My work patterns are a-changing this Autumn and, for September at least, I have Fridays off – what a treat! How to celebrate? Well what better than a walk on a glorious sunny morning, followed by a chocolate muffin!
It is 21 years since I last had a ‘free Friday’. Back then, Prom-dress daughter was a new-born and whilst I still wanted to balance some work with two under 2s, four days a week was quite enough. I loved it then and I am loving it today.
There are no ‘Toddler Groups’ or ‘Ballet Classes’ today but I do have company, the sun is shining and my mood is ecstatic. We hike around a beautiful reservoir, catching up on lots of news and enjoying some stunning views and countryside. It is peaceful, calm and beautiful. Away from the hustle and bustle of work, the overwhelming stress of a punishing workload, and the chaos of gridlocked commuter traffic, this feels like living!
And, of course, we have cake. Not a specialist bakery today but a ‘Tesco finest Belgian Triple Chocolate Muffin’. Do we recommend? We certainly do. Mini chocolate cakes with white, dark and milk chocolate chunks, filled with a rich gooey chocolatey sauce. The buttercream topping finishes off the indulgent, velvety experience of these post-walk delights. Truly delicious and a fitting reward for our morning exertions.
It also sets me up for a more frantic afternoon of shopping for my mum, who is really immobile these days, helping Small-boy to get packed for University and gathering up Prom-dress daughter from the train station. We all have a busy weekend ahead. Thank the Lord it will last three days instead of two!
I simply could not be in higher spirits as we stride out this morning. I took the big decision, several months ago, to move on from a school I’d worked at for over a decade but agreed, as usual, to run their examination results days. Yesterday was the final one of these, GCSEs and other vocational qualifications. As the young people leave with their envelopes of grades, the wave of relief that it is now someone else’s job: to analyse the data, to communicate the conclusions to various audiences and to set the priorities for the next academic year…well it washes over me like a tsunami of joy. I feet elated, I feel giddy…I feel free!
And today, I am still on cloud nine!
Our walk is a reverse of a previous route and possibly because we have trodden these paths before (albeit with a pleasing 180 rotation) or possibly because another benefit of walking, over running, is that you have far more time to observe and enjoy your surroundings … or possibly just because I am feeling on top of the world, I take in new details that I missed the first time around. My favourite are the NORI bricks!
NORI bricks? Well here is tale the of these ‘Accrington’ celebrities. The bricks are famed for their extreme hardness, allowed by the chemical make-up of the clay gathered from the neighbouring quarry. As for the name, well that originated when the word “iron”, denoting their strength, was painted upside down on the works chimney. The resulting misapprehension led to a joke which became a widely used nickname.
So the bricks are ‘back to front’ and our walk is also, by comparison to our previous hike, end to start. It all sees to fit!
As does the cake. Today’s exercise-reward is a generous slab of ‘Old School Cake’, this retro-wonder of confectionary so named because it evokes the classic cake often served with school dinners. For me, moving on from my most significant educational role, well what could be a more perfect choice? It is also delicious. Tasty, tasty, tasty cake that I polish off in quick time. As ever, I’ll confess to scraping away the icing and, with images of the school canteen of my childhood, find myself yearning for a bit of custard instead…just not the crazy pink stuff they sometimes poured out!
So some nostalgia for the past, genuine relief to be reducing my workload and optimism for the future. A decent bit of cake, plus a fine stretch of the legs. This was a good day …
Can there be a better way to finish a bracing walk than with a 10 out of 10 slice of cake?
Victoria Sponge at Pearsons
Running is definitely out for me for the next few weeks. Despite daily yoga and a renewed commitment to my arthritis exercises, my knee joint is incredibly sore and not able to take the impact of even my modest jogging.
But, as the wise old adage goes, ‘every cloud has a silver lining‘ and for me it is walking. To quote the Arthritis Foundation
What’s not to like about walking? It’s free. It’s easy to do, and it’s not just easy on joints but it also keeps them lubricated and flexible.
