January 2023
A Christmas catch-up…
Saturday 14 January 2023
“Happy new year!”
January! And this ‘month of resolutions‘ seems the perfect time for me to get back into good blogging practices, as I realise that I have not posted for 3 weeks. Life has been one busy whirl of late, but its no excuse and when I look back over our family diary I certainly would not want this time to be forgotten.
So, before I turn my mind hopes and plans for 2023, I need to look back at Christmas 2022, which all began with an exciting first date (brief update on that situation in my final sentence) and then just seemed to get better and better. Let’s look back…
My full squad were reunited a week before Christmas which my fellow ‘empty nesters‘ will know always feels fabulous. Proudly sporting our team hoodies, the house came alive with buzz and chatter, as we faced the festive preparations. And, because one joy of this holiday is that the whole world seems to be on vacation with you, my offspring also filled their days with meet-ups and catch-ups with lots of friends too.The mood was busy but felt incredibly happy.
Drum roll please for our dinner-for-7 on the Big Day! Out came the spreadsheet and out came the cocktail book as we decided to give our event a glamourous edge with espresso martinis and a pitcher of grapefruit, vodka and maraschino liqueur. Well; I am very glad that we trialled and tasted these delicious offerings in advance (and they were good) because on the 25th itself we quickly realised that we had not ‘read the room’ at all. One guest was driving, my mum was recovering from a gruelling Autumn of medical treatment and … well you get the picture. None of our guests touched a drop! They did however love the meal, (even if no-one had told the turkey about our spreadsheet timings!), polished off several bottles of prosecco and had huge amounts of laughter and fun with a series of board games, old and new.
We managed a family trip to the cinema on Boxing Day, which we haven’t done for years and my mum’s annual family gathering a few days later was huge! Mum has been battling cancer this Autumn and possibly as a result … everyone turned out and it was quite a party! From my amazing mother at 84 to my new great-nephew at 6 weeks old, we were shoulder to shoulder with relatives and friends and it was a pretty special evening.
But even more spectacular was to come. On New Year’s Eve, my beautiful, talented niece got married. What a magical day! The setting was stunning and the mood utterly joyful. After my post about black-tie dresses, (We all get Wider) someone was even kind enough to loan me a choice of gorgeous gowns, so I felt a million dollars for the evening. Uplifting, effervescent and, as every wedding should be full of alcohol and, of course, love!
So now to 2023 and I did promise to update on progress from my lovely first date. Now this blogger never ‘kisses and tells‘ about romance but I am going to reveal that one date quickly lead to 2,3 4 and … I am no longer counting. It has absolutely wrapped up a very busy three weeks in wonderfully warm glow and … long may it continue!
Blue January …
January 21 2023
Gosh; is anyone else struggling with January? Setting off for work at 7am and returning around 6pm, I feel as if I live in darkness at the moment. So this morning’s run, in the glorious, snowy sunshine is a real pick-me-up. But, aside from ‘living for the weekend‘, if only to see daylight, are there any other tips for getting through the dreary 31 days that start each year?
Much is written about poor old January. An entry entitled ‘Why is January depressing?‘ for the Foundations Wellness Center by Justin Baksh on 2 January 2022, claims that,
It is often said that January – dubbed “the Monday of months” – is the most depressing month of the year.
And many of us would resonate with a catalogue of reasons why: end of the holiday season, dismal weather and mounting debt. It is, I read, scientifically proven that shorter daylight hours and lack of sunlight do lead to SAD (seasonal affective disorder) which can play havoc with our body clocks and reduce energy and motivation. Possibly this is why the cheery resolutions of New Year’s Day can so often wither away as we battle against sluggish despondency?
Psychologist Cliff Arnall, even hit the headlines in 2004 with a proposed formula for low mood! I think he has since admitted that this was a partial publicity stunt plus a mathematics model for mood feels unlikely, nonetheless, you cannot argue with the list of variables that definitely do contribute to the misery of our much-maligned opening month of the year.
So what can we do about it?
Canadian blogger ‘Mommy Kat and Kids‘ promotes self -care and ‘sit and soak‘ is her number one tip. Kat espouses the merits of a candle-lit bath and I can vouch for this one in a slightly different guise as, after months of inactivity, I fire up the hot tub on Friday night and have a fantastic evening in there with a friend.
The joy of a hot tub, which is not often mentioned, is that it is wonderful way to enjoy the great British outdoors, because as you sink into the deliciously depths of the steamy water, you are actually warm and can just relish the peace and stillness of beautiful winter’s evening. It is great for conversation, relaxation, shaking off the working week and having fun!
So folks; if you’ve a hot tub; hop in. Or get running those bathtubs and basking in bubbles with candles, music … and escape the wintry chills!
Cygnet Health Care list ‘keep fit and stay active‘ as tip number three. I must concur with this one too; I am loving my January running. I do actually like to exercise in the cold, running on a hot day is my nemesis and, as the icing on the cake, I got blue tooth earphones for Christmas so I am now pounding the pavements to the beat of my favourite rousing anthems! For an hour each Saturday, it has become my definition of ‘happy’.
And few of us would argue with the benefits of being active. So when we’re lucky enough to see a glimmer or sunlight, pull on the trainers or enjoy the beauty of a snowy walk. In grimmer weather, and let’s face it, we’ve had a lot, blogger Kat recommends digging out your yoga mats. Worth a try… again if only to warm up!
So mostly, but not all about the weekend? I’ve now got the suggestion of a bit of downward dog and a midweek bath to brighten up a January evening! Alongside the delights of Friday nights and the rare glimpses of daylight that Saturday and Sunday bring, will this be enough to sustain me through the gloomy grind of the working week? I fear not. And I’ve yet to mention the desperate need for a pay day! Whose idea was it to put two 31 day months back to back at the most expensive time of the year? Not a parent I’ll wager. Sheer insanity!
On the bright side… we are over half way through! Nonetheless, please hurry up February…
February 2023
Birthday weekend…
Thursday 8 February 2023
We’ve had some good double birthday celebrations over the years, but, as I wheel out an impressively full blue bin (glass and tins in these parts) for tomorrow’s collection, I have to admit that this year’s will go down as one of the best…
Step forward Small boy for birthday number one. My son, gallivanting swiftly through his teenage years, has a very large circle of very sociable friends. A few weeks ago, he brings me a cup of tea (ever a suspicious sign) as a softener for this request,
“Mum…I was wondering if I could have a party this year?’
Halfway between me thinking about it, and struggling to manage an overwhelming workload for my boss, I appear to have agreed. I warn my lovely neighbours, most of whom just laugh and say ‘where’s my invite?’ I stock up on snacks and beer. And, come party night, I head out for a meal, with one last fond look at my new cream sofa, leaving a nervous Small boy hopping about the empty hallway, wondering when his first guests might arrive.
I am back by 11, and the house is pulsating. I hear the party before I see it. And when I do open the door there are people … everywhere. In every room, on the stairs, in the garden. And…it is bloomin’ fantastic! Tipsy teens, I’ve known for years, greet me with affection and the intense conversations and rantings that only alcohol can inspire. There’s music and dancing, there’s singing, there’s even ‘beer pong’.
I party along for a while then, grab a couple of Peroni’s and head upstairs to locate my middle child, home from uni land for her siblings’ birthday celebrations. We sink our beers as she giggles through the party gossip. We pop down again to serve pizza and cake and listen to a raucous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday‘ as the clock strikes midnight and Small boy officially becomes ‘Birthday boy’ and thereafter, leave them to it. Most guests are gone by 1:30 am and I am asleep by 2.
The next day is a slow one for us all, but, on the plus side, I awake to find that the house had been tidied and so, after putting the hoover through its paces and vigorously mopping a very sticky kitchen floor, we are quickly back to normal. Which is just as well because a second birthday is now only 24 hours away.
Yes, my lovely eldest child, on hospital placement in Teesside, turns 21.
In honour of this landmark occasion, I leave work on time (for once), call in at home to collect Prom dress daughter, stop at the sixth-form college to pick up Small boy and then set the satnav for the North-East. We are there by 6:30 for present opening and then head out for a fantastic family meal at a local restaurant. It is huge fun; great food, great conversation and as for the shenanigans with our ‘affogato al cafe’, well my stomach still aches from the laughter.
All too soon, it is home time and its is a much quieter trip back along the A1 and M62.
Exhausting? Yes! Worth it… absolutely. Brilliant birthdays this year…
Railways and canals …
Sunday 12 February 2023
On a couple of winter walks, I find that the canals and railways of yesteryear still provide fantastic places for us to use in 2023.
These are our waters.
The boater, navigating
veins that have pumped
through this network
for a quarter of a century,
veins that fed an industrial revolution
Roy McFarlane
Canals, from the 18th century, the transport backbone of Britain’s flourishing industrial economy, have an enthusiastic following. For some, they are a living monument to science and technology and the engineers who overcame geographical obstacles using bridges, tunnels, and locks. For others, an equally evocative social history as, from the mid 1800s boatmen’s families chose to live on their narrow boats and the canals became a way of life. And for many, just a lovely place to wander.
Who doesn’t remember the iconic scenes of Birmingham’s canals in Peaky Blinders? Well the north west has them too. (In fact, some of the Peaky canal scenes were actually filmed in Manchester!) But I digress, Let me tell you of a recent walk along the Bridgewater canal.
This stretch of water represents the first entirely artificial canal in Britain, its construction mainly financed by Francis Egerton, Duke of Bridgewater, to haul coal from his mines to the growing industrial city of Manchester. And today, what makes it such a special walk is that sense of history. Yes, drop down onto the towpath and, whilst there has been some regeneration to promote the area as a leisure destination for walkers and cyclists, it is the same canal. The same meandering waterway that boats travelled as early as the 1700s.
It is peaceful and still today and, whilst it may stretch10km in length (30 km after its extension to Liverpool in 1776), evokes a sense of never-ending calmness. Moving at the pace of nature but moving with purpose nonetheless. For canals can still take us on a journey; the landscape changing from residential areas to beautiful woodland and country side as they link towns and cities. Today – that’s a cafe in Boothstown for a welcome coffee, before wending our way back via the network of bridges, pathways and tunnels.
Another day another walk, and nestled in the city centre, near Piccadilly station, we discover Depot Mayfield, a multi-use space for arts, music, industry and culture built on the site of Manchester’s historic former railway station. It is quirky, creative and very cool!
And so to the railways…
These are our waters.
The railway man saw them as a threat
and wedded together steel and waters,
only later to leave them tired and disused
while they told their grand stories of a new age
and left the waters in the shadows.
The age of steam and the rise of the railways was indeed to take over from the canals. Very much like their watery predecessors, the tracks and stations of our rail network, continue to showcase groundbreaking technology and the many impressive structures that transformed Victorian Britain.
In my fanciful heart however, rail travel is also synonymous with adventure and freedom, the chance to ‘see the world’, and expand horizons. Trains took the ‘Railway Children‘ to their new life and and formed the back drop to David Lean’s classic romance ‘A Brief Encounter‘. The Flying Scotsman, the celebrity of the LNER line, was to reduce journey times between London and Scotland to 8 hours and become a household name. Like many, I strapped a rucksack onto my back in the mid 80s and , clutching a railcard, set out to travel Europe and interrailing trips remain rites of independence passage for young people. today And … well let’s stop before I find myself talking about Michael Portillo!
Instead, I’ll return to Depot Mayfield. Opened in 1910, Mayfield was constructed as a four-platform relief station adjacent to Piccadilly to alleviate overcrowding. In 1960, the station was closed to passengers and, in 1986, it was permanently closed to all services and gained its ‘depot’ title from its having use as a Royal Mail parcels depot. Move forward to today and the outside area has be regenerated with places to sit, to muse and to play. It is all designed to reflect the industrial heritage of the site and is just a terrific space for the city. On our visit, the indoor area is closed but houses many vibrant and popular new eateries and cultural venues. Perfect for my home town; modern forward looking, whilst a celebration of our proud tradition as an industrial heartland.
