This year it’s been 40 years since Band-Aid released “Do they know it’s Christmas” but do you realise that 40 years had also passed between the Band-Aid song and the D-day landings? I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel really old. This year, in an attempt to feel a bit less old, I’ve been doing stuff to try and keep up with technological advances. This hasn’t always been my choice, but indirectly I’m blaming Martin Lewis (he doesn’t get this note, so I don’t expect he’ll find out).
He told me in January (he drops me an email each week) that we were paying too much for our broadband package with BT, so on his recommendation we switched to Sky and got a streaming service (and Netflix) with the deal. We’ve had the system for ten months now, and I’ve still not properly mastered it, but our bills are lower, so that’s good. Then we arranged to have a water meter installed (thanks, Martin, that’s saved us loads!).
Later in the summer, we switched over to smart meters. We made this change primarily because in July we bought an electric car, and it was the only way to take advantage of the preferable overnight tariffs. The changes have generally gone well for us, although the car reckons to know what’s best for me. I plug it into the mains at teatime and it decides when it wants to charge – usually between midnight and 5am. That’s good, it’s taking advantage of cheaper (and greener) electricity, but the car also wants to help me to drive, which can be very irritating when it’s nudging me back into lane and braking for me if it thinks I haven’t seen the car in front. But I do like all the gadgets on it, so it can stay.
My PC was very old, and when it had a funny do about a month ago, I got my tame computer engineer round to look at it. He gravely told me that it had less than a year to live. Something to do with Windows 10 and the fact that the machine was over 17 years old (apparently that’s antediluvian in computer terms). So I bought another one which, once I’d worked out how to plug the monitor into it, worked like a dream. That is until I want to save documents, when it insists that I save things on OneDrive and not on a local drive. We’re still arguing about that, but I’m not giving up. I really can’t do with machines getting all uppity and making decisions that I should make.
Last Christmas, our cat was very poorly, and we were grateful that she survived into the New Year, but then old age got her. She was over 18 years old, so we celebrated her life more than grieved her loss. We waited for a respectful time without looking for a replacement, but then fate intervened and in June we got a new cat. Well, with two previous careful owners, she’s not strictly new, but we’re thrilled with her and amazed that she was also called Tilly. Tilly 2 is a very pretty and affectionate cat who sadly doesn’t suffer toddlers gladly and so she’s twice had to be re-homed. She settled in very well in our toddler-free house, so we’re all happy.
Talking of cats, Emily was shocked in January when she was coming home in the dark and she witnessed a woman sobbing near her car. The woman said she’d just hit a very large black and white cat and since she was getting close to hysterical, Emily stepped in and took charge. The animal seemed to be badly injured, but Emily, trying hard not to look, scooped it up in a blanket and drove it to her vets. The surgery staff only took a few minutes to deliver the bad news that the animal had not survived, but also the information that it wasn’t in fact a cat but a badger! How Emily didn’t realise, I’ll never know, but at least that night no-one in Sheffield was mourning the loss of a pet. Emily was later ribbed about it at work with people emailing her pictures helpfully pointing out the differences between cats and badgers.
I’ve enjoyed quite a few cycle trips this year which have generally gone well, although a trip I took to Conwy in March was very difficult. I spent the first night at a hostel near Chester and I wasn’t feeling 100% that evening. The following day was a hard 70+ mile ride into a strong wind through the hills of North Wales and as soon as I set off, I knew I had a problem. I needed to cough each time I breathed in – the bigger the breath, the greater the cough – and this, together with the hills and the headwind, made the ride progressively harder. Once I arrived in Conwy, I found that I had no appetite and the next day I didn’t even finish my first breakfast, let alone contemplate a second. When I was heading back to Chester with a stonking tailwind, I felt better but I was absolutely drained when I reached the car, and I spent the next two days in bed.
I fared better on other tours, especially my favourite of the year when I explored a further six South West counties and also took time to visit the marvellous Haynes Motor Museum in Yeovil. It’s a long way, but well worth it if, like me, you enjoy seeing cars from the 1960s and 1970s.
In June I had planned a solo ride round the Cairngorms but for reasons that now escape me, it quickly transformed into a full-blown tour for eight people. We had a wonderful time apart from one day which will be forever ingrained in my psyche. We set off in temperatures about 10°C but then they rapidly dropped to 5°C. Then, as the heavy rain gave way to hailstones, my Garmin decided it didn’t like the conditions and went doolally but not before reporting temperatures just above freezing. In June! Anyway, as is obvious, I survived, but once we arrived at the coffee stop, it was fully five minutes before my fingers had sufficient feeling and grip to undo the strap of my cycle helmet.
