

Another sunny day and the continued availability of picnic food prompted me to get out the bus pass and take the X1 to Bishop Auckland where the castle grounds provided a peaceful setting to eat my sandwich, under a pine tree that provided pleasant shade albeit at some danger from falling fir cones; the picnic lunch did not include tea and cake, such omission being rectified at the ‘Fifteas’ vintage teashop, and while the memorabilia, music and crockery were authentically 1950’s I’m not the same applies to the limoncello ‘cake of the day’. 

Eston Nab

For once a sunny day coincided with a pre-planned walk to make for a good afternoon out on the Eston Hills with friends (and dog); a picnic at Flatts Lane country park set us up nicely for a circuitous ascent of Eston Nab from where the 360 degree views sum up the contradictions of Teesside – grey industrial wasteland, brick red suburban sprawl, blue (today) water of the North Sea, and the glorious green of the Cleveland Hills.

Farm Shopping

A dull day weather-wise but fine for a drive down the A66 from Scotch Corner to visit a couple of farm shops: first Mainsgill, popular and busy selling good wholesome food (which we purchased freely, including some multi-coloured pasta) and overpriced ornamentation for the house and person (which we examined and left alone); second Cross Lanes, quieter and specialising in organic produce and although we took nothing off the shelves bar a packet of tea, we did enjoy a light lunch chosen from an interesting menu.

Bastille Day

Bastille day always guarantees a good stage on the Tour de France as the French riders vie for the headlines and TV exposure on the national holiday, and sure enough it was Frenchman Warren Barguil who headed a breakaway group of four over the finishing line; worth noting that if there had been another three in the group they would have matched the total inmate population of the Bastille the day it was stormed in 1789  - the building being more symbolic of royal oppression than an actual place of incarceration for revolutionaries.

SATisfied Client

News that one of my tutees had over-achieved the required standard in her maths SATs was accompanied by a card with kind words and a box with cupcakes; so good result all round.

Flown the Nest

For the last three weeks or so, whenever I have looked up at a nest in a garden tree, there has been a pigeon sat there unmoving apart from a blinking eye, even when the cats have climbed up there, so I had begun to fear it was there for the duration probably trying to hatch out a broken, non-existent or unfertilised egg, however today it finally gave up and with a clatter of wings it was off; quite a relief really as I had begun to fear it would expire up there and require removal of remains. 

Dordogne Tour

One of the quieter days on the Tour de France was nevertheless a must watch for me as the peloton rolled through the valley of the Dordogne where I spent a couple of wonderful summer holidays, and with not much race action going on the TV cameras lingered on the stunning sights of the caves at St Christophe, the castle  at Castelnaud-la-Chapelle and the towns of Sarlat-la-Caneda, Domme, and La Roque Gageac.

Playing Hooky

Thanks to my wife previously attending two hours of step-ladder training (how hard can it be?) out of school time, she was able to take this afternoon off and join in a trip to Durham; playing hooky for the afternoon clearly went to her head as she misbehaved on the park and ride bus then capered around the shops despite the dampness of the weather.

Beside the Seaside

A trip to Saltburn tends to follow a familiar pattern – a search for parking, a long walk along the splendid beach and back, fish and chips on the prom, a stroll to the end of the pier, a ride up the cliff on the funicular tramway, and an ice cream – but why change a winning formula, especially on a sunny day it was made for.

Welcome Home 3

After arrivals from Costa Rica and Nottingham, the third sibling (with girlfriend) arrived home from deepest Middlesbrough to complete the triptych of offspring for a rare reunion, which we marked with an excellent meal for seven in a strange, elevated and secluded alcove in the Dun Cow at Sedgefield.

Welcome Home 2

More favourite food prepared, my wife’s signature dish of beef lasagne, to welcome home the younger daughter (and husband) here to catch up with her sister; equally welcome was the long awaited wedding album that reignited pleasant memories that were starting to fade after six months.

Welcome Home 1

A late cancellation of driving duties freed up the day for a more relaxed preparation for the arrival home of the elder daughter, back from Costa Rica for a couple of weeks; junk cleared from a spare room, bed made up, favourite foods purchased, and at Darlington station with ten minutes to spare on the pick-up.

Window Cleaners

I know not why I am so discomforted by the prospect of the windows cleaner’s arrival every other Wednesday, possibly it is just the invasion of privacy but I also suspect there is a hangover from a childhood shock of seeing, one morning, a strange face appear at my bedroom window, however the unease persists and I try to ensure I am not at home whenever he is due to whack his ladder up against the wall; it is possible my wife has a similar aversion as she always seems to be out (like tonight) when he calls for the money.

Keep on Taking the Leaflets

My healthy heart check blood results coming back with all indicators within acceptable limits seemed to disappoint the nurse who still insisted on sending me away with a fistful of leaflets about healthy eating, exercise and taking statins.

Seland Newydd v Y Llewod

Scouring the digital guide on Freesat, and a rudimentary understanding of Welsh, enabled me to spot this program on S4C which, as suspected, turned out to be highlights of the second test between the New Zealand All Blacks and the British and Irish Lions, worth watching, even with the Welsh language commentary, to see the Lions’ historic win that took advantage of a sending off and poor kicking from the home side, but more positively that ran in two tries and conceded none; roll on the decider – the timer record has already been set on S4C.

Dusseldorf Depart

Caught up with the Tour de France highlights on day 2 with the depart from Dusseldorf where yesterday Geraint Thomas was the surprise winner of the rain-affected time trial; the Welshman survived a pile-up in more rain to finish in the bunch and so maintain possession of the yellow jersey for another day.

Holy Island

The loss of a day’s walking to the weather meant the planned big finish on Holy Island will have to wait another year, but on an ironically fine sunny day two of us made the trip over the causeway by car to see the sights and conduct a reconnaissance of the tea shops finding what must be the best cheese scones on the island at the café next to the post office.

To St Cuthbert’s Cave

The weather relenting from heavy rain to mere murky with occasional light drizzle, the re-united Lloyd George House residents (seven strong including an honorary girlfriend surviving from those days) resumed the St Cuthbert’s Way walk with a tidy leg from Wooler via fields, woods, lanes, bridges and eventually an enchanted forest to the secluded and impressive St Cuthbert’s Cave; for two of our group in intense conversation, the seclusion clearly outweighed the impressiveness as they walked straight past the landmark without noticing, requiring some retracing of steps to enable proper appreciation to be had.

