Summer Diary 2013 – Week Thirteen. Part one.
Friday September 20th.
Up and swimming again after walking Callie up to Hilltop
Wood for a change. Laura decided to wear a less distracting swimming costume
today which meant we spent some time in the shower together at home instead of
getting all fruity at the pool! I did 100 lengths in the time Loll took to do
60. She is determined to get up to my speed. [Ought I to slow down to hers?]
Today’s plan was to zoom off to Uni, with Laura in tow, and
meet up with Andrea to discuss our schedule for the next semester. Laura went
for a wander round after I had introduced her to everyone who needed to know
her. My Ph.D supervisor had some shocking news for me. Andrea, our former
Junior Table Tennis champion from Hull, has dropped out of the venture. She’s
pregnant! There you go: I just knew there’d be three pregnancies! My Super
didn’t go into too many details but it seems Andrea is five to six months
already. She hadn’t bothered to check why her periods had stopped! Can you
believe that? A so called educated woman, she already has her Ph.D - which is
why she was the lead researcher, in denial about being pregnant. My Super was
more diplomatic than I was.
The upshot is they have asked Felice to be her stand in for
the year and then they’ll make a decision fully after that. Felice! Rah, rah,
rah. She will be much more fun to work with than Andrea – although I may be
maligning the woman unduly. I’ll never know now. It will also save money as
Felice is already employed by the Uni so that will be one salary less to come
out of the History budget. I may have to do some more teaching as a result, but
they are trying to prevent that if they can. Felice is still in France at the
minute but will be back next week. My timetable of work will be unaffected for
the moment. That was good news as our next port of call was X,X,X & Y
Solicitors’ to see Mrs Briggs to talk in detail about my hours there.
I was all set to drive across when I realised I was a stunningly
beautiful, slim, blonde person missing. She was supposed to be back by 11.30
and there was no sign of her. I ‘phoned her from the car park and, for once,
her ‘phone was on! [There’s a miracle in itself!] She had managed to gain
access to the Maths Faculty block and was introducing herself to her new Tutor.
I offered to come on over but she told me that she’d be there in two ticks. One
completed Times Cryptic Crossword later she knocked on the car window. I jumped
about a mile! I am surprised there isn’t a Maia’s head shaped dent in the roof
of my little car.
As usual, virtually every building on campus was wide open
and any T. D. or Laura could wander in off the streets. She was pleased to have
met her tutor and to have found her way to the Maths building without needing a
guide [me]. We whizzed up to Broomhill and Mrs Briggs. Lynn can be very
intimidating when you first meet her. She’s from the same mould that produced
my Mum, I think. Little Loll didn’t flinch in her presence, not even when I
introduced her as “My Girlfriend”. Lynn asked if that fact was common knowledge
and I truthfully told her that Mr Carr knew but that was about it. You could
almost see the cogs behind Lynn’s eyes whirring into place as she assimilated
this information alongside what she knew about me already. She asked, “Don’t
mind me for asking… [I knew she’d not care if I minded anyway.] Were you always
of this persuasion or it is a recent thing?” This persuasion. Delicately
euphemistic. I asked Laura if it was OK, she nodded, so I explained how a
public schoolgirl from Norfolk had been captivated by a state school girl from
Cumbria. She laughed, which was my
intention. I gave her a brief outline of our affair. She knew about Richard, so
I knew she was being inquisitive.
Mrs Briggs then subjected Miss Thomas to a very gentle but
subtly probing series of questions about her, her life, her ambitions and her
and me. You could tell that she felt she had another fledgling to take under
her wing when they had finished the potted history everything Maia and Laura
coloured. They had even touched on my Dad, and Molly being his cleaner since
time immemorial. When Mrs Briggs likes you, you are well and truly in favour.
She even questioned Laura about her understanding of the legal world and if she
had ever been inclined towards the profession. I have not seen her dumbfounded
very often but when Laura launched into how she was hoping to pursue her P
& A Maths into areas like fluid mechanics and brain surgery, you could tell
that not only had she wandered completely out of any area of shared knowledge,
but that Mrs B was smitten by my little Mathematician too.
