Author: beckyjo125

A delight in the ordinary people…

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Wednesday 27 August 2025

Did you know that 70 years ago today, the first GWR (Guinness World Record) book was published?

Yes; that is the glorious news that broadcasts from my radio this morning and over a morning cuppa, I listen to the fascinating back story of this stalwart of British society. The beloved tome, actually stems back to 1951, when Sit High Beaver, managing director of the Guinness Brewery had an idea for a book to settle a pub argument about the fastest game bird. He hired Norris and Ross McWhirter, who compiled facts and statistics, resulting in the first edition of The Guinness Book of Records, published on August 27, 1955, in the UK. Initially intended as a promotional item for the brewery, the book quickly became a bestseller and an annual Christmas gift for so many of us in the 1970s and 1980s.

Did I say glorious news? I absolutely did. Because for the next 15 minutes, in place of the usual grim news that has clouded this Summer in the UK, we celebrate memories of the crazy, the quirky and the downright fabulous. The world’s longest moustache, the most people on a surf board, the tallest lego tower, the record for winning the most gurning world titles.. and of course those longest of curling fingernails … there really is no end of creative ways to get your name in the history books!

It is the tales of often ordinary folk doing something extraordinary for the very joy of challenging oneself, grabbing life by the horns and living it to the full. And, unlike most of our daily depression of news, it cause no hate, no harm and no division. In fact, it makes me laugh out loud and transports me,  in an instant, back to my childhood.

You must be with me, fellow UK survivors of the 1970s and 1980s. For who doesn’t recall the TV show? The exuberant Roy Castle, tap dancing across the screen, trumpet in hand and inspiring the tea-time viewers with his round up of the latest wacky record to fall.

Was it a simpler, nicer time back then? Is the crazy, the quirky and the downright fabulous actually the best of ‘ being British’ …or is it just an affectionate wave of nostalgia?

All too soon the radio presenters of 2025 move onto other stories. It is predictably gruesome, so I opt for a few more moments in the past. I flick the off- button  and head to my desk instead singing a cheerier tune

If you want to be the best . And you want to beat the rest . Ooh-ooh! Dedication’s what you need

A weekend with a culture vulture…

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Sunday 27 July 2025

When my ‘culture vulture’ friend comes to town, I know it is going to be a full on weekend of arty exploration and experiences …

On Saturday we head to Haworth and Bronte country. The picture postcard town and the Parsonage, where the family lived, are popular tourist spots; but this is not the main focus of our trip.

No we park the car, don our walking gear and set out on the 4-mile hike to Top Withins, a ruined farmhouse on the moors, which the Bronte hopefuls have suggested may be the inspiration for Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights itself. Could any expedition be more up my street…I really struggle to imagine one!

Whilst the literary critics are less convinced about the theory and the Bronte Society itself claims that ‘The buildings, even when complete, bore no resemblance to the house she described‘, no-one can deny the setting, which is wild, remote and wonderful

“Top Withens and the views from it encapsulate the landscape that inspired the Brontës’ writing and continues to be a place of pilgrimage for visitors from all over the world“

And I am sold. My mum claims that my middle name was chosen in homage to the heroine of this novel and so, in my fanciful head, even the wind carries whispers of ‘Cathy’ and ‘Heathcliff’ as we trek towards our destination.

Yet, even a romantic fool such as I cannot ignore the clear signs along the route that we have moved on from the 19th Century. The beautiful ‘Bronte waterfall’ lies roughly half way along the trail and, not only are there quite a few other ramblers gathered here, but also signs in both English…and Japanese!!

Well… you can’t have everything I guess . Plus, as we eventually, find our way back to Haworth, ( after trying to forge our own circular route adds, in hindsight, an extra 30 minutes to our journey) I must confess that the distinctly modern reward of an Iced Matcha Latte is a welcome delight!

Revived and refreshed, we find time to stroll the pretty cobbled streets of Haworth and visit the family home at the Parsonage before wending our way home.

Sunday dawns and we set the SatNav for Liverpool and the Biennial, the UK’s largest contemporary visual arts festival.

Liverpool is always a fantastic place to visit, pulsating with life, colour and personality. And it is a perfect setting for such an innovative arts trail. We see videos and installations in Chinatown, located in small warehouses and even a housing association. We explore exhibits in new arts centres and also established and esteemed galleries across the city. And we tour the magnificent Anglican Cathedral to admire tapestries and glass sculptures.

It is not simply art, its is also the location, and the festival celebrates the amazing sights and diversity of Liverpool itself. Between the installations, it is terrific just to stroll and enjoy this town. Lunch on the Docks with the sun dancing on the famous Mersey and the backdrop of the Liver buildings, well what could be better?