Wet Wooler

Wooler Water is the name of the river that passes through the town but that could have applied equally to the streets as the incessant rain meant the only walking done in Northumberland today was from the Tankerville Arms to the Terrace Café in the town centre for a convivial pot of tea and cakes for six; even that short outing left my coat and shoes wet enough to need the ministrations of a radiator, though the hair-dryer proved a quicker fix for the hat.

Milan

The advance party for the two day walking reunion in Northumberland took its evening meal in the Milan Restaurant in Wooler, enjoying big portions and excellent flavours in a pleasant ambiance and at a very reasonable cost.

Clearing the Decks

The imminence of the walking trip necessitated some clearing of the household duty decks, so I cleared the ironing basket only to fill it up again with the washed and dried contents of the similarly cleared laundry basket.

Walking Supplies

With a couple of days walking planned for later in the week a quick trip to the supermarket was needed today for last minute essential supplies: two Oasis drinks, an elastic knee support bandage, and a top-up for the phone.

Hampstead

Just a cinematic visit to the up-market London suburb courtesy of the current release featuring Diane Keaton and Brendan Gleeson (the latter, for me, carrying the lightweight film) of interest mainly due to the ‘based on a true story’ element and attractive today due to cheap seats on offer at Darlington VUE; of course the money saved has to offset against the cost of tea at Bella Italia, not begrudged as the food there was excellent.

No BBQ

When is a barbecue not a barbecue – when a windy day necessitates its cooking indoors on a George Foreman grill and its eating sat on sofas in the living room, at which point it just becomes a mixed grill TV dinner, but nonetheless made for an enjoyable afternoon at the in-laws.

Invisible Dog Wanted

A gentle stroll is as good as anything for easing a stiff back so I walked a couple of miles down the lane and back attracting the usual puzzled stares from those driving past, such onlookers suspicious of anyone walking nowhere for no apparent reason; to allay fears I am considering buying a dog lead (no dog, just the lead) that I could swing casually and so not be given a second glance.

Close Encounters of the Bird Kind

We have two birds in the garden that are either brave or foolish; yesterday a blackbird deliberately landed yards from the white cat’s nose, successfully luring it away from the bushes where its young are hatched, just escaping with its tail feathers intact, and today a wood pigeon sat unmoved in its nest in the elder tree despite the black cat climbing within three feet or so.

Mystery Book

A few months ago, while browsing in the library, I spotted a book that would fit well into my ‘bookpacking’ reading journey (comprising books set in countries tracing a route round the world) which I duly detailed in my notebook alongside similar titles, but today when I went to try and borrow it I found it wasn’t on the shelf; the staff checked the catalogue for me and drew a blank on both the title and the author, indicating it wasn’t and never had been part of their stock – so how did I come to write down a book I didn’t previously know existed by a writer I’d never heard of? 

Old Duffers

Arriving at the cricket ground yesterday morning at ten to eleven, I expected to enter the stadium on time but was delayed by an old duffer at the front of the queue for tickets who needed those ten minutes and more to complete what should have been a simple transaction, to the dismay and frustration of the growing line behind him; in the evening, coming home hungry, I took the opportunity afforded by a twelve minute connection at Durham bus station to nip into the Tesco Express and buy a multipack of Mars bars that I took to the self-service checkout, at which point (due I think to the six hours in the sun) my capacity to interact with a machine failed – I had no basket to place one side of the scale and no shopping bag for the other, so got them the wrong way round and, inundated with (to me) meaningless instructions, I was reduced to pushing touch screen buttons at random until, guided by shouted advice from the manned till, I was able to complete the transaction much to the relief of the sizeable queue that had by now built up behind this old duffer.

County Cricket

After some years of unfulfilled intention, the conjunction of a day free from commitments, good weather and Durham CCC playing at home finally occurred so I bus-passed it to Chester-Le-Street and strolled to the delightfully situated Riverside Ground to see day one of Durham v Glamorgan; I viewed each of the three sessions from different stands as the sun (or more importantly the shade) moved around, ending up close to the players’ steps, which position benefitted from a fine backdrop provided by Lumley Castle (framed by two towering floodlight pylons), a pint of cold John Smiths beer, and a lively end to the day’s play with Durham taking five wickets in the session to reduce Glamorgan to 221 for 7.

Fathers’ Day

Fathers’ Day was suitably recognised with cards, messages and presents from my progeny (and even a visit from one of them), and a day free of cooking as my wife stepped in with one of her special occasion signature dishes; my own filial responsibilities no longer require physical tributes but I raised a glass of Boddington’s to my dad’s memory.

Heat

A hot day suitable only for inactivity; this entry reflects that.

National Gallery of Scotland

While in Edinburgh yesterday I popped into the National Gallery on The Mound whose extensive collection is traditionally arranged chronologically (which suits me) allowing visitors to move through the centuries (at least up to the nineteenth – other modern art galleries are also available) from early religious images, through portraits commissioned by the wealthy (neither do much for me) to landscapes and scenes of social interaction (more to my taste); highlights here for me were a Bellotto view of Verona, Constable’s Salisbury Cathedral, Raeburn’s skating clergyman, and a couple of interesting Scottish works – Alexander Nasmyth’s picture of Princess Street circa 1825 and, newly acquired, Landseer’s iconic Monarch of the Glen.  

Edinburgh

June is a good time to visit Edinburgh with most of the students gone home and the festival goers not yet arrived, so my wander around my old student haunts was relatively unimpeded and a table for lunch easy to find; only Princes Street was bustling and even here the Gardens were quiet enough to sit in and enjoy the sunshine and fine views of the castle and the Scott Monument.

Bodywork MOT

Attended the doctor’s surgery today for a healthy heart check which only required answering a few lifestyle questions, submitting to some medical measurements, and giving up a bit of blood, after which I was allowed to leave without a stain on my character - or my sleeve as the blood sample was extracted very efficiently; so the bodywork is ok and I await the verdict on the engine oil.

Pie Plus

I maintain that a recipe in a cookery book is merely the starting point for negotiations, so today’s gooey cheese, leak and potato pie was recast without its freshly chopped chives and parsley but augmented by some smoked bacon and mushrooms; it turned out well, though its calorie count of four thousand plus means, even for the two of us, it will have to be eaten over a few days.