So, I know I am biased, but how amazing are our industrial cities? The symbiosis of the new, the vibrant modern culture with a rich and dynamic history. There is always something new to find. Greats of the Industrial Revolution become great places to explore today, you just sometimes need to take the time to look with a fresh pair of eyes …
Half term …
Saturday 18 February 2023
I do like a half term! A little bit like a the starter in a three course meal, or the John Lewis advert before a lengthy Christmas movie, it is the small perfectly formed feature of the school holiday calendar. Too short for procrastination and wasting time, there’s nothing for it but to have some great days out… even if all of mine seem to involve red wine!
Rest assured; I hold off on the Merlot until at least midday!
The days dawn with Duolingo! Despite much searching, I have admitted defeat in my quest to find a face to face German class and have instead downloaded the Duolingo app. Confess, I must, to a rapid descent into obsession… by day three, I am number two on the leader board. The top spot, well its only a matter of time…
My second morning quest; being a super-mum. Yes, Small boy and I have different half terms, and so I set my alarm, for 7:30 am each morning (still a luxurious lie-in) and run him to college. For me, this is actually quite a treat. When my trio were little, I did do some playground parent duties but ex-hub left when all three were under 8 and ever since, I’ve been fully-working, frantic mum, hurling primary-age kids into pre-school clubs, before tearing up the motorway to work and entrusting in the fate of their school travel to TfGM from the moment they hit high school. So this week, a relaxed start for us both, (some mornings we even manage breakfast) followed by a convivial chat on the 20 minute journey to lesson 1, makes us smile.
As the clock chimes noon however, it is often time for me to head out and catch-up with my fabulous friends. I do afternoon tea, in the middle of Manchester with a bottle of Montepulciano and whisky chasers. I do a tapas lunch with large glasses of Merlot and so much laughter that the waitress comes over to check that we are ok and to share the joke. And finally, oh finally I discover the newest delights of Oxford Road, when I meet one of my friends after work.
Firstly, there’s his snazzy new offices, amidst the eateries and mini outdoor ‘symphony’ space of Circle Square, after which we wander to Hatch, a lively set of bars and food stalls unashamedly housed below the concrete bridges and flyovers of the 20th century road system. We enjoy some lovely ‘natural wine’ and catch-up on on January news, before heading to astonishing Kimpton Tower Hotel.
Wow – the place is incredible. Housed in a magnificent terracotta Grade II–listed building, Kimpton Clocktower has a history that dates back to 1890, when the building first opened as The Refuge Assurance Company headquarters. Today, it’s a stylish hotel, with a killer bar. It gives me such ‘Raffles Hotel’ vibes that I reach for the cocktail menu and find, not a Singapore, but a ‘Salford Sling’. Utterly delicious and the Victorian architecture is so amazing that some small detail takes my attention every 5 minutes. I will definitely be back.
Regrettably, half term is now drawing to a close, so I shall also soon be back to work and the dreaded 6am wake-up call. Am I looking forward to that? I really cannot say that I am. Nonetheless, whilst there is still nothing to rival the sparkle and magic of my Christmas holiday, this was a really nice half-term and and a chance to remember that there is far more to life than ‘eat, sleep work, repeat’…
Out on a school night…
Thursday 23 February 2023
… well it is my Birthday!
Yes, February is quite a month!
After Small boy’s party and a family flit to the North East for my eldest’s 21st , it is time for my birthday celebrations. My friend and I notice that Suzanne Vega is playing in town. We both had the album. We both know all the words. We both decide to go!
So what if it’s a work day! I leap into my car after work, pelt down the motorway to a handy tram stop and am in the city centre collecting the tickets by 6:30 pm. My friend treats me to pre-concert pizza … and calamari… and fries… and beer. It’s a little bit hasty, in fact we do have to run through the street, clutching a carboard tray, still dipping our hot crispy fries into mayonnaise. But we do make it on time!
The tickets; gosh they are far back and so, “shhh don’t tell but” after a (rather underwhelming) support art, we grab an interval drink and then sneak forward about 10 rows into a better pair of spare seats and wait …for Suzanne.
Oh, my word, she is amazing. Vega, a tiny slim figure, with her acoustic guitar is joined on stage by David Bowie’s guitarist Gerry Leonard, for a nostalgic trip through four decades of music. The sound, the music and the voice are just incredible. Its is like listening to the CD or vinyl again but with an extra richness and depth, that maybe 30 years of experience brings. She tells the audience the story behind some of the songs and then adds in the emotion as she performs them. And she is super cool. One hour in and and lean across to my companion to say,
“I’d like to be Suzanne…”
My friend, who has know me since I was 17, smiles kindly and pats my arm sympathetically before he whispers back,
“Look, she is from New York…I think they are just born sassy there…”
Ha ha ha! So, I guess I’m never going to be Suzanne Vega but I can,and do, sing the tunes all the way home, whereupon I treat myself to an overlarge whisky before collapsing into bed.
Next morning, I awake very gruff and throaty. I think it is going to be a long, long day … but absolutely worth it …
“And I finish up my coffee
And it’s time to catch the train…“
Those little pink lines …
Saturday 25 February 2022
As it turns out, being ‘gruff and throaty’ was not, in fact, a credible nod to my ‘rock n’ roll’ lifestyle. Towards the end of the week, I test positive for covid-19…
Urghh! My throat and chest are pretty grim for most of the week and a raspy Joe Cocker teaching voice eventually packs up completely around noon on Friday, which is why someone hands me a (long forgotten) box of tests. I endure the cursed tonsil ticklers and a bit of nostril prodding and, within a minute, am staring at two distinctive pink lines. Bugger …
Sore larynx aside, I feel do okay which is a relief, I mean not sparkling but not too bad. I also know that isolation is no longer a legal requirement. Nonetheless, I have done the test and decide I’d feel pretty rubbish to be out and about in public knowing that I posed an infection threat. So I decide to cancel all weekend plans and … just lie low.
To my surprise, I really enjoy a rare day of idling and nothingness. No running, no shopping, no cleaning the bathroom, no tram rides into town. No, no no. I don’t even bother to get dressed! I do a bit of cooking but for most of the day I set absolutely no goals. Small boy brings me cups of tea, a cushion for my feet and the remote control and I re-watch Derry Girls, catch-up with Jane Eyre, and, well there’s no less cliched way to say it, sit still and let my crowded head get back into gear.
Apparently, there is also scientific proof, in a plethora of studies, that ‘doing nothing‘ is good for us. In many reports, such as Eating well’s, ‘The Legit Mental Health Benefits of Doing Nothing, According to Science‘ the definition of ‘doing nothing‘ is far more exacting than mine. There is no, smartphone, computer or TV Screen, even book reading it out! And what most studies find is that people tend to enjoy time to just sit and allow their thoughts to wander much more than they initially thought. This and other research also hints to additional gains such as, less stress, increased energy, enhanced creativity and improved abilities to resolve problems.
I think that my foggy brain is not fully in these lofty realms today. But, what I find I do enjoy, on my lazy Saturday, is just the time and space to reset and recharge. It is a day for being kind to myself and allowing a few hours to rest, relax and … breathe. And that feels luxurious.
So, I look forward to my voice returning and certainly wouldn’t wish corona virus on anyone, but I would recommend a day, or even a half hour, of putting your feet up, forgetting the to-do list and just allowing yourself to do nothing at all for a while…
You can’t do nothing all the time – it’d get pretty boring, pretty quickly. But carving out small windows where you can just sit down … and let yourself be is good for you, good for your brain … No more feeling guilty for a weekend spent doing nothing – it’s vital.
March 2023
Could it be love?
Saturday 11 March 2023
There’s been a new man in my life for a few months now and I think I might be falling…
Oh Erik Ten Hag! The artful Dutchman, who has brought pride, respectability and a whole lot of happiness back into the lives of beleaguered Manchester United fan, may well have stolen my heart!
Did he have me at United’s return to winning ways? Let’s just look: currently third in the Premier League, winners of the EFLcup (a first trophy in 6 years), into the last 16 of the Europa League after knocking out the mighty Barcelona. Well it is undeniably a great start! Like many other fans, after years in isolation, I am able to venture back onto Twitter, risk an occasional bit of work-based footie banter and dare to tune into Match of the Day. (Not this week of course – #standbygary in our house, but that’s a story for another day.)
But my feelings have moved beyond mere gratitude for this glimpse of glory. The man is strong and principled; dare I say the managerial equivalent of a ‘super dad’. He is undeniably tough but he improves players and motivates them by communicating trust in their abilities. And I like that.
The standout example- the glorious resurgence of Marcus Rashford. After woeful form in the previous season, late Summer 2022 saw rumours of a move from Old Trafford. Ten Hag however, said ‘no question’ of a player of this quality being sold. And, if we believe the MEN, went on to enthuse,
“…he knows I love him, he knows I want him to be here so I will tell him that again!”
Whatever the truth, Rashford stayed and the results have been phenomenal, even wowing the Spanish press,
“ His numbers are frightening and the feeling he left at the Camp Nou is that of a striker capable of changing a game on his own. He shook the entire Barcelona defense and was pivotal to both United goals.”
But it was Ten Hag’s reaction to our “7-0 spanking at Anfield” (Gary Lineker), when I was finally slain. Against tidal wave of social media clamour for change, he kept the same team and the same captain for the next match. When explaining this decision in a post-match interview, Ten Hag explained
Oh be still my beating heart… the man understands performance statistics! A rare, rare quality in the sporting world which, despite an embarrassment of data riches, still favour a knee jerk reaction to the immediate in any ‘analysis’ and commentary. So, successful, decent, intelligent and numerate … Erik simply could be my ideal man!
And as a mum, it is joyful once more for Small boy and I to watch United matches. Football has become ‘our thing’ as we ‘trust in Erik’ and the team to put in a performance. If we spectate together on the TV, we have rituals, lucky hats and favoured chants. If Small boy is watching with friends, we message at goals. For one cup match and birthday present, when prices fell below three figures, I bought my son a ticket to a match with his friends. A nervous moment, fellow parents, watching your child head out unaccompanied into the Old Trafford cauldron but an an exciting rite of passage nonetheless.
Small boy also unwrapped Ten Hag’s biography for this birthday and that sits ever-proudly on our mantlepiece, with Erik gazing wisely into the lounge.
So, for all of this, Erik Ten Hag, you currently eclipse all other sporting heroes in my head and heart. Will it last forever? I think it just might…
Small moments to savour on the parenthood journey …
Sunday 19 March 2023
Mother’s day 2023, my card tells me that I ‘deserve to have the best day!‘ … and I do!
Why so great? Well for one, my eldest child pops home for the weekend. But for two, she takes me out for lunch! Yes, let me say that one again, very slowly; she takes me out. She books the table. She invites the guests. She organises the transport. She evens pays. I don’t have to do anything! Great restaurant, great company; it’s a treat I shall cherish.
Could this be, I ponder, the moment when I pass on the baton of ‘chief organiser and sorter-outer’ to the next generation? Probably not, but for today at least it is amazing, because I can tell you this. The child-rearing journey is one relentless marathon. But, those of you with of small infants, do not despair! Just when you think you cannot take anymore and have hit your parental wall, take heart. Around every corner, come small life-saving moments to savour. After two decades of muddling through motherhood, here are mine
My first game changer is cow’s milk, which arrives at the age of 12 months. It is ‘farewell’ to battling with breastfeeding and a grateful ‘goodbye’ to prepping the cursed formula bottles each evening; sterilising, scooping, measuring and mixing through eyes so weary they are propped open with matchsticks. The calendar shows that 1 year and passed and overnight, you are simply allowed to open the fridge and pour some milk into a beaker. Goodness gracious, it feels like a wondrous miracle!
