40th Anniversary Runrig concert. (That's 13 years longer than I've been alive!)

Monday 24^th March.

Definitely a Radio Stars song day. I am not even going to deign to write anything else.

Tuesday 25^th March.

Dad came down today for tomorrow’s Runrig gig at the City Hall. (With Louisa of course) I am beginning to feel like a United Nations special envoy keeping Dad and Gran apart. She is at Mum’s all week to spend Mother’s day with three generations of women from her family next Sunday, if she knew Dad was at mine there would be trouble. I mean trouble.

Luckily he spent the day over in Leeds visiting the newest member of the clan again, my new niece Sophie. Once again he raided the Indian on the way back so I had a lovely Jalfrezi for my meal, Laura had her usual Rogan Josh. Why do Indian meals never taste quite the same when you make them at home?

He is going back up to Cumbria on Thursday, unless he and Gran bump into each other, then there could be ructions. He has completed his teaching load for his semester and so is footloose and planning a break away for the holidays. They are going to see Uncle Hilmar in Cochem again. He wasn’t very well after Christmas and they want to cheer to the old boy up with tales of dystopian England. Hilmar is convinced Germany lost the war but won the peace! He could be right!

I have asked Dad to bring back some more wine. I have almost run out of the white we bought from Hilmar at Christmas. I’ve rationed the Dornfelder but we’ve been drinking the white as though it’s water!

Wednesday March 26^th.

The event of the day, Runrig. Sheffield City Hall. 7.30pm. No support. Interval at about 9pm and then more Runrig. Mrs Briggs told me she had bought tickets for the show as she wanted to see what sort of music would drag me away from my normal Classical metier. This was a complete surprise. I had to warn her about two things: a) it would be very, very loud and b) she would meet my Dad and step-mother.

She told me, in tones reminiscent of my mother scolding a recalcitrant pupil, that she had been to Pop concerts before in the past and knew they would be loud and that she was looking forward to seeing my father as she wanted to gauge how far the apple had fallen. That told me, didn’t it?

We actually met her & partner in the bar before the show started, ordering interval drinks (how bourgeois for a pop concert). I felt like cringing as Dad came across as the aged swinger and tried to portray me as the boring old fart for listening mainly to Classical Music. Sometimes I wish I had a wax effigy of him, into which I could jab a very long pin – repeatedly!

Mrs B had an inroad into the conversation with him as she and Mr Carr (one of the partners) seem to have discussed him and me at length as Dad and Mr Carr are old Oxonians together. They were both at Balliol. This made her attitude towards him more of an acquaintance than a complete stranger.

The band were brilliant. I was so impressed. They played a massive selection from right across the years. I knew everything they performed, even the really really old stuff. The place wasn’t sold out though, there were seats available up in the gods (where Mrs Briggs was). I found that kind of disappointing to be honest. The end of the first half was an inspired choice with Book of Golden Stories followed by my all-time favourite Every River closing the half.

During the interval we met up with Mrs B again and she was impressed by what she’d heard, especially Every River. She was surprised there was only one Gaelic song in the first half (I had said there would be lots but there weren’t, which was probably my only quibble).

* I joked about the demographic of the concert audience pointing out that being up in the circle (front row seats) every time the spotlights played on the crowd we were dazzled by the light reflecting of the bald heads below us. To be honest there was a good range of ages and genders here tonight from really old Grannies, who may have been groupies in 1973 when the Run-Rig dance band first started, do toddlers for whom this may have been their first ever concert.

Mrs B. was surprised by how loud the show was, I suppose that if you have never been to a rock concert you will be surprised. I thought it was maybe a little too loud and not mixed all that well for at times Brian Hurren's keyboards were practically indistinct.

I explained to her how I had grown up listening to Rock Music all my life as a toddler, infant, child and then teenager so I probably had a subliminal knowledge of bands that most people of my age don’t have. Dad did confess to being a music junkie although he claims to have been selective in his choices and going for quality over popularity. [I told him he was being a pretentious prat, which made Mrs B gasp. He explained that I was always the first to get the retaliation in! He then did the forehead kiss thing which made me go as red as my top!]