Back into the realms of the mundane and prosaic I was able
to arrange a complete day with X,X,X & Y and one afternoon per week. That
is only eight hours fewer than when I was working here before! I still cannot
get over how flexible my Uni week actually is. The full day will be Wednesday,
the half one has yet to be arranged. After all this we had a cup of tea and
some of the “Guest” biscuits and we just chattered, well… gossiped, really.
She asked about my concert going and told us she was going
to see Sir Mark Elder conduct the Halle at The City Hall tonight. Laura piped
up, “So are we!” We arranged to meet in the bar for a swift snorterino during
the interval and compare how much we liked the Dvorak piece “The Water Goblin”.
I’ve borrowed a recording of it from the City Record Library and I am “sort of”
not impressed to be honest! The music itself is delightful and fey but when you
read the background story you wonder how Dvorak thought that his Music and the
Story could match – the story contains an almost drowning, a forced marriage,
forced imprisonment and the death, by decapitation, of a child, these themes
don’t really fit the, almost, sweet music you hear. Well not to my ears,
anyway.
They didn’t to Mrs B and Laura when I told them the back
story of the piece during the interval. We all agreed, though, that if you
hadn’t known what it was supposed to be about it was a lovely little piece of
music. I suppose this is a good example of knowledge not always being a good
thing.
The Halle was excellent as always. I have seen them several
times now. Sir Mark Elder was a compact conductor, very sparing in his
movements it seemed. I have watched a series of TV programmes where he is the
conductor of the orchestra illustrating the development of the Symphony. His insights
into how the form developed, from the early 17th Century’s nascent
noodlings to Shostakovich and beyond, are brilliant. The presenter of the
programme was Simon Russell Beale who is informative without being dominating. I
am waiting for the BBC to produce a DVD of the series.
As for the rest of the evening’s programme, the Beethoven
piano concerto was wonderful and if anyone is failed to be moved by the Enigma
Variations, well you can take them out and shoot them!
Laura joined Callie and me for the final walk of the day and
as we strolled along, arm in arm, on the Onesacre road I asked her, “Happy?”
She replied “Mmmmm….!”
Saturday September 21st.
Extremely grey morning, this morning but no rain! Callie and
I did the full circuit this morning and then the three of us drove off to the
pool.
100 lengths and 60 again.
Followed by more fun in the shower at home.
We reflected on Last Night at the City Hall. We thought that
the Halle’s version of the Dvorak [and Mark Elder] had tried to inject more of an
edge to it than the Library’s version I’d borrowed. We concluded that our
outfits had been magic, although taking Callie for her last walk in those shoes
had not perhaps, been a good idea. We’ve decided when we go to a formal
function; concert, theatre etc to have a distinct contrast in the way we dress.
One of us will be “girly” and one of us “startling”. Last night Laura had been the
girly one. She had curled her hair, it is naturally curled anyway but she
spends ages in the morning, after showering, straightening it. She wore a
gorgeous blue dress. It was her old school prom dress bodice with an altered,
shorter, flared skirt. On top of this she had one of my white shawls and white
tights with blue matching shoes.
I was the startling one. We’d put my hair into a chignon, I
had quite basic make up but bright red lippy. I wore a matching set of bright
red T-shirt and footless tights, topped with a black leather mini skirt [way
shorter than I normally wear], black leather bikers’ style jacket and heeled
black ankle boots. To be honest if I had carried a rolled whip I would have
been ideal as a dominatrix! The red and black was definitely startling. So much
so that when I went up to her in the bar at the City Hall last night, you could
see doubt flicker across Mrs Briggs face before she recognised me.
Today was really a lazy day. I took Callie round Broomhead
reservoir, before lunch and then we chilled out until Laura had to go to work
in the evening. OK. I admit it. I cleaned through the entire house again! I
know I shouldn’t be so fussy but I can’t help it. Loll kept making me stop and
have a cup of tea, so I kept having to stop and empty my bladder. I think she
hasn’t actually witnessed me having a OCD session properly before, and she was
quite alarmed, TBH. In the attic room she did suggest we use the day bed for
something other than sleeping. So we did, for over an hour. This took away the manic desire to clean
everything. I wonder what would happen if I got OCD about sex?