Next for me; the end of nappies. I’m not going to lie, the potty training months are a tense time, but oh so worth it! As your toddler finally masters the art of using the loo, it is off to the tip for that dreadful device know as the ‘changing bag’! Once again, you step out with a swing in your step, no longer weighed down with nappies and wipes and bags and changes of clothes and ….oh, it is glorious. How did you not appreciate this simple pleasure before? And, from my viewpoint, even better is to come.
Probably one of my favourite moments of all. You feed and drag your child up to the magical mark of 135 cm and the car seat can go! It’s utterly liberating. One day, your life is a drudge of lifting and securing offspring’s arms and legs into complex arrays of straps and fasteners. The next you are just breezily shouting ‘time to go kids!‘, opening the car door and watching them climb in and sort themselves out. On the first few occasions, you’ll just stand there open mouthed with your car keys thinking, ‘Is that it, can I just set off?’ And ‘Hallelujah’ yes you can! A magnificent moment indeed.
High school also occurs around this time, bringing with it a surge in offspring independence. This one is a little double edged, but I shall start with the positives. Let’s take a moment to appreciate the humble bus pass. Your children now get themselves to school. It is beyond fantastic. I’m a working mum and as I waved my youngest child off on the 472 in his new school blazer, my working life was about to transform. No longer tied to breakfast club opening times and after school club hours, I could just set off when it suited me. No longer shouting at kids to ‘get through the bathroom’, ‘get dressed’ and ‘get in the car‘, I could drive calmly to and from school thinking about the day ahead. I was consistently on time for the management meeting for the first time in 7 years, no longer stressed out about late pick-up fees, if I was caught in traffic at the end of the day. I thanked my lucky stars, felt incredulous at how much easier life seemed to be once more and marvelled at how many more hours there were in each day.
As a cautionary note however, I did warn that the teenage years also bring their disadvantages in terms of your blossoming freedoms, and here they are. As your children advance through school and sixth-form, their social lives also take off, so, unless you have the pockets to keep your local Uber company in business, do be prepared for your duties as late night taxi service! I am currently in the midst of this one. Small boy and his considerable circle of friends are a very sociable lot and most weeks bring an enviable offering of outings, parties and general merrymaking for them. For me, alas, it means too many evening when the cherished glass of red has to be replaced by a consolation cup of tea. I suppose eventually they’ll all learn to drive and get cars!
Looking back, I cannot actually believe I made it to this stage, particularly as I did most of it on my own. Well, to be fair that’s not quite true, for 7 years I did have my ‘pretty nice guy’ to keep me sane! He may never have helped out much with the kids but he did remind me that parenting was not my only role in life. You’ll find, young mothers in particular, that people stop asking ‘how are you?’ and replace it with ‘how are the kids?’. It’s okay to a point but you can start to feel a bit invisible so I am very thankful that I did have an adult companion for many great adventures and crazy capers, during the toughest of the child-raising years! It definitely stopped me going under.
So, add a few dates nights into your survival notes too! But I’m now dreaming of the day when all my trio can drive me around for a change so I’ll end my post there. I’m off to sign Small boy up for his provisional licence….
Cambridge
Wednesday 29 March 2023
At 7am this morning, I wave Small boy off on a two-day course at Cambridge University. He is actually staying overnight in the college I went to, (back in the ancient history of the 1980s) so permission to feel a little bit emotional …
Or is it more that I feel quite a lot of envy. University memories – gosh such happy times! It was part of a time in my life when every year just seemed to get better and better. The work was tough; intense, challenging and delivered at pace that was not for the fainthearted. In tandem though, the living, the lovely friends, the support and the vibrancy was also incredible. Would I love to go back and do it all again? In a breath! But the years have rolled on, and it it no longer my time to dream of higher education, freedom and the first thrill of true independence. No, now it is the turn of my youngest child.
“Take pictures!” I call out, as he hops into the car that is taking him ‘down south‘.
And he does; photos of colleges, chapels and a video of his room, which really makes me smile because I know he is sending the pictures, not because he is in awe of the ancient splendour (my son is an irreverent left-wing rebel ) but rather that he knows it will make me happy. And right there, in that very moment, any envy disappears and I just feel emotional again, Though this time, not with nostalgia for my undergraduate past nor for the re-tread of family footsteps, but because it simply warms my heart to be reminded just how kind my lovely boy is.
He also send a triumphant 12:30 am text announcing that his team have ‘won‘ the quiz that the organisers have put on as an evening social event.
By contrast, my evening is some rushed and uninspiring food after a full and frantic day topped off by a parental consultation event that stretches the working hours to 8pm.
By the end of the next working day, he is home and I can see the change. Is my son, as I once was, now picturing himself amidst the dreaming spires, following in the footsteps of Newton and Turing ? In all honesty, I don’t think he is. The trip has, nonetheless, fired up his enthusiasm for Higher Education. His passion for Chemistry lives on, (“but definitely not Chemical Engineering mum!”) and his previous lethargy has been replaced by a decently researched list of the best establishments for his courses of choice. He is planning Open Days and trips to City Universities across the land.
He does also find time to tell me that everyone thought that my old College was the best one by far …
April 2023
Easter by the sea …
Saturday 8 April 2023
Easter Saturday dawns and we hop into the car for our first family holiday since Gran Canaria in 2019. Llyn Peninsula here we come…
It may only be for a long weekend and it may be to a part of the world we are all very familiar with, as my family has had a caravan in this lovely corner of North Wales for close to 5 decades. Nonetheless, there is just no beating a family trip.
With my offspring now marching confidently into adulthood, this getaway is much about nostalgia and and the delight of rediscovering old routines. We breakfast, on the road, at our favourite faithful diner. Upon arrival we dig out the flipflops and sliders and head straight for the beach; beautiful Blackrock Sands and 2 miles of sandy coast.
The weather is glorious and there is much laughter and fun. Moreover, strolling along the beach and paddling in the sea with ice-creams feels a millions miles away from the urban sprawl of Greater Manchester we left only hours earlier.
We don’t escape the Mancunians entirely however as, to revive our legs after the walk, Small boy and I find ourselves watching a Manchester City (City, I know and to make matters worse they are spectacular) match at the rowdy caravan club with several bottles of much needed Peroni. Meanwhile, the girls have re-united with some old ‘caravan friends‘ and are catching up with drinks in a quieter part of the complex.
A trip to the fish and chip shop sorts out tea and after a little more beer and a hilarious rummage through the old caravan board games, it is time to turn in… and full of sea air and a little bit of alcohol we sleep like logs.
Next day, with our caravan friends we set out on a walk over the beach and across the hilltops to Porthmadog, the nearest town for lunch. It is a fabulously sunny day once more and the scenery is stunning. It is also quite a trek and legs are weary and faces wear the blush of exercise, as well as the first spring sun, as we toil back, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.
We round off our Easter weekender with a drive to Llandudno, which is actually a new destination for us all, before heading home on the M56 once more.
What a terrific few days away. I realise I’ve missed family holidays. There really is nothing quite like them for building bonds and memories. I’ll have to accept that, for my young adults, 3 days away with their mum is probably the limit now so …. here’s to the next mini-vacation…
Osma in Prestwich…
Thursday 13 April 2023
In the late 80’s, a university boyfriend who’d travelled to visit me, in my home town of Prestwich, insisted on a pilgrimage to the house of Mark E Smith, sadly now late but ever irascible frontman of the Fall. Two weeks ago, another uni friend calls to say that we must ‘do lunch‘ at a great Prestwich restaurant that is featuring on The Great British Menu. Yes, all Prestwich, my childhood stomping ground, … who knew?
Is there no end to the eclectic mix of fame and fortune in this small Mancunian suburb? (Prestwich also boasts, to name but a few: Victoria Wood, Elkie Brookes, Arlene Phillips, novellist Howard Jacobson and Godley and Creme!) Well, clearly not; indeed I could be forgiven for feeling quite the serial underachiever as a local of these parts! But enough of my life reflections, what of the latest star on the Prestwich podium?
Requests from old uni pals aside, we have already been once, but when I frantically text my fellow diner with the exciting news that chef Danielle Heron is indeed now on the TV, we decide that we have to go again. So let me tell you our latest trip to Osma…
What can I say but… an outstanding evening!
Our waiter is a delight. Knowledgeable, attentive and fun. He also gets full marks for navigating the hilarious confusion my friend causes when mistaking the wine prices for the alcohol percentage. (Oh yes, it will be a while before I let this one drop!) And then comes the food. We share five small plates and each is sensational, I mean I write my fanciful adjectives now, but at the time after one dish I just have to tell our spirited server,
“That was bloomin’ fantastic!”
Influenced by the chef’s time in Oslo, the plates have a definite ‘Scandi-feel’; fresh and light but utterly full of flavour. In short, each serving appears crafted to make your taste buds sing. It also looks beautiful. What’s not to love?
The atmosphere is also friendly and relaxed. It is one of those evenings when 7pm becomes 10pm before you’ve even noticed. We are having such an amazing time, that we also share a desert and dawdle over coffee.
So would I recommend? I definitely would. In fact, I cannot wait until my other uni friend visits is the Summer to try out the ‘Lunch Menu’. Whilst the evening is all about , “small sharing plates … accompanied by wines and cocktail” the midday menu promises
“open Scandinavian sandwiches and hearty salads – using seasonal ingredients from local British farms and producers – alongside fresh juices and great coffee.”
Sounds delicious!
So for this evening a fond farewell to Osma, a definite reason to feel even prouder than ever to come from Prestwich, but be assured, I shall be back … it might even become a compulsion with me …
I was looking for a job…
Saturday 22 April 2022
” … and then (they) found a job”
Heavens knows I’m Miserable now: The Smiths
As we move into the second half of April, two of my offspring find themselves on the payroll…
In the Scottish capital, Prom-dress daughter secures a job in a trendy cocktail bar and closer to home, in the pretty village up the road from our house, Small Boy is taken on at a local coffee shop. They are both very excited, well for my daughter, struggling to stretch a student loan to cover living costs, there is also a lot of relief.
Is it wrong, however, that I feel a little concerned?
Of course, I understand the attraction of some extra funds for a teenager and I also accept that I have never experienced the financial challenges and worries that today’s University students face. Nonetheless, I also know that one route to real financial choice and security comes from a decent set of qualifications and my question is this; can you have both? Can you get the best grades if your time is divided between work and study?
I’m not the only one to wonder. Oxbridge continue to actively discourage term-time work. But, in a landscape of spiralling costs, many students find that they simply have no choice because loans frequently fail to even cover the basic rent. Sir Peter Lampl, founder and chairman of the Sutton Trust, highlights the additional pressures on students from less affluent backgrounds,
“For many, wages from part-time work are the only way they can make ends meet …. It’s tough and it’s often the students’ academic work that loses out.”
Others point out that it is not only studying time, but also social time that is squeezed by the addition of a job into the student schedule, which can lead to isolation and stress. One student, in the Guardian Article, ‘How much part-time work should I take on while studying?‘ reported “getting really run-down and ill” and being “always envious of friends who could just concentrate on their studies”
Well ‘heaven’s knows I’m miserable now‘, that all sounds rather grim, so what of the benefits? Clearly there’s the cash, but does part-time job have any other advantages?
Reassuringly UCAS, in the article ‘Balancing work and study’ point our several plus points,
“As long as it doesn’t take up too much study time, finding a part-time job is a great way to gain more money, less debt, and new skills for your CV“
The cite a range of generic employability skills such as: communication, team work and time management. And, dependant on the nature or the role, point out that students can also learn various technical skills and that ‘above all, employers will want you to display the same skills in fresh thinking and systematic working that make you a success academically‘ . This positive view of part-time employment is echoed by several other Universities too, as well as, less surprisingly, most employment agencies.
