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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
Amidst the pre-Christmas bustle, a few hours out in the tranqility of the nearby RHS gardens is a lovely change of pace…
This oasis of woodland, lakes and gardens is actually on my doorstep so, ‘how have I not been before?‘ Perhaps it is not only pre-Christmas weeks that get clogged up with busyness and stress?
Take this Autumn term for example; such a demanding one for me! High levels of absenteeism at work have resulted in everyone else’s workload becoming … quite frankly overwhelming. I have also had worries about my mum and, like everyone else, about spiralling bills and static wages. The only reason that none of it has kept me awake at night is, I reason,because I am permanently shattered and could fall asleep ‘on a dime.’
So few hours away from: gift wrap, shopping lists, decorations and tannoys blaring out ‘All I want for Christmas …’ for a peaceful stroll through the winter gardens is ideal. Our countryside and green places play a pivotal role in the preservation of our wildlife and ecosystem but there is also evidence that they also promote a sense of wellbeing for humans too. Plants have a long history of association with medicines and healing. Furthermore, in our modern world, we also increasingly acknowledge that gardens and green spaces are also associated with better social and mental health. To quote British physician Sir Muir Gray,
“…everyone needs a ‘Natural Health Service’ as well as a National Health Service.”
Well the visit certainly puts a smile on my face. Great company; easy chat and lots of laughter. Plus natural beauty and nature’s might and elegance to soothe the spirits and clear the troubled mind. I can also give a shout out for the scones in the cafe, which I polish off enthusiastically with my usual crazed- calorie trio of cream, jam…and butter! Revived and refreshed, I am ready again for last-minute gifts, the great Christmas Dinner spreadsheet and, yes, even Mariah…
All in all, I have had a lovely first week of holidays. Roll on yuletide festivities and week 2…
Erst it may well be a popular trendy restaurant in the Ancoats area of Manchester, but it is also the German word for ‘first’ and, on the first day of my Christmas holiday, it is a wonderful place to be taken for lunch. It’s also another beginning for me…I am out on a ‘first date’…eek!
So, to the restaurant!
The food is ‘small plates designed for sharing’ and it is delicious. Each individual dish is a treat but put them together and, oh my goodness, it is a taste sensation. We need a bit of help and the waitress is fantastic, advising of number of plates and recommending the ‘spectacular’ walnut flat bread, which is divine. To wash it all down, we choose a bottle of vin naturel and 1 o’ clock quickly becomes 2 o’clock and then 3. Fabulous company and fabulous ambience. The stresses and strains of a busy term and the worries of family life just melt away and I open the door to holiday, relaxation and the chance to have some fun.
Indeed; such as good time is had that we decide to move onto a bar …which gets a little messier with some very strong cocktails. ‘Galway girl‘, a potent mix of Limoncello and prosecco probably, is my downfall. But hey -ho… holidays are here! Even a hard working single parent is allowed to let her hair down every now and again?
I certainly come back to earth with a bump at the tram stop home where, with unbelievable timing, I run into Small Boy with not one, not two but about ten of his friends, all heading out for the night. He tells me later that I was unmistakably merry but seems to find it all quite funny.
Next morning, I find that in my cocktail-confused state, I have tapped in and out with so many different cards on the metro that my journey has proved quite a pricey one! I contact TfGM pleading ‘ an honest is utterly stupid mistake‘ and wait to see if they show mercy and refund some of my payments!
Even this aside, I certainly feel ready for the holidays with work most definitely off the agenda for a couple of weeks. As for my date; well it’s early days and I rarely share romantically on my blog … but could this be the ‘erst of many’?
Well, I may not have stepped onto a plane this August but I have certainly covered a few miles! Well done to Windsor, my trusty Toyota, for doing most of the work and hip hip hooray for ‘Heart 80s‘; pumping out nostalgic tunes from the car dashboard and providing the perfect soundtrack for the holiday season…
Heart 80s … why so perfect? Because, as I look back on the last 4 weeks, I realise that I have spent an awful lot of it with those I first met in… the 1980s! Just the sort of symmetry to make my mathematical mind happy and to inspire me to write this week’s post as an ode to some of my oldest pals…
First stop; dear university friends (known since the mid 80s) in the North East. Here we ‘make it a night to remember‘ in the pub quiz followed by a day of drinking ‘red red wine,’ and also sampling the fizzy, white and rose varieties at an organic wine tasting. We ‘walk this way‘ and that way and many miles through the glorious local countryside, where the fields of corn, barley and wheat just take my breath away. And finally, be it a ‘green door‘, brown door or even a solid steel fortification, nothing and I mean nothing, is stopping one very competitive friend from breaking it down in a determined quest to wrestle us out of an Escape Room within the allocated hour!
