Mother, brother and family invade the house sitting! Watching the storm.

Friday January 3^rd.

The day dawned bright and clear. First time it has done that for over a week! So clear there were blue skies and no rain!

The weather forecast had predicted a storm surge along the west coast of the UK to coincide with the Spring tide for the month. Having had the TV on last night we were filled with the idiot calming warnings issued by the Met Office and the BBC to try and reassure the public. I checked the tide tables for the Solway coast and found the High Tide was at around 1pm. It seemed like a good idea to take ourselves to a safe vantage point to watch the impending Armageddon.

Mum had been talking to Angela and Peter on Thursday about going to the cinema, so we’d checked the film times and there was a showing of “Frozen” at 2.30pm in Workington. Peter wasn’t so keen but Angela has watched masses of trailers for it on You Tube and really wanted to go and see it. That was the plan. 

Give the dogs a stroll in the morning. Drive down to Maryport to see if the high tide was going to be as bad as the media were blathering on about and then drive on to the cinema.

Good plan, eh? [As they’d say in West Cumbria.]

We walked the dogs up to the trig point on Tallentire Hill and back. It was remarkably clear all the way round the fells over the Solway coast and Galloway beyond. By ‘we’, I mean Me, Angela, Peter and Mum. Laura had wandered off to see if Stephen wanted to come to the cinema too. Mum became quite nostalgic as we wound our way up the hill and a little bit maudlin too. Only understandable I suppose. I tried to remind her that beneath the lovable, charming roguish exterior was a cheating, two timing bastard! She was a bit shocked to hear me call my father that but as I explained, I am his daughter so I can see all his faults and still love him despite them; she was in an entirely different position.

I got her smiling again by telling Angela and Peter some of the silly things Dad used to do when we were little. He once had me go into every sweet shop in Edinburgh we passed asking to buy a jar of Scotch Mist. Mum remembered that very clearly. It was in the days when I was playing with copying Mum and Dad’s accents, so I had gone into every shop sounding like a little Australian! I assume Dad must have winked at each shop keeper as I asked because every one of them seemed to go along with the ruse. [I don’t have to play at the accents any more, BTW, I can do a perfect imitation of Mum’s accent – Lowland Scots, which has fooled linguists from several Universities,  and also Dad’s which is sort of a refined Australian drawl if that isn’t an oxymoron.]

Angela tried to explain what the plot of Frozen was, but it was clear she hadn’t much of a clue having only seen trailers. I must say I am a bit of a sucker for Kid’s film. I thought Brave was brilliant, for example. I did remember that most of the newspapers I read had given it glowing reviews, so that promised to be good.

After a snack lunch we set off in two cars [I took Dad’s Citroen this time] for Maryport harbour. We parked up at the Glasson car park and walked down towards the shore line and one of the mounds which looks north towards the huge harbour wall and the pier. The wind was extremely fierce and quite cold despite the sun shine. The sea however was unrecognisable. I can’t remember seeing the Solway look so agitated, apart from a time when Mum, Sue and I got Sue’s car swamped by huge waves at Dubmill Point when I was a wee lassie!

The sea itself was a dirty grey colour and the waves were bashing the rocks and shoreline with amazing force. We didn’t go down to the shore path because it looked a bit too dangerous but climbed to the top of the mound instead, even here we were still being hit by the spray from the waves striking the shoreline.

Looking north was even more spectacular. Maryport harbour is surrounded on two sides by a huge wall built from large old red sandstone blocks. It makes a huge L shape protecting the harbour from the prevailing winds. It rises about 30 feet above the beach but at the elbow of the L the tide was been forced up it and then was breaking over the six foot wall on top of that! You couldn’t have walked on the seawards side of the wall without being washed into the Solway, if you were on the harbour side of the wall, the breaking spray would have drenched anyone there to the bones! I have never seen anything like it.

Even better than that was the fact that Maryport Pier, which runs out at right angles from the top of the L shaped wall and is considerably lower, was being washed over completely with almost every wave that came along. I have often wondered why the pier is built in a concrete lattice pattern rather than being a solid block, like the harbour wall. It was totally apparent why as we watched wave after wave sweep over the top of the pier. If anyone had tried to venture out on to the pier it would have been an act of suicide. Nobody would have survived any of the waves crashing over it.

