I find myself once more sat at the PC wondering how best to keep in touch with distant friends accumulated over the years in a way that is more than just a scrawled signature on a card. (You’ve got that anyway!) So it’s back to the old newsletter to give you a flavour of what we’ve been up to over the past year. It it’s not an easy task, but made easier through understanding the basic rules of English, unlike another language I’ve been wrestling with for the past few years. I’ve dubbed this new language ‘football sideline’. If you’ve ever stood watching children’s football, you must have heard it, and unlike me, you may perhaps understand it. Despite not being a football fan, I watch Loz play in the local Under 12s side each week where I find the entire terminology used by other parents baffling. The words sound familiar – it is just their meaning which escapes me. Down the channel; watch the bounce; time; one o’ yez (never ‘one of you’): man on; referee!! Apart from the latter, the instructions are meaningless to me, although everyone else seems to understand. I once ventured to ask what ‘watch the bounce’ actually means, and was met with a pitiful look. “It’s to let the lad know that the ball may bounce where he doesn’t expect” I was told. Very helpful. Now I just keep my mouth shut and hope that no-one asks for my opinion on whether number 7 really was off side just then.
I’m enjoying the new season, though, in part due to the team’s improved performance. In May, the under 11s side finished second from bottom of the league: this season the under 12s are second from top and can boast the highest goal tally (48 from 11 games). My favourite part of the last season was the award ceremony in May. By pulling some strings, the manager persuaded Sir Tom Finney to present the awards – even I’d heard of him! It was a great event, especially since Sir Tom spent all evening chatting to everyone after giving out the prizes, and he wasn’t above signing the odd autograph, either.
This year, we’ve said a sad farewell to two of our pets. This is tempered with the knowledge that Roxy (our 18 year-old cat) and Fidget (3½ year-old hamster) had both reached the end of their natural span. Roxy had gone blind late last year, and had gradually slowed down due to arthritis. (This was a small blessing actually, since it reduced the impact when she inevitably walked into things). The vet finally decided that the last of her nine lives were spent when she stopped eating in October. We couldn’t be long without an animal, though, and on 5th November, we offered a home to a 3-month old half-pedigree kitten called Tiger Lily, Tilly for short. She is only half pedigree, since her mum is a prize-winning British Black Shorthair who decided to go wandering one day and had a rendezvous with a ginger tom of uncertain parentage. The ensuing litter were a mixed bunch, and we chose a multicoloured kitten with a black nose, one ginger leg, four white paws and amber eyes. She makes up for her lack of ancestry with a surfeit of character, and has already ingratiated herself into our bedroom on the recent cold nights. Although she hails from Cheshire, I am very disappointed that she has not yet smiled once. I suppose it is due to Stockport now being part of Greater Manchester and not really in Cheshire any longer.
In December 2003 a builder gave us a quote for an extension. We chose a well-recommended firm, which brought its own problems, since it took them until June this year before they could start. It was frustrating at the time, but looking back, it was worth the wait, since we now have a lovely extension which looks as though it has always been there. Of course, much of our spare time is now taken up with decorating the new rooms.
The Youth Hostels Association is receiving quite a lot of our attention this year. I enjoyed staying at hostels in my youth, and recently, I’ve been transported back in time by taking the children away for weekend breaks. The hostels themselves have not changed greatly, although they have moved along the scale to be closer to hotels than doss houses. This year we’ve been to North Wales (climbed Snowdon and cycled in Anglesey), Derbyshire (cycled round Ladybower reservoir and climbed Mam Tor), and the Lake District (climbed Coniston Old Man and walked by Wastwater).
Being YHA members, the children were also invited to take part in a new scheme called Do It 4 Real which is an adventure holiday centred on YHA hostels. Em decided to go to London and participate in a Performing Arts week. She travelled on Sunday by coach to Hampstead Youth Hostel and spent a week being taught the fundamentals of stage work. The emphasis was on practical tuition but she had plenty of free time, and the package included two West End shows and a backstage tour of Drury Lane.
