Ashbourne

Had a lovely wander around Ashbourne today, got there about 9.30a.m. and had a good look at the antique shops and the book shop and the super second hand book stall on the market, didn’t see anything we wanted to purchase but really enjoyed looking. Had a cup of coffee in the café bar near the bridge and then drove up to the garden centre before heading home via what we call the Roman road which actually runs from the outskirts of Derby to Caverswall, Blythe Bridge and into Stoke, we picked it up at Cubley and came through Rocester and past the JCB factory where people walk and enjoy the lakes around the factory, there are some interesting water birds and many folks stop and park up and get an ice cream from the van and just sit and watch the fountain in the middle of the lake.

Got backhome and mowed the lawns, they always look so much better after a cut. The new bird bath looks wonderful bathed in sunlight.

Mid Year Resolution

I feel I have been rather neglectful of this blog recently, finding it hard, not to find the time to write, but to actually know what to say. I have therefore made a resolution that I must write something, even if it is no more than two lines every day to get myself into the swing of things again. I don’t know why I’m particularly lacking in inspiration, June is nearly here, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and yet for some reason things still seem grey. I can’t concentrate for very long on reading anymore and my favourite TV programmes seem so shallow and tedious. I have written quite a lot today though. I have started a story about juggling with one’s priorities in life and completed two exercises from the previous two weeks writing course homework a dialogue piece about an argument or misunderstanding and one of two character descriptions. So I have sort of been productive.

I’ll be back tomorrow.

Glasses and Bird Baths

Friday was the All Write meeting at Hanley Library. I really enjoy these meetings and there is a nice lively crowd of people who attend. I like listening to them read out their work and today one of them had brought along a trial piece of dialogue and had produced four copies so that others could join in and read the parts, this certainly livened things up and was quite entertaining. I’m constantly surprised at how good people are and sometimes feel quite inadequate; their ideas for stories and poems are excellent.

On the bus home a young woman came to sit next to me, I’d seen her at the bus stop in her afghan coat and flowery head scarf, tied in a knot at the back, clutching a rather flamboyant wine glass in one hand and a huge bag in the other. I watched, fascinated as she managed to clutch the wine glass and her MP3 player in one hand whilst she struggled to break bits off a Toblerone bar with the other. She had more than one ring on every digit and more than one ring in both her ears and her nose. She saw me looking at her glass and started to explain to me how she had decorated it with suns and moons and then described the other pieces she had decorated. We had a nice conversation which whiled away the journey time on the rather overcrowded bus.

Saturday we wandered around Bakewell, popping in and out of the lovely little shops, arcades and interesting alley ways, had coffee in the café over the farmer’s market shop and walked by the river. Here we saw swans, ducks and geese with their young and a pair of coots who had decided to nest on a little ‘island’ close to the bridge and the seats where everyone gathers to eat their fish and chips or their ice creams (depending on the weather – yesterday there was a mixture of both!) We then ventured to the Chatsworth Garden Centre for lunch and here we picked up a great bird bath for only £16.99. We’d wanted one for ages to replace the one that was frost shattered last year and now we have it. Only, of course, today we have had to spruce up the garden again so that the bird bath looks good in its new home.

Where, What and Why?

During this week, in the potteries town* which is the nearest to where I live there have been two major incidents, a murder and a fire on one of the main shopping streets. This fire gutted an already empty and semi-derelict building and made it unsafe so major parts of the town had to be sealed off whilst building experts secured it. The murder we know little about yet but a young mother of two was found in an alleyway almost opposite the Gladstone Museum at two in the afternoon, in the local paper there was a picture of her on CCTV just over an hour before she was found dead. A man was arrested almost immediately and charged a day or so after, and thank goodness for that but it does make you feel very uneasy. All you can say is why?

Yesterday, to escape the confines of the city we ventured out to our favourite garden.** It is set in beautiful countryside on the Staffordshire/Cheshire/Shropshire border. Constructed in an old quarry, now full of the most beautiful rhododendrons and azaleas in every colour imaginable, it is so pleasing on the eye. Each year when we visit we find something new has been added, another corner has reached maturity and more and more people have been delighted by their visit, including us.