The key seems to be the balance and two pieces of sage advice ring in my ears as I read through the various pieces of guidance in this area. The first is the recommendation from most course providers that part-time work, during term time, is kept to a maximum of 15 – 20 hours per week. The second is not to lose sight of why you are studying in the first place and to be prepared to lose the shifts if your grades or health start to suffer.
“Remember that you’re paying to be at uni and get a degree, so don’t waste that by running yourself into the ground”
Sound and sensible words indeed. I’ll keep it in mind as we enter the new world of the teenage workers …
May 2023
I’m not a single parent, I’m a double parent…
Thursday 4 May 2023
It is a Thursday evening. After a long day at work, I reach home around 7pm to find ex-hub in my lounge. He is stopping off for a whistle-stop visit to my youngest child, at the end of some 3-week coast to coast walk his employer decided he deserved. He is enthusing about his trek and I hear phrases like ‘sense of achievement’ and the ‘challenge‘ of just ‘having to get up and get on with it every day‘. I just stare at him with glazed eyes of bewilderment.
Because, quite frankly he could be talking Russian right now. His ‘demanding’ three weeks of trotting across the land, in the Spring sunshine are so far removed from the 21 days I have battled through that … I simply have no words. And, right there in that very moment, it hits me like a thunderbolt. The reason I am so (so very) tired is because I do all the parenting. I’ve always labelled myself as a single parent but I have been wrong. I am less a single and more a double parent!
Well, I say that out loud and could be forgiven for viewing myself as a pretty impressive member of the family circle. Cue, blogger Elizabeth Denham, author of ‘The Double Parent‘
“If we were to do twice the work asked of us by our boss, we would be applauded, promoted and given raises … As a double parent, I am proud (that I) do double the work.”
I think she has a point! It certainly cheers me up. I even manage to nod and smile politely as ex-Hub moves on to wax lyrical about a glorious section of his walk through the Lake District. Because, in my head, I am replaying the parenting achievements I have ticked off in the past fortnight. Full time job, shopping, cooking, cleaning for Small Boy and I, sorting student finance for next year, advising on work clothes for Small Boy’s new job and giving him a first day lift, jointly researching and scheduling uni open days, helping my Eldest with some car problems and … hey I even rose to the challenge (from Prom dress Daughter) of minimising some undergraduate Economics function of inflation and unemployment rate, over the phone and at about 9pm after a progress evening event at work!
Woohoo parents. You should all do this. Because I am now feeling like ‘super mum’ and I am pretty confident that even more impressive parental feats will have been accomplished by most of you all over the last 10 days or so.
I zone back into the lounge. Ex Hub is now half-way through regaling us with talk of his next voyage … I pick up something about an ‘Italian villa with friends‘.
Oh forget those lightweight plans, say I. Let me update you with the weekend schedule for the double parent in the room?
I am setting my Saturday alarm for 05:45 to drive up and down to Edinburgh in a day to deliver Prom dress daughter’s new passport. Oh yes, my lovely girl, booked and paid for her holiday before ordering her new passport! She flies to Ibiza next Wednesday and the new ID arrives tomorrow (Friday). To complete the catastrophe of calamity, it does not arrive in the Scottish capital alas but…at my house! She did offer to come and collect it but she also has work shifts and a final Statistics exam on the Tuesday so … let’s just say I am a very nice mum!
Why in a day? I hear you ask? Well because on the Sunday I have to take my own incredibly lovely mum for a hospital scan. When I tell her about Prom dress daughter she just laughs and brings up some tale of my dad, back in the day, having to travel to London to get me a Polish Visa whilst I holidayed in Spain! In her eyes this is clearly karma!
But my weary eyes are beginning to droop now, so as this double parent heads off to plan a few lessons, I say three cheers for all the fabulous parents out there. We don’t need seek out challenge and a ‘sense of accomplishment’ by walking a hundred miles through the English hills, we do amazing work three hundred and sixty five days of the year by … putting ourselves out to put our children first …
A day trip to Derbyshire…
Saturday 13 May 2023
After last weekend’s flit to Edinburgh, I was holding out for my first Saturday lie-in in May. It turns out not to be the case…
There are a number of reasons for the early start, and I can’t blame the offspring for any of them! The most significant is that I have to see a man about … an oboe. Yes, my beloved instrument, rather like its owner, is showing the ravages of time and has been booked in for a pretty pricey overhaul.
I only trust one man with such a job, for my favourite possession, and the only way for him to collect the poor old thing, this side of Summer, is for me to meet him at his gig in the Buxton Opera House. At the same time, due to train strikes, my lovely mum is struggling to visit her sister, who is based by chance in a nearby Derbyshire village and so we hatch the plot to head for the High Peak together. Let’s call it a mini mother-daughter road trip.
The third addendum to the weekend frolics is that my washing machine packs in. Yup, you load it up, press start, it grunts, groans, soaks your clothes and then grinds to a stuttering halt. So, with weary resignation, I push the alarm back a further thirty minutes, allowing time to weigh down the car with two loads of soiled, sodden laundry that can be chucked into mum’s Zanussi and pegged on the line before we hit the M60!
To be fair, it all runs like clockwork. Mum and I are both appalling navigators so place our trust in the satnav and enjoy the country roads it takes us to. Whilst Mum laughs that it is the only time, on many trips to this part of the world, that she has ever driven through the hamlet of ‘Sparrowpit‘ , by eleven we are in my Aunt’s flat enjoying well earned cuppa, safe in the knowledge that, as we chat, the warm spring sunshine will be drying my week’s worth of washing. The three of us have a fantastic catch-up, share many jokes (there is even singing) and all relish a fish and chip lunch.
By late-afternoon, we are in Buxton and treating ourselves to cold drinks (and donuts) in an elegant park, basking, for once, in some glorious weather. The rendez-vous with my oboe repairer goes smoothly. He is really nice and even offers me comps for the evening’s opera. But after a very early start, a 10:30pm finish doesn’t sound great,(plus I know that Small boy is counting on a lift to a party at 7pm) so we politely decline.
Instead, after a jolly drive home and a successful dispatch of my socialite son, it is a night of wine and Eurovision for me – ‘Cha cha cha … !’
As for the washing machine… well an even nicer man sorts me out a terrific deal on a whizzy new washer. So life is looking up and who knows, next weekend, I might even get a lie-in…
Here comes the sun…
Saturday 27 May 2023
Can anyone believe our British luck? Bank Holiday weekend and half term and the sun is out!
I know, but ‘Shush’, we don’t want to jinx it because after some endlessly long and wet times in Winter and Spring, it is a most welcome sight. And, I read, it is also good for us!
Oh ‘easy skin-care brigade‘, it goes without saying that we all slap on the factor 50 but, with that protection in place, let’s look at the upside of some solar basking!
In his podcast ‘Just one thing‘ , Michael Mosley looks at why we should get some sun and concludes that,
.”..the truth is, our bodies need it – especially in the northern hemisphere…”
Sitting outside and soaking up the rays is claimed to have a wealth of benefits for both our physical and mental health. It boosts our vitamin D, important for bone health and also for fighting range of diseases, including dementia, autoimmune diseases and diabetes. Sunlight can also contribute to lowering blood pressure. And it feels great? Well, indeed, there is some scientific evidence that it does lift our mood, one study finding that levels of serotonin in our blood are higher on bright days than on those that are cloudy or overcast.
I can add a fourth… it is super relaxing! In a blissfully quiet home, with all my offspring either off in Uni-land or out at work, I happily sway in the sun, on my zero gravity lounger for most of the afternoon. And the garden is swathed in warm rays for longer than usual. Yes, about a month ago I was more than a little shaken when one of my neighbours went a touch psycho with his hedge cutters and lopped a good 2 metres off our adjoining wall of greenery. Today, however, whilst it still looks absolutely atrocious, I am reaping the benefits of wall to wall sunshine. And, my oh my, it is marvellous.
Now I know there will be some amongst you claiming that you ‘hate just sitting around doing nothing‘ and need to be ‘kept busy’. Well to you, I politely throw down the gauntlet of living my life for a month, in its full entirety of lone- motherly madness. I’m pretty confident that after 4 weeks you’d not only be putting aside your qualms about an afternoon of lounging but actually begging just to be allowed to sit down and enjoy some peace and quiet! And if not, well go out for a walk, resit the urge to ruin everyone’s tranquility with your lawn mowers and leave us layabouts be!
So I am off to enjoy a little but more of life in my lounger. Let’s just hope the fine weather lasts…
There’s just something about a new washing machine …
Monday 29 May 2023
This weekend, our new washing machine is delivered. It is such an upgrade, I feel as if I’ve joined the space age. And I am smitten …
It is sleek and silent. The controls are an intuitive inspiration to navigate and its zips through the weekend laundry with eco-friendly ease. Oh I could and sit and gaze at it all day!
Now that does take me back! Because in the late 70s, when we got our first automatic machine that is exactly what my elder brother and I did. Pulled up small chairs and sat there, with our bowls of Rice Krispies, foregoing Saturday ‘Swap Shop‘ on TV to watch the clothes rotating round in the drum instead; such was the excitement!
Although it was a fond farewell to its predecessor, the old ‘twin-tub top loader’ device, which I recall being honoured to help with… very occasionally. My chubby toddler legs planted firmly on a kitchen stool, mum would let me use the huge wooden tongs to haul soggy garments from the washing side to the spinner!
I can only imagine one almighty mess with me at the helm of this operation but I think that mum was so busy marvelling about what a step-change this was from the laundry days of her childhood and doubtless, re-telling yet again the gruesome tale of her brother, getting his thumb caught in the mangle (ouch), that she failed to notice!
So, from the menacing mangle machine to my Bosch series 4; what rapid technological progress in my mum’s lifetime alone! And what a difference it has made to women in particular. Is that the secret of the washing machine’s allure?
It has undoubtedly brought huge labour saving benefits to the home. Actually, let me just amend that, homes in the developed world. In his brilliant TED Talk ‘The magic Washing Machine’ Hans Rosling, not only captures, with charm, the the impact of the first automatic machine but also challenges us to address the disparity in global technological development and the issues this poses for both equality of opportunity and world-wide energy consumption.
Whilst acknowledging the severity of climate change issues, Hans remains an enthusiatic advocate of the washing machine throughout, citing in his hugely engaging talk
“If you have a democracy, people will vote for washing machines…”
And many others agree. Google ‘the benefits of the washing machine for women’ and there are countless authors, from the Vatican to University researchers who have written about how reducing the chore of washing that weekly load from a 4-hour slog to a 40 minute automation has had a profound impact on our world, and women’s lives in particular. Tina Ruseva CEO of Montessa, writing on International Women’s Day in 2020, sums it up neatly ” … contraception, washing machines, and the Internet – technology has empowered women like no public program in human history. In fact it has empowered society as a whole….”
So my marvelling is not misplaced this afternoon, in fact I feel utterly justified in brewing myself a nice coffee and taking a moment to moon over my newest kitchen recruit once more.
Welcome washing machine and were you on the ballot paper in the next election…you’d probably get my cross!
June 2023
Time to stop running…
Saturday 17 June 2023
This weekend, as I struggle even to kneel on the floor, I finally have to accept that … I’ve wrecked my right knee!
For now, it means farewell to running, because, whilst I receive lots of varied advice: ‘looks like your cartilage’; ‘could be your IT band’; ‘you need ice pack’ ‘you need a heat pack’; ‘rest it’, ‘bind it and see how you go ‘ all concur that the pavement pounding is the root cause and that I have ‘runner’s knee’ – eek!