And on this sunny August Saturday, we enjoy a marvellous 4 mile stroll through the lovely Lancashire countryside, exploring new tracks, discovering little churches and pretty lanes and rounding it off with a trip to Pearson’s cafe: and that Victoria Sponge.
Oh it is glorious. A firm, delicious cake, thick rich cream and a fruity shot of jam. It is a taste sensation and I savour every mouthful, trying to put off the moment when the plate is finished. Perfection on a plate and our first score of 10 out of 10. Now that is what I call a great morning …
Very little sleep, a sick feeling in the stomach and trying to fight away the thought that the next, few, uncertain minutes hold a totally unfair sway over my son’s destination … it is A Level results day and time to log onto the UCAS site for Smallboy.
In my room, I hold my breath. As a parent, I never feel disappointment in any of my children. They work hard, they try their best, it is all that I ask and always more than enough. What I fear, what I dread, is their disappointment and despondency when results are not what they have hoped for. It can be unbearable.
I hear voices and I say quick prayer. Please let it be good news.
“Mum… mum, I’m in!”
Small boy has his first choice University. We are both overjoyed and so relieved that we dance around the house in our pyjamas, waving arms and singing at the tops of our voices.
Later, for our mum-Smallboy treat, we hop on the tram into town to eat noodles and buy jeans. Even later than that, my son and what seems like every 18-year-old on our estate, heads back into town to dance the night (and most of the next morning) away.
Which gives me time to pour myself a well-deserved whisky, raise a toast to my youngest child and think,
A bathroom brimming with Brazilian Bum Bum Cream and a kitchen well stocked with vodka and wine? Yes, I am not in my corner of the North West anymore…week 3 of the Summer holidays takes me to student land!
I am spending a few days with Prom-dress Daughter at her digs in the Scottish capital. Her flatmate is away and so we have the place to ourselves and … I love it.
It is not even an entirely social visit. We both have a fair bit of work to do but this just makes it feel even better. As if I actually live in this lovely vibrant spot, as opposed to just being a passing visitor. Mornings, afternoons and some of the evening we are buried in notes or calculations in our respective corners of the lounge. But in between, we pop out. To trendy cafes, or to sit in the sunny Meadows with deli sandwiches in brown paper bags or simply to step out for a stroll.
Yes, the best bit about my stay? Location, location location!
My middle child lives right in the heart of Edinburgh city. It is August, it is Festival time and it is sunny. The place just buzzes with life and excitement. Whereas a trip at home might be the weekly shop, or filling up the car with petrol, here it is to watch a street performer, or mooch around a vintage shop or listen to some live music, whilst sipping a cool drink.
It feels wonderful. Is it just a reminder of life I once lived and the girl I was, many many decades ago? Or is it time to be that girl again? Next week, Small Boy picks up his A Level results and hopefully the passport to his University life and future career.
Which means that I will be … an empty nester. Eek!
Emotional times for sure … but maybe also the chance to rediscover the old (pre-parenthood) me? Gracious, as I see that in black and white, it feels a little too momentous and overwhelming right now. Perhaps I’ll make a gentler start to a whole new life… by adding ‘Brazilian Bum Bum Cream’ to my Christmas list!
Week 1 of the Summer holidays takes me to The Lake District, to quote William Wordsworth
” the loveliest spot that man hath found”
I’m joining friends who have recently purchased a cosy wooden lodge, a few miles north of Ambleside … and I am instantly in love. The setting is just so glorious. I actually feel as if I’m in a tree house with lush, vibrant greenery in every direction. It’s peaceful, it’s magical…its perfect.
And I am not the only person to find trees such a source of bliss. There is much research about the benefits to both physical and mental well-being in aboretal locations.
Ooh Ginger cake … just the word, just the thought is exactly what my weary Saturday limbs need to motivate this morning’s run.
It evokes warmth, comfort and the reviving zing of ginger, ‘the wonder spice’, widely recognised for its benefits to digestion and some muscular pain relief.