Laying Down New Rubber

I have been comparing two purchases made today - a pair of tyres that set me back £130 and a pair of slippers costing £22.50 - both put new rubber on the track but best value for money by far are the tyres, which should do at least twenty thousand miles, whereas my slippers tend to last only about six months and (on the basis that my shuffles around the house can’t be more than a mile a day) one hundred and eighty miles; doing the maths, that costs the tyres out at less than a penny a mile, the slippers come in at twelve and a half pence.

Jigsaw Unseen

To add extra challenge to the jigsaw I started last week I decided to do it without reference to the picture on the box; it makes the process a bit messy early on with disparate sections growing in isolation until they unexpectedly join up, but on balance I think it adds to the fun and sense of achievement.

Old Rivals, Old Friends

A rare (these days) repeat of the oldest international match of them all, with England taking on Scotland at Hampden Park, prompted me, while watching on TV, into a match-long exchange of texts with an old Scottish pal with whom I stood on the Hampden Terraces for the 1972 edition of the game; and while I could cope during the easy-paced first eighty minutes of the game my un-practiced fingers and thumbs struggled with the frantic last ten.

No Result

As ever with the general election I sat up through the night to watch the results come in confirming the exit poll, confounding the pundits, and leaving the country in political limbo (or is it purgatory) with May hanging on in a hung parliament, Corbyn celebrating defeat as victory, and Fallon still inconsequential despite a 50% increase in his party’s seats.

Voting Blind

Make your mind up day, and the post brought, among the usual marketing junk, a final volley of party political leaflets full of their promises of a better future and dire warnings of the alternatives; after careful perusal of what came through the letter box I now know where my vote will be going - Hillary’s Blinds.

On Wasted Votes

Received wisdom is that a vote for a minor party (Liberal Democrats, Greens etc.) is a vote wasted under our poor excuse of a system to democratically elect a government, but voting tactically for the least worst alternative will just prolong and falsely legitimise that system; every vote cast nationally for a party adds weight to the standing of any MP elected from that party (each Liberal Democrat MP elected in 2015 spoke for 320,000 voters, the single Green had over a million backers, while each Conservative and Labour MPs spoke on average for just 36,700), and such numbers also strengthen the case for electoral reform; so while voting tactically may yield short term respite from those you disagree with, for the long game it makes sense to vote strategically in line with your convictions and give that party the clout of the popular vote it deserves.

Tim Far Off

Day three and time to consider the third wheel in the UK party system, the Liberal Democrats, which with Theresa May shifting right to mop up UKIP votes and Jeremy Corbyn keeping left, should have been able to exploit the widening void in the centre; not so as Lightweight leader Tim Farron fails to convince and the headline policy of a referendum on the term of Brexit is far off course, toxic to both Leavers who want out at any price and Remainers who think that by then it will be a bit pointless anyway.

Jeremy Cor Blimey!

On day two of deliberations, we consider the leader of the Labour party who for once has given us a clear choice with a left wing manifesto that only borders on the loony, predicated I suspect on the conviction that he is unlikely to have a majority and so will never have find the money or the political nous to deliver the promises to roll back austerity, and although I personally would accept the cost implications, the global context of business and finance would provide bolt holes for the corporate fat cats and reduce the yield from any tax increases; the temptation is to vote Labour to prevent excessive Tory triumphalism, but if we all did that he might win, and where would we be then?

Theresa May Not

Yesterday I received a personalised (yeah!) letter from the Tory party leader that was particularly patronising in urging me to support her as otherwise I would weaken her negotiating position on Brexit, as if the European leaders across the table would be swayed by or even care about her popular vote, particularly as none of the electorate actually know what her negotiating stance on any aspect of leaving is (apparently it has to be confidential), so she is basically saying trust me, mummy knows best, repeating ad nauseam her mantra of ‘I am a strong and stable leader’; my reply is that calling of an unnecessary election shows weakness not strength (and what a mess she expects us to be in by 2020) and her electoral miscalculation has risked the instability that her panicky letter requires me to rescue her from.

A Week in Politics

If a week is a long time in politics the run up to a General Election is interminable and I have spent most of it in denial, but polling is now days off and needs must turn my attention to deciding how to vote; it is my twelfth general election and probably the most problematic so I will consider the parties day by day. 

Un-frozen in Time

Scrolling back through the blog (quite a way back) shows that the new kitchen appliances were bought and installed in February, and though we paid AO to take away the old washing machine and we relocated the old fridge in the barn as a drinks cooler, the old freezer has spent the last three and a half months in the back garden, increasingly being passed off as an art installation – ‘Frozen in Time’; however today I took advantage of an undergraduate visit (using his brawn rather than brains) to assist in getting it into the back of the car and off to the tip.

Not a Lot of Talent

Though usually studiously avoided, I viewed tonight’s Britain’s Got Talent semi-final to confirm my contention that the acts are little more than a minor distraction from the shows real purpose – the adoration of the judges, the sob stories of participants, the whipped up frenzy of the live audience, and of course the generation of revenue from the adverts and the voting public; sure enough the eight acts had two minutes each and so occupied just sixteen of the ninety minute show.

Easby Loop, Double Scoop

We’d picked the day of the week with the best weather forecast for a trip to Richmond, and we were rewarded with blue skies, a warm sun, and parking still available at the Station, from where we walked downstream alongside the Swale to Easby Abbey and back along the old railway line; back at the Station where the familiar dilemma at the Seasons cafe – coffee and cake or Panini with trimmings – was settled in favour of the latter, but after a post-prandial stroll around the town we were ready on our return to the car to manage a couple of scoops of cooling Archer’s ice cream.

Straight Kinda Guy

The purchase of a new pair of jeans was pretty straightforward when they were all uniformly blue and the only issue was size and whether to get Wranglers or Levis; now there are more brands than enough, fifteen shades of blue (plus black), and even in a down to earth shop like Matalan there is a choice of something called “fit” - the options being regular, bootleg, straight, slim, skinny and twisted (thankfully none had ready-made tears in them, which I can arrange myself given time and a DIY disaster); I rejected four outright (bootleg on grounds of it no longer being 1970, skinny on the basis of time and effort needed to get them on, regular as lacking in imagination, and twisted as being meaningless to me), then tried on slim but found them a little clingy, so eventually had to settle for straight.