Well, our tadpoles have developed legs. About a month ago we took some tadpoles from the garden pond and put then in a bowl in doors to save them from becoming newt food. They have prospered so well and are now fat and healthy and ready to be returned to the garden. Not to the main pond but to a small sunken container that has been set up a little away from it. Last night the container was filled with pond water and weed ready to receive them. Today they will go to their new home and hopefully soon we will have some little frogs.

* The city of Stoke on Trent is made up of six towns, not five*** being from north to south Tunstall, Burslem, Hanley, Stoke, Fenton and Longton.
** It is The Dorothy Clive Garden
*** Local author Arnold Bennett, left out Fenton when he wrote Anna of the Five Towns.

Le Marché

On Friday I was wandering, in the sunshine, through the market. The stalls were bright, cheerful and welcoming with flags and balloons dancing in the breeze. The stall holders were calling to each other and to the passers by. I hovered around one or two stalls; the smell of the olives, so many different varieties, drew me in and then I was hooked. I dallied around the cheese counter, eyed up the crusty fresh bread, the brioche and the croissants and then the intricately plaited bunches of garlic which nestled at the side of the rich red strawberries and luscious looking asparagus. I moved on to the Breton biscuits; they had those tasty butter ones and the gorgeous prune tart. Mmm. The crepe stand was doing excellent business, a crepe and a coffee was just the thing for lunch. I sat at the table watching people drifting from stall to stall. The sun was warm the food was tasty and the most wonderful thing was the smell of the cut lavender on the stall opposite – it was warm, heady and sensual. I drifted away into a gentle reverie “Bonjour Madam” said the man serving the crepes, “c’est tout?” enquired the woman on the biscuit stall as she weighed out biscuits for her customers.

Then, all of a sudden I was jolted out of my dream. “Ey-up duck, where’s tha bin?”
“Up Marks, shug, ar’t catchin’t bus home?”.

Oh no, drat, I wasn’t in Brittany at all, but on Piccadilly, Hanley. Still, it was nice while it lasted.

Past Times

So we have another election looming. The feeling of security goes out of the window and in comes that uneasy feeling in the pit of the stomach that things may get worse.* I mutter to myself every day, “Oh, please don’t let MH get to be PM.” I cringe every time I see him on television because he brings back memories of those awful, fearful Thatcher years and will be forever associated with her in my memory. I could just about tolerate a Conservative victory, if I really had to, but, please God, not with him at the helm. I know I will support Labour, I always do, even though I was very upset with TB when he took us into the war against the wishes of the UN and the rest of Europe and a lot of us Brits too. At that time I was really ashamed of and aghast at what we had done, but I can’t, in all honesty vote for any other party. I will vote for the party and all it has stood for in the past; not for its present leader because he probably won't be PM for the whole five years if they get in. It would be against my very being to step away from my beliefs, no matter how archaic others may think they are, it would seem like letting down my ancestors who for generations until the last two, have worked down the mines. My great grandfather was killed in an awful pit cage accident, my grandfather died from pneumoconiosis or “miners lung”. Generations before them struggled for survival in poor conditions and for low wages. My 5 x great grandfather was a prospector who traveled, in the 1780s, from the Welsh Borders and the Forest of Dean into Derbyshire with a gang of men and they would open up coal seams and try to get local business men interested. No doubt they would all have been issued with settlement orders naming the parish of their birth. What a precarious life. On the other side my great - great grandfather was a tailor who came down into England from Fife, Scotland, again I assume looking for work and again, I would imagine settlement orders were an issue.

* I don’t want to go back to those days of worry, when either one or the other of us was unemployed because of redundancy,** when we had to move from the area we had grown up in, getting further away from our families. Luckily, unlike my ancestors, we didn’t need settlement orders in case we became a burden on the parish we moved to.
** by sheer luck we were never unemployed at the same time so we always worked on the principle of one wage for two when taking up rental agreements or seeking mortgages – just in case it should ever happen again.

Library Rules

Yesterday I walked the two miles to our local library in order to renew my library ticket.* I strolled into the newly refurbished library unaware of the confusion that lay ahead. Actually my ticket ran out last year but because I’d been doing an OU writing course and then had succumbed to the Waterstones’ 3 for 2 offer on books a couple of times last year and then been tempted by one or two books in Tesco for £3.73 each and also bought a couple of magazines with free books, I hadn’t needed to go to the library.** So, I went up to the counter and asked very nicely if I could renew my ticket.