If anything the second half was better than the first if that was possible. Perhaps the audience were more oiled up after the interval? I liked the low key start to the half and the drumming section is always a wow (sound like an expert don't I?)  *

I must admit I was surprised they played Skye in the middle of this half and not as part of the encore. Having said that the encore was six songs long! They had even moved Clash of the Ash up to being an encore song! We came out with our ears singing and Laura said they were even better than Preston (where we’d seen them last, when she and I weren’t even an item!).

After the show Dad said he was starving and did I know of anywhere unusual to go for a late bite. Naturally I took them up to the Lokanta on Broomhill and was surprised to be greeted by name as we walked in. Dad must get the wrong impression of me at times. We had a different dish each so we could share items and we avoided a kebab yet again! We must have been fairly loud because of our ears ringing from the gig and several people looked at us as though we were a nuisance. That was a strange feeling.

We rolled back home at just before 1pm! Phew. Callie was so pleased to see us.

PS Just re-read this and a whole section didn't come over from my diary. It is the * section. April 2nd.

Thursday March 27^th.

After the excitement of yesterday today was, quite understandably, a let-down in terms excitement and really wild things. We left Dad and Louisa still asleep when we left for the Uni and came home to find a clean and tidy kitchen and a couple of 40^th anniversary tour souvenirs which they must have bought while we weren’t looking. Quite a pleasant surprise though.

I had my final meeting of the semester with my tutees planned for today but only three quarters of them made their appointment times; to be fair I did get e-mails and one text telling me they were tied up and could they see me tomorrow? I ok’ed all their requests. Mandy had booked a pre-lunch time slot and then tagged along to join Laura, Feli and I in the refec. I am really pleased with the way she has blossomed over the two semesters so far. She was timid little thing to be honest at first and I think really homesick, but she has definitely found her feet as the year has rolled round. Laura has been given a first again for her last piece of work before we go down and Mr Hewitt has been making even more noises about her going on to do a Masters’ in probability theory. I know this is a subject she just adores.

Gran has been able to get herself and Mum a ticket to come with us to see Cleopatra at the Lyceum tomorrow night, which I am so pleased about. It has had rave right ups and Gran used to love going to watch the ballet when Granda was still around. I think that is where Mum got her love of it from, which she has passed on to her youngest daughter too. We are planning on meeting them at the bar before the show starts. I have just realised this whole blog is full of me and my friends, family and acquaintances drinking alcohol. We are not binge drinking dypsomaniacs, honest. We have a sensible attitude to drink and we do like a swift snorterino every now and then. It oils the social machinery, when used correctly.

When Laura came home tonight she had made her highest ever amount in tips at the restaurant. Over £55! I am gob smacked. I guess people like a pretty face and pleasant manner. If they just knew what she and I get up to when she comes home from work in an evening! Which we did, for quite a long time tonight.

Friday night student party. Gran stays over on a visit.

Friday March 21^st.

Laura’s friends’ party was a revelation.

I haven’t been to a loud, spilling out into the street, student party since I was an undergraduate (I graduated in 2009). It brought back good and bad memories combined. I had voted myself the designated driver as the party was up in Broomhill and we live miles away, although in the end that wouldn’t have mattered as you’ll see, as I was Laura’s guest she could have the drinks and I would stay sober.

We dressed in standard party fare, I had a skimpy lace dress which was just about decent but under which I had put on a nude coloured singlet so it looked like I may be naked but wasn’t, Laura had one of those dresses which barely covers her modesty and if she bend over you can see all the way to Saturn (or is it another planet?).

We arrived fashionably early, at about 9.45 to find there was hardly anyone there. This was a protocol I had forgotten about since becoming an adult, arriving at parties after the pubs chuck out. The trickle started well before 11 though and by that hour there was a sizeable crowd of revellers.

The hosts had managed wangle the trick of pulling one of their tutors to come along and we sort of gravitated towards each other as we both seemed a bit older than the toddlers around us. He asked what I did, so I explained about being a PhD student doing research in Mediaeval History. This sort of surprised him as he had assumed I would be a maths geek like most of the rest. When he asked about how I had got myself invited I pointed out Laura (involved in an animated discussion in the conservatory) and he went, “Oh Miss Thomas…”

I explained she was a friend of mine and was the daughter of my father’s cleaner. [I didn’t see the need to give him any more information than that.] He found this rather odd and asked if my father was wealthy or famous because he had a cleaner. I was so tempted to pretend he was a peer of the realm and that technically I was the Right Honourable Lady Victoria (although I didn’t flaunt my title) but I have been bitten on the bum by doing this before so I came out with the straight, honest answer about him being a Senior Lecturer in Comparative Literature, and an Australian as well.