That’s certainly where it began, as far back as January, when my knee would twinge and make me a bit ‘hobbly’ after a run but ease during the week. And it is also where it ended … on a sunny Saturday morning, three weeks ago. My illustrious run buddy had dragged us successfully to the top of a hill, but only 3 minutes into the glorious gallop of a downhill, the pain shooting down my leg was so awful that we had to pull up and limp me home.
Last week, I ventured out again but it was not successful (and probably not wise) and so, I have now, decided to hang up my trainers for at least a month.
For a few days, I feel like a bona-fide athlete with an ‘injury’. Let’s face it, I’ve smiled my way supportively (occasionally with gritted teeth) through so many of the aches and ailments of the past husbands (okay, only one ex hub) and men in my life, that I have definitely earned my five minutes of ‘Patellofemoral Pain’– fame. But, pretty quickly, I just feel a bit blue.
Is it that I missing running?
Not really. I mean if it ends up being a permanent ‘so long‘ to striding out each Saturday, then I will be sad. My weekly 10K is activity that not only keeps me fit, but has also been sociable, fun and a brilliant way to strengthen friendships with a number of inspirational women. And for busy females, with lots of caring responsibilities, running is the perfect choice; fitting around demanding lives and keeping us within easy reach of those who may need us. From a single mum’s perspective, jogging is also great because it is so easy on the purse. Get yourself a pair of trainers and, off you go!
Because of this, I don’t completely rule out out lacing up my running shoes again. But, for me, the killer blow has not been the loss of weekly exercise, it has been the combination of incessant pain and, experiencing, for the first time, the limitations on my movement and my body.
To this point, I’ve lived happily and harmoniously in this frame. Flexible, bendy and always at ease in my own bones; that is what I am used to and that’s where I expected to stay. And I thank childhood gymnastic lessons for it.
Oh Gym club! I trundled along, aged 8, in a pair of ghastly floral shorts, just about able to bundle through an ungainly forward roll, and … it was a baptism of fire. Gymnastics, in the late 70s, was not for the fainthearted and it was a case of give up or go on a very steep learning curve. I chose the latter.
My mum got a book from the library, I got a leotard and we both lined the hall with cushions and mattresses so that I could practise handstands and walkovers and hurling myself, repeatedly forwards and backwards into the kitchen. Within a year, I had been moved into the Sunday squad, had a floor routine to music and could spring onto the vault from such a distance that, not only was I a shoe-in for the sack race on Sports Day, but I was also the interschool’s long jump champion. Moreover, I was strong and supple. Although mum made me pack it all in as I moved to high school (and she wanted me to concentrate on homework), the feeling of fluidity lived on and … I guess I thought it would last forever
Until now. It is a horribly shock to find my motion so limited. Pain when I squat down to load the washing machine and a huge struggle to get back up. Only able to hobble stiffly down the stairs each morning. On some days, just feeling so drained with the aching in my leg, that I could cry. Will this ever be cured, I wonder, if I carry on running?
Friends have recommended, seeing doctors, visiting physios, getting injections! One even thought keyhole surgery would be an option. But … none of them are single mums. I can justify neither the time nor the money for any of this. I am already behind on dental treatment (due to cost) and some routine GP checks (due to time and workload).
My only hope is that a bit of R and R does the trick. So, fingers crossed, otherwise yoga class, rambling group and walking sticks here I come!
Strawberry breakfast …
Saturday 24 June 2023
So this Saturday, instead of setting my alarm and swigging a few mouthfuls of tea before racing off to meet my run buddy, I get up when I wake up, potter into the kitchen to savour my morning brew and glance into the garden … whereupon, I espy strawberries!
Oh my goodness, I had completely forgotten my strawberry plants were there! A distant memory stirs of me sowing the seeds in Spring 2022. I think that a couple of berries did appear last Summer but were swiftly devoured by the birds before I ever got near and since then, I have pretty much left them to their own devices!
So when I read, on the Sunflower Farms blog , that strawberries
” …don’t require much yet produce a delightful harvest…”
I can certainly affirm that this is true. With not a scrap of attention from me over the past 12 month, my plants have, not only survived, but have flourished and are now laden down with fine red fruits. (Sometimes, I ponder, that this may also be the unexpected success of my lone-child rearing efforts. With their mum short on time and resources, my trio have often had to figure things out for themselves and seem to be doing pretty well on it. ) But, I digress; back to my Fragaria x ananassa, which is the scientific name for those goodly berries.
I slide into some sliders and head out, old ice-cream tub in hand to gather my crop!
One of the main benefits, claim Hartey Botanic Magazine, of growing your own are that,
“Homegrown strawberries taste delicious“
I bite into my first fruit… ughh… not great! maybe I have plucked them too early or too late, but that berry is bitter and woody. Into my head, however, pops a vision from my childhood, of a friend’s mum soaking strawberries in vinegar. I guess it stuck because it seems so counterintuitive. Alexa, however, concurs that I should indeed ‘soak strawberries in a solution of 1 part vinegar and 4 parts water for 5 minutes’.
So I do; and they are transformed.
I breakfast triumphantly on a sumptuous bowl of oat, berries, yogurt and honey. It is tasty! And there are plenty more berries still to be harvested this year, with the promise of yet more in 2024. As the experts tell me that ,
“One of the biggest benefits of growing strawberries is their perennial nature. You can reap the rewards of your labor for several years after initially planting strawberries with minimal effort after the initial planting year. “
Well, ‘hip hip hooray’ I say! Good for the budget, good for your health and minimal on effort. What is not to love?
Plus, I now feel set for the day. Am I to be a non-running lady of leisure? No I am not. I have a ton of work to clear before Sunday night, when Elton John takes to the pyramid stage at Glastonbury! Elton is in my ‘top three’ of acts I’d love to see live before I die. (The friend I have most discussed this with will, I know, be currently tearing his hair out at my musical tastes… but I stand firm!) Anyway, as this is his ‘Farewell Tour‘ I’m guessing that the ‘live’ ship has now sailed but at least I have the TV … if that is I can wrestle the remote from Smallboy who is unusually obsessed with Love Island this season.
I fancy my chances of victory to be honest, and I also think that Elton and the rest of my top 3 deserve their own post so, until then, I need to get busy …
July 2023
The school re-union
Saturday July 8 2023
I am channeling my inner ‘Romy and Michele’, as July kicks off with, a school reunion…
It is not the first time school have held such gatherings, but it is the first one I have been to. Why I have always swerved them in the past? I’m not entirely sure!
Was I not curious? Was I not tempted to ‘show off’? ‘Was I not drawn the to chance to re-live my youth?’ These are, some of, the reasons the RGS Foundation cite in their article ‘Top 10 reasons you should attend your old school reunion’. But I have to confess to none of these emotions. I’ve always been pretty successful at keeping in contact with my closest school pals, plus we now have social media to widen friendship groups further, so the classmate contact feels already in place.
What about the building themselves then? Retreading the corridors with their memories and ghosts? Sitting in your former classroom and feeling yourself racing back in time? Triggers to old traditions and long-forgotten routines? As another writer, penning on the topic of reunions puts it,
You can explore the hallways, classrooms, and other parts of the school, which can bring back a flood of emotions and nostalgia.
Sorry, but this isn’t me either, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, life’s twists and turns, have brought back in my home town and my children have all attended my old school for their sixth-form studies. So, via inductions, open days and parental evenings, I’ve gradually re-built my recollections of the lovely old buildings and gracious grounds…what’s left of them that is. Because, secondly, there has been so much building and expansion that ‘my school’ of the 1980s is barely recognisable in places.
So why do I go this time?
Well clearly not for any of the usual reasons. Above all, readers, I have reached the glorious 50s, a decade when you joyfully realise that you no longer give ‘two penn’orth’ for the opinions of others but you do welcome a social event on the midweek calendar. I sign up because one of my oldest friends, who now lives far away, announces that she is going to attend and I think… ‘this sounds like fun!’
And that is exactly what it turns out to be.
As the great day dawns, I race home from work, just in time to fling open the front door, welcome my visitor and … open a bottle of fizz. Two glasses down, we grab a uber into town and head through the school gates into a foyer of: canapes, bucks fizz and a bustle of ‘old girls.’ Amidst the crowds we find other members of our class, listen to some speeches, potter around the school, laugh over our old class register and then…head for the pub.
It is great to see everyone and catch-up, face to face. Wonderful women, funny and smart, who are living life with all its ups and downs, (mostly ups). And it is hilarious to look back together; the infamous ‘ouija board’ affair, some notable vocal performances, old romances, the occasional teacher-crush and we find that, whilst we can still parrot off each other’s childhood landline numbers, nobody can agree on who our fourth year form tutor was!
It’s also just nice to let my hair down over a few drinks. Well, I say a few but as we stumble back into the house, my sober offspring later tell me, I am doing impressions of my brothers and reminiscing about the day Elvis died ! I still cannot remember much of that and, ruefully concede that I should probably have heeded Women’s Health’ s school reunion tip number 10, “Go Easy on the Alcohol!”
The next day, thankfully a planning away-day, is not my finest hour. But, on balance, I decide, very much worth it. Were school days the ‘best days of my life’? Well, whether they were or were not, that is definitely the most fun I’ve had on a Thursday evening ‘school night’ for a very long time. Here’s to the next time ladies …
MOT for the mum (taxi) …
Thursday 20 July 2023
Well pour me a large glass of wine and switch off the 6am alarm for the next month! I have, finally, finished work for the Summer. The only thing on the agenda for tomorrow is Windsor, the trusty Toyota’s, MOT…
My old car has definitely earned his stripes and a well deserved break from us all, if only for a few hours this Friday. He has covered a fair few miles recently.
He’s been up to Edinburgh and across to Middlesbrough, to collect and store student belongings, trundling hundreds of motorway miles with his spacious boot crammed to the rafters with clothes, kitchenware … and even a chest of drawers! He was the reliable roadster taking mum and I to a recent hospital visit on the other side of Manchester (She had offered to go alone by taxi but, by good fortune Windsor and I were also there because her previous solo visit, it transpired, had resulted in a minor meds mix-up. All now, thankfully, resolved) He’s gallivanted across the Northwest from Fleetwood to Eccles delivering me to rehearsals and concerts. And he’s been by my side for the daily work commute (a round trip of over 200 miles per week.)
So he needs this MOT and a bit of RnR, I think as I drop him off the next morning. Possibly a fair bit of work too, as the old boy now has over 120 000 mile on the clock, plus a few bashes and bruises after nearly a decade of my driving.
I meander home to pass a very pleasant and relaxing morning as well. With no vehicle, I am suddenly at no-one’s beck and call. Instead, I spend my time doing… pretty much what I had planned to do with my first day of holidays. It is marvellous. I am productive. I am creative. I complete yoga routine one. I am uninterrupted and stress free. I am also about to get a huge surprise. It’s the garage,
“Your car’s passed, so you can pick it up whenever you’re ready”
‘Passed?’ I repeat several times in hushed tones. But it is true; not even an advisory on the paperwork. I am so shocked that I post the news straight into the family WhatsApp …
Oh what a dismal, disastrous school-girl error!
Within seconds the screen lights up,
“Oh does that mean you can pick me up from work at 4?”
“Can you give us a lift to basketball at 8?”
“My train gets into Piccadilly at 7:33″
What have I done? A day of delicious self-indulgence shatters before my eyes. I collect my faithful old car and the pair of us stagger straight back into our usual, exhausting taxi-routine. By 9:30 pm, I am finally trying to de-frazzle on the sofa with a glass of whiskey.
There is however a dim light on the horizon. On Monday morning, I am, for some reason, rising at 4am to drive my trio and their dad to the airport for a flight to Berlin. A miserably early start for sure, but possibly one that means, maybe.. just maybe … I get a one peaceful week and a chance to put on the brakes and recharge my batteries this holiday…
Walk, eat, laugh… jigsaw!