Well, the answer was no, not unless I had proof of my address on me. As a non-driver I don’t have a driver’s license so I was a bit stuck. I only had bank cards on me and they don’t have an address on. I said I could come back with my passport, national insurance card or medical card to prove I was who I said I was, but no, it has to be a letter with my address on received in the post that day or quite recently. ‘Don’t you get junk mail?’ one of the librarians asked ‘I get loads.’ Well yes, as it happens I do, but I couldn’t see how a piece of junk mail would be as reliable in identifying me as a passport or medical card. Anyhow, the only letter I’d had that day was one telling me I had won some fantastic gift if only I would ring the attached 0900 number and it had been shredded. Therefore, until I can prove that I am really and truly me I can’t have a new library ticket. I’m just waiting to receive a letter with my name and address on so I can trip down to the library again holding it in my sticky mitt.*** You know, I suppose they have their job to do, I might be trying to steal someone’s identity but if I was, borrowing books from the library would be the least of my concerns.


* I know, what an exciting life I lead.
** You are right, shame on me, I should support my local bookshop and not these huge high street stores, but I’ve applied for a job twice at the local bookshop and never even had an interview so I feel disinclined to put my money in their coffers.
*** I did have two letters today but not “official” ones – they were both hand written ones from friends so they will not do.

Highlight of today – the lovely letters mentioned above.

Today’s gripe – it has taken me hours to clean the spare bedroom and rid it of all the cat fluff and crud. Also I bet one of the cats was responsible for the headless baby bird I found on the lawn this morning. Why do I love cats so much when they do this?

Red Kite Delight

It’s hard to gather my thoughts together enough to recount the things I’ve seen and done over the last few days. I was so looking forward to my trip into Wales to meet up with friends and I wasn’t disappointed. I set out on Tuesday morning from Stoke Station on a coach up to Crewe, yes I know, I just assume that the trains to Crewe weren’t running that day. We took a circuitous route via Kidsgrove and Alsager stations, and I began to worry I wouldn’t get there on time to catch my train down to Shrewsbury. I needn’t have worried as, in the end, I had plenty of time to spare. At Shrewsbury I met Pauline from her train and we popped into town to have lunch at the art gallery just up from the station. We were back at the station in time to catch the Swansea train.

This train travels through the most delightful countryside, meandering past the Long Mynd at Church Stretton over the viaduct at Knucklas and into Wales. Our friend Susanna was waiting at the station in the little village where she lives and where we were staying at the local bed & breakfast which is also a museum, tea rooms, art gallery and craft workshops.* We had supper at Susanna’s little cottage overlooking her splendid garden whilst watching the birds on her feeders, including Goldfinch, chaffinch, nuthatch, great tits and blue tits. What a super display. We strolled back through the village to the guest house still amused by the fact that when we arrived my room still seemed to be occupied by someone else. It turned out that the brother of the owner had been staying and gone back to London and left his things. I had already moved to another room which on such a cold night was altogether cosier, then I found that I couldn’t get the hot tap to work on my bath but Pauline managed to sort it. All this caused much amusement.**

Next day, after breakfast*** we set out with Susanna to Rhayader to have lunch with her sister and brother-in-law and then to drive to the Elan Valley. The Valley is quite spectacular and on the drive we saw several red kites wheeling around in the sky, apparently there is a farm nearby where people can go and watch them being fed. We walked awhile at the side of one of the reservoirs and then went down to the visitor centre near the water cascade where we found out how the land was developed and the feat of engineering that went into the supplying of water to Birmingham and the Midlands.

I brought home such wonderful memories of the Elan Valley that I have to go back again soon with Paul so he can see the Red Kites.

* I may write more on this place later.
** Also amusement the next morning when Pauline set off the smoke alarm with her hair dryer.
*** the marmalade should have been in the museum.

Where do you Start?