Time Machine

When I awoke yesterday morning my bedside radio alarm clock indicated it was 14:15, which seemed quite a lie-in even for a bank holiday and, worse, gave the date as 18 May 2004, which meant I had not yet retired and was back at work tomorrow, however my fears were allayed when I looked out of the window and saw the 2016 registered mini parked next door; by lunchtime it had automatically corrected but again this morning it had gone awry, showing 17:46 in the year 0000, providing a rare opportunity to fly to Bethlehem to witness an historic birth – except of course aeroplanes weren’t yet invented nor, for that matter, digital clocks.

Fresh Market, Familiar Fare

A change of Farmers’ Market today with a trip to Stewart Park in Middlesbrough, but though the venue was unfamiliar the purchases were the usual suspects – bread, cheese, pies, scones, and bottles of craft beer.

Season Finales

Watched some close-fought season-ending finals on TV today: first the Scottish FA Cup (having found BBC Scotland tucked away in the digital channels) in which Celtic beat Aberdeen with a last gasp winner; then the main event where two of my least favourite teams at least played out a good open game, again decided late as Chelsea missed out on the double and Arsenal got some compensation for a poor season; and, last thing (highlights only), Exeter v Wasps in the Rugby Union Play-off final that provided a fitting end to that season with the Chiefs coming out on top with only a minute of extra time remaining.

Latte Frappe

A trip to Durham on a hot day needed a cool interlude in Café Nero where they do an excellent latte frappe and provide a dark and cool interior in which to enjoy it; a bonus is you can spin it out as long as you like as it never goes cold.

Fidget Spinners

The latest craze for kids may absorb eight-year-olds, but our eight year old cat rapidly lost interest, possibly due to the lack of opposable thumbs.

Losing Face

Working on the front garden I was hailed by a passing horsewoman with a cheery “how are you”, to which I replied despite not having a clue who she was or possibly,  despite knowing her, just not recognising her face; this is not unusual for me but I now know is not my fault as I suffer from prosopagnosia – the latest condition to get a scientific name, following in the footsteps of dyslexia (can’t read), dyscalculia (can’t add up), dyspraxia (clumsy); in my case the condition is ‘can’t remember a face’ – that, according to the news report I read, I share with Brad Pitt and quite a few others.

Monkey Wrench

On what is becoming a regular visit to the real ale pub - Number Twenty2 – in Darlington I made the rookie mistake of choosing a beer without reference to its strength, although I should have twigged that any brew called Monkey Wrench was going to have a powerful effect.

Sunny Scarborough

Our late arrival last night in Scarborough meant I stayed over and, the weather being warm and sunny, I remained for the morning, enjoying a walk along North and South Bays, tea and cake at the Clock Café, and an open air bus trip back along the front; en route we had stopped to admire the splendid “Freddie Gilroy and the Belson Stragglers” artwork whose familiar style was explained by the information board naming the artist as Ray Lonsdale, who also created “Tommy” at Seaham.

Two Finals, One Day

Though I have been to FA Trophy finals and FA Vase finals at Wembley in recent years this was my first time at the double-header event where they play both on one day, which requires an early start (Vase KO 12:15), late finish (Trophy KO 16:15, finishing about 6pm if no extra time), and a sizeable gap between, thoughtfully filled by a big TV screen in each of the fan zones showing Sky’s coverage of the final round of Premiership games; the day went well, the easy route into Wembley via the train from Aylesbury, the stadium splendid under the sun with red seats and green grass gleaming, two good games with victories for the North East teams, a decent pie and a pint in between while watching Liverpool v Boro, a well-timed exit to catch the 18:22 train, and a trouble-free (if long) drive back from Aylesbury arriving in Scarborough at twenty past midnight – a long day but worth the effort.

Wembley Bound

The Wembley road trip to see the non-league cup finals commenced with a drive to Scarborough to meet up with my match-day companion, and then a five hour trip riding shotgun to and down the M1, periodically doused in heavy downpours that particularly targeted me the two times I left the vehicle - for a coffee at Tibshelf and crossing the car park at our hotel outside Dunstable; the Premier Inn did what the Premier Inn does well enough – providing a comfortable room (especially if you win the toss for the double, rather than the sofa, bed) and an adjacent pub with acceptable food and drinkable beer.

Hairdryer Treatment

Renowned football manager Alex Ferguson famously gave his players the ‘hairdryer treatment’ with a verbal roasting at half time if they ever needed waking up from a soporific performance; I get the hairdryer treatment every morning – literally, my wife turning it on in our bedroom as she prepares for her working day is sufficient to rouse me from any remnants of sleep and drive me bleary-eyed into the bathroom.

Sporting Activity

Driving 29 seven- and eight-year-olds to their school sports meeting was the easy bit (though it did require two shuttle runs with just the one bus available); keeping them roughly in one group was like marshalling a pack of puppies, but at least they were active for a couple of hours, generally keen and enthusiastic as they ran, jumped and threw to the best of their individual ability.

Any Volunteers?

I feel residents should show support to their parish councillors by at least attending the annual meeting in the village hall to listen to what they have done on our behalf and make them feel valued (though based on the turnout I am in a small minority) but the downside of course is that you have to field their repeated pleas for volunteers for this, that or the other; I didn’t volunteer for this (join them as a councillor) or that (organise a neighbourhood watch scheme) but put my name down for the other – training for ‘speedwatch’, where we get to use traffic cop equipment to clock cars speeding through the village and grass up the owners to the police.

Supermarket Sweep

It happens every time, having trawled round the supermarket aisles you approach the tills and take a look at your shopping list only to find there is one, two, three, even four items that have somehow avoided your gaze, so it is back round the shelves you have to go; not today though – once round and all items trolleyed, a rare clean (supermarket) sweep.

Book Shelf Shuffle

The two books purchased on Saturday were sufficient to create a critical mass of recent acquisitions, mostly laid horizontally anyhow above the carefully organised pre-established volumes, so it was clearly time for one of my periodic bookshelf shuffles to restore order; inevitably there are casualties with some consigned to the charity shop pile and others boxed up for posterity.

The Wally and the Ivy

Having completed the repair work on the barn door lintel and patched some of the damaged rendering, I was able today to apply the final touch with a coat of masonry paint, which required climbing the ladder and stretching to the highest corner of the wall and, having applied the paint, I thought while I was up there I may as well pull off a few clumps of ivy that were threatening the solar panels; it wasn’t a few clumps it was fistfuls, armfuls even, and down with it came a fair bit of muck, seeds and dried vegetation that of course stuck to the wet paint.