Dominic did have a plate full of pasta and scallops waiting
for me at the restaurant when I came to pick up Laura [she had some too]. He
thought Roy’s wine was lovely. He asked if he could get it over here, in the UK,
but I don’t think Roy export it. He just comes over near Christmas time [to his
family and friends] with presents etc. For Dad that is always two or three
cases of his current wine. Dad gives me some because he knows I am good with
alcohol (!). Roy’s family home is now somewhere between Sulmona and the
Adriatic Sea. It’s one of the places where my Dad’s been but I haven’t. Mum
& Dad had divorced before Roy moved south so we never went there as a
family. I do remember Dad’s stories of seeing a frozen waterfall when he went
to visit and he said I would just love it out there as it is so mountainous.
Laura’s working week will be Week Day nights with the
occasion Friday, Saturday or Sunday if she is needed. He doesn’t think she will
be. Fortunately they don’t open on a lunchtime at all! One good thing, he is paying more than
minimum wage plus she gets to keep her personal tips. All of the serving staff
have their own tin by the cash desk, which seems a novel idea. Last night her
tips came to £19.50! Laura had said she is going to put them away in a jar to
be used for special occasions and not be just added to her wages! I think that,
looking as lovely as she does, the tips will be fast and generous.
Tea tomorrow is at Steve and Ann’s house. I hope we’ll be
having fish although that could be unlikey is Ann isn’t keen. He was really pleased with the bottle of
whisky I gave him for looking after my little postage stamp garden while I was
in Australia.
The two of us walked Callie again before turning in. I
brought my tablet into the bedroom with me, so I could Skype Suze in the
morning, to get news of Freo’s game against Sydney Swans in the AFL semi-final.
Sunday 22nd September.
Go Dockers! Go! They have won the semi. 99 to 74! They’ll
play Hawthorne in the Grand Final next Saturday. It is the first time in their
[short] history that they have made it to the finals! According to Suze they
were all over the Swans, winning every quarter convincingly. When I spoke to
the family this morning they were still high as kites. Even Mum, who’d gone
with them to the Subiaco Oval on Saturday night. She is a bit miffed that she
will miss the Grand Final as she is scheduled to fly back next week. Jill and
Annabelle looked funny as they still had their purple and white facepaint on
despite the fact it was 1pm when they called! I bet their pillows are a
complete mess!
I sussed out the AFL website and have been able to watch
highlights of the game. I had to pay for the privilege though. Still, it gives
me access to the Final highlights as well! Little Loll couldn’t understand the
passion but when she comes out to Oz with me next summer she will, I’m sure. In
fact she fell asleep during the middle of our chat so I was able to show the
family her fast asleep. [Not sure that was the right thing to do, actually, as
I have just shown them all that we are together in the same bed. I mean, I know
they know we do that, but was it right to show them? They didn’t comment on it.
Luckily.]
Callie and I went off for the morning’s walk and there was
an inversion outside! The valley floor was shrouded in very dense mist but the
tops of the slopes were all in bright early morning sunshine. My little house
was in the mist but, 100 yards up the field, the road to Onesacre was
completely clear. The temperature change was noticeable too. Down below it was
a bit chilly; it was much warmer once you were out of the mist.
A surprise waited our return. Laura had made breakfast! We
are planning on sharing the cooking but so far it has all been me {OK it’s only
five days}. She had seen me walking back on the Onesacre road so she knew she
could get the timings right. I arrived home to a plate of bacon, eggs, beans,
mushrooms and toast! Being half way up the hillside the sun had burned off our
mist so we ate in the conservatory.
Our plan today was to meet up with the rest of the Scampi
Tails at High Bradfield and walk up to Derwent Edge. From there we were going to
take the path to the Strines Inn for lunch and amble back into Bradfield by
mid-afternoon. I have to say the Scampis were a disappointment. Out of ten of
us [if you include me] only five appeared at the Church [not including Laura
and me]. Undaunted we strolled on and had a good old gossip along the way. Some
of the girls have met Laura before, three of them hadn’t. Laura told them that
she was my girlfriend! I was very worried about their reaction but they were
all cool with it.
None of them knew I was starting back at work next
Wednesday. They were astounded and asked how I had managed to work that out. I
explained that when Catherine Eames left in the summer (quite unexpectedly)
that left ARR under staffed – her and me making up half of the people in there.