Well, the writing class on Friday went well. We all had to read out the pieces we’d written for homework, based on the theme of childhood memories last week. This week’s homework is to write about a piece of music and why and how it appeals to you. Now this sounds easy, but where do you start? There are so many different pieces of music that appeal to me and for different reasons. Should it be the first piece of music you ever heard? If so then I would have to chose ‘The Cuckoo Waltz’ because I remember my father used to put the record (a 78 rpm) on the turntable and play it and waltz me around standing on his feet. I must have been about four years old. Or what about ‘Andy Pandy is coming to play tra, la la, la, la la’ - apparently I used to cry when Teddy disappeared into the toy basket at the end. I remember having to sing ‘Rose of England’ at a school concert, then there was the school hymn I think it was “Ye Holy Angels Bright” and my favourite hymns “Glorious things of thee are spoken” and “I give to you my Country” – not sure if they are the titles or the first lines. Next memories, well I fell in love with the golden face and voice of Scott Walker - I only have to hear the first few notes of “The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore” and the back of my neck prickles. Robert Knight’s “Everlasting Love” and the Supremes “Reflections” remind me of dances at the youth club. Or what about Waterloo Sunset written by one of the best ever English song writers, Ray Davies. I also like to play Jimi Hendrix very loudly at times to cheer myself up, I remember seeing him on stage years and years ago and I can still see the bandana and the purple crushed velvet suit and the larger than life image of something special. But where do you stop with music that means something to you? There are many classical pieces including Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Vaughan Williams’s “Fantasia on a Theme from Thomas Tallis”, Barber’s “Adagio” and the theme music from the ‘Mission’ in fact almost anything by Ennio Morricone, or the whole of the Carmina Burana, or Michael Nyman’s music from "The Draughtsman’s Contract" So I’m going to have to choose one of these to write about. Maybe I’ll write about Waterloo Sunset or the Vaughan Williams or perhaps I should try Hendrix?

Highlight of the day – getting lots of gardening done this afternoon and getting ready for my three day trip into Wales on Tuesday.

Today’s gripe - rain stopped the gardening before we had finished – the garden will never dry.

Barefoot in Hanley

I was sitting in the conservatory this morning, drinking coffee, looking out at the garden with its brand new spring colours and I got to thinking what other sights, tastes and smells make you feel safe and happy. I always enjoy my first sip of newly made coffee after the aroma of making it has filled the house and I love the taste of fresh apricots*, gooseberries and mangoes. Smells would have to be lavender, torn basil leaves and freshly squeezed lemon or lime. One of my favourite sensations is walking barefoot in the sand with the sound and smell of the surf drifting into my consciousness** also the smell of the garden early in the morning when the sun has been up just a little while and the grass is still damp from the dew. I also love it when, very rarely nowadays, I wake up warm and comfortable after a good night’s sleep, that moment between waking and being fully conscious is wonderful. The feel of a warm, furry, purring cat on your lap when you are feeling down. Just a few of my favourite things.

* especially when bought early from a market stall in France and taken back to our lodgings to eat with warm fresh baguette, greengage preserve and – you’ve guessed - freshly made coffee.
** quite hard to do in Stoke, I admit, but usually managed two or three times a year, sometimes at Cherrueix or St-Jean-Le-Thomas, sometimes on the Welsh coast near Criccieth, last year on the Yorkshire coast, in the rain, but I still loved every minute. How wonderful is Staithes in the pouring rain? I thought it was breathtakingly beautiful and atmospheric.

Highlight of the day – there isn’t going to be a bus strike after all, so I don’t have to walk the two plus miles up to Hanley in order to get to my writing course. I don’t mind the walking, I’ve done it before it’s just the noise of the traffic on the main roads I have to walk along – could I suspend all belief and pretend I’m walking barefoot on the beach at Cherrueix ? Nope!!

Today’s gripe – happened yesterday actually, in Tesco. Why do people have to ‘push’ from behind in the queue? They come right up behind you with their trolly in the back of your legs, come right down and stand almost behind you while you are paying – very rude! Sometimes they have a partner in crime who is getting their bags ready to fill whilst you are still filling yours. They watch your every move, eagle eyed, ready to pounce, even before you have moved away from the checkout. Don’t do it! Thanks.