Monday 24 July 2023
After a very hectic few days, I finally make it to my friend’s idyllic holiday cottage to relax and wind down…
Hectic? Well yes, before I can even think about my own journey, this morning, at an unsociable 3:30 am to be exact, I deliver ex-hub and all three of our offspring to Manchester airport. The day before, was enlivened by the drama of train cancellations. Prom-dress daughter, en route from Edinburgh, booked tickets on three trains which were subsequently scrapped, before managing to leap onto an Intercity that got her as far as York. But that is not Manchester! And so, (whilst I had asked ex-hub to factor such train tribulations into his travel plans – but he didn’t,) I set out in the rain and gathering gloom of Sunday evening to complete 3 hour round trip to collect her. So you’ll understand that I am a little weary.
Still … breathe… I am now here. It is a beautiful spot and we have a wonderful week of pleasing ourselves and switching off from work, family and … everything.
I enjoy day after day of luxurious lie-ins. We walk for miles through the lush green countryside, blessed by forecast-defying, fine weather. It is stunning to look at and feels revitalising to be in.
We eat… really well and far too much. We drink a lot of wine. We do a spot of late night star gazing and we share a lot of laughter. I am even allowed to indulge my jigsaw obsession.
My friend finds this highly amusing but I hold firm. Alongside the benefits of fresh air, good food and plenty of humour, the humble jigsaw is a terrific way to de-stress. To quote ‘Gibson’s games’, on the many benefits of puzzling,
“Completing a jigsaw has a similar affect to meditation as it generates a sense of calmness and peace. Because our minds are focused, we find ourselves concentrating on the puzzle alone, which empties our brains of the stresses and anxieties we face every day“
And something tells me that inner strength and reserves of sleep will be needed as the week draws to a close and we pack our bags for home once more. I’m collecting ex-hub and our three children from Ringway around midnight on Saturday. Then on Sunday morning, I need to get Prom-dress daughter back to Edinburgh for an 11:30 am shift, so back to the reality of being a mum with a bang! Thank the Lord for at least one week’s break…
August 2023
Birthday time in Edinburgh …
Sunday 6 August 2023
I started my blog in 2019, with a ‘trio of teens, but I am now fast approaching the era of parenting only twenty-somethings, as this month sees Prom-dress daughter become our second vicenarian. As my middle child also lives (almost) permanently in the Scottish capital now, for birthday celebrations, the rest of us head north for a week …
Edinburgh, in August, is in full festival mode. It is hustle and bustle on every corner, with shows, markets, pop up bars and … people! And we have a great time.
One of our highlights is a fabulous Birthday meal at ‘Chez Jules’ in the New Town.
“Friends have told me it’s really good Mum” enthuses Prom dress daughter
“but … (and this bit makes this old quinquagenarian smile) ... you have to call up to get a table!”
Well, hold the front page, I have to actually speak to someone? I can’t just fire up my smart phone and press buttons to make a reservation? However did humankind cope, in the dark pre-iPhone age of the 20th Century?
Anyway, I manage the task of a phone call booking and it is a good job that I do, as at 7:30 prompt, when we descend the steps into the buzz of this popular French Bistro it is rammed. And it is easy to see why – fabulous food, plentiful red wine, brilliant atmosphere and friendly staff all combine to make an evening that is … magnifique!
On another day, we enjoy a first trip to Leith, by the sea. And (when we finally work out how to get out of the Ocean Terminal car park lift!) have a lovely time exploring the shops, cafes and harbour. Small boy wins our ‘Bargain Hunt’ £5 challenge with his (broken) silver cigarette lighter from the large Antiques Centre and we wait to see if it makes him a fortune!
And we round off our trip with the ‘Barbie’ movie, enjoying the film, with pink cocktails and snacks in the comfy armchairs an Everyman Cinema
It is a super fun-flick to finish our week away, with its light-hearted and humorous exploration of gender roles in society. My favourite character has to be ‘weird Barbie’, with her shorn hair and legs stuck permanently in the splits position. She instantly transports me back from the present, where my two sophisticated daughters sit with their Strawberry Daiquiris, to the time when, as under 10’s, they terrorised their own Barbies’, in particular those hairstyles with scissors and felt tip pens.
Gosh, much changes in a decade and, as we wave goodbye to our birthday girl and she moves from teens to twenties, I wonder what the next 10 years will bring…
Cost of living and the long wet Summer …
24 August 2023
Will it ever stop raining and how is it still a week until payday?
Nearly two years into our grim UK cost of living crisis, a brace of back-to-back 31 day months feels like a killer at the moment!
At least my offspring are older I think, as I lie awake doing the mental gymnastics of stretching my remaining August budget over looming costs and commitments. How on earth do parents with younger children cope? An added pressure must be the school holidays where we are told that families are supposed to be having fun? But in a Summer which has seen the “UK’s sixth wettest July on record”, according to the Met Office, this can feel like a costly and challenging venture. How are other single parents faring as prices continue to rise, existing ‘fixes’ come to an end… and rain continues to fall?
The research shows that they are struggling. With savings pots 20 times smaller than the average, a 2022 article in The Guardian find that “Single-parent families ‘most exposed’ to cost of living crisis in Great Britain.” And the widely quoted report “Single Parents in 2023” from the charity Gingerbread, builds a fuller picture of the impacts of this. It is an upsetting read. I’ll go further; for me, it is a disgraceful reflection on life for too many in a country with one of the largest world economies. Nearly half have cut back on, or gone without, food and meals for themselves. Almost as many made similar sacrifices with heating or electricity.
That said, this report is proactive and makes a number of recommendations on: welfare reform, debt management and employment support. And so I too resolve to draw up some ‘cost of living’ tips to keep myself on track. I look back to the past seven days for inspiration.
Tip#1: Buy fruit and vegetables from your local market
I chance upon this one in my role as ‘hostess with the most-est‘, entertaining several university friends last week. My hunt for fennel, to pep up a vegan paella, brings me to a stall in our huge local market close to closing time. The licorice livener is there but so too is this insane end of day offer, that is also straight into our tote bag:
“6 punnets of fruit…” (as in any mixture of, strawberries, raspberries, blue berries, watermelon, peaches etc’ ..” for £2“
What a steal! Delicious, healthy, unbelievable value… what’s not to love! I’m certainly making a regular date with my favourite fruitmonger!
Tip#2: Hang onto your NHS dentist!
I’ve messed this one up, alas. Missed too many appointments and was taken off the NHS list and thrown into the financial misery of private practice. This week, I trudge grudgingly off to pay (far too much of) my hard earned money for a simple filling. The NHS cap prices whereas in private land, they cumulate them. The results price differential is significant. So learn from my mistakes readers! Cherish those check-ups and hold onto your place in the world of affordable healthcare.
Tip#3: Manchester museums and galleries.
Aa many visitors come and go for us this week, I find myself on several days out in Manchester. And these sparkle with cultural delights from the large museums to smaller galleries.
From LS Lowry’s matchstick men to ‘Julia and Axel‘ and thirty years of such iconic books as ‘The Gruffalo‘, ‘Room on the Broom’ and ‘The Smartest Giant in Town‘. From ‘Unpicking Couture‘ at the art gallery, to retracing Manchester’s proud textile history at MOSI and exploring culture, history and identity at Esea . The extra bonus readers ? It is all completely free!
So, three cheers for the What’s on’ guide, offering a wealth of culture for all on my doorstep!
Well, that’s it for my lessons learned this week. It’s a start I guess, but let’s be honest, only a drop in the ocean. For real change and fairness, we clearly need more fundamental action. Is that Gingerbread’s reforms? Is that a new government? Who knows but of this I am sure …roll on payday!
September 2023
Feeling like an old banger…
Saturday 23 September 2023
It has been a demanding month for my trusty Toyota and he is starting to show his age…he’s not the only one!
They say a picture tells a thousand words and this shot of the car boot, packed to the rafters with my daughters’ belongings as I drive into the night to deliver these first to Newcastle and then to Edinburgh, sums up how life feels at the moment….
It feels crowded; crowded with worries and dramas. Somewhere in the middle of that mountain of luggage is a small purple backpack of my overnight essentials. I cannot actually see it anymore and in parallel, I have frequently struggled, this September, to find ‘any of me’ in each demanding day.
I mean it is the 23rd day of the month and this is my first post!
Feeling lost in your own life; it is an inescapable parental condition, that we all go through at various stages; a posting on Mumsnet expresses it with great honesty,
“Every day I feel like I don’t have room for my own self and identity to exist, like I don’t even have space in my own head to even consider what I might like to do for myself for 10 minutes of the day”
To be fair, most of the stresses that have overshadowed my September have not originated from my kids. Rather, the majority have come from outside and are hence not my tale to tell, so I’ll simplify and summarise them into: hospitals, financial bombshells and guilty, sad times.
But it has all meant that the past two weeks have seen me and Windsor the trusty Toyota, doing a lots of catch-up driving. Hence the frantic 500 mile road-trip to bring, chests of drawers, clothes, plastic plants, pillows and clanking boxes of ‘kitchen stuff’ to my university girls. Then the (relatively) trifling 250 miles roundtrip for Small Boy’s final Open Day.
And Windsor is not as young as he once was. My old car is looking distinctly worn and weary. He does go into the garage for some emergency repairs this month and I also treat him to new tyres plus a wash and valet. And whilst, at 10 years old with over 130 000 miles on the clock, he’ll never be ‘as good as new’, the versatile Verso does look a lot smarter.
But what of me… well I’m also feeling like a bit of an old banger and I think it might take rather more than a wax and polish to spruce me up! After x-rays and analysis, I have recently been diagnosed with osteoarthritis so, although life presses on at its usual relentless pace, it does so with a lot of pain and a bundle of bandages. Both elbows and my right knee just do not want to work properly any more, even with significant strapping. This has taken running away, (replacing it with an uninspiring sheet of leg exercises) and with it, some valuable ‘head space’ time from my weekly routine?
Upon reflection, I resolve that this bit is fixable. My ‘trip to the garage’ turns out to be a download of a wall pilates course. And today has been calm and a glorious time to draw breath. Why; I have even found a few minutes to type again and who doesn’t feel better for a bit of blogging…
Friday night…is beer night!
Friday 29 September 2023
“Peroni in the hot tub?”
Well, that’s the best offer I’ve had in … about 30 days!
September 2023 has to go down as our ‘mensis horribilis’; a truly awful month. It saw family stresses piled upon family stresses and was topped off this week by an Ofsted inspection at work, an event universally known to inflict (unacceptable) strain on some school staff , which is incredibly sad to witness.
All in all, I shall be very glad to bid farewell to the ninth month of this year and look forward to brighter times in the next. And sinking into the steamy depths of the hot tub with a couple of cool beers is the perfect place to start. Not only is it the only place where my achy arthritic limbs feel at ease at the moment. But also, in the coolness and calm of an autumnal evening, it is the perfect spot to relax, chat and unwind.
Did I say unwind? More accurately on this occasion, the hit of alcohol on my exhausted body quickly has me feeling quite tipsy and leads to much merriment. I guess it is all the same thing, as the wise old sages have often told us ‘laughter is the best medicine’ and countless studies back this up too.
“Laugh it off! Laughter reduces stress and improves well-being for all ages”
claims one report and I say “cheers to that!“
So adios September and onwards to October. It should see Small Boy’s personal statement sent off to UCAS, two new bathrooms for the house and my first orthopedic appointment (hopefully marking a return to better working joints.)
Who knows… United might even put a run of winning games together! We can only pray …
October 2023
When the Tories came to town
Friday 6 October 2023
Whilst the ‘red wall’ crumbled in the 2019 General Election, it remained relatively intact in Manchester, which makes the decision of Rishi and his right wingers to sweep into town, for their 2023 Conference, a rather odd choice. But what did we learn as the governing party descended onto our doorstep…
On conference eve, Saturday 30 September, rumours of the axing of the Northern third of the HS2 project are already circulating. Meanwhile, I set out to the theatre to watch Tanika Gupta’s adaptation of Great Expectations.