Fair Enough

Home alone today, but while recycling the newspapers I noticed publicity for a book fair at QE College in Darlington so bus-passed it into town and perused what was on offer, which was, as to be expected, low in volume but high in quality (and price); I used to seek these events out regularly but with Amazon and charity shops providing cheaper alternatives this was the first I had browsed for a while, and having poked and fingered a few volumes it would have been rude not to buy something, or two somethings as it turned out – a Folio Society edition of Thackeray’s “Vanity Fair” and a hardback of David Starkey’s “Crown and Country”.

Tate Pictures

On a quiet day in, I spent time mounting in my Art gallery album the postcards brought back from Tate Liverpool, one from each floor: floor one was devoted to Ellsworth Kelly whose coloured shape combinations I viewed with the benefit of his quoted advice to “turn off the mind and look only with the eyes”; floor two had put together ‘constellations’ of modern art thematically connected to a more traditional piece also on view, so that provided a mix that happily included a Lowry, Pissarro and Picasso as well as the abstract stuff (a piece of which I nearly rearranged by stumbling against the tripwire protecting its sanctity); floor three made a connection (tenuous to me) between Tracey Emin’s ‘unmade bed’ (on loan so she must be sleeping on the sofa for now) and the work of William Blake, whose dozen or so paintings on show were my highlight of the visit.

You’ve Got Mail (and Meal)

I drove over to Middlesbrough today to take the undergraduate a bit of post and while there treated him to some lunch at the increasingly impressive Café @ 23, which now has an upstairs dining area and still provides good-sized and delicious melts – sausages and mozzarella for him and smoked bacon and Stilton for me.

Albert Dock

My first visit to Albert Dock in Liverpool was blessed by a fine sunny day and after a good walk around and a visit to the Tate I settled down for a glass of cask ale outside the Pump House pub and looked out on the hotchpotch of old and new, smart and scruffy, high art and pop culture: on one side the old dock buildings themselves, square and functional in their brick uniformity while on the other side the new commercial blocks of glass, steel and concrete competed with each other for eccentricity of angle, curve or other form, designed to attract the investor even at some detriment to functionality; in between the two sectors an isthmus of post-industrial detritus dotted with cast iron reminders of the former functionality – beached marker buoys, winches, davits, lock gates, swing foot bridges, and even an anchor - left there for effect or just forsaken; and at a respectable distance from the Tate, the Beatles Story attraction outside which the outsized figure of the fab four was attracting more attention than anything I had seen in the aforementioned gallery of modern art.

Changing Trains

Year 6 SATS week means no tutoring for me and a freedom to roam that happily coincides with forecast good weather for a day or two, so I researched a train trip to Edinburgh that looked a good deal at £19 on the soon expiring Transpennine Club 55 offer, but looked less attractive when it transpired that Transpennine trains don’t run north of Newcastle on the east coast line, so the route would be south to York, west to Manchester, then north via Carlisle to the Scottish capital arriving just in time to change platforms at Waverley station and set off back home again; instead I booked a ticket for Liverpool, two and a half hours with no changes and, with the railcard knocking off another 20%, only £15.20.

Fighting Weight

After eight weeks on two thousand calories a day (or near enough) my weight has steadily dropped to the eleven and a half stone that I consider my ‘fighting weight’, though checking Google I need to lose another pound before I could enter the ring as even a middleweight.

More Mortar

My fourth day up a ladder (not exclusively – an hour a day is the most my knees can take) brought the barn door lintel repair closer to conclusion, rotten wood out, the gap filled with new wood, primed and ready to paint, and some minor mortar work done; naturally I mixed too much mortar so used the excess on another job and, again naturally, there was not enough to finish that one so I had to mix even more of the stuff.

Lessagne

What do you call a lasagne in which the layers of pasta are replaced by thin slices of butternut squash – ‘tasty’, at least when cooked by my wife (an expert in the more traditional version) using the ready sliced vegetable from Sainsbury’s; it’s probably lower in calories too, so let’s call it lessagne.

Cats on Board

By locating the cats’ new platform thing in the sunny spot by the patio doors and removing the more interesting cardboard box it came in, the fussy felines have finally deigned to climb on board and enjoy its facilities.

Rotten Job

The plan to run a power line from the barn to the summer house should have involved just drilling a hole in the wooden barn door lintel, but closer inspection revealed that the drill would have been superfluous as I could have poked a hole through the rotten wood with my finger, which meant the job somewhat mushroomed; out came the crumbling old lintel and off I went back to B&Q to find a six foot length of four by two to replace it – but at least I now had a hole of those dimensions to feed my power cable through.

Unfettered

My first term time Wednesday unfettered by feckless youths faking learning was bright and sunny and perfect for pottering, so I did: returning some merchandise to The Range (nice to see the money going the other way for once), buying some DIY supplies at B&Q (with the pensioner Wednesday discount, its benefit offset by the congested parking as everyone tried to park within Zimmer frame distance), and dumping some accumulated old shoes in the clothes bank at Asda, before flashing the bus pass to get into Darlington town centre to visit the bank, tea shop and library.

Points Mean Prizes

Having missed last month’s pub quiz the team returned tonight refreshed and with a keen appetite for the fray, or at least the beer; we bossed the ‘in the news’ questions, did as well as usual on the general knowledge, and had one of our better music rounds, which resulted in high points, second place and, as our prize, money off a future meal.

Lopping Mad

I went a little crazy with the extending tree pruner over the last couple of days, increasing its range by standing on first a work bench and then the garden wall as I progressed down the hedge and finally tackled the sprawling tree in the corner that poses problems having its trunk in one neighbour’s garden and overhanging branches in another’s, but actually blocks the light from ours; by the time I had finished the daylight was flooding in to that corner of the garden even if it was under a mountain of leylandii cuttings.

Toy Box

The three tier cat toy cum scratching post, bought yesterday, has not been an unqualified success with the cats predictably ignoring it in favour of the cardboard box it came in.

End Game

The NPL play-off final at Brewery Field, Spennymoor, marked the end of the local non-league football season (though the double-header FA Vase / Trophy finals at Wembley await); those finals will take my match tally to thirty-eight for the season, a record in recent years, incorporating twenty different grounds including six not previously visited.