Manifold

We set out early yesterday morning and journeyed out towards Ipstones and Onecoat and then down to the stunning Manifold Valley. The morning was bright and clear but very cold. Occasionally the liquid sun would break through the clouds to fool us into thinking it was warmer but believe me it wasn't. We parked close to Wetton Mill and donned warm coats and walking boots. There were very few people around at 9.30a.m. which meant we had the track way more or less to ourselves. Our intention was to walk up to Thor's Cave. We'd passed by it once before and this time intended to go up and have a look. Perched high above the valley on its rocky outcrop it looks very impressive, its entrance, like a gaping mouth, being visible from miles around.

Apparently local excavations have revealed evidence of Iron Age and Romano-British settlement in the area around the cave. Early last century the cave became quite a tourist attraction when the Leek and Manifold Light Railway was built and visitors would leave the train at the local station and walk up to the cave. This railway was in use from about 1902 to 1934 and the walk along the valley from Hulme End to Wetton mill uses the line of the old railway track so it is suitable for cycling too. The walkway up to the top was steep but not too taxing and we reached the cave quite quickly. What splendid views there were across the valley, although the wind felt as if it would blow us down to the ground below. There are other smaller caves visible across the valley, and from Thor's cave you can look across to another cave which is up behind the Mill.



As we descended from the cave it began to rain lightly and the sun disappeared, we passed one or two walkers on the way back to Wetton Mill where we stopped in the café for coffee and toast. What a delightful spot for walkers to rest their weary bones for a while. We watched the ducks on the river and the farm cats being fed before we left.

Highlight of the day - managed to buy the Guardian at the local shop - they don't usually stock more than one and you have to get up at the crack of dawn to get it.

Today's Gripe - don't really have one, except when it rains really heavily, we have a leak in the conservatory roof.

Dreaming of Dr Johnson

When is a dream not a dream but a nightmare? I suppose when it disturbs you, makes you cry out, wake up in a sweat or stays in your memory for a few days? Yet, we all have surreal dreams that disturb us and we would not call them nightmares. I’m thinking of the anxiety dreams that we have. Like the ones I sometimes have about running down endless corridors in large, unfamiliar houses. The ones where you are walking up the stairs and the ceiling is coming down to meet you. There are also the ones where you are out in the street in your underwear, the one where you are trying to run but your legs won’t move or you are trying to shout or scream for help but no noise comes out of your mouth and the one I have quite often of my teeth falling out of my mouth and spilling across the floor like a broken string of pearls. I always seem to loose far more teeth than can possibly be in my head though. These are all unsettling dreams but I wouldn’t call them nightmares.

In yesterday’s Guardian there was an article about Samuel Johnson’s famous dictionary. It was, apparently, published 250 years ago this month.* His definition of a nightmare was ‘a morbid oppression in the night, resembling the pressure of weight upon the breast.’ This morning I woke up with a ‘pressure of weight upon the breast’, a paw patting my cheek and a purring in my face, not to mention cat breath - perhaps best not to, good old Max, he knows when it is time to get up.

*funnily enough I’ve just finished reading “According to Queeney” by Beryl Bainbridge. A wonderfully atmospheric account of what Dr Johnson’s last years may have been like. How can an author “get inside” a time in history with so much atmospheric accuracy as to make you feel it is one hundred percent real. A truly wonderful piece a writing.

Highlight of the day – if it’s Sunday it must be The Archers – off to listen now.
Today’s Gripe – being woken up by cat-breath – but I love him really.

Croissants, Hawkshead & Hotspur

We travelled through the mist and rain over the Staffordshire border into Shropshire. Before we moved into the city we used to live out near Market Drayton and the countryside around there is really beautiful. I think it was the 40 minutes travelling each way every day to get to work that made us move closer to our work places but I really miss the area.

Today we were off to Shrewsbury, a fascinating, historic town with lovely inviting shops to wander around. I usually end up on the railway station here when I meet up with a friend I used to work with in Lincolnshire and we catch the Shrewsbury to Swansea train on our way to visit another former work colleague and friend. We only travel to near Llandrindod Wells but the train ride is spectacular. We are going again in April and I’m really looking forward to it.