The wind and the spray were not abating as we stood and watched, and we started to chill down from the constant battering so we decided to head on to the Plaza and have a hot drink in the café there [or the Asda café] before the film started.

The car park was very busy and we learned, in the café, that part of Workington had been flooded, near the rugby ground. This had caused gridlock in the town for quite a while. We settled down to a cup of hot chocolate each, except Peter who wanted a coke! Children!

Frozen. I was pleasantly surprised. It didn’t tick as many boxes as Brave did for me but I enjoyed it all the same. I was totally surprised it was a musical. Even worse than that the two main characters’ singing voices were dreadful! I know it is all the rage to have singers whose range is only slightly wider than Johnny One Note’s, but honestly I think people today must have a Tin Ear. When they were just being Anna and Elsa they had excellent voices and their acting was pretty good but their singing! Ouch!

I have had the great misfortune to listen to too many female [and male] so called singers since I was little and it seems to me the one thing they all lack is the ability to actually sing! From the Spice Girls onward [my earliest point of reference] they are all rubbish. I don’t know how any of them can listen to Katherine Jenkins sing something from any opera and then have the bloody gall to take money from people for their god awful caterwauling! I whispered this to Mum at several points in the film and she just told me to “Shut up and watch the film!”

I thought the bit where Anna sacrifices herself for Elsa was very touching but it was a bit obvious, to these cynical eyes, this was going to break the spell and it would all come right. Angela, Peter and Stephen loved it. In fact I think we all expressed a similar sentiment. I think it is about time we had some more heroines in films that are feisty and tough and who don’t conform to a studio biased stereotype that doesn’t advance women’s cause at all. Merida in Brave was an even better example of female characters going against type. 

More please! I mean look at the Lion King? Why a story about a MALE lion, FFS? What is wrong with having strong women characters? All we have given out little girls for decades is a series of wimpy princesses. OK, some of us like to be a princess when we are five! Girls also need more than that too!

Mum decided we would eat out after the film so she buzzed around several places and got us all booked into the Horse and Jockey for a pub bite. I was a bit concerned as the pub, while having a reputation for good food, was also well known for being a bit grubby! Imagine my surprise to find it had been taken over, had a make-over and was spotless. Even a cleanliness freak like me couldn’t fault it at all. I imagine the prices have gone up with the new owners taking over but that’s only to be expected. We trooped in at 6.30 to be joined by Molly and Eric, another of Mum’s surprises. They were pretty shocked to see her. It must be a good 11 years since Mum and Dad separated and 9 since the divorce. The three of them sat down one end of the table and spent a large part of the meal catching up on old news. There is a lot to catch up on too.

We all went back to Dad’s after the pub and helped finish off more of his stock of last year’s wine. I mean the year before last year’s wine, don’t I? It is 2014 after all.

The dogs were keen on a longish last walk but they didn’t get one. As soon as the last one had performed I turned them round and marched them back again!

I felt quite bushed despite not having done much all day, so we retired relatively quickly after the dogs were bedded down for the night. Mum, Jane and Phil stayed up long after we’d fallen asleep, I imagine. It was a no nookie night, tonight.

Saturday 4^th January.

It might have been a no nookie night, wasn’t a no nookie morning! Good old Laura and that naughty little strap on!

I had just put the offending item in my bedside cupboard and Laura was having a shower when we had a mini home invasion as Angela came bursting into my room and did a flying leap on to the bed! [Never show kids fun things that you used to do as a child, they will copy you!] What the hell was she doing up and awake at 6.30? She wanted to know if it was true that there was a huge Cadbury’s shop in Carlisle. I had to tell her it was in Gretna, in Scotland. About 10 miles over the border. Armed with this information she bounded off the bed and I heard her do the kamikaze leap onto Dad’s bed down the corridor. I went and closed the door and heard Phil saying, “Well we aren’t going right now, young lady. It is far too early!”

As I was awake I got up and walked the dogs, joined by Angela who wanted to know about the Gretna Village outlet and what shops there were. I had to confess I was in the dark a bit about what shops it had as I have only ever been twice in my life! She has a whole heap of Christmas money which is obviously burning a hole in her pocket. I tried to interest her in the story of Gretna’s fame but even the thought of running away to get married held no attraction for our budding shopaholic.