The White Horse

The White Horse was my dad’s local pub, at the top of our road, which meant I rarely went in it, at first because I was under age, then because I found the draught Boddington’s beer unsuited to my immature taste; today to commemorate a year since his passing I called in while visiting Salford and found the exterior unchanged, and inside the old warren of separate drinking rooms still discernable, despite some opening out of the area, along with a few remnants of the old place thankfully retained as ‘period features’, but the plan to toast the old man with a pint of Boddington’s was scuppered as Greene King are now in residence so I had to make do (no hardship) with Doombar instead.

Memories Aren’t Made of This

Today I helped out in a survey at the university involving among other things, prospective memory; I don’t know what my session told the research team but it certainly confirmed to me that, most of the time, things I am told just go in one ear and out the other without registering much in the grey matter in between.

Carpet Diem

The carpet fitters, due “mid-afternoon”, had me scurrying when they phoned at half past noon to say they were on their way, as I was in Stockton having taken the opportunity to nip to the library before their scheduled arrival; when I got back and let them in they were like a coiled spring, completing the fitting in thirty minutes flat.

Snow Football

After yesterday’s pink snow we had the real thing at tonight’s football match at Spennymoor, along with bright sunshine, driving rain and hail at various points in the evening with spectators flowing in and out of the limited shelter – alright for the home fans whose end is well covered but less so for the few away fans that had made the trip over the Pennines, who only had overhanging branches of a tree in an adjacent to cower beneath.

Pink Snow

For two or three days each year the local flowering cherry tree looks a picture, before the wind strips the blossom and produces pink snowdrifts that the rain then turns to grey mush; today saw that first transition with pink flakes drifting colourfully to earth.

Pigeon Loppers?

A bright day spent in the garden, first mowing the grass which was particularly thick under the tree where the pigeons sit and deposit their fertilising droppings (which also splatter the summer house and surrounding flagstones); once that was done I was able to try out the new extending tree pruner bought on Tuesday and while I could take out a few of the pigeons’ toilet seats, the birds themselves refused to put their cooing necks within lopping range.

Waitress Wait

A meal at the recently renamed Hammer & Pincers pub provided good food but some dilatory service, mainly as the owner/manager was trying to cover all the front of house bases herself – meeting, greeting, seating, taking orders, delivering meals and removing empty dishes – and in doing so giving an impression of a circus plate spinner; twice she arrived at our table to take the order and twice raced off to attend elsewhere before we could spit it out, so that when she arrived back the third time it was a case of “tell her quick before she disappears again”.

Extended Shopping

Today’s food shopping trips at Bolam’s and Sainsbury’s were not as entertaining as Tuesday’s at Aldi where I purchased one of their ‘special buys’ – an extending tree lopper; it did not make me the most popular shopper in the checkout queue, particularly as it had started to expand on its own accord, using up 2.4 metres of the conveyor belt, and preventing anyone else from unloading their trolley until I was out of the way.

Play on Words

My visit to the ARC in Stockton was rewarded with an excellent performance of “Rosencrantz & Gildenstern are Dead” streamed live from the Old Vic (where it was premiered fifty years ago) with Daniel Radcliffe and Joshua McGuire in the eponymous roles, and they made a very good partnership batting (literally at one point) lines to and fro as they, exasperated and puzzled, tried to make sense of their bit parts in Hamlet, delivering Tom Stoppard’s verbal acrobatics with consummate skill – but they were at least matched by David Haig as The Player whose appearances on stage brought light, colour and some killer lines.

No Show

My plans to visit the cinema tonight were scuppered by the paucity of films on offer at the Vue in Darlington, which seemed to aimed solely at the under-twelves, either in terms of age (Beauty and the Beast, Peppa Pig), IQ (Fast and Furious 8, Get Out) or both (Boss Baby).

Talking the Talk Talk

Having had my short weekly conversation with yet another scammer purporting to be my internet provider reporting a fault with my router (that will be the day when they ring me, they won’t even deal with a problem when you ring them) it was probably not the best time for a street sales team from Talk Talk to accost me in Newton Aycliffe town centre with the question “do you have broadband at home?”; to which my answer was “yes, yours, and it’s rubbish”.

Restricted View

Bank Holiday Monday and the visit of one of the best supported non-league clubs, FC United of Manchester, meant a decent crowd was expected at Darlington’s Blackwell Meadows, so I played safe and travelled via bus and foot to join the other 2,146 spectators in enjoying a good open game that yielded six goals; Darlo’s win keeps them in the top five but the play-offs have been denied (subject to appeal) by a change in the ground grading requirements for the National League, which is a shame but in all truth the ground needs more seats and some terracing as in a crowd of even this size many find their view restricted by the heads and shoulders of others, team dug-out shelters the size of small bungalows, and floodlight pylons the width of Redwoods bizarrely erected inside the pitch-side barriers.

Seaton Carew Slots

Easter Sunday with the undergrad back home, and the weather not yet raining, we took a short drive over to Seaton Carew for a walk along the prom and a session on the slot machines to use up our stock of 2p pieces accumulated over the year, which predictably soon disappeared into the shuffling piles of copper with only an occasional dribble coming out of the business end, however in a new (to us) development the machines randomly shot out tickets that could be then fed into another machine, that in turn printed out a receipt that could then be exchanged for ‘prizes’; also predictably our tickets broke the machine, but in fixing it the operative handed over more than we had put in, representing our only profit on the afternoon – sufficient to ‘win’ us a fudge bar each.

Yumacha

Arriving yesterday at West Bridgford we dined out with the daughter and son-in-law at the splendid Yumacha Bar and Brasserie, enjoying a fine selection of tapas dishes; the name apparently means “go eat” and we obliged again this morning with cakes and coffee before setting off home.

Staunton Harold

A grey morning but we made the planned visit to Staunton Harold and spent an hour or so strolling from the house to the pretty church and mooching round the stable block, now home to various galleries selling very expensive crafts and artwork, and more usefully a nice tearoom selling reasonably priced tea and cake.

National Memorial Arboretum

The visit to the National Memorial Arboretum at the peaceful juncture of the Rivers Trent and Tame was thought-provoking, particularly the memorials that featured symbolic installations such as the Christmas Truce, Shot at Dawn and the Burma Railway; the centre piece - the Armed Forces Memorial - is impressive and worrying, for both the number of names inscribed (16,000 killed since the end of the Second World War) and the space left available to add even more.