Today we had a mission to buy my husband some new shoes and trousers. They could, of course, be bought here, up in the city centre, but it is so much nicer to wander around someone else’s town. Anyway, I love the historic atmosphere of Shrewsbury, something that Hanley is sadly lacking. We always drive to the park and ride and then bus into the centre. I’m always amazed that the Stoke-on-Trent park and ride car park is almost in the city centre and not on the outskirts. How much more convenient that would be, especially for visitors to the city and if they were to pass the railway station, which isn’t actually in the city centre, then all the better.

Well, as usual, we have cappuccino and croissant at our favourite café and then wander around in the rain, dodging the umbrellas and gradually acquire the things we came for; and a little more, of course.

On the way back we see a sign for the site of the Battle of Shrewsbury and decide that today is the day we will go and look what it is all about. Yes, I know, in the pouring rain. Well, it’s a mound with seats and a couple of interpretation boards. Being a Yorkist and Ricardian I’m used to the rather lavish battle site at Bosworth, and this looked just as interesting. The Battle of Shrewsbury was one of the bloodiest battles of the 15th century and saw the demise of the noble Hotspur something I always remember from Henry IV part one or is it part two?* Anyway, we have decided to go back in better weather and do the walk to the church and back; so more of this later.

Highlight of the day – getting three t-shirt tops for the price of two at Hawkshead.

Today’s gripe – I couldn’t find the book of poetry I wanted at Waterstones.

*It is actually Part One, V.4

Hotspur- “O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth……………No, Percy, thou art dust, and food for……..”

Prince Hal - “For worms, brave Percy, Fare thee well, great heart!”

To Post or not to Post

Recently I’ve become rather concerned about what is going to happen to the postal service if the Royal Mail loses its postal monopoly. How are the other companies offering delivery services going to work? The Royal Mail has dedicated postmen who know the area and potentially deliver to every house in the land. What will happen if say two houses on one street of a hundred houses are sent mail by another delivery agency. Will it be economically viable for that company to send out a post man for just two houses? Magnify this across the whole country and in particular the outlying rural areas and we may have a situation where deliveries only take place two or three times a week. Will this mean that we may eventually have to pay for a delivery to take place from a company that is not Royal Mail? At the moment the cost of delivery is paid by the sender when they buy a stamp. If sending mail to a remote Scottish Island is going to cost twice as much as it does now the sender will stay with Royal Mail, so what is the point anyway? I know it can work with parcels, there are plenty of delivery firms, catalogue couriers etc. but how will it affect our daily postal deliveries? The powers that be say that Royal Mail will still be required to provide a daily collection and delivery service in the new market but how long will they be able to sustain that under the threat of competition? Perhaps I am worrying unduly but having seen the fiasco on the rail service since that was denationalized and going through the bizarre notion of getting gas from electricity or water companies and telephone services from the supermarket my aged brain has gone into panic scenario overdrive.

Good Friday Walk

Just over half an hour’s drive from us is the village of Ilam, it’s very close to Dovedale and you can easily walk to there from the village but Ilam is so much quieter, especially fairly early on in the morning. We wondered along the river side, the banks lush with wild garlic, dog’s mercury, sorrel and some early bluebells just showing through, then crossed back over the fields towards the Youth Hostel and National Trust shop. Fortified by coffee and scones at the Manifold tea rooms we strolled by the pretty church and down to the village to have a look at the memorial on the cross roads by the bridge. We'd passed it by so often and thought it was some sort of village war memorial but a recent article in the Local History Magazine revealed that it is in fact an Eleanor Cross type memorial, placed there by Jesse Watts-Russell, for his wife Mary Watts-Russell, who died in 1840. The architect, John Macduff Derick, in the full flow of Gothic revival, based it on the Eleanor Cross at Waltham. There is, in fact, a charitable trust set up in order to raise funds for its restoration. Later, driving towards Ashbourne we passed through the parklands covered in grazing sheep and lambs, the cars had come to a halt because there were sheep in the road, as we stood waiting to move on we saw an ewe with two new born lambs, they were still wet and bedraggled and they struggled to walk as she encouraged them away from the road’s edge, just as we moved on they began to suckle. Up on the hill there was a Good Friday service taking place around a wooden cross. So, Easter and Spring, a time of new life, renewal, abundance in the countryside and also a time for quiet reflection.