We set off at about 9.30. Mum and Phil were gobsmacked by the western relief road round Carlisle. I guess I have got used to it driving up to Glasgow airport and over to Arran, too. It takes a good half an hour from any journey time that would have taken you through Carlisle.

The Outlet was smaller than I remembered but having the kids in tow meant we went into almost every shop, so it seemed much bigger. The Cadbury Shop was stuffed full of things which are bad for you, so I bought loads of it LOL. Actually I only bought some Bourneville as I quite like it, otherwise I find their milk chocolate rather too sweet for my taste. Angela was like a child in a sweet shop – which of course she is. Peter was more taken by the sports shops.

We had a Subway lunch which, I could tell, wasn’t as well received as a Macdonalds would have been. What sort of parents are Phil and Jane allowing their kids near such junk? I had thought the lack of a shop selling crap food was point in the places favour, I guess my brother has different priorities.

We did drive round to the Blacksmith’s and Angela told everyone that this was where I was going to run away to get married at! Kids!? You could tell the history of the place was wasted on the children altogether.

The consensus then was to drive back into Carlisle and have a walk round the shops there too. Once again 

parking proved a bit difficult with us eventually pitching up at the west viaduct car park. Strolling through the city with kids was as slow as it was at Gretna. Peter and Angela weren’t really impressed with the place, they kept comparing it to Leeds and saying things like Leeds has… and Leeds is… which I found quite annoying and a little obnoxious and also so like my brother’s approach to life to be worrying. God help them if they grew up like him!

Back home we had a huge dinner and then succumbed to playing on their video game thingy, which they’d brought with them!!

Even the games couldn’t hold the kids attention for very long, so we settled down to watch Brave, which I have on DVD and which I’d brought with me in my laptop bag. This divided opinion with Peter thinking it wasn’t right a girl should be the “hero” and Angela loving it! I had to set the PVR to record the first two episodes of The Bridge Series Two which attracted about as much interest as a cold rice pudding, even from Mother!

Laura and I had a long pillow talk about my nephew and niece and decided that although they were lovely in small doses we couldn’t imagine having one of our own all the time, forever. She had spotted that Peter was turning into a Philip clone. I assured her he’d grow out of it once he became a teenager [hopefully]. I am amazed at how differently my two siblings bring up their children and how different it makes them. Suze has an almost completely opposite way of bringing up her three than Phil and Jane, and as a consequence Annabelle, Jill and Jeff do seem a lot less materialistic and more interested in getting out and doing stuff than Angela and Peter. I hope number three doesn’t go down the same street at its older brother and sister. It is possible it won’t, look at me, for example, I am the exception which proves the rule!

Sunday January 5^th.

OMG. I have won $5000. Australia has whitewashed England 5-0 and I am now the proud owner of a 

winning betting slip. We Skyped Suze and Pete this morning and had a long old gossip. It was sort of like a huge family reunion as Dad and Louisa came on and so did Phil and Jane. We ran into a second hour of chatting! We even persuaded Mum to come and chat which caused Dad’s colour to rise although that may just have been sunburn which we’d not noticed before.

I got the brunt of the disapprobation. How could I bet against my own team? What was I, a traitor? In my defence I did point out I was the holder of two passports [UK and Australian] and therefore was entitled to support both teams equally. Dad’s mock anger was quite funny. Pete was typically brash about it and said it proved I was a true Okker girl: look after number one regardless of the consequences.

I did say I would share some of it with them as a sort of commission but Suze, quite sensibly, said I was to use it to come over to Australia next summer / winter - with Laura too. That was my plan all along whether I had won the bet or not, but it was nice to get an official public invitation to go and stay again. We aren’t going to stay as long this time, only four and a half weeks instead of the eight and a half of last time. I promised I would take the girls whale watching again in Albany or Augusta. Laura just can’t wait for that either.

One thing that was a bit awkward was when Dad asked what the sleeping arrangements were in his house, so I explained that Phil and Jane were in his and Louisa’s room which seemed to pour oil on potentially troubled waters.

The family wandered off after a while leaving me and Laura with Annabelle and Jill. They have got to know each other over the internet quite well in the months since she moved in with me and they seem to treat her like another Crazy British Auntie. We had a giggle about Uncle Phil still being a boring old fart and how Jane didn’t seem to be showing very much. She is in real life but I guess the screen is pretty tiny to see her bump properly. They still think Peter is a copy of Phil which I find hilarious and they sneaked the information that the Aged Parent really was furious when he learned that Helen [Mum] had come back to stay in what was their old home, he wasn’t pretending. That did surprise me. I thought he would be cool with the idea.