He asked, “Which Uni?” so I answered that too and it turns out he knew some people in the Maths department there too, but I told him Dad probably didn’t move in the same circles as Maths was all Greek to him.

He did venture to tell me that Laura was showing great promise and he had already told her he thought a Masters in her field would be a shoo-in. This was news to me. It was round about now that the aforementioned Maths Geek came over to me, put her arms round my neck and gave me a huge smackeroo. She asked if I wanted anything as she was getting a refill but I still had over half my j2o in the glass so I declined. She wandered off towards the utility room where the bar was set up to refill her wine glass.

It was as though this guy wasn’t even there. He had witnessed our brief exchange of bodily fluids via the mouth and said, “So, you are “Friends” then?”

I explained that we lived together and had been a couple for almost 20 months. He seemed to lose interest after that and eventually wandered off.

Laura came back and asked if I had frightened off Mr Hewitt, I explained that our kiss had done it, at which she giggled. She then told me she thought he was a stuffed shirt and would make a prime candidate for the Conservative Party in later life. She dragged me back with her into the conservatory where the conversation seemed to be focused around how nobody seemed to play bridge any more. Laura piped up with, “We do.” 

Arggghhh! I could guess what was going to come next. Someone was bound to ask, “Let’s have a rubber or two!” Before I could mumble my excuses Laura had agreed and someone produced a real, square, baize topped card table from out of the blue. Four dining chairs were procured from somewhere else and we began.

I hadn’t come to a student party to end up playing bridge but here I was with Laura as East to my West. She was a bit tipsy but otherwise I think she still had her maths head on. My first hand had thirty two points. I doubled an opening two hearts and Laura came back with four no trumps and we won with a grand slam (unbid).

I could tell the other two were a bit unimpressed by this so we decided not to be silly about it, just keep our head down and play up as normal. We won every contract we bid and broke every one the other two tried to play. In the end we had a crowd of people gathering round to watch us play. I haven’t played with Laura for ages (usually it is against Dad and Errol at Dad’s house) but we were really on song. In the end we started to explain what we were doing to those that were interested in learning the game and it turned out the two who had challenged us were barely novices too.

When I looked at the clock we had been sitting playing and then explaining how to play for about two hours. I left the card school and Laura playing away and went to find the loo. There was queue, so I sat on the step by the door next to the other person waiting, a black girl with a bright patterned T-shirt. It was really lovely with swirls and patterns and circles like the child’s toy I had back at home used to make. I told her this and she told me the name of the firm who made it. Sadly I have forgotten that information.

We introduced ourselves and Jenny said, “Are you gay?” I almost choked on the remains of my j2o. She went on, “It’s just that I saw you kissing that skinny blonde girl earlier. I am bi-myself. If you want you can come in with me, when this jerk comes out of here, and we can get to know each other better.”

I was complete politeness and calm. I simply said, “That skinny blonde is my partner. We live together. I don’t cheat on her. I love her.”

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Ah well, it was worth a try. If you change your mind here’s my e-mail and phone number.” She handed me a business card with a lipstick kiss on it Jenny’s details printed on the reverse. To be polite I put it in my handbag.

The jerk came out a few moments later and I let Jenny use the ablution alone. He plonked himself down on the step where she had been sitting and tried to persuade me what a nice guy he was and how I was just the girl he had been searching for all of his life. His breath was so heavy with beer fumes I thought I would get drunk myself just breathing in his vicinity.

He told me I was that girl playing cards in the conservatory a while ago and winning everything. I told him he obviously he didn’t need Specsavers. He was too far gone for wit and banter because he then told me he thought he must do because he could see my dress was see-through but he couldn’t see my tits. I think he was too far gone to understand about nude coloured singlets and not worth the bother anyway.

Jenny came out of the loo at that moment so I headed inside to escape the foul breath and dim wits. Luckily he had wandered off when I departed (leaving Jenny’s card on the cistern) and I strolled back down the stairs to find Laura. She was in the lounge armed with a really long glass filled with what I hoped was a soft drink because if it was red wine she would really regret it in the morning. She said, “Here, some more j20,” handing me the glass. It was a colour and flavour I hadn’t tried before. “Can we think about going?”