After several happy days, I head home whereupon, accompanied by a fellow classmate from sixth form (slightly earlier mid-80s) we go ‘running up that hill‘ and also wrapping ourselves in 4 sets of blankets to watch an exuberant but unspeakably chilly outdoor production of Midsummer Night’s Dream at a local riding centre. Whilst I would recommend the incredible Illyria theatre company without hesitation, I could almost swear I heard the Bard himself chuckle ‘Oh Lord what fools these mortal be!‘ as the wind freezes hands to the point where picnickers dare not even release them from the safety of rugs and jumpers to hold a glass of prosecco !
Thereafter however, comes the heat. Aside from a brief flit to Middlesborough (furniture drop for my Eldest) and a trip to sunny Stratford for Promdress daughter’s birthday, the ‘long hot summer‘ just passes us by, in a sweltering week of deckchair basking and ‘cool pool’ froth in the garden not-so-hot tub.
And before long, my next visitor arrives, a teacher training bestie from the late 80s. Now ‘girls just want to have fun‘ and that is exactly what we do. Courtesy of this sunniest of Summers we are able to sit out until late to drink and chat and also spend a delicious day in the bars and cafes of Manchester.
But then….‘C’mon‘ calls Windsor ‘It’s time for me to hit the road again!’
Indeed it is! Nicknamed a ‘long distance lorry driver‘ by one witty amigo, on account of my holiday travels, I find time to whirl along the motorway to deposit Small Boy in Wales and then set the satnav for ‘a town called ...‘ London! Yes; I drive to London – eek! I am terrified. I am bamboozled. I am ‘ultra low emission zone’ charged and navigationally challenged. I have nightmares about taking a wrong turn and seeing the monopoly board come to life from my car window.
But with the trains on strike it is the only way for me to catch-up with great uni friends, some of whom I have not seen for over 5 years. So I go for it, get there in one piece and then enjoy ….
I am a ‘west end girl‘ with lunch and a mini-reunion at the elegant Wolseley in Piccadilly plus a stroll around a (very brown) Green Park. Then it’s the cultural delights of the Southbank; ‘Surrealism Beyond Borders‘ at Tate Modern before an afternoon at the Globe for my second dose of Shakespeare this Summer.
My final day veers a little more off the beaten track at Trinity Buoy Wharf. We go primarily to hear the ‘Long Player‘ a 1000 year piece of music composed by Jem Finer, once of the Pogues. Not only did my friend and I see the Pogues (together) at Glastonbury back in 1986, but I further relish in coincidences, realising that, by utter chance, it was also a location used in the Netflix film, Rogue Agent, which I watched with the teens just 4 days earlier… spooky! The site is even more than Long Player too, with arty workshops, a museum honouring Faraday, who conducted experiments in electric lighting for lighthouses there in the nineteenth century, the Floodtide music installation plus one of the quirkiest cafes I’ve stopped at for quite some time. A terrific find.
And it is there that my August 2022 travels end. Windsor and I point the compass north and we duo of Wild Rovers speed merrily up the motorway home.
Great times, great company, great 80s soundtrack, great Summer …
The joy of a bank holiday Monday! When the shadow of work is pushed into the distant realms of Tuesday, a time so far away that you really do feel motivated to made the most of every minute of the weekend!
I get off to a flying start, with a Friday meal out for me and my 2 younger offspring. On a sunny Saturday, I navigate and jolt along on the bus systems of Lancashire to “do tapas” and a few glasses of wine with some work colleagues. By Sunday, I am visiting family in Ikley, (via a Leeds station to dispatch Prom-dress daughter back on a cross-country train to university-land.) The Yorkshire town is a delight of ‘cafe culture’ with bars and eateries prettily dotted along the high street and proves the perfect venue for a catch-up and a cheeky brunch. The market is in full swing, the bookshops are fantastic, time drifts idyllically by and, not for the first time, I catch myself wondering ‘why don’t I live in a place like this?‘
But … as it turns out…the place where I do live also has something special too offer this weekend.
Back in January, someone I had not seen since my college days got in touch out of the blue. Whilst life distracted me a little in the following months, on Sunday night, we finally manage to meet up and, faced with the challenge of filling in over 35 years, sink a bottle of wine and a few cocktails together. And it is fun. In fact, it is more than fun… it feels like … coming home. “It is amazing’ he texts later, ‘how I can still place the 18 year old Becky, in the Becky of today’. And it is amazing; even a little bit magical to be reminded of who we are inside, when all the layers of life, daily toil and grown-up roles and responsibilities are pushed aside.
And so to Monday! And whilst, after a morning run and a friend visiting for coffee, life loses a little of its holiday sheen and I get back to the more mundane ‘weekend business’ of shopping, washing and work prep, I’ll confess I do it all fairly rapidly, with a happy smile on my face. It it down to the thrill of the day away from work? Or is the buzz from catching up with so many family, friends and a long lost acquaintance? Who can tell? But in a weekend enriched with extra time and space, life certainly feels more ‘lived to the full’ than usual.