I was bursting to ask Jill a very specific question but she and Annabelle stayed on the screen together for the rest of our time, so I wasn’t able to. I will just have to e-mail her about it instead. I am hoping the answer will be no!

The weather was fine and clear again first thing so after breakfast we decided to head for Whinlatter. If the weather held we’d go up Lord’s Seat, if not we’d stay in the forest and just do the Seat How circuit. Either way a cuppa and a cake at Siskins café were very much on the agenda!

Driving down to Whinlatter, via Cockermouth, you could see there was a fairly hefty covering of snow on the top of Grizedale Pike and Hobcarton Crag. It descended to cover all of the Whiteside ridge and even Ladyside Pike too. Lord’s Seat seemed to have a dusting on its north western face but otherwise the Whinlatter peaks were too low to have been affected. When we got there, however, there was a slight precipitation [drizzle], so we decided to do two trails, the Squirrel one and then the Orienteering Course A. 

The squirrel one was a doddle and over in about half an hour. The Orienteering course was a bit more of a challenge to two youngsters and an expectant Mum, so once we’d got to the view point with the semicircle of semi-circular logs we dispatched the Mum to be and the future Gran back down to the café while we rufty tufty types went on to complete the course.

Although it is only 1.8 kilometres, it is a bugger in places as the orienteering posts aren’t easy to find. I was able to show Peter how to read the map and what to look out for between each post and he found the last three through a mixture of determination and applying what Aunt Vicky had told him. By the time of the last post Laura was holding on to Angela’s hand as she looked about whacked [that’s Angela, not Laura, BTW].  As soon as we said we were heading down to the café and some cake she immediately perked up and almost dragged Laura along the forest track to Siskins.

There was enough room at the table Mum and Jane had commandeered for us all to get around and we all had hot drinks and a cake. I had drinking chocolate and hot chocolate fudge cake with ice cream. The rest of them seemed to be trying to eat their way through the cake menu!

After Whinlatter we zoomed back to Dad’s and Phil started to pack their car. They had decided to leave in plenty of time to get back to Horsforth in daylight. Mum was going to drive down to Sheffield straight away rather than hang about in Leeds for the night. So at 2.30 the family departed leaving Dad’s house much quieter and a great deal messier than it had been before.

I hove to with the vacuum cleaner, polish and dusters - starting to tidy up everywhere. Laura stripped the beds and set the first of three loads of washing going. It took us until about 5 before the place was as spotless as it had been before they all arrived. It was quite uncanny to be in a place that was so quiet having been filled with bustle, activity and noise for the last few days. It sort of reminded me what it used to be like here when I was a little girl and Suze and Phil were at home.

We sat down in a tidy, clean and quiet lounge and just stared at each other for a few moments, “It was lovely while they were here, but it is so much nicer now they’ve gone…” I remarked.

“It was like being at home when I was little,” said Laura, echoing almost exactly what I had been thinking. I held out my arms and she came and hugged me on the sofa. We sprawled across it and had a serious kiss and cuddle, which progressed slowly and inevitably to our hiding fingers inside each other’s important little place. “Mmmm…. We certainly couldn’t have done this when they were here!” she giggled.

We needed a shower after all our efforts, which wasn’t a bad thing either because we shared that too!

Before the 2^nd episode of Sherlock we watched the recording I’d made of the first one. I don’t know if I am being cynical but it seemed to me like there was no real story to it all. They messed with our heads about how he’d done the fake death thing but otherwise the whole thing seems a bit anal and self-satisfied. The bomb under Parliament was a bit tame and the idea of an “off-switch” was just a cop-out extraordinaire!

Luckily the second episode was slightly better, but I think it doesn’t have the “edge” that the first two series had. I’ll bet any money on the recording we made of The Bridge being far better than these two smug little efforts. I just love the Saga Noren character, she is so original.

The dogs weren’t keen on a long last walk again, so I turned round as soon as the last one had performed once again. If we keep on at this rate we’ll hardly have left the village at all on their walks. OK, it was chucking it down and they don’t like getting wet! What a set of wussy dogs!