I told her I was ready when she was, so I swigged back the j20 and we extricated ourselves from the environs of the house and wandered down the road to where I had parked the car. The noise was audible even from about 100 yards away. As most of the housing in the vicinity is student accommodation I suppose they have this every weekend. (I know we did during my time in Cambridge.)

We rolled up at home just as the clock struck three. Callie was waiting with a patient, if pained, look on her face so I took her for her final stroll of the day. We found four frogs and a newt, all of which were still alive so I moved them all. One of the frogs was huge and really heavy, he fitted right across the palm of my (gloved) had. I closed my fingers round him in case he decide to leap to freedom from a great height. I felt really pleased with myself when we got back home. I was brimming with excitement and longing to tell Laura of my rescue but she was pushing the zeds with alacrity. Unlike other times she didn’t say anything as I snuggled into bed alongside her. I kissed her temple and must have been asleep in minutes.

Saturday 22^nd March.

Woke quite early (7.30) after such a late night. Even the woofter hadn’t stirred from her crate in the kitchen to rouse me. Probably she was working on the same timings as I was. Laura was still pushing the zeds, although with a softer note than she had when she went to sleep. I leaned across and stroked her cheek with my fingers she woke up and grabbed my hand, she pulled it down between her legs and said, “Stroke there.” I didn’t need a second invitation and within a few minutes all the bed clothes were on the floor and we were giving each other pleasure.

All of our passion was interrupted by Mum calling! Great timing mother. Laura answered then handed me the phone but didn’t stop what she was doing to me. It is very difficult talking to your parent whilst having sex with your partner at the same time. I was certain she’d twig to what was happening but she didn’t seem to notice or else was being very discrete. I had enough time to say, “Excuse me a minute!” as I pressed the mute button and had the longest orgasm in the universe.

When I reconnected I told her the postie had brought a parcel which needed signing for! She was phoning to ask if it was still OK for Gran to come over. I said that it was and we’d be there at 10.30. 

After I had hung up I promised that the next time Laura called her Mum (or vice versa) I was going to do the same to her. She said that she’d call her Mum straight away then! LOL.

We drove over to Mum’s almost immediately, I walked Callie up the lane and then Laura drove along to pick us both up. Gran had a small suitcase packed even though she was only staying the night and we bundled her into the car, not literally, and headed for Higger Tor. I had arranged this walk with her and Mum earlier on as it was quite flat and had great views over the Derbyshire Dales. Gran hasn’t walked anywhere in the Sheffield area and I thought this would be pretty easy for her and, hopefully, quite interesting.

We walked across to the old hill fort first and then sort of doubled back to hit Stanage Pole next before returning to the car. I had assumed that it would take us about an hour and a half, I had forgotten Gran’s aged and relative frailty and we ended up taking over two and a half hours. This meant a swift change of plans for lunch and we headed to Fox House rather than my planned destination of the Yorkshire Bridge in Bamford. It was a good call as we only just made the cut off point for lunches at the Fox, we would have been far too late at the bridge.

She may be small and frail but she certainly packs away the food. She had cleared her plate before I had and was already deciding which dessert to have as Laura and I laid down our gobbling rods. She was going to have the fish as her main but I had to spoil our dinner surprise by telling her she was having fish for tea, in the end we all had their home made meat and potato pie with Henderson’s Relish, of course.  Gran had never heard of it, which being a South Yorkshire delicacy is hardly surprising. She really liked it though so I told her she could take a bottle of mine back to Scotland with her when she went.

We had different desserts, Gran having apple crumble, Laura had hot chocolate fudge cake and I had lemon meringue pie. I had made one for tea but I just can’t resist if it is on a restaurant menu. I am pleased to say the Fox’s one was very good; not quite as lemony as mine but the meringue was lovely and crusty but soft  inside.

We hit chez nous at about 4pm and Gran wanted the TV on so she could catch the football results and see how Hibernian had done. She and Granda were staunch enemies across a footba field, Granda being a Hearts fan and Gran supporting the other Edinburgh club, Hibs. She once said she nearly hadn’t married him when she discovered his footba team! I think she may actually have been serious too.