A fantastic weekend indeed and as my friend and I part company, at Lime Street Station, one of us on the train to London and one one of us heading back home on the M62 , we know we shall be meeting again soon. The question is … what adventures we’ll get up to next time!

Even better than Stevie Wonder?

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Tuesday 8 July 2025

Did I even mention that Stevie is at the very top of my ‘top three artists I’d love to see live’ list?

I know, probably only about fifty times! Anyway, when a friend hears that my idol is coming a Manchester venue, they express-message the news in bold BLOCK CAPITALS

“STEVIE WONDER 5th July !!! How many tickets?”

And I can’t believe it, because in my heart I think I had never expected to actually make this dream come true.

So why do I  pause? It is that  date…that date rings a bell. I glance at the calendar. And I instantly know that I’ll be giving Stevie, ‘Superstition’ and those sweet harmonica tunes a serve. Because we have an even better event to attend. Between the 4th and 7th of July, we have not one, but two graduations!

So pushing thoughts of funky soul music aside, we drive North for said July weekend, and what a time we have!

It is four days of unbridled joy. My baby girls, all grown up and graduated! Looking so happy and making me feel so unbelievably proud. The ceremonies and speeches are wonderful, the family meals fun and the fizzy wine freely flowing – looking at some of the pics, a little too freely!

Of course I shed the occasional tear. Hearing the newly qualified doctors all reciting ‘The Oath’ is quite a moment. And in Edinburgh, from high up in the iconic McEwan Hall, seeing Prom Dress daughter, the quiet little soul who didn’t speak for her first 6 months at school, turning to smile confidently to the audience as she receives her scroll, gives me goosebumps.

And of course there are some moments. Small boy and I stay in some very basic University accommodation in Edinburgh and both have to get suited and booted for the fanciful events in small public toilets! At some point, the memory of how is now a little hazy, we also acquire a tartan flat cap!

But perhaps the most  unbelievable moment comes as Ex-Hub and I are watching a procession of new graduates leave the hall in the Scottishcapital.

Ex-Hub takes me aside to say,

I feel so proud but you; you must feel incredible. For all you’ve done I wanted to say. ‘Thank you’

I am dumbfounded. If I’d never believed I would ever see Stevie Wonder in person, then this pales against this. These are simply words I never even dared to dream of hearing! Nothing short of miraculous.

But let me not digress; this weekend and this post belong to my beautiful daughters and to both of themI say,

I got faith in you girl

Stevie Wonder single 2016 from the Soundtrack to Sing

You go out, shape this world for the better and live your best lives now.

As for Stevie, now that I have been convinced that miracles can happen,  … maybe next time?

Small boy’s freshly baked bread …

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Tuesday 29 July 2025

“Mum, what’s for lunch?”

This is my nineteen year old son! I am in the middle of a work meeting and have been up since seven, he is still in his dressing gown and has not looked up from the X-Box screen for the last two hours! It is safe to say that I am not amused.

Making sure I am on meeting-mute, I call back ‘sort yourself out; I am busy‘ and then I return to the day job.

A couple of hours later, I head downstairs for a coffee break and… what a sight greets me! Smallboy still in dressing gown but vigorously kneading bread dough in the kitchen!

“What on earth are you doing?” I half-shriek

Smallboy give me a floury smile, and looking pretty pleased with himself explains

“Well you told me to sort my lunch out, there’s not a lot of food in the fridge, so I decided to make a loaf of bread”

Well there your have it! I can only laugh out loud. It is so typical of my third-born. My theory is that being born last into a house of three under-fives, there was so little attention left that he long ago gave up waiting to parental approval or permission before launching into his latest exploit.

As a tiny toddler, he learned to assemble lego models independently … because everyone else was ‘too busy‘. I often lost him in the large Supermarket near our SouthWest house .. and invariably found him sitting happily in the coin operated trains and planes outside the cafe. Then, of course, there was the building of the basket-ball hoop and … on and on it goes.

In Harper’s Bazaar around the time of the birth of Kate and William’s third child , an article claimed that

You get wiser parents with each kid ….So third-borns grow up with more relaxed boundaries. These are the children most likely to be creative and risk takers.

Well, ‘wiser parents’ or just more pre-occupied ones I’m not so sure? The traits, for the child however, they  definitely fit my son!

It is actually nearly 6pm by the time he has finished his masterpiece. As I have no advice to give, because I have never made bread, I set about putting the rest of our evening meal together. We triumphantly sit down to a feast of freshly baked bread, with cheeses, salad and red wine!

Tomorrow he’s baking again, as he thought that loaf number 1 was ‘a touch too dense‘. Many years of parenting him have taught me that it will just be easier to leave him to it…

Is there a doctor in the house?