The Priest House

Took up residence in a cottage room at the Priest House on the River near Castle Donington; the hotel has a lovely setting on the Trent and bar meals to match most restaurants.

Sky Blue Thinking

A second coat of emulsion and the redecoration of spare bedroom was completed in a shade of sky blue that will make visiting Man City fans feel right at home.

IQ Masters

Another tight contest on TV as the final of University Challenge pitted Balliol (Oxford) against Wolfson (Cambridge), teams I had become familiar with over the weeks due to the convenient scheduling of the programme on BBC2 between the two episodes of Coronation Street on ITV; Balliol won out but the real fun is in getting a correct answer yourself (I’m happy with three or four in the half hour) particularly if neither team know it – score one to me last night as I correctly, and appropriately, guessed the author attributed with the first use of the word ‘nerd’, thanks to my long term study, or at least repeated reading to three children, of the works of the man: Dr Seuss.

EU Masters

The US Masters golf tournament became the EU Masters as the home challenge faded away leaving Justin Rose and Sergio Garcia to battle it out at Augusta, which made for great late night TV that extended to a play-off hole where Rose bogeyed and Garcia, despite able to take two puts to win, rattled in a birdie to take his first major title.

Step Change

A lovely sunny day on which to watch Darlington’s latest match in their attempt to gain promotion to Step 1 of the non-league pyramid was also a lovely sunny day for families to visit South Park and take up all available parking within miles of the Blackwell Meadows ground, so I gave up driving around and high-tailed it down the A66 to watch Stockton Town instead, where I was rewarded with adjacent parking, cheap entry, an excellent pie, and a six one romp for the home team as they clinched their own promotion out of Step 6.

X93 to Guisborough

This Friday’s outing on the bus pass was to the market town of Guisborough via the X93 service (though getting to that bus required a mile and a half walk, a bus to Stockton and another to Middlesbrough) which proved busy with trippers and holiday makers making for Whitby and Scarborough; once loaded up it was a quick journey as for as Guisborough where I met up with walking buddy Pete, though the  walk today was just up and down the high street, calling for lunch in the splendidly quirky Pie in the Sky (RAF themed) café and then in the Three Fiddlers pub for a couple of pints of excellent hand pulled draught Bass, setting me up nicely for those three busses and a hike home again.

Enemy Action

The splattered white blotches on my black car could mean one of two things; either my wife had started painting outdoors or, more likely, the pigeons had joined forces with the rooks in an avian campaign of harassment against me.

Re-retirement

I formally bowed out of my tutor job today, although I had not been needed for several weeks due to my absentee pupils; it was a low key affair as I handed over a text book and course file, said a few goodbyes, and left with a card signed by more people than I thought I had got to know over the three part time years employed there.

Rookie Mistake

Before cutting the grass at the back of the house I always spend some minutes picking up twigs that mysteriously seem to fall off the silver birch whether or not the wind has been blowing; my mistake has been to blame the wind as this morning I spotted the real culprits as several rooks descended on the tree and proceeded to peck away at its extremities before making off with what must be excellent nesting material – but not without dropping a good nest-load of rejects onto the lawn.

Prize Pots

I called at B&Q to get another match pot in the latest attempt to find the right shade in which to redecorate the spare bedroom; this is the sixth colour tried and the test wall now looks like a surrealist canvas with an outside shot at the Turner Prize.

Line of Fire

Decorating the spare bedroom had reached the stage when someone had to go up the ladder to paint the ceiling, and in consideration of my fragile knees my wife gave it a go on condition I assisted by holding the paint pot where she could reach it without surrendering her vice-like grip on the rungs; unfortunately that meant standing in the line of fire for drips, flicks and unintentional (I think) swipes of the paint brush.

Duck Food, Duck Weather

We made our annual visit to Bishop Auckland Food Festival and found it slightly curtailed as the castle grounds were not available due to work in progress on a visitor centre, but we still spent a sunny hour or so perusing the stalls and buying produce and I, for once, chose the right street food stall for my lunch – getting a toasted brioche filled with shredded duck, crispy bacon, red onion jam, mayo, lettuce and tomato, which was heaven in a bun; it was consumed just in time as the rain came down hard sending us through the puddles to one of the few places of shelter, in fact of sanctuary, in the church (briefly) then the adjacent church hall (longer) where mugs of tea could be had.

Mixed Border

Today’s windy conditions were too much for the vertical cloche-type unit that my wife painstakingly filled at the weekend with seed trays meticulously labelled with their contents, so over it went, the contents of six trays, and the same number of plant pots, tipped out into a homogenous heap on what had been the front panel of the plastic cover; I shovelled the stuff back into the empty containers as best I could but what ended up in which is a mystery that will only be revealed if and when they survive and put forth blooms in what will now have to be a mixed border.

Pounds Off

Counting calories may only be shaving pounds off my weight but it is certainly knocking them off my shopping bill; today I exited the supermarket with just the one large carrier bag as the stocks of cheese, biscuits, cake, bagels, butter, and jam needed no replenishment and even milk required just the one carton.

Book Stop

My favoured route into Darlington now involves parking the car at a convenient supermarket car park and getting the bus for the ten minute trip in, saving on the search for and expense of parking in town; a bonus is that the return bus stop is literally outside the front door of Waterstones so time spent waiting for the bus can be spent perusing books rather than avoiding eye contact with other would-be passengers.

Red Lights, Green Lights

Today saw the last of my Tuesday minibus shuttle runs, with an extra shuttle too to take my wife to work first thing, which meant I had to pass through the traffic light controlled road works outside the village a total of eight times; I wondered how my luck would pan out and it looked good at one stage when green was four one up, only to be pulled back to parity by full time.

Dinner Delivery

The meals on wheels service was needed again today as my wife shot off to school without her lunch bag; when she saw the school secretary walking through the hall with it to complete the delivery she was about to comment on how like hers it was until she realised it was in fact one and the same.

Mothering Son Day

It being Mothers’ Day the undergraduate was home for the afternoon and evening, and though his mother got the cards and presents, he got all the fuss and attention, and possibly left with more than he brought, his bag packed with a selection of DVDs off the shelf, left over cheesecake, homemade chocolate buns and a lump of mature cheddar.

Open House

The good weather continuing enabled the first mow of the back lawn – not by me as I slumbered unaware in bed, only up in time to trim the edges and move some garden furniture out of store and into place; this latter enabled the summer house to be readied for use and declared open for the season.