The Green side had gone down 2-0 with one of their men sent off in the first half, so the Perth lot strolled it. She was really annoyed but delighted that Hearts had lost on Friday night which sort of took the edge of her team losing. I cannot see what the logic behind that thinking is!

Our evening meal was salmon en croute which was cooking nicely by itself as we’d arrived home.

After our meal, fortified with a glass or two of very nice Sicilian white wine I had found somewhere we decamped to the lounge where Gran was happy not to have the TV on. This was a major relief I thought she might be going to want to watch Match of the Day or something equally as awful.

We ended up gossiping about all sorts of things way into the evening. Including her Childhood during the Second World War, that even managed to touch as far north as the Scottish Borders, and how she met Granda. It was fascinating to hear her perspective on things and to see how little (politically) she and Mum have in common. I was tempted to ask her why Mum had moved into the land of the Sassenachs but decided that may be a question too far.

What did surprise me was she asked what the green light was on the box under the TV, when it turned from red to green. I explained it was recording BBC4’s new Italian detective film; Inspector De Luca. She asked if she could watch it with us. It seems she is a huge fan of Montalbano and was hoping to see if this new offering from the Beeb was any good. That is what we did. Afterwards she was quite tired so she retired to her room after a nightcap of hot drinking chocolate.

I declined the chocolate and took Callie for her end of day walk. When I got back Laura and I had a chat about my Gran and I was pleased that Laura found her as interesting and feisty as I did. Luckily she hasn’t yet witnessed her stubbornness of her temper, which may cause her to revise her opinion a little. I didn’t mention those.

Sunday March 23^rd.

I was up with the larks as usual and was surprised to find Gran in the kitchen already sat at the kitchen table with a cuppa, reading yesterday’s “i” newspaper. She told me she thought it was very good and she might start getting it herself, she was critical of me having “the Times”too, though and chastised me for giving any money to Murdoch. I explained it was for the crossword that we bought it. I showed her the completed Saturday Jumbo crossword.

“How long did it take you to complete this?” she asked. I was able to say that yesterday’s took me about 45 minutes, which is quite good for their jumbo cryptic. I think she was impressed. She certainly gave me a searching appraising look before I scooted off with the woofie who had been surprised by Gran’s appearance downstairs before me (and probably because Gran hadn’t let her out, as I usually do before putting my footwear on for her walk).

I gave her the newt count when we got back. [Zero] I had to then go into a lengthy explanation of what my newt rescue service was and how we tried our best to prevent newtmageddon on the top road.

“You never cease to surprise me, Victoria!” Was her considered response to that!

I asked her if she fancied a trip out to a local(ish) garden centre this morning as I was looking to buy a couple of plants to fill spaces in the raised beds which had died over the winter. Lavender plants, actually. The dead ones had left gaps which made the two side raised beds take on the appearance of a boxer’s mouth, with all the gaps where his teeth should be.

It was decided we would go lavender buying this morning and also have a look at Wentworth Woodhouse house as well. I didn’t think it was open for tours today but the exterior is stunning and if it was open, their mini tour is worth a look. The full house tour promises to be magnificent but I don’t think they have started doing them yet and Gran may have baulked at the price being, £25 each!

Laura and I prepped the veggies in double quick time and put the lamb joint in to cook while we were out. With Callie getting a bit excited about a second weekend jaunt we drove over Jawbone Hill, stopping at the top to let Gran have a look at the view south over Sheffield. She recognised the water towers right on the southern horizon as being where she and Mum caught the tram into town when they went to Meadowhall. I think she was surprised at just how big an area the city actually covers and how hilly it is.

Callie had to remain in the car at the Wentworth garden centre, but we weren’t there all that long (OK maybe an hour and a half!) but then she loved racing about the parkland at Wentworth Woodhouse. We strolled along all 600+ feet of the house front, which is unbelievably spectacular; we explore the grounds and then took Gran to walk through the ‘needle’. There has been much speculation about the needle’s purpose. The locals all say it was about a wager Lord Rockingham had made about driving a carriage through the eye of a needle however, as a historian, I have to point out there is no evidence at all to support this claim despite extensive research undertaken to prove its veracity. I think the only thing we can say for certain is it was built in the 18^th century and its true purpose remains unknown.

Back home the lamb was cooked to perfection for us which meant Gran wanted only the edge bits as she isn’t keen on pink meat. (No, that’s not a euphemism!) We had far too much of everything, which is often what we do, so we plated up a meal each for Laura and I for Monday, too.