It is stunning; a narrative true to Dickens’ original tale (and what a tale!) but set in Bengal around the era of partition. The music and aromas of India make for a beautiful production and the skilful interweaving of the two cultures intensifies the themes of social mobility, love, and justice with additional layers of colonialism and racial tension. At times, the insults hurled at native Pipli (Pip) by the young Estella, brimming with loathing for his ‘smell’ and ‘greasy hair’ and nationality make for uncomfortable listening. They do however make us look at the classic tale with fresh eyes and new relevance.
As we spill out in to the mild Autumn night, to wend our way home, the audience is a buzz. The mood on the streets lively, as the city has also hosted ‘Busted’ at the Arena and the BBC Philharmonic at the Bridgwater Hall this evening. The trams are, mercifully, fantastically frequent.
‘Thank the Lord for a decent local transport system’, think I,
But what news on those intercity links?
The next morning, grey clouds are gathering across the skies, but do they foreshadow the events that are to unfold?
Rishi appears on ‘Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg‘. From a Salford studio, a stones throw from the centre of Manchester, the proposed destination for the HS2 London link, he is asked repeatedly about the rumours that the project it to be pulled. There is no straight answer forthcoming,
“I’m not going to comment on all this speculation. We’ve got a project, we’ve got spades in the ground and we’re getting on with it but it’s right to focus on levelling up.”
Two days later, in a diversion from talk of trains, we get Suella Braverman. It is hardly light relief! In fact, if I found some of the language in Great Expectations unpleasant, as Suella hits her vocal stride, I feel my jaw hit the floor in shock. In a speech, described as ‘unhinged‘ by the Guardian, the, reportedly, wannabe leader of the true-blues, rains down bile and hatred on liberalism, the human rights bill and … of course foreigners, warning of a ‘hurricane‘ of mass migration coming to the UK.
And we end with Rishi himself, using his speech to finally confirm the worst kept secret of the week; that the high speed rail link will now only run from London to Birmingham. There’s no apology, rather in a defiant patronising piece of rhetoric, Sunak expects ‘northerners’ to be grateful, as he commits to spending ‘every penny‘ of the money saved on levelling up projects across the north.
Does anyone believe a word of it? Well let me tell you of one such proposal in our town. They announce funding of a tram extension to Manchester Airport which, as the MEN points out … already exists!
“This will come as a shock to those who’ve been using the Metrolink line to Manchester airport since [checks notes]…. November 2014”
Come on Rishi! If you want a shred of credibility, do your blinking homework!
Perhaps he just doesn’t care. Any old back of a fag-packet rubbish, (don’t panic PM, I am still currently of legal age for cigarettes) will do to keep us quiet! If they perpetuate the narrative that these afterthoughts represent great opportunity for the beleaguered regions, do they hope, we will start to buy it?
It worked for Miss Haversham and Estella,
“Her contempt was so strong, that it became infectious, and I caught it.”
Pip in Great Expectations: C Dickens
let’s hope the residents of the North are more resilient.
The Tory circus rolls out of town after that, and this resident is not sorry to see them go. Very much like Dickens’ ruling classes, the disconnect between our government and the lives of so many of us feels unbridgeable now. They bestowed neither cheer nor respect upon our region and they brought some awful weather with them! Foreboding skies and incessant rain dogged the city throughout their stay. But this weekend is warmer and feels more optimistic. There is after all a general election next year…
First Steps
Saturday 14 October 2023
First steps; often so exciting. When a toddler starts to move, maybe tottering unsteadily across the room it is a moment! Cameras are out, grandparents are called and social media posts launched to mark the milestone. We are super proud that our child has found the courage to ‘take -off’ and, moreover, we also know that this one tentative toddle signals the start of great opportunity. Suddenly, independence, adventure and a world of possibility beckons. (Before I get too carried away, newer parents take note, it is now also the moment to lock away anything breakable… at least for the next 15 years!)
But first steps can also be the most difficult. Roll the clock forward into the teen years and adult-hood and life is still throwing down the gauntlet of new challenges and unexpected curveballs and, whilst I cannot remember how it felt to take my first steps as a toddler, I can affirm that, as a grown-up, this often feels a bit overwhelming.
For inspiration, I often recall one treasured survivor on my children’s bookshelves; the genius of Michael Rosen’s Bear Hunt! Of course our journey through the world will bring us to our own version of snowstorms, rivers and swamps and situations that we were not expecting and, yes, we may feel ‘scared’ but there is usually only one way out of the problem.
“Oh no we’ve got to go through it!”
And ‘going through it’ means getting started!
So this week in our house, I resolve to engage with the arthritis exercises sent to me by the GP three weeks ago. Previously I’d cast them aside, refusing to accept that I was old and arthritic and hoping the pain and stiffness might just magically disappear. When it didn’t, I gave the sheet a cursory glance but sneered at the notion of a ‘few leg raises’ replacing the fitness I’d enjoyed with a weekly 10K run. Then, by chance, in an episode of ‘Strictly come Dancing’, one of the celebrities, who is many years younger than me, revealed that he suffers from arthritis and it inspired me to ‘get a grip’ and root out my doctor’s advice. When I finally read the instructions properly and challenge myself to step up and down 2 staircase-steps at a time
‘until you can do no more… then repeat 4 times’
I have to concede that this seemingly innocuous set of exercises is actually a blinking strenuous workout. My ‘first step‘ of trying one activity quickly turns into a full 40 minutes of movement and stretches. I’m sweating and breathless by the end and …it feels fantastic!
In a different corner of the house, Small Boy, is struggling to get started with his UCAS form, because this means having to make decisions about Universities which he has been grappling with all Summer. Where does he actually want to go, where does the poor lad think I or his dad want him to go…where does college think he should go? It is as murky a swamp as he’s faced for quite some time. But… we’ve got to go through it…
So we take a first step. I set him the task of completing the simple parts of the form: name, address, high school, hobbies etc. Once started, however, he polish off and attaches a personal statement. Then, buoyed with success, confidently clicks into the Universities section to face the dreaded shortlist of five. As I write, he’s added 4, because, as we wrote down ‘all the options’ together, it transpires that there were actually only six . He emails a college tutor about deciding between the final 2 and his relief is tangible – it is finally done!
Well, that was this week. I am sure that next will throw up some more challenges and worries. Let’s just hope that we can stick together and keep taking that first step every time a new lake, snowstorm or swamp appears…
Orange Wine?
Saturday 21 October 2023
Red, white rose or …orange?
Step outside your usual comfort zone and who knows what you will discover? For me, over the last few days it was French composers, the evolution of dolphins from land-living mammals and … the titular orange wine!
My voyage of discovery begins on Thursday with a French soiree of chamber music, cheese and (very red) wine! Music, alcohol plus a generous helping of brie and camembert… quite frankly what’s not to love? And it is a terrific evening. Have I hit the jackpot with a companion who is ‘happy to drive’? It certainly is a treat to indulge in a second interval-glass of Bordeaux! Even so, the icings on this particular ‘gateau’ are the short and well-crafted talks we get about each piece of music. I learn about neo-classicism, le prix de Rome and the fact that, even in the 20th Century, some female composers still chose to write with male pen names. One such was Louise-Marie Simon (30 November 1903 – 7 March 1990), published as Claude Arrieu,
Employing a common response to the pervasive sexism that has hobbled women’s careers across
time, Louise Marie Simon adopted a pseudonym: Claude Arrieu. Although she did not hide her
use of this pen name, it smoothed the path for publication of her music and facilitated
professional advancement.
Printed in programme notes for Kansas Symphony Orchestra 2021
Rediscovering how much I enjoy gaining new knowledge bodes well, as half-term dawns and I drive over to Yorkshire to catch up with family and also to attend the Ilkley Literature Festival. This epic event is celebrating its 50th anniversary and features talks by many famous names from the world of writing, broadcasting and research. It also has a perfect setting. Ilkley is a bustling spa town crowned as the ‘best place to live in the UK’ by the Sunday Times in 2022, and I can vouch that the plethora of bars and eateries is an absolute delight.
So we mix talks with plenty of food and beer. As we emerge from the final presentation, about the physics of the deep ocean, my mind is scrambled with Humboldt currents, the politics of guano (bird poo) and the revelation (for me at any rate) that some sea-based creatures evolved from land-based hoofed mammals, and we decide that a final glass of wine is in order.
And that’s when it happens. I am asked if I want,
“Red, white, rose or …orange wine?“
Orange wine… orange? Maybe I’m just late to this vino-party, but who knew? I ask what it is and learn that it is white wine made with ‘skin contact‘.
“As in orange skin?”
chirps in one of my beer-ed up companions. The patient sommelier smiles as he tells us
“No, the skin of the grape!“
Only I am bold enough to try it and I like it … though if blindfolded, in a taste test, am not sure I’d be able to distinguish it from a regular white. Maybe I should try a few more and The Olive Magazine, is on hand to guide the fledgling orange wine supper!
All in all, a fantastic few days. Good food and drink, great company and the chance to learn (and taste) new things … my idea of perfect!
When to teach kids about money?
Tuesday 24 October 2023
Invest, save or spend? Cash or crypto? Stick to the budget.. or ‘live for the moment’? In a cost of living crisis, managing money has never seemed more bewildering. But what to teach our kids…and when?
That’s what I’m challenged to think about in the ‘Money Matters’ talk at the Ilkley Literature Festival this weekend. The engaging speakers, from the Bank of England and the Financial Times, know their stuff and breathe life into what could have been a very dry hour.
Both are passionate about having financial education on the school curricula, which I am happy to report is already in place, usually delivered during personal development lessons. And there are some terrific projects out there; at my place of work, these have been so popular that annual feedback from pupils consistently asks for more input in this area.
The growth of creative ideas to interest pupils in thinking about economics is most welcome. Rishi Sunak may think that school is the place enable teenagers to “feel confident” with …. things like mortgage deals. More experienced educators however, who in previous years were tasked with dragging a room of 14 year-olds through a grim hour of ‘fixed rate’ or ‘interest only’ deals for first time buyers, would argue that this suggestion misses the most valuable of marks. If you want school children to listen… make it relevant!
And the financial gurus in Ilkey chime fervently with this. Of course, teach about saving and borrowing; with money in short supply, the temptation to ‘buy now and pay later’ is a real danger for young people. But (and it is a big BUT) do it in relation to something that pupils are interested in. As an example, the experts addressing the Ilkey gathering, tell us that, for one teacher in Wales this was Hair Extensions; Nicola Buter’s innovate lesson, addressing the complex world of finance, loans and interest, winning her the Interactive Investor Personal Finance Teacher of the Year Award.
A quick google search also yields a wealth of advice on financial first steps for toddlers and teenagers. Of course Martin Lewis is there. As early as 2007, his Teen Cash Class, promoted the use of key mantras when working with young people to break the ‘impulse buying cycle’. To be honest it is useful for anyone! When contemplating a spur of the moment buy, ask yourself,
Do I need it?
Can I afford it?
Can I get it cheaper somewhere else
The conclusion to this chapter is particularly thought-provoking and I’ll certainly be both internalising it … as well as sharing it with my offspring,
‘If I were able to give you back all the money you’ve ever spent buying things on impulse,
would you take the cash and hand over the stuff?’
Of course we would!
With most spending now migrating online, Lewis’ site also promotes the free guide from Internet Matters, Online money management tips to support young people.
