The Great North Run

Sunday 8 September 2024

Does anything prepare you for the emotion of seeing your little girl running a half marathon amidst the incredible throngs of the Great North Run …

We manage the early start! After a long day yesterday dropping Smallboy off at University, Prom-dress daughter resolutely set our alarms and, posters packed, raincoats on and swigging down hasty cups of caffeine, we hit the road to Newcastle.

We manage the journey. Undaunted by M62 closures and a myriad of North East traffic diversions, my middle child skillfully navigates me to the centre of town and by noon, wristbands on we are riding the Newcastle Metro to our race spot.

We manage the crowds. The steamy carriage is rammed with spectators, all swapping tracking updates and top tips for good vantage positions. Although it looks as if we are full, to bursting, at every stop the masses somehow manage to squeeze every closer to let a few more avid race viewers join the odyssey.

We even manage a bit of lunch. Our tracking app reports a delay to the start time for ‘our runner‘, my lovely eldest child and hence, the window opens for us to eat. By chance we happen upon the best of eateries; a mall cafe just outside the Southshields Metro stop. The welcome is warm and the food and prices are amazing – £7.99 each buys us a delicious hot meal accompanied with a pot of tea and a plate of bread and butter.

Ooh – that’ll do us nicely thank you!

We manage..just about…to find a great spot to watch the runners. The rain is lashing down and it is a bracing battle, across muddy banks to our marker, one mile back from the finish. But then, gosh what a sight. Thousands of runners battling bravely along the road, all shapes and sizes, all levels of fitness, sporting countless charity T-shirts, some unbelievable costumes and manging to keep going despite the conditions. It is such an inspiring moment.

And, what we…or should I say I…do not manage is to hold it together as my daughter comes running into view. I am so overwhelmed with pride and emotion that, waving our banner like a lunatic, I actually run out into the road, teary eyed to give her a hug and a kiss – eek! (I hope I don’t slow her down too much!)

Out meeting at the end is very joyful and long after we survive the hour long wait for a Metro and I eventually drive back to the NorthWest her fundraiser page hits a whopping £1000 for the Alzheimer’s Society.

What an achievement, what a girl…what a great day…

Small boy goes to University…

Saturday 7 September 2024

Deep breaths and a spare pack of tissues for me today, for a day I have been dreading has finally dawned. Small boy is leaving home, to start his University adventures …

Of course I am incredibly proud; he is hard-working, talented and has a genuine passion for his subject. It goes without saying that, having loved my own University years, it is all that I would want for him. But golly gosh, it is going to be a wrench and, forgive the cliche but, the end of an era. For three years it has been ‘Mum and Small boy’ in this house, sharing crazy jokes, the silliest of songs, episodes of ‘Suits‘ or ‘The Office‘ , Sunday roasts and Friday takeaways. Such great memories and so much laughter… the thought of the house without him is… well it is unthinkable. Gulp; I need to get it together!

And I do, mostly. Prom-dress daughter is joining us on the road-trip South, for moral support and an extra hand with all the boxes and bags of belongings. With Windsor packed to the rafters with pots, pans, Korean noodles, gaming consoles and, or course, Geoffrey the Bear, we hit the M6. Someone’s Spotify playlist is streamed onto the car radio and, with the promise, of a breakfast stop en-route spirits are high. If only Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Changes’ hadn’t been queued, even I might have made it all the way with dry eyes. But, come on, those lyrics would break even the most resolute!

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older too

Let’s hope no-one else in the car notices as I quickly brush a few tears from my cheeks.

Happily, there is not time for melancholy, as we hit the bright lights of a new student city, all buzzing with life and excitement. The challenges of parking and lugging the contents of the boot up to the 6th floor in an apartment building where the lift is ‘out of order‘ are now centre-stage. We may be red-faced and sweaty but Small boy’s room is soon looking pretty stylish and, although he is a little nervous, cheerfully greets his flat mates, who seem lovely. We have time for a quick stroll around the city and decide it is time to leave as he is sitting chatting in the kitchen with his new household, setting up a WhatsApp group and planning a night at the pub.

For Small boy, I know that the days will just get better and better, full of opportunities, stretching your brain around amazing ideas and embarking on terrific new friendships. For me, now a confirmed empty nester… it is more of an unknown. The Satnav is set for home and, as I steer Windsor into the darkness, with Prom-dress daughter now asleep by my side, it feels more like an abyss for me, than a bright new dawn.

I am sure I will adapt in time, but I realise I really was not ready for this. Round and round in my head, play the haunting  words of the great Stevie Nicks,

I’ve been afraid of changin’, ’cause I’ve built my life around you…’

The cake run 5: Old School Cake

Friday 23 August 2024

Some days just have a pleasing symmetry …

Old school cake

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 …

A Level Results – for the third and final time!

Thursday 15 August 2024

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,

“Thank the Lord that’s the last time…”

Living the student life…

8 August 2024

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!

The cake run 3: Ginger Cake

Saturday 27 July 2024

Mannings Bakery: Iced Ginger Cake

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…

End of an era…

Sunday 21 July 2024

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…

The cake run 2: chorley cakes

Saturday 13 July 2024

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…

The cake run 1: Angel Cakes

Saturday 15 June 2024

Angel cakes from Cissy Greens Bakery

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…

Not everyone can be a domestic goddess…

Friday 17 May 2024

It is Friday around 8am, a colleagues has arrived at work with a plaster on her arm and is regaling us with the tale that led to the unfortunate injury. It involves a mishap with a knife and some ‘Yankee candlesduring finishing touches to a family soiree. I am full of sympathy for the cut, which looks truly awful… but inside my head, my own carving knife calamity from earlier this week resurfaces. Alas, the setting is far less glamourous than soirees and atmospheric scentedness … and, not for the first time, I wonder where exactly I was hiding when ‘domestic goddess‘ tips were being handed out…

Let me re-set the scene as we head for my kitchen! I am rushing in, late, from work. Smallboy is wearily busing it home from the library and will be, I am sure, as tired and hungry as I am. I rummage frantically around the freezer and am overjoyed to unearth some burgers, nice burger buns and few French fries. Ok, so I know it’s not topping any health eating gourmet cuisine hit list … but it is quick, easy and a crowd-pleaser. All in all, think I,

Result!

Then comes the snag. The burgers come in a box of 10, are frozen solidly together and I only need 2. What to do? Well, I reach for a small knife and start hacking. I crash and hammer cheerily away until I notice the knife…

Oh my goodness … it is missing a bit. But here is the question, was it missing the tip when I started…or is the metal fragment now buried in a burger?

For some unfathomable reason, probably to do with the clock now showing 7:30pm, I decide to hope for the best and ‘cook’ on. As my son, turns his key in the lock I am ready to usher him to a comfy seat and present him with a plate of tasty looking food,

“Err .. there is something you might want to look out for while you eat….!”

I mutter, as he picks up his cutlery to begin.

Thank the Lord that Smallboy has more sense than me. In truth, my son is incredulous and, however famished he may be, all thoughts of putting any of it into his mouth are cast aside and forensic burger dissection is instantly underway. Within seconds he is brandishing a small piece of metal accusingly at me. How appalling! The offending items are cast into the food bin and we finish our long day with a dismal offering of burger buns with French fries and lettuce.

Even by my standards, this was a real lowpoint. Definitely not to be shared with colleagues … even on a Friday morning.  In fact, as there is still 5 minutes before our morning meeting begins,  I decide, instead, that it is time to make ammends. I grab  my phone and text my son,

“I’ll pick you up from the library tonight and … let’s go out for tea!”