In September I had planned another trip based in Northumberland with some of the same people but a week before, an unfortunate accident on a mountain bike prevented me from going. I was gently descending a smooth track when I came across a gully about a foot deep. I couldn’t avoid it, and so my front wheel went in and never came out. I landed awkwardly and managed to break my collar bone. When the accident happened, I was about 700 metres up a mountain and two miles from the nearest road, so I walked down very cautiously while a friendly walker pushed my bike down the hill. Geraldine’s now banned me from mountain biking. If I’d thought about it a bit more, I would’ve told her I did it whilst decorating and get banned from that instead, but I wasn’t quite quick enough.
She’s in no place to criticise, however, since in May she was enjoying an exercise/dance class when she stepped awkwardly and damaged her calf. The doctor at Urgent Care initially diagnosed it as a torn Achilles tendon and prescribed a boot for her to wear for several months. She wore it constantly for a month before a specialist examined an ultrasound of her leg and determined that the Achilles tendon was intact, and that she’d only torn a calf muscle, which by then was almost healed. It was annoying that it had taken so long to diagnose properly, but at least by then the damage was repaired and she’s now back at the dance classes. Whilst laid up, Geraldine managed to read the entire ‘Seven Sisters’ books by Lucinda Riley in about a fortnight. I read them later, but it took me over two months.
Whilst I was ‘grounded’, I kept up my daily exercise by walking, but I don’t enjoy that nearly as much. I couldn’t really do any gardening, and so to fill my days, I decided to continue writing my autobiography from where I left off in 2016. This time, rather than just writing what happened during the past eight years, I tried a bit of self-analysis to attempt to understand what happened in my life to determine my character. I’ve really enjoyed the self-reflection and I’ve spent time reading my Mum’s old diaries to better appreciate her life while I was growing up. Interspersed with the cod-psychology, I’ve still included the boring recollection of how I navigated my return to full health, entered retirement and of course, coped with Covid. The document is entitled “What am I like?”, and isn’t quite finished yet, but I’m nearly there. The completed document will be here once I’ve loaded it and added all the accompanying photos.
I mentioned that I don’t really like walking, but earlier in the year I volunteered to join a group organising the annual Cuckoo Walks around Brindle. (For those unfamiliar with local lore, anyone born around here is called a Brindle Cuckoo. I could explain why, but it might be best if you Google it). These walks were established over twenty years ago to raise funds for the new Community Hall and they are a series of social walks around the district. Distances vary from three to twelve miles and up to 200 people take part. This year, I planned and led the six mile walk but sadly, mine was the one that drew the greatest criticism in the questionnaire afterwards. The walk took in some beautiful countryside and avoided roads whenever possible, but in doing so, it was necessary to clamber over about thirty stiles. When I walked the route (several times), I never recognised this as a problem – it’s just what’s necessary when crossing fields – but some of the seventy-odd walkers on the day were less than happy and several of them found the stiles challenging. They took a long time to climb over each one which delayed the whole group. It isn’t possible to walk around Brindle without encountering stiles, so the advice for next year is to ensure that everyone is made aware in advance that there will be several stiles to negotiate.
Laurence has had (indeed is still having) quite a year. To celebrate his 30th birthday, he and Pip went on a road trip around Scandinavia in January, and when he returned home, he promptly put his house up for sale and had sold it within a week. He and Pip then viewed several houses, until an offer they made on a property in Longridge was accepted in March. It took until June until they were able to move in. In July, he proposed to Pip and they are now planning for a 2026 wedding. All that wasn’t quite enough excitement for them so in November they came home with a beautiful Golden Retriever puppy. We’re already signed up for dog-sitting which we’re very happy about.
The garden produce has been exceptional this year. Everything I planted grew well and we just about managed to keep the deer out of the garden. They did make a few incursions, but thankfully didn’t eat too much since it was early in the season. This prompted me to buy some deer-proof fencing to secure the vegetable plot. This wasn’t pretty, but it did the job and ensured that we managed to eat the peas and beans rather than them. I feel sorry for them if they’re hungry, but there is a limit to my compassion. There are four regulars who visit now to gaze longingly through the netting. One has antlers, but the other three are almost indistinguishable from each other, even though I think one was only born this year. I had to buy a solar charger for my wildlife camera since the deer were setting it off so regularly that the eight AA batteries were only lasting a month or so.
We’ve not been to many concerts this year, but my favourite one was to see O’Hooley and Tidow in Halifax Minster. I’ve probably talked about this couple before, but they are a folk duo from Huddersfield who sang the opening theme to Gentleman Jack, (the TV series was named after their song, not the other way round) and they can claim to be friends with Sally Wainwright and Suranne Jones. When we went to see them in Halifax, we were delighted to see that many of the audience had dressed up as characters from the TV programme which greatly added to the enjoyment. We rounded off the weekend with a tour of Shibden Hall (Anne Lister’s home) which finished off a very enjoyable trip.
And finally, I’ll leave you with this thought. The adjective for metal is metallic, but not so for iron, which is ironic. Have a lovely Christmas.
One reply on “2024 Christmas Letter”
When I read about your year, it makes me feel like I haven’t done enough with mine. I Must Try Harder.