And I am needing all of these as we jog off today; my knee a little sore following a week in the Lakeland Hills. But, buoyed by a chance for a chatty catch-up, I manage a respectable 2 or 3 miles before my arthritic joint demands that I slow to walking pace.
And my reward? Yes, stick on that kettle and plate up that cake!
It is good. Fruity, rich and delicately spiced, we polish it off with relish. Perhaps it would benefit a touch more spice and I’d prefer a stickier topping in place of the icing but without doubt a grand post-run delight and we agree a score of 8!
My run buddy is off to a (celebrity) wedding next week so I’ll probably swap out the run for a fortnight of some serious arthritis exercises. Thereafter…here’s to my next cake run adventure…
Friday was my last day in my current post, after memorable 14 years …
Yes, quite an ‘end of an era‘ and I’m not sure that it has entirely sunk in as yet. Even now, sitting in a house that resembles a florist shop with enough wine, fizz and whiskey in the cupboard to last me until Christmas my head doesn’t fully know what to make of it all. I imagine that particular reality will strike home as I begin training for a new challenge at the end of August and find myself, ever so completely, out of my comfort zone for the first time in a decade!
But, whilst the location and the colleagues will change, I shall continue working with young people. I got some amazing letters from pupils this term and I think it sort of hit me like a thunderbolt that, for some of them at least, I was ‘that teacher‘; the one who inspires, who builds up, who encourages them to be more that they dreamed possible and who is never forgotten. And that feels phenomenal, such a privilege and … unbelievable! Because when you set out on a career path, you never quite know how it is going to turn out.
And the same is very much true of parenting too.
Yes, back at home we are also fast approaching the end of an era. Small boy has finished his A levels and, with everything crossed (because Physics paper 2 was an abomination), plans to head off to university in the Autumn. Gracious me; when I started my last job he was nervously lining up outside Reception class and now… on the verge of setting out into a new life in a new city.
And he is a great kid, as are my girls, which also hit me the other evening. Because, who can predict what type of parent any of us are destined to be? I know I have made lots of mistakes, I could fill several posts with all them all, but nonetheless when I look at my lovely offspring, with their kind and caring ways, I’ll confess I feel pretty proud of myself as a mum too.
Yep, over the last 14 years, I’ve not done at all badly either at work or at home. So here’s to a ‘little bit of new’ mixed with ‘a good portion of carrying on‘ as I look ahead to the next stage of life’s big adventure…
Sometimes you’ve earned your cake even if you haven’t done any running…
Chorley Cakes from Cissy Green’s Bakery
Yes, I haven’t even run an inch today, nor in the last fortnight actually. Why? Well it all began with a cough!
Oh the cough. One hacking, gravelly, sounding like a person-with-a-40-year-smoking-habit cough. The ghastly, spluttering monstrosity started about 8 weeks ago. I thought half term would see it off, but it did not. Upon my return to work, I struggled to function, clinging onto a huge water bottle and gasping for breath every time I tried to get a sentence out in the classroom. I visited the Pharmacist, polished off box after box of Lemsips and consumed my own body-weight in honey. And still I barked on!
“Have you got the 100 day cough?” colleagues would ask,
“Could it be pneumonia?”
“Have you considered TB?”
Everyone had a theory. And everyday I was wiped out; fights of stairs looked like mountains, my back and chest ached all the time and I felt as if my motivation to do anything at all, even eat, had evaporated.
So, about 4 weeks in, I went to see my GP. I was prescribed precautionary antibiotics plus a steroid spray and was sent for an xray.
Two days later, I awoke at 3 am, making the most horrendous din. In my head I sounded like an angry seal, the offspring,who came racing in, claimed that I sounded ‘in human‘ and ‘like a siren’ as they found me careering around the room seemingly gasping for breath. It calmed down after 10 minutes but I was made to call 111 who labelled this as ‘Stridor Breathing‘ and, having heard my other symptoms, ordered me off to A and E …whereupon we waited for 7 hours before being discharged home.
