For a while I have liked the saying “Every young person is just an older person waiting to happen”. Well, this year, a TV series featuring a number of men of a certain age grumbling about modern society made me wonder whether the older person in me is making an appearance. Very worryingly, I found myself agreeing with many of the contributors, who were generally a decade or two older than me! But even more upsetting was when they railed about people who send out ‘round robin’ Christmas letters. What should I do? Stop writing and therefore prove myself even more like them? Or continue and show that I am of a different generation? This letter gives you my decision.
I feel that our year started in December, since events in that month influenced much of what happened in the succeeding year. Geraldine’s uncle died on 20th December after a short illness, and apart from putting a damp blanket over the Christmas festivities, it meant that, being the executor of his will, Geraldine has spent almost the whole of this year dealing with his estate. The complications were manifold, but hopefully they are now all behind us after the house sale went through (eventually) in September.
So what has changed this year? Regular readers generally know how we spend our time, and (mindful of the Grumpy Old Men), I don’t want to bore you (nor boast) so here are some of the highlights of the year.
I have given up being a Cub leader. I always said I’d continue until Laurie left, and so I retired in July. I thoroughly enjoyed my time as a Scout (about 30 years too late) but I’ve no regrets about finishing. One particular memory I shall treasure is when the Cubs held an unusual sleepover in January. They had been learning about poverty in the weeks after Christmas, and to spend a night as a homeless person (albeit in the Cub Hut) seemed novel, so we acquired a van full of cardboard, and were all set. The evening started with a 3 mile night hike and when we returned, the Scouts had organised a soup kitchen, so everyone got a cup of soup and some dry bread (it was the only thing that was dry that night). Then it was time for the Cubs and Leaders to make their beds – literally.
The evening was dubbed Cardboard City, and we thought that the Cubs would simply make flat beds out of the cardboard. We were wrong. Cubs think in three dimensions and so the ‘city’ grew vertically, composed of numerous cardboard boxes of dubious structural integrity. As feared, when everyone had just settled down (around midnight), someone turned over in his sleep and knocked a wall down. Within minutes, like the house of cards it resembled, the whole city was flattened and the Cubs were wide awake trying to rebuild their ‘homes’. They returned home next morning wiser, smellier and hopefully a little more appreciative of the issues facing the homeless.
Emm (not Emily anymore!) still enjoys Scouts, even though her brother now tags along. She took part in a Duke of Edinburgh-style expedition in summer where she hiked 14 miles in two days carrying everything required the journey. She now realises that a half-litre bottle of make-up remover is not essential equipment!
I’m still on the school PTFA, still organising crazy schemes to make money. One scam during the summer started off with a phone call to the local vicar asking him if he knew the whereabouts of some 250 yellow bathtub ducks. To give credit where it’s due, not only did he take the request seriously, he actually knew the answer! Which is why the school children had such a lovely afternoon in mid June racing ducks down the river. After the race, the children played in the river, whilst the parents gossiped on the bank, nibbling on cucumber sandwiches and sipping chilled Chardonnay (well, OK, eating cheese butties and drinking pop).
Amongst the jollity, however, let’s just pause a moment, and think quietly about duck number 83, who may, even now, be battling against the harsh tides of the Irish sea, as she bravely tries to swim her way back up the River Ribble. Yes, it’s a tough sport is duck-racing.
At Smithy Close we were hoping to throw out a wing (whoops, mustn’t boast!) have a very small loft extension put on the house during the summer, and so to be certain of being at home whenever the builders wanted to start, we didn’t book a summer holiday. It’s now November and the builders still haven’t called. I did manage to get away for a few days with the children on a cycling holiday, however. We’d previously cycled the 65 mile round trip to our nearest Youth Hostel at Slaidburn for one night in May (just as a taster) and since it went down so well, I booked three nights at Hawes in North Yorkshire. It was a wonderful break. For me, it brought back memories of my teenage years, and for the children, it may have given them something to remember in later life. I’m sure Emm will remember her spectacular high-speed fall from her bike into the grass verge on one steep descent. I was a little behind her, and panicked when I saw her fall, but she somehow managed to avoid any injuries greater than nettle stings. Laurie was some way in front and couldn’t understand what took us so long to complete the descent.
It being an ecologically sound cycling holiday, it seemed logical to me to use public transport to get to and from the Youth Hostel (60 miles distant). I rang Arriva Trains to ask about carrying one adult, two children and three bikes between Blackburn and Garsdale and I was told that they could only carry two bikes per train. This was no use, but the helpful man suggested that if I was travelling mid-week and after 9.30, the guard might let me take three bikes, but there was no guarantee. I was sceptical. Then he hit on the great idea that I could travel from Leeds on a steam-hauled train which had an old-fashioned guards van, which would hold any amount of bikes. I reminded him that I was travelling from Blackburn, and undaunted, he told me the connecting train left Blackburn at 07.54. Then he remembered that you couldn’t take any bikes on trains before 9am, and then to cap it all, he noticed that the train didn’t even stop at Garsdale, but at only Settle. So the best I could do was travel from Leeds (60 miles from home) to Settle (25 miles from my destination). And it would cost £75. So I bought a bike rack for the car (£50) and 3 gallons of unleaded fuel (£11) and we were set. I felt like writing to Sustrans, but I supposed that they were fed up of such tales.
We all took a short trip to Bruges in October. We caught the overnight ferry from Hull, spent a busy day in Belgium, before catching the same ferry home again at 7pm. We could even leave our luggage in the cabin, which was useful. It was a lovely break since the weather was perfect and Bruges is beautiful. A high point for me was the eat-as-much-as-you-like buffet for all meals on the ship. This is probably the sole reason that P&O are posting losses this year.
At present we are experiencing constant rehearsals at our house. Emm is getting last minute nerves about a dance show at the Blackpool Winter Gardens in December. This is her third performance there, but the tension seems not to diminish. Both the children are rehearsing for a pantomime in February once more. They were involved in the 2004 performance, and far from putting them off, they have both signed up again. This year it’s Cinderella, and one of the dances is the Frog Chorus for which Laurie needs a pair of flippers. (I’m told that technically they’re called fins, but to me they’re flippers). I suggested that a pair of size 12 flip-flops would be OK, but apparently not. In addition, Emm has auditioned for the school production of The Wizard of Oz in March. We enjoyed Hello Dolly this year, and are hoping that the 2005 production will be just as entertaining. And not to be outdone, I’m memorising the script for the winter Ghost Tours at Hoghton Tower. The regular Sunday afternoon tours are friendly, relaxed affairs, but since I’ve been invited to assist with the evening Ghost Tours, I’ve been told to relate them with a certain gravity – not my usual flippant style. I’ve done a couple so far, dressed up like an undertaker, complete with long, dark coat and serious expression and they’ve gone down well, but with the house charging £25 per head, the evening has to be very professional.
We enjoyed three major exhibitions in the year, taking in the Birmingham Motor Show in June, the Royal International Air Tattoo at RAF Fairford in July and the Southport Flower Show in August. All events were well worth seeing, especially the Air Show. I was afraid that only I would appreciate this event, but I was wrong. Apart from it being rather too big to see in a day, we all had a wonderful time, right down to the outdoor classical concert at the end.
Since I’ve run out of space I’ll have to stop rambling, but thanks for reading this far, and have a lovely Christmas and even better New Year.