Mr Carr had appointed a new person on a part time contract to fit in with her
child care arrangements. [I haven’t met her yet, and I can’t remember her name,
dammit!] He then e-mailed me to ask if I had any time to offer, as I’d said I
thought I would. I am going in every Wednesday for the whole of this academic
year and one afternoon too. The girls were delighted. Rachel, Claire and Ann are the three who made
up the original Scampis (with me as the fourth Musketeer) and are also the
founders of the Dining Group. They were chuffed to bits. Christine and Michelle
were keen to find out what the Dining Group was. I was amazed that they didn’t
know about it.
Back to the walk. The stroll up Duke’s Road is very untaxing
but a bit long. It doesn’t climb any great slopes or steep inclines; it slowly
and steadily leads you up to one of the most astounding view points in the
Peak. At Derwent Edge you are presented with two of the three enormous
reservoirs that fill the Upper Derwent Valley. If you don’t know they are there
it takes you completely by surprise. Laura was amazed by the view, as were the
others, for whom it was their first time here too. Rachel and I have walked
this before so we knew what to expect. The reservoirs in question are Ladybower
and Derwent. There is a third; Howden, which isn’t visible from where we were.
They are well worth putting into google images for a look. It was using these
three dams, during WW II that they practiced their bomb aiming for the Dam
Busters raid. Every year the surviving three aircraft from WW II do a memorial
fly past. [I haven’t seen it yet, sadly.]
We had a long sit and several swigs of tea, drinking in the
liquid and the view. The way we had come up isn’t the usual tourist route up.
Most people tend to park their vehicles in the Derwent Valley and just rush up the slopes from
there. That seems like a lot of effort to see the view from the top. I am pragmatic when Fell Walking, reduce the effort is the key to enjoyment. On a day like today, with unexpectedly gorgeous weather that was important too. If you'd rushed up to Derwent Edge you be a real Sweaty Betty at the top. When I go rock climbing I expect there to be some serious effort and maybe some perspiration involved, but from a walk?
Our route back to Bradfield took in three more reservoirs on the eastern side of the
ridge, which most people don’t even realise are there. After lunch we walked
alongside two of the three. I had booked
in a party of eleven for lunch at the Strines Inn, it was a bit embarrassing to
have to say we were only seven. Still, the barman didn’t seem to mind in the
slightest. We were booked in for 1.30 and we arrived on the dot!
Laura and I had their meat and potato pie, which never fails
to delight. The others had the Sunday Roast. We didn’t have the roast mainly
because I had gone on about the Pub’s wonderful meat and potato pie for so long
I couldn’t really not have it. We stuck out again at about 3 o’clock and wound our way
along Strines Reservoir and Dale Dike Reservoir only meeting four other people
on the way! Despite it being so sunny and warm by now. At Bradfield we had some ice creams from the shop near the cricket pitch, we sat on the wall eating them. Then we did some car juggling which meant we didn’t have to
walk up the steep hill to High Bradfield to fetch the other car and drop Laura
and Callie and me off at my car. I was so pleased everyone seemed to have
enjoyed themselves and that I had got the date and venue for the next Dining
Group meeting. It’s at Collette’s this coming Wednesday. As we parted company I noticed that all of the fair haired walkers [me included] had very red faces from the sun! So unbecoming!
We got home in time for a shower and sit before we were off
out again to Steve and Ann’s. It wasn’t as far this time, only four doors along
the road. I told them we would be returning from a walk in the Peak and may be ravenous. That maybe why there was a mountain of food spread before us when we finally settled down to eat.
I was wrong about the fish. There was cold, cooked, trout [one of Steve's from the Derwent] and masses of cooked meat. Every kind of salad you could imagine and some you couldn't [Carrot, raisin and orange? It sounds weird but was absolutely scrumptious!]
After tea we were entertained by tales of their life in the police force. Both are retired officers, each being an inspector when the packed it all in - after only 30 years of service! Unbelievable. They were in forensics in the days when it wasn't made glamorous by shows on TV like Silent Witness and the rest. Some of their tales were gruesome in the extreme and not fit for repeating here.
I took along two bottles of Gewurztraminer Riesling and we polished off the lot. We had a bottle of Rose of theirs and then Steve brought out some whisky and we must have had almost three quarters of a bottle of that. It was a good thing we only had a few yards to wobble back to my little house. Callie was unimpressed, though, that her last walk of the day consisted of a run around the field behind the house while her rather sozzled owner merely sat on the wall and watched her.
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