Highlight of the day - has to be the sight of the new born lambs, although I worry for their safety on that busy road.
Today’s gripe – I’ve gone caught a cold just in time for the holidays, oh well!

The Morecambe Tulip

As promised an explanation of my comment yesterday. It must be about four years ago now when we took a short autumn break in the Lancaster area. We just set off without booking anything and spent a day in Lancaster but thought we would like to stay on the coast. The Tourist Information Centre got us a good deal at a nice hotel on the sea front at Morecambe, the opposite end of town to the famous 1930s hotel and the Eric Morecambe statue. We had walked and walked taking in the sea air and as it had started to rain we decided to see what was on at the cinema and we were just in time to see Bridget Jones (the first film). When we came out we went back to the car park; by this time it was dark but the car park was well lit. That when I saw it – just one flower bulb on the ground in perfect condition right at the side of our car. I picked it up and put it in my pocket where it stayed until we got home. It was the right time of year to plant it so we put it in a pot and put it behind the shed. The next spring we brought it out and waited to see what it would be. As it emerged from the soil we could see from the shape of the leaves that it was a tulip. We then had to wait and see what colour it would be, minor bets were placed, but neither of us guessed the correct colour which turned out to be pink. Since then it has appeared every year in the same pot but this year it has become three separate stems so we will have three flowers, not just the one. Sentimental, I know, but if we ever move away from this house, I will take the Morecambe Tulip(s) with me.

Highlight of the Day - whilst walking round the lake at Trentham Gardens this afternoon, and glorious weather it was too, we saw a family walking their pet ferret, it was in a harness with a long lead and was thoroughly enjoying itself.

Today’s gripe – just the general thoughtlessness at the petrol station – why does this always bring out the worst in people? The man in front of us sent his passenger to pay whilst he was filling up. Because the queue was long it took her ages and he moved the car three times, getting in people’s way, and then shouted at her because she was so long!

Big Foot

I’ve noticed a new phenomenon on our street. All the little girls have big feet. Some of them brown suede; some of them sheepskin coloured and one in particular has pink fluffy ones. Now I’m guessing that these strange objects are the latest fashion and are presumably the cheaper versions of the “Ugg” boots so popular with the trendy types who grace the pages of the glossy gossip magazines. You know, those magazines that decorate the coffee tables in the waiting area at the hairdressers rather than those that decorate the windowsill in the doctor’s surgery waiting room. The ones in the hair salon are always up to date with photos of the latest soap/tv/catwalk star’s love split/ triangle/ weight loss or new baby on the front cover. It’s no use looking at the ones in the surgery as they are at least three years old and as such contain “old news” – so yesterday. (The dentist’s waiting room, on the other hand, has its own magazines, full of close ups of diseased gums and furry tongues and definitely not for the feint hearted). So these copies of Ugg boots, well I wouldn’t spot the real thing if it hit me in the face, especially the pink fluffy ones – well they have only just appeared now the weather is warmer so I’m guessing they are a fashion statement and should not, in any circumstances, be worn in rain, hail, snow or slush or for walking the dog around the local park. Still, for that we have the new trendy wellies spotted in our local garden centre, decorated in spots, stripes or 60s daisy petal flowers, a mere snip at £25. I mean the utilitarian green ones, worn by us un-trendy folk are only £7, I wonder if I could paint red spots on them? Or little chicks for Easter. I can but dream.

Highlight of the day - The Morecambe Tulip is now three*
Gripe of the Day - The top lawn is still sodden and damp, it has been like this all winter, it desperately need a cut but it’s just not possible.