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Friday 16 May 2025

Well we have one!

My eldest child, receives her final examination results in March of this year and the whole household is bursting with pride as our girl makes it through five grueling of years of medical school to qualify as a resident doctor. As well as pride, when I think back to the start of this chapter of life in the NorthWest I realise that I also feel something else … incredulity.

Now this is exactly the moment when any mum could be forgiven for digging out the toddler snaps and look back at the significant milestones but my memory takes me in a slightly different direction, hurtling back to our arrival back in the NorthWest in 2010.

Yes, fifteen years ago, we were trying to cram the contents of our family home in the SouthWest into a small two and a half bed Northern rental property. The ‘half-bedroom’ belonged to my eldest and, although she was ecstatic to have a room of her very own for the first time, it was such a tiny space that the door couldn’t fully open without hitting the bed! Downstairs was a permanently cluttered mess of my work, kids’ homework, lego, music and a piano, overspill plates and cups from the galley kitchen and semi-dried washing. As for the garage, well that was packed to the rafters with the furniture, boxes of toys and the white goods that simply could not fit into our new living quarters.

The quiet road we lived on was nice enough and our neighbours were fantastic but the nearby main road was more salubrious and, as on our daily drive home from school, we passed the dingy local Sex Shop, I remember thinking on more than one occasion,

“What have you done and what is this place you have brought your children to…”

But we dug in and the trio were amazing. It is a common adage that ‘children are very resilient‘ and even in those early days, almost as if in denial of our changed fortunes, they just carried on as if nothing at all had changed… even though their entire lives had.

We moved eventually, when I bought what is now very much our home, to a different part of town with a lot more space but even before that each of them simply gave their best efforts to everything, working hard at school and throwing themselves into all their hobbies and clubs. It must just be who they are! I really couldn’t have asked for more and am probably blessed!

And being herself; kind, caring, determined and driven has taken my Eldest child from a the bedroom-not-big-enough-for a bed, in a slightly shady part of town, to a position as a Resident Doctor. I guess the tiny bedroom really didn’t matter so very much after all. If you are prepared to work hard to make the most of the talents you have, not much can stop you achieving whatever you set your mind to.

So time to put the memories away, because we have a graduation to prepare for and I think it is time for all eyes to look to the future now…

A world without Windsor…

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20 February 2025

After 11 years of loyal service and 148 000 miles of memories, I say a fond farewell to Windsor, my very trusty Toyota, and it’s emotional …

Of course I know a car isn’t actually a person but … I am such an old softie that mine always do feel real. And I’m not alone. At the garage where I collect my new vehicle, the very nice salesman asks if I am okay, as we reach the moment where I have to sign Windsor away,

“I sometimes get tears you know …”

he tells me

“… people get attached to their cars, I guess seem like part of the family”

Indeed they do! An article by Kayla Morgan, reports the 2024 survey by car centre Meineke, which revealed that

“ … 51% of car owners think of their car as part of the family .. and …about 53% would keep their current car forever if given the option.” 

Rather more alarmingly, Kayla’s article also references the 2009 documentary My Car is my Lover. But let’s not dwell on that one!

Back at the garage , I hear myself telling the very nice salesman about the long forgotten treasures we found when we cleared Winsor out: the decorated beach stones the kids made on holiday in Wales and the Clarice Bean audio books we listened to so many times that we could recite chapters verbatim. I recount the trips to drop the children off at University with Windsor’s boot crammed to the rafters, the rescue mission to Edinburgh when Prom dress daughter had concussion, driving to tense Medical school interviews with my Eldest and all those voyages to the vet with Small Boy and Boris the gecko.

So many memories, so many talked-about tales, so many crazy times. And through it all there was Windsor, ever-reliable, chugging along the motorways of our lands, without complaint… the truly trustiest of Toyotas. What a car he’s been and what a betrayal it feels to be leaving him behind today.

And in that moment, I know I am one of the 53% and that, if money and space were no object, I would keep him forever…

The February Birthdays

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8 February 2025

Oh February, for decades the month of the ‘double birthday’ with two of my children celebrating their births on consecutive days! Until this year, the first one where neither of them is at home ….

One is is Nepal, one is is a University lab and both happy and well. Gifts and cards are sent and calls are made … nonetheless …

My social media feed lights up with ‘memories’ of parties past. Crowded tables of little children munching party food, smiling faces at local soft-play centres, and plenty of cakes and candles. Then to more recent times and the teenage years;  thumping music, beer pong, disco balls, loud singing and that very same table groaning with alcohol.