Mum arrived at about four thirty in time for a high tea and more gossip. Dad has invited her to go and stay at the caravan on Arran if she wants, which almost made me fall off my chair! She has told him that the drive all the way from Sheffield to Ardrossan is not one she would particularly relish but she will bear his offer in mind. I think he must have done so because I had told him I was planning to ask Mum to come for a week with us at Easter Break. She did say she’d love to come with us but had put Dad off for political reasons.

Gran went back to Holmesfield with Mum after tea and she’s staying with her until next weekend at least so she can go and visit the new great grandchild again. I did think she might mention me and motherhood during her stay but fortunately she didn’t. Maybe she is learning tact as she grows older? It is a pity Phil and Jane haven’t got their finger out for the Christening but they can be very dilatory about stuff. It will just mean Gran has to make the journey down from Hawick again in the near future for that too.

Laura and I have decided that my Gran is one of the good people, I wonder what she says about us to her cronies back in Scotland?

A relatively early night tonight as we both felt a bit drained by playing the ideal hosts to our visitor. A footnote to this entry, Mum sent a text (quite a rarity in itself, TBH) saying Gran had thoroughly enjoyed her stay with us and thought I made an excellent hausfrau. Is that a compliment or an insult?

A reduced post about the Reduced Shakespeare Company (and other stuff too).

Monday 17^th March.

58 birthday cards! 58! That is almost 30% more than last year. What have I done to garner such popularity? Whatever it is I will have to find out so I can keep doing it.

Dad’s surprise present is a book of six journeys for the Arran Ferry in my name with my car as named vehicle. What a star. Laura bought me the first of a series of six pewter goblets to drink my wine from and pretend I am an aristocrat! She is planning on one per birthday and Christmas until I have six. [I think that sentiment was what made me cry rather than the goblet itself. She is definitely committed to us as a couple!]

Laura wasn’t at work tonight as she had booked us a table at the restaurant so we could have a meal there together. This was a totally unexpected treated, even more so as Mum and Gran had been invited too! Dominic made a huge fuss of them both claiming he could see why I was so beautiful, because I had such a gorgeous mother and grandmother. I am not sure they fell for his flannel but they were both pleased with the compliments. I had a crab and pasta concoction which was absolutely scrumptious; Laura had the scallop dish she had made for me the other week; Mum had a chicken and pasta dish and Gran had lasagne. She claimed it was the best lasagne she had ever eaten. Perhaps she was returning the flannel, maybe she was genuine; it certain made Dom preen.

Gran was just full of her new Great Grand Daughter, Sophie, this is new to me (again) as I wasn’t around to witness her reaction to the other ones being either at University, in School at Norwich or in Australia when they came along. She now has six of them, which is a pretty fine number. I sort of hinted that with six she didn’t really need any more, did she?

She was angry. I was surprised. She may be old but her memory is intact, “What about the idea of you and Richard having two, then? It would be a betrayal of his memory if you didn’t have any, don’t you think?”

Ouch Gran. That was definitely a low punch. An exocet missile of a punch. I know my eyes brimmed with water but I was able not to blub and luckily Mum changed the subject to a less contentious topic. [Quite appropriate that an exocet should be dispatched my way in Sheffield.]

On the way back to Mum’s car she actually whispered to me, “I am sorry if I upset you with my comments in there. You sort of brought it on yourself and I only said what I was thinking. I know it’s your life and your body and none of my business. So I am sorry, again, for being a silly old woman.”

I muttered conciliatory remarks too and we parted best of friends again. She has agreed to stay over on Saturday night into Sunday at ours this coming weekend and is looking forward to a short stroll in the countryside if the weather is clement.

Laura thought she was being and old fossil with the Richard remark and she said she half expected her to round on our relationship next. She had decided if that happened she would just get up and leave rather than say or do anything else. Phew. World War Three averted in the most unusual place.

Tuesday March 18^th.

My two part day was pretty much as usual. I was given a handful of late birthday cards at XXX & Y, which was very nice. Including one from s certain accountant at the firm. Fortunately his message was pretty plain and simple, not gushing or embarrassing or anything. When I got home from work there were still more waiting there too, brought by the postie this morning. How come people have trouble remembering my birthday is on St