Later that same afternoon however, I was summoned to the GP… and it is here that everything changed. My x-ray results were on the screen. The GP read them out quickly to an uncomprehending me. He immediately called radiology and, via speaker phone, I heard them telling him that yes, I did need a follow up CT scan and that it was marked as ‘urgent’.
“Why did they say urgent?” I asked, still a little at sea.
The GP mumbled about something needing to ‘rule our the worst’. Upon arriving home from work, less than 24 hours later, I found my GP actually at the door hand delivering an appointment for the very next day. The light was beginning to dawn.
‘So when you say urgent … you really do mean it!‘
I spent half an hour the next morning being CT-ed with iodine ink.
Now I began to feel alarmed. I re-read the x-ray report. It told me that I was on the ‘2 week pathway’. I looked that up. One word. Cancer .
I sat, with a cup of tea, my usually busy mind feeling as if it had been replaced with a blank white board of blind panic.
Not a great week followed. It became difficult to focus at work. I didn’t tell my mum, who was ill. I couldn’t tell Small Boy, who was mid-A levels. My closest friends were terrific, and my boss took me off some duties, which helped enormously. But mostly, I just steeled myself for a long and lonely wait.
But such anxiety is difficult to recall now because… thankfully me this tale has a happy ending. The ‘all clear’ letter arrived by post. The Lung Cancer team discharged me back to Primary Care, with nothing more than a recommendation for a steroid inhaler, and I was overjoyed to be sent!
So, come on, no jogging but surely I’ve earned this week’s cake? And what a belter it is, none other than a Cissy Greens Chorley cake.
‘Is that the same as an Eccles Cake?’ I hear you cry.
Actually, not quite. There is less fruit in the Chorley cake and shortcrust pastry replaces the flaky casing of the Eccles variety. And therein, to my mind lies the secret. With a generous helping of butter, that crisp but crumbly pastry is a triumph, melting seamlessly into the soft rich fruit. For me, a self confessed non-sweet-toother, this is cake heaven. Fellow tasters suggest a 9, but, as I could happily devour a full plate of these beauties, I’m going out on a limb with a cheeky 9.5 and a bold claim that ‘this will take some beating’.
And next week, providing my wheezing is fully back under control, I’ll be back to running and cake sampling to test that out…
Hard to pinpoint exactly when our weekend run became as much about ‘the cake’ as it did the exercise; but it has! And… well who could argue that it’s a blooming fantastic addition to any weekend routine!
We still doggedly rendezvous every Saturday morning to take on the Lancashire hills. Drinking in the beautiful, tranquil countryside which reminds you that life is for living, not just getting by, as we recharge the batteries and get the heart pumping. But my limbs, now in their 50s sometimes, can need a bit of extra motivation these days …and cake will do that for you!
Oh yes, knowing that coffee, catch-up and a slice of something delicious awaits… well it really spurs you on to see that run through to the end!
And, having spread the net wide to savour the confectionery offerings from a range of establishments, we thought it would be fun to celebrate ( and rate) each weekly discovery. And kicking us off to a super strong start are the Angel Cakes from Cissy Greens Bakery.
Described as a ‘true taste of history’, Cissy Greens was opened in the late 1800s by Cissy who was born into a baking family. As a child, she made pies as a passion of hers, but soon expanded to include sweet treats too.
Sweet treats; well there is no better word to describe our post-run angel cakes. The bake is perfection, airy, light and delicious. The butter cream is smooth, sweet and luxurious, For me there is a bit too much of the filling but that’s just me, (always a girl who prefers her cake to the icing) and I am outvoted by fellow tasters.
We polish off every last crumb and award an impressive 9 out of 10.
Next week we stick at Cissy’s for the Chorley cake … or is this local version actually a ‘Rossendale cake’? Whichever is the correct name, I cannot wait to give it a try…
Smashing Single Parenthood 