There is guidance for younger children too, for whom finance usually means small amounts of pocket money. Barclays Bank, as one example among many, have designed a nice set of pocket money activities called ‘How to teach your child about money’
So engaging, fun and time-relevant for our children? Is that problem solved? Alas no, there is a snag! At some point, many will have to grapple with mortages, debts, pensions and bills. Some may be in a position to think of investments too. So when do we teach them about this? And, being honest, how many of us would actually feel equipped to do so?
For me, adult education is no different to that of school children; it needs to be relevant. Otherwise, finance can simply be a huge bore. So any advice is best received when it is needed. Hence, in many situations, that means after leaving school. So who do adults turn to?
‘Martin Lewis‘ I hear you cry, and, absolutely – the man is amazing! We could also read books and try to wade through the financial newspapers. However, can we do better than this? Many of these topics are complex and would benefit from a more interactive delivery and discussion. So here’s my question. On this most grown-up of issues, could and should FE/HE providers and employers make that contribution to our financial education?
Can companies deliver impartial training on pensions for all new employees? Should potential first time buyers be mandated to complete a free course, designed by the lenders, on managing a mortgage, looking at tips such as ‘over-payment’ to reduce the debt? How much guidance can we expect from universities about living on a student loan? How about challenging the DWP to design lessons on ‘surviving on benefits‘ or ‘escaping the poverty trap‘? And as for crypto …!
Questions questions questions! I set out in this this post to explore when to tell our kids about money matters. Isn’t the truth that in an ever-changing world, our leaders also need to think about what and when to tell all of us about this most important of areas?
Improved financial literacy cannot all be addressed with a couple more years of mathematics on the school curriculum. Additionally, some guidance would be more engaging to people now at a stage in life when the information is pertinent. Surely some well thought out work-based education be the best place for input? It could reduce financial stress, contribute to a more prosperous society … hey, we could even educate our children better. Wouldn’t that be a win for everyone?
A happy end to a happy half-term
Sunday 29 October 2023
After a pretty terrible few weeks, half term seems like a gift from the Gods…
From literary exploits in lkley, then a catch-up with my eldest daughter on beautiful Tynemouth beach, to lunching and coffees with friends and family upon my return to the Northwest, the precious week passes by in a happy haze.
Could I also brand it as successful?
‘Well in the Expert Editor blog post ‘8 things unsuccessful people do in their free time’, failing to make time for loved ones comes in at number 4, so maybe I can. Furthermore, the same cautionary list cites ‘ignoring their health’ as the third common trait of the unsuccessful and this week I become something of a fitness fiend with daily yoga on top of gruelling arthritis exercises and lots of walking!
So good fortune is clearly in the air and, lo and behold better is to come. On Thursday night, Smallboy and I are grappling with some A level Physics revision and up to our ears in quarks, baryons and antimatter when a email notification pops onto the screen.
“Oh no mum… it’s from UCAS…it says I have one decision..”
In what feels like an age, my son manages to log into his portal, and sure enough a ‘decision awaits’, He descends into talking gibberish and is clearly in a bit of a panic,
“I think this means a rejection mum, someone at college got an offer last week and she showed me her screen and I’m sure it said offer … not decision.”
But, other UCAS hopefuls take heart, because this is not the case at all. Instead we find Small boy’s first University offer and he is over the moon. Quarks are cast aside as he races off to text… everyone! And to open two celebratory beers to mark the moment,
“This means if I get my grades… I am actually off to Uni”
he repeats several times, as if unable to believe that it is all real. He is excitement and relief all rolled into one.
So, that seals the deal for this half term; a happy and very successful week…
November 2023
Raising your son to be a good man…
Saturday 18 November 2023
When the perils of parenting teens bring you into the world of dating advice … eek!
Small boy has had a really nice girlfriend for several months now and they look super happy and carefree. Meanwhile, I find myself in less tranquil waters, wondering what, if any, advice I should give?
I know parents… utter nightmare terrain! Plus, if I’m honest, I’ve always had a slight worry about moments like this for my son, who has had to grow up with a shortage of male role models in our ‘house of girls’. Are my motherly words of wisdom enough, I ponder, or should I call his dad to suggest a manly heart to heart?
Well, as we are careering through the week and en-route to one of many 18th birthday parties on my boy’s busy social calendar, it transpires that he is to hear from both parents and that that between us, we have sound advice to offer…
Car journeys; for some unfathomable reason always a rich source of conversation and companionship for us. Maybe this is why, as we are navigating our way through the dark Autumnal evening, I decide to take my chance and bring up his relationship
“Oh mum, not the bird and the bees talk!’,
my son laughs
“Dad had that toe-curling conversation with me back in year 8!”
Phew! I’m not ashamed to admit I’m pretty relieved to be off that particular hook, so instead I continue on a different track,
“Well I’m glad he did. because, when the time come, it is important to be careful. But there are other things that are probably even more important … “
And so it is that we talk of respect, kindness and taking care of our partner’s heart and their dignity through good times…and bad. I tell my son never to be a cheat, but to make a decision and finish one relationship before he starts another. I ask him to find the time to end alliances with a courageous conversation … and never by text, because everyone deserves this. Even when the message is sad or difficult, we honour others with our honesty and care.
He simply smiles and says,
“Of course mum… you’ve brought me up to be a good man”
Gosh, I hope so because, even with my son’s many talents and accomplishments, if I have, it will be my proudest achievement …
Mum, I’m in A & E…
Friday 24 November 2023
A 6am text pings into the darkness of Sunday morning,
“Mum, I’m in A &E…”
It is Prom-dress daughter.
A Saturday night out has ended with my younger daughter slipping on the wet Edinburgh cobbles and splitting her head open.
“Apparently, I sprung up ready to party on!”
she tells me later, shouting,
“Whose round is it next?”
Fortunately for us all, her friends insist instead that she heads to A &E, by which time she is throwing up, blacking out, slurring her speech… and is admitted for a severe concussion.
By the time she calls me, she has been in the hospital for over 6 hours and is being ‘glued’ back together, and a few hours after that is finally allowed to leave but under strict instructions to do very little for the next week….and her matted and blood stained hair must definitely go nowhere near a shower!
It seems a good time to come home!
So I drive up to the Scottish capital and bring her back to our corner of the North West for a few days. And this, when she stops the distinctly alarming trait of suddenly falling asleep or randomly sitting down with her head between her knees with a dizzy spell, is rather lovely. Both Small Boy and I find it lots of fun to have our usual house of two suddenly swelled to three. Throw in the good fortune of a Friday off work (disaggregated CPD day for the fellow educators out there) and it becomes a top time for us all. Who would have thought it? Maybe those who penned the wise old adage ‘every cloud has a silver lining‘.
I am happy to report that, by the end of the week, Prom-dress daughter is fully recovered, can finally wash her hair and is booking a return train to Uni land. Circumstances aside, however, it has been an unexpected treat to have her back for few days and we shall miss her as she inter-cities North….
December 2023
Could this be the best Advent calendar in the world?
Saturday 23 December 2023
Woohoo everyone; two days until the ‘Big Day’ and what a frenzied and frantic December it has been! Three cheers to Smallboy and his French Horn, who have broken every family record for the number of Christmas concerts a person can appear but, this is the first moment of quiet I’ve found for a blog post and, before it is too late, I must write something about my Advent Calendar…
Ooh yes, just look at the jammy treats hiding behind the doors of my Christmas count-down creation!
Now; I have to confess that I’ve previously scorned the trend for lavish Advent Calendars. And spending hundreds, sometimes thousands of pounds on luxury epics from Fortnum and Mason, Liberty or Dior still seems like insanity itself and the preserve of those with ‘more money than sense’. But, speaking of preserves….
This year, my daughter sends me the ‘Bonne Maman‘ calendar and … it is fantastic! Every morning a little jar that is so delicious I find five minutes, in my usually strict no-breakfast dash for work, to indulge in a hot buttered crumpet topped with a dash of the latest jam. Strawberry, apricot, caramel, blackcurrant; it is all utterly scrumptious.
So amidst the relentlessly busy days and nights of December, I have my breakfast moments to savour. Goodness gracious, those jams are so tasty I actually look forward to getting up on the dark and chilly mornings. I also discover that racing off to work with some food in my stomach really does makes the day feel a lot better!
But if I thought the Bonne Maman bonanza couldn’t get any better, Small boy, in a creative moment of pure genius, spots that the empty jars are the perfect size for a shot of Baby Guinnes. It is a cocktail of Christmassy delight and, as my offspring all return for the Yuletide holidays, proves to be a universal household hit!
Well, this settles any dispute for me; his year I’ve definitely made it through December with the best Advent Calendar in the world!
And so, this evening, I raise a mini-jam jar of coffee liqueur and Baileys, and to one and all. Whatever your festive holidays look like this year, try to find five minutes for yourself in each day, appreciate the gifts from those who care about you, go with the flow of any teenage ‘good ideas‘ and … enjoy!
Going a bit greener, 2 years on
31 December 2023
Do my eyes deceive me or do I really read something positive about climate change in this week’s news reels?
It is this headline, in the Guardian, that stops me in my tracks,
“Climate scientists hail 2023 as ‘beginning of the end’ for fossil fuel era…“
I scroll through the article with sceptical eyes. It has been such a grim 12 months for humanity, from conflicts and the cost of living crisis to chaotic government and what appears to be an ever-accelerating climate catastrophe, that good news is difficult to comprehend… let alone believe.
Indeed, in a year that witnessed more record-breaking temperatures, flash flooding and wild fires, a previous edition of the same newspaper reported scientists grimly heralding 2023 as a year in which ‘humanity exposed its inability to tackle climate crisis…’ And against this terrifying backdrop of visible destructive change, disappointment at the outcomes of COP 28 was so palpable that I couldn’t summons up the enthusiasm to write the annual blog about our attempts to ‘go a bit greener’ … until now!
The Guardian article is cautious and emphasises that the world is still years behind a schedule of true hope. Nonetheless, there is some optimism that “emissions from energy use may have peaked” which is an important milestone. And I don’t know about you, but I decide that I’ll take any green shoots on offer. Furthermore, I sit myself down, to take stock of our household eco-efforts this year. So come along … to the bathroom
I remain almost plastic free in the smallest room with soap for face, hands, body and hair. And to keep everything tidily in place and soap-scum free, I have discovered the fabulous Smol magnets, (these things are genius), plus a soap bag picked up at a Summer market in Edinburgh.
Fussy deodorants keeps me smelling fresh and waste packaging to a minimum. And you’ll also spot a new razor suckered to the shower wall, courtesy of my eldest daughter, who introduced the house to the wonderful world of Estrid Razors; believe me those things are built to last! The replacement blades are delivered via subscription service, so not only is it greener but also hugely convenient!
But wait, I did say ‘almost‘ plastic free! Alas, my quest to find a hair-conditioner bar is yet to meet with success and I have, for now, reverted to a plastic tub of conditioner to tame my curly locks. But, I search on!
Getting back to our home, I descend to the kitchen, where Smol is again my current company of choice, following a colleague’s recommendation. These days, I swerve the supermarket ‘household product’ aisle completely, as Smol post tabs for the dishwasher, clothes washer and cleaning sprays to my door. For me, these products do the job and managing delivery dates is so easy and flexible, that it feels like good value too.
And where better to finish than by the bin, with my recycling of ‘soft plastic’ at the local supermarket? This one was inspired last year by Jen Gale, ‘Zero waste mum’ who only puts her bin out once per year. The sustainable super star, motivated our rather more modest commitment to putting our grey bin (of non-recycling) out every 6 weeks instead of every 3. And we have managed it!
But have I made a difference? Well Smol, for one, tell me I have.
And I hope so, however small it, because, when despairing of our political leaders and energy companies, I find it helpful to switch them off, avoid the tendency to mope and moan and do something… do anything! In any case I shall carry on trying in 2024 and keep you posted but in the meantime, a very Happy New Year to all…
Smashing Single Parenthood 