In contrast, Loz travelled to Wastwater in Cumbria to learn Survival Skills. The drawback for him were the travel arrangements, which involved catching a coach in Manchester, being taken to a central ‘hub’, before boarding another coach to Wastwater. The problem lay in that the hub was near Telford – 80 more miles in the wrong direction! Whilst he didn’t return demanding that he ensnared his own meat and cook it over an open flame, he did seem to pick up a lot of practical advice about how to find water (not difficult in the Lake District!), make a fire and build a shelter. Unsurprisingly, both of them want to go again next year, although they intend to choose different activities and venues.
Whilst I have taken three trips away with the children but without Geraldine (youth hostels aren’t yet close enough to hotel accommodation for her), she has also been gallivanting without me or the children. Her first trip was to visit her school friend who has lived in Jersey for the past 20 years. She’s been promising to make the trip for years now, and it has taken the advent of cheap flights and the consideration that the children and I are safe to be left alone before she has managed it. Then there was the Edinburgh weekend in May which proved an incredible bargain – £1.40 for the flight up from Manchester and £12.50 to get back. It cost more to drive to the airport! Couple this with two nights’ for the price of one at the Hilton, and she had three days away almost cheaper than staying at home. And finally, making the rest of us wonder if it was something we’ve said, Geraldine has also found time for two more girly long weekends at a friend’s cottage in the Lake District. It’s doing wonders for my culinary skills however. I’m not normally allowed in the kitchen except to wash up, so this works well for everyone.
The family holiday was taken in Provence at the cottage of a friend. We were unsure whether we would like the location, since it was some 60 miles North West of Nice, and 40 miles from the sea. We needn’t have worried, since the town was a perfect location for exploring the largest gorge in Europe (the Verdon – coincidentally being featured on Top Gear as I write!), a splendid azure lake ideal for swimming and/or pedalos, and was within an easy drive of St Tropez – now Em’s favourite resort. As she said at the time, “It knocks spots off Blackpool, doesn’t it?”.
We learned something about the French attitude to vehicles on this holiday. We hired a car from the airport, and pointed out a couple of scratches on the doors, which the man duly noted. We failed, however, to notice a large gouge in the bumper, which worried me all week. I was convinced that the hire company would insist in taking my €600 deposit to pay for its repair. When we handed the car in, I dutifully reported the damage, explaining in schoolboy French that I had not been the cause of it. The lady asked me to show her the scratch, and then simply shrugged (as only the French can) and said “But it’s the bumper – it’s what they’re for!”. I should have realised; it would have saved so much worry!
The children are once more rehearsing for a pantomime in February following the success of last year’s show. They both get so much out of the production, and it also keeps them busy every Sunday from October to February. This year, St James’ Players managed to ensnare all the family since Geraldine was put in charge of make-up, and in a moment of weakness, I offered to help make some scenery. Starting from this innocent task, I found myself working backstage for all six performances as assistant stage manager, a position I now have again for the 2006 production! And there I was, imagining hours of free time after retiring from St Joseph’s PTFA, only to find another ‘interest’ to take up my time.
My regular hobby is still guiding at Hoghton Tower. This has evolved into being one of the three storytellers at the winter ghost tours. I have stood in for people before, but this year I’ve found myself in the first team, carrying out five tours in November with more dates planned in the New Year.
Loz started at Brownedge St Mary’s in September, and like his sister before him, he’s thrown himself into whatever they can offer. He’s on the football team, has taken up the cornet, (and is proving quite a natural with it) and is enjoying all the main subjects.
Em is still dancing, although the lesson times have switched to three sessions per week rather than a very long session on Saturday. Em prefers this, although Mum isn’t so sure, with all the to-ing and fro-ing to the dance school. This year the school put on splendid show at a local theatre. All the children were involved in the evening which lasted two hours with around 30 separate dances.
Once more, space defeats me, (unless I revert to 8 point font), so I’ll wish you a very happy and peaceful Christmas season, and hope to see you in the coming year.