* I will explain this tomorrow

Shubumpkin

Whilst traveling home on the bus today I sat in front of an elderly couple discussing fish. Not unusual in itself but my mind began wandering back to a place in time when I had owned a fish. Of course the people were discussing fish in the eating sense, I think comparing the merits of Haddock, Plaice and Cod but I lost the thread of their discussion as my mind drifted back to my fish. It had a small square tank on top of the piano in the “front room” as we called it then. This room was where mum placed her best three piece suite and her display cabinet of nic-nacs, This room also housed the television set and we were only allowed in there in the evenings – unless, of course, I was practicing on the piano. Anyway, back to my fish. I had been to the fairground in the nearest local town with my best friend. She and I had met on our first day at school and had an instant rapport, there being only one week between our birthdays. She was plump and pretty with long dark hair which was, more often than not, tied up in a pony tail. I was thin, angular with straight side parted hair clipped back with a slide and since I’d had the measles I wore, to my despair, pink framed glasses. I was always aware that people liked my friend more than me, especially the boys, I was used to this, so it was a surprise when we won the fish that for once in my life it was me that was singled out. You see all the fish being given out to winners in their plastic bags were gold, but mine was pink. I looked at it at little askance and the man running the stall smiled at me and said that’s a special one, it’s a Shubumpkin. I took it home with great joy and a tank and food was bought for it as soon as possible. I seem to remember it lived for quite a few years before finally one morning I went in to feed it and found it floating on the surface, poor pink Shubumpkin.

Highlight of the day – the bus was on time, not very full and the driver was pleasant and smiled at everyone and for once I didn’t have difficulty getting from the back to the front of the bus whilst it negotiated the speed bumps on the corner of our street.

Today’s gripe – I went into M&S especially to get those lovely mango yoghurts, the ones with the checked, jam cover like, tops and they hadn’t got any in stock. I am now absolutely craving mango yoghurt; the raspberry one I did buy just didn’t hit the spot.

West to East in a Day

Saturday 19th March

Birthday Celebrations

Up at 6.30a.m. today to be ready to leave the house by 8a.m. to set out on our travels across country to a birthday lunch. First down to Tesco to fill up with petrol, how very useful their 5p off a litre coupons are. Then along the A50 to Kegworth, through the villages of Rempstone and Wymeswold to Melton Mowbray and then to Oakham. Here we had a leg stretch, bought cheese and flowers at the local farmer’s market, had a warming cappuccino and then onwards through historic Stamford and then through the Deepings and on to the fens towards Crowland. The memories came flooding back as the vistas opened, the land flattened and the drains appeared at the sides of the roads. Swans and geese were bobbing about on the River Welland as the tower of Crowland Abbey loomed in the distance. In this part of the country you navigate by Church towers. We left here ten years ago after living in nearby Spalding for twelve years. When I first arrived, after living in Derbyshire surrounded by hills and dales I hated the sparse flatness of the area, but I grew to love it, the light, the open skies and the history of the landscape. So, onwards towards the Wash and our destination. We had a lovely lunch, it is so nice eating good food, talking to old friends and catching up on news.

Highlight of the Day - being with friends and remembering past times.

Today’s gripe - Almost £8 for tea and toast at the Little Chef!!!

Sweet Willy Shakey

Friday 18th March

Well, as instructed when we bought the tickets, we arrived early to ensure a car parking place. Having a small car we can tuck in to the smallest space and whip out again just as easily. The car park was almost full when we arrived, as was the entrance foyer and upper foyer. We wandered around clutching our J2Os (Apple & Mango flavour, of course) until we found a spare corner to sit and wait a while for the doors of the auditorium to open. The building is quite modern in structure and is a ‘theatre in the round’ but this was the first time we had been up on the balcony so didn’t know what to expect. The seating was okay and the view only slightly restricted. I had to lean forward to see the area where the drums and other instruments had been set out for the performers to use throughout the play. Cue the first entrance of the “rude mechanicals”, regulars at the Tabard Inn, who were the main characters of the play. They arrived centre stage to the sound of jazz which soon turned to their rapping out the first song which culminated in the line “he’s sweet Willy Shakey from Stratford Town” rather like an ageing, Tudor Blazin’ Squad. The gist of the story is, of course, the influence these folk have on Shakespeare and his use of their characters in his plays. Fat Jack, played by Barry Rutter, was as you may guess Sir John Falstaff, the bellows mending twins no doubt the Dromios of the sister play being performed by the company, A Comedy of Errors. I won’t go any further, for fear of spoiling it for those who may wish to catch it on tour, except to say what a wonderful night’s entertainment it was, I laughed and almost cried. After the interval two people in the next run of seats didn’t return, what a shame, was it perhaps the song containing the immortals lines “And a Fol de roll, and a rum tum tum, with a large stick of rhubarb up your bum” that put them off?

Highlight of the day - well, of course seeing the play.
Today’s gripe – nope – don’t have one.