X75 to Barney

With a glorious spring day in prospect I gave the bus pass an outing on the X75 to Barnard Castle, the half hour ride through pleasant South Durham countryside enabling a couple of hours perusing the quirky shops for some low level retail therapy (cakes from the Moody Baker and a book from Oxfam), some lunch at Penny’s Tea Rooms (bacon & brie panini), and a half hour sat in the sunshine on the green by the castle walls; the journey back was less relaxing as the planned bus was immobilised with a smoking back wheel and the next one hit chucking out time at Hummersknott School as we entered Darlington, but all in all a good day out.

High Risk Cookery

My last experimental recipe that included black pudding was not hailed as a success, indeed the sausage and black pudding frittata has been roundly pilloried since, but not disheartened I went back down that route today and produced a smoked mackerel and black pudding kedgeree; it seemed pretty good to me and though the chef received no compliments it was all eaten up so I guess at least the jury is still out on this one.

Lost and Found

A week or so ago my wife finally completed a tapestry that seemed to have been the best part of a year in production, but on Saturday when she wanted to show it to a fellow crafter it was nowhere to be seen, and had defied all attempts to locate it since; my mission today was to search the house from top to bottom and unearth it, which I did, from down the back of “my” sofa – which of course made the disappearance my fault, eradicating any credit due me for finding it.

Number Twenty 2

With our wives driving into Darlington for their craft club tonight, a friend and I hitched a lift to enable a worthwhile visit to the Number Twenty 2 pub in the town centre, one of three operated by the Village Brewer group that strips pubs back to its essentials – good beer, comfortable seating and no piped music or clattering and beeping gambling machines – ideal for a convivial chat over a pint or two and clearly appreciated by the decent sized clientele in there; I sampled a couple of their own brews, White Boar which is light, clear as a bell and tasty, suitable to drink all night (my friend did) and Old Raby Ale which is dark, smooth and full-bodied.

Herbless Rack

Last autumn we bought a herb planter recycled from an old pallet that we thought would look good hung on the repaired garden wall; it has taken me six months to get round to fixing it up but I finally managed it today and was quite pleased with the result, obviously it would look better with some herbs actually in it, but one thing at a time.

Pie Problems

The Wynyard Farmers’ Market gives an opportunity to procure pies of distinction but places one with the dilemma of whether to go for the Piejacker’s Moroccan Lamb or the Moody Baker’s Wolf variety, which problem I solved by buying one of each (tea today and lunch tomorrow); the other problem with pies - how to ensure, when warming them up, the inside is as hot as the outside – I solved by judicious use of the meat thermometer.

Flat Pack Back Again

Before Christmas I spent a couple of evenings helping a friend to erect two huge flat pack wardrobes, a good job done and dusted we thought, but due to tragic circumstances since then one of these now needed to be moved to another room; it came to bits quicker than we built it and went back together just as nature (or Ikea) intended.

Cold Comforts

Still bravely enduring my cold and needing to stay home to receive a delivery of heating oil, I made myself comfortable with the heating on (with more oil on the way it seemed less extravagant) and indulged myself in the completely pointless but enjoyable exercise of doing a jigsaw, or at least starting it.

Cold Nose

As an extra wedding anniversary present my wife has given me the cold she acquired from school (an occupational hazard) so today was spent mainly mopping my nose.

Plates of China

The twentieth wedding anniversary is designated as ‘china’ but as we have an abundance of the stuff my wife and I took an alternative interpretation and bought each other a meal at the Chinese Buffet at Feethams in Darlington where we filled our china plates (repeatedly) with tasty Chinese food from the ever-present chicken and sweetcorn soup to the delicate and colourful jellied desserts.

Wedgie

Setting off in convoy on our return journey to school I noticed under the minibus in front something not quite right, as instead of daylight between the offside rear double wheel was a revolving foreign body, which to the driver felt like a puncture; we both stopped to investigate and found she had driven over half a brick and managed to get it stuck between the two tyres, wedged tight enough to defy attempts to pull it out and prompt thoughts of either whacking it with a tyre iron or deflating one of the tyres, until eventually brute force (mine, unusually enough) won out and we could get on our way.

Holi Sticks

I am not unused to sourcing and preparing materials for use in my wife’s primary school class, but today was a new one as I stripped the bark off a few small windfall branches so that they could be brightly painted as part of their celebration of the Hindu spring festival of Holi; at least I got the end of the job that did not involve being covered in poster paint.

Garden Tidied

The weather was deemed (by my wife, the arbiter of such things) fit for gardening, so we began the post-winter tidy up of the garden; or rather she tidied the garden while I cleared gutters and broke up a pallet, with my tidying up coming later – tidying up the debris left in her tidying up wake.

The Morgue

I ticked off another Northern League ground today with a visit to the Daren Persson Stadium at North Shields, in itself nothing special but worth sharing due to its nickname of “The Morgue”, which relates to the eponymous ground sponsor’s profession as an independent funeral director; mind you it’s not inappropriate as most visiting teams see their pre-match hopes die as the top of the table Robins have a very impressive home record.

Six Nations

Back to sporting theatre today and though the Rugby Union Six Nations season has gone unremarked to date, it has not been unremarkable with close games (apart from those involving Italy) and unpredictable results (ditto), such that tonight’s televised match was between twice defeated Wales and once defeated Ireland – both virtually out of contention; nevertheless it was a match of full on commitment and shuddering collisions that ended with Ireland also twice defeated, though Wales’ 22 – 9 winning score was flattered by a late poached try as Ireland risked all to save the game.

NT Live

I visited the ARC in Stockton tonight to see the live streaming of Hedda Gabler from the National Theatre’s Lyttleton stage in London, which proved to be an enjoyable experience that had a genuine feel of the theatre about it, the atmosphere helped by the streamed view and sound of the audience filling up the auditorium ahead of the start; as for the production, I was impressed by the set, lighting and performances but the play itself I found less enjoyable with most of the characters being quite an unpleasant bunch who probably deserved what they got.

Sporting Theatre

A couple of tasty sporting clashes on TV this evening with Judd Trump beating Ronnie O’Sullivan in the snooker and then the Champion’s League highlights, which lived up to their name as Barcelona made an incredible comeback from the 4-0 first leg defeat, beating PSG by 6-1, with their last three goals coming after the 87^th minute.