And in the echoing silence of a house now empty of my three offspring, I feel a little forlorn …

Kathmandu …

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26 January 2025

My eldest child is in Nepal…

Scarcely has the ink dried on her final exam that my eldest is off on medical elective… in Kathmandu!

My lovely girl pops home for 24 hours before she goes and because I am a flexi work-from-homer these days, I am able to make the most of it. The washing machine whirrs on overdrive, I cook favourite meals, I help to find room in her rucksack for: 5 sets of scrub, a stethoscope and a stock pile of painkillers.

And then, somewhere amidst the busyness, I just stop and stand still for minute. Over thirty years ago, I was the girl frantically packing and re-packing my backpack for a 5 month trip to South East Asia. Excited, raring to go and full of adventure and I recall, moments before I set off , my mum appearing, bursting into tears and saying,

‘It’s just such so far away…’

And today that is me – oh how the tables have turned!

Four and a half thousand miles, fifteen plus hours by plane, a new culture and working in a hospital that will feel entirely different to her experience in the UK. Gosh; it is quite a challenge! And if she does need help – not even my flexi work from home status will be of much use for the next two months.

But, rolling the years back to the start of the 1990s, when I boarded that plane to Bangkok, I was on the verge of some of the best months of my life. An unbelievable time of joy, amazement, wonder – 5 months of feeling on cloud nine and more full of life and excitement than I could have hoped for.

So I keep my worries to myself. But as I drop her off at a friend’s house in Sheffield for the journey down to Gatwick I do give her a very big hug. And I also allow a little voice in my head to say,

Please keep her safe…

How to impress your children…

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Friday 17 January 2025

Well it’s with a traffic cone as it turns out!

Oh the humble traffic cone, so often the unlikely hero of late night pranks. Something about the combination of our endless town-centre roadworks and a good helping of alcohol has made it quite commonplace to see those bold orange and white striped mounds of plastic adorning historic statues, topping iconic buildings and appearing in student kitchens on hung-over morning-afters.

But my cone is not in this ilk at all. Oh no, it is far more respectful. Let me reveal all…

I am driving through the gates of a large institution for a morning meeting when I stop to ask where to park. After a quick verification of my ID I am waved towards … my very own parking spot. Yes a traffic cone, with my name, (my actual name!) on it, stands proud guard over a reserved space just outside the reception.

As chance would have it, I am on a call with my eldest child at this very moment and so impressed is she with the news that, as I am hopping out of the driver’s seat to move the cone, her amplified voice bellows out on speaker phone

“Your name is on it! That is so cool, take a picture mum!”

Passersby look a little startled and all I can do is shrug, point at the cone and say

“Not every day you get your name on a cone!”

What I don’t add, but it could, is that it is even less every-day is doing anything that impresses your children. It is a great start to Friday…

Christmas 2024

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Monday 30 December 2024

Sitting with a coffee and one, of many, left over mini-mince pies, it seems the perfect moment to look back at the festive break…

Once all my kids are safely home, despite load upon load of dirty washing and a speeding ticket, courtesy of the variable-speed-lottery of the M5, it ffeels as if Christmas has begun. It means help with the food shop, extra hands for decorations, time-honoured  cheesy festive films and a house full of laughter and companionship again.

And so to the ‘big day’ itself. Much is familiar: guests, food, crackers, games and fizz.

But there are a few new twists. The hot water packs in on Christmas Eve, so it is cold showers for the hard-core (and a bit of festive grime for the rest) throughout the social season.

Most significant of all, there is  an extra pair of hands in the kitchen… the ill-fated Smallboy. Buoyed by the success of some roast potatoes he’d served up for pals at Uni, he begged to join the Christmas cooking crew. But scarcely had we added his name to the spreadsheet … oh yes, you heard me right, I never do the Xmas dinner without microsoft excel … than calamity starts to dog his every culinary move. Half of our usual crispy spuds became an impromptu mash… and the first tray of turkey had to be hurriedly scooped from the floor, whilst we distracted guests with crackers and paper hats.

I also branch out with my desserts, introducing after -dinner-coffee with  a mini mince pie – Ta da!  In my head,  ‘ultra-chic’. In reality, it goes down about as well as last year’s ‘signature cocktails’ … not a single blinkin’ taker! And hence why, with January on the horizon, I am still munching my way through several boxes of the darned festive pastries!

With the cooking done and the board games exhausted we sink happily down to watch the ‘Gavin and Stacey Christmas Special‘ and my oh my it does no disappoint. I mean. if you were not misty eyed as Mick stands up at the wedding ceremony and up on your feet cheering as the entire cast race to Portsmouth,,, quite frankly, what is wrong with you?

And so the sun sets on another spell of festive cheer. Smith and Ness are married, me and my kids have been re-united. For now, at least, all is well with the world…