The girls in the admin office where I work are holding a Macmillan’s coffee morning on Friday http://www.macmillan.org.uk/Home.aspx I got baking and turned out what I think is a really fab cherry cake. I carefully divided it into slices, lovingly wrapped it in silver paper, and placed it inside a specially purchased air tight box. When I came to pick up the box to fetch it into work I noticed that the lid seemed a bit loose. Further investigation revealed three slices missing. Heather will bloody well make another one this evening, I am going to stand over her while she does it. Heather’s not big on cooking or baking and flies into a panic if I simply ask her to stir something, but then she counts the stirring part as meaning that she’s played a significant role in the preparation of the meal.
A couple of months ago some artefacts from the two World Wars fell into my path at work. They were valuable items and their owner wanted them to go to someone who would look after them properly. Business was very much combined with pleasure therefore, when I volunteered to take them down to Eden Camp Modern History Museum in Malton, North Yorkshire, on my day off. The items consisted of machetes, bayonets, and a sword, and getting them signed over to the museum’s curator only took a minute or two. Afterwards Heather and I were free to explore. I was born 15 years after WWII ended, but its ghost remained very much to the fore when I was a child because my father had fought in it and his father in WW1. My mother was in the military police and looked after female prisoners at a camp set up at Windlestone Hall in Co. Durham. Windlestone Hall is the birthplace of Sir Anthony Eden and it was sold off a couple of years ago to private buyers. Last year I took Mum out to lunch near there along with one of her army colleagues who had also been a guard at the hall during the war. I wrote to the owners beforehand and asked if there would be any possibility of Mum and her friend seeing the house again. They did ring me, but it was clear that they weren’t keen. Possibly this was because they’d received a massively bad press for picking up this enormous country pile for just 241k. I think they were a little suspicious of strangers. I hardly think that the price they paid is their fault (if I’d had the cash I would have would have been interested) but the sale provoked local controversy. However if that had been my home I would have loved to have had someone in there who could properly tell me about its history, and talk about what each of the different rooms were used for while it was a POW camp.
I shall use the two photographs below to illustrate the fact that there is a bit of an age gap between Heather and me. I’ll let you observe the pictures and arrive at your own […]
I mentioned a week ago that the new Morrison’s had opened in Blaydon and that I found this quite exciting. Heather and I called in briefly during one of our walks, and as we were […]
Well the football on Saturday didn’t go as envisaged, Gateshead were beaten by Grimsby six goals to one. Heather and I went to the match via public transport catching the bus into town and then the […]
“Shut up and stop answering me back,” is what my mother told me in the car on Saturday afternoon. I was sitting in the rear seat but I could see through the mirror that Heather’s face was a picture of satisfaction.
Another enjoyable weekend. Friday was a short day, because I started work at 6am and then I took four hours leave to enable me to visit the dentist where a double filling awaited. Actually I […]
The great thing about living in the North East of England is that we have the best of everything. This is the scene that greeted me when I went out to my car yesterday morning to go to work.
My cousin Clea is up in the North East from Godalming and she’s been staying with Mum, so I’ve been staying too to get our suppers etc. We had my signature dish of mince and […]
My first job on leaving school was in the popular music section of JG Windows in Newcastle upon Tyne. Late one afternoon I was lolling against the counter, fiddling with a roll of sticky tape, one eye watching the clock. The heavy glass entrance door swept open and in glided a middle-aged gentleman with grey bouffant hair, tinted in pinks and purples around the temples. He sported a green velvet jacket and a cluster of silk scarves and frills. The ensemble was topped off with a wide-brimmed black hat, accessorised with yet another silk scarf, black gloves, and what I would call a swagger stick. And boy did he swagger; flamboyance oozed from every pore. Today his appearance wouldn’t cause a stir, but on that afternoon in the 1970’s stirring was in evidence within a 50ft radius, as customers stopped leafing through LP sleeves to gawp.
You may recall that in my blog of about a week ago I became infuriated with my mother because she took well over an hour to choose a new pair of frames at the opticians in Ryton, causing me to miss Slimming World. She was determined to have something in the designer line, and she couldn’t make her mind up between Prada and D & G, eventually plumping for Ray Ban. Well on Saturday we went down to collect said spectacles.
As we walked past St. James’s Park on our way to the run on Friday, we came across scarves, flowers, and shirts laid at the feet of Sir Bobby Robson’s memorial. These are here in […]
Last week absolutely spun over. There were meetings to attend and different working venues to visit over the first three working days, and then on Thursday and Friday I attended a course funded by my […]
Friday afternoon last week we finally managed to get some new wheels for Heather. It’s a white Hyundai and a big improvement on the Peugeot, though the Peugeot was eleven years old so it’s done […]
Heather and I were consumed with excitement earlier this week because our race numbers arrived! This is for a 5k race we’ve entered and it takes place in Newcastle on Friday evening next week.
I’ve had a lovely weekend, spending Saturday afternoon with Heather, my friend Lyndsey, and her two little’uns at the National Glass Centre in Sunderland. You will see I’ve written a review of the Centre for What’s Good To Do, and in it I mention the glass roof. It’s made of glass 6cm thick and strong enough to hold 460 people in one go. You know you’re safe on it, and yet it’s a very hard thing to begin walking over it, and it took us several attempts and a lot of squealing to get going. Once you’ve got used to it you can look 40’ below into the brasserie reception area and shop. I advise that the wearing of trousers is a strict necessity, steer clear of skirts and kilts – or if you do have to wear them make sure that everything is safely gathered in.
I worked late yesterday – too late to go for my run with Heather and Debbie. Of course there was nothing to stop me going out on my own, but I was busy with my Ipad working on this blog. I finally asked a couple of people to have a look at it for me and they all seem to think it’s alright so maybe it’s time to go public. If you’re reading this I would be grateful if you could click the “follow” button which is around somewhere. I keep shifting it about, but at the time of writing it’s down on the right. After you’ve clicked it I don’t expect you ever to read my blog again, but a click would be fantastic, thank you.
As you can see I’ve included some pictures within this post of two shoe cupboards. This is to give you an idea of the differences between my Mum and me. One cupboard is mine and the other one is hers. She is 92 and never looks anything other than having just stepped out from the cover of Vogue. I on the other hand, er…. don’t. She always wanted a little girl she could dress up but unfortunately she ended up with me. I liked dressing up, but in Batman suits and cowboy outfits and I’m not sure that this was entirely what she’d envisaged.
I finished work at 3pm yesterday and walked from central Gateshead down to the Metrocentre a distance of (according to Map my Run) 6.9 miles. This was because I was without a car. For those unfamiliar with the concept of being in a relationship that is equal; when my car is bust I don’t have a car. When Heather’s car is bust she has mine and I’m still without a car. (By the way the header photo is one of mine taken from the layby off Bensham Bank in the early eighties. The skyline has changed a bit since then)!
This is the first day of my blog. Not quite the first day of course because I’ve spent the past week pouring over “Word Press for Dummies” by Lisa Sabin-Wilson, but my first day of […]