More times like this can only be a good thing, so it is a definite thumbs up from me for the establishment of a ‘Thank Holiday in the UK. In fact, if I’m honest … I could happily go for a three day weekend as a permanent hebdomadal pattern in my world!
Welcome to May everyone; let’s hope it is a good month…
Day three of the long awaited Christmas holiday and things are not exactly going to plan…
Ho ho ho! Did I dare to think that Christmas 2021 was going to mark a return to more festive familiarity; with the extended family WhatsApp whirring into December discussions about a month ago? Alas, no sooner have I collected both Uni girls from the station; handed round the glasses of seasonal Baileys and unveiled our new Christmas board games than…
I am floored on Saturday by a revolting attack of vomiting and severe headaches. Generally, there are few low level ailments that stop me; as a single parent of the past decade I’ve learned that being ‘under the weather’, duvet days and most variations flu/common cold/fever etc, are simply not a viable option for the only adult in the house and, thanks to my amazing allies, Anadin Extra and Lemsip Max, I’ve trundled on. But this; well I can hardly raise my head from the pillow! At 7pm, I attempt to prop myself on the sofa for the long anticipated ‘Strictly‘ final but, before the first ‘9’ paddle (Oh Craig; why not a 10?) appears on the screen, I have crawled back into bed to toss, turn and … well throw-up for the rest of the night until…
Sunday and “Ding dong merrily on high!” the sickness finally stops. I summon the energy to take and keep down a painkiller and my headache dulls to blissfully acceptable levels. Festivities are surely back on track! My eldest and I head into town, indulge in yuletide gingerbread lattes, find a few late gifts and splurge my Tesco ClubCard triumphantly on copious amounts of food and drink for the Christmas Day dinner. My mum comes over and the five of us have a hilarious evening of board games and mince pies. I do choose to wear a face mask, explaining, “I really don’t want anyone catching this disgusting sickness bug”, but that measure aside, it is holiday business as usual! In suitably high spirits, we all agree meet-up plans for the week ahead and turn in for what I hope will be a better night’s sleep.
But it is not great, because an irritating cough has set in and I am wide awake even before the 6am work text, ‘Remember to take your lateral flow test‘ pings onto the screen. Within seconds, the test goes a bright-pink, determinedly double-lined, impossible-to-miss … positive.
“Bloomin’ covid !”
Monday; very much the ‘Bleak Mid-Winter’! I drive to some god-forsaken testing centre where a disinterested youth, briefly looks up from his phone screen to pass me a PCR kit and nod his head towards a make-shift booth. Like some irrelevant miscreant, I skulk home to await my fate.
Let me be clear… I am not even remotely close to being ill any more, at worst I cough occasionally and feel mildly spaced out. Nonetheless, ‘I have covid!’ Moreover, I am an important key worker, who has ploughed through 2 years of disruption and chaos without a single day off and ‘I have covid!’ Even if that tester was completely unimpressed, can I not be allowed centre of attention status in my own home? And so, I trounce around the house like some spoiled brat, demanding star treatment from a bewildered trio of teens who do their best but, quite honestly, could carry me around in a sedan chair and serve my meals on a silver platter and I’d still find something to criticise. By the time I stomp off to bed on Monday evening, no-one is speaking to me and… I am confident that none of you would blame them…
Tuesday, brings: the PCR confirmation and me to my senses; well ‘Hark the blessed Angels sing!‘
I reorganise ‘Christmas mum-plans‘ with my brothers, apologise to… everyone in the house and start thinking instead about how to make holidays fun from the confines of my four walls. No traditional family film outing, but endless outstandingly awful, cheesy Christmas movie-originals on Netflix. At some point we may crack and turn out attention to worthy, unwatched classics, Citizen Kane; Breakfast at Tiffanys, Casablanca… but for now it is, unashamedly, the Christmas Princetrilogy! No lunches out, but at the touch of a button, lunches delivered in. No rushing around to perfect table trimmings or stocking-filler gifts, but … loads of time together, three cheers and Fa la la la la for my board games and …. a very welcome change of pace.
I am super-lucky, I know, to have such a mild dose. Be it the variance of Omicron, or my recent booster or just a fortunate roll of the dice, I am very grateful that I am not poorly, as so many friends and work colleagues have been with this wretched virus. And I will be glad to get out! When one of my brothers sends news of the reduction in isolation time to 7 days, I almost break the land-speed record to dig my box of LFTs out from under the bed and cross everything for a negative test (no joy yet alas!) But until I get my ticket to freedom, I will concede that sitting out the frenzy of the pre-Christmas prep has certain advantages. I may have to live without bread sauce on the 25th and have frozen peas instead of parsnips… but quite frankly I am struggling to remember why that was ever important ….
Smashing Single Parenthood 