Friday January 3rd.
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 4th 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 5th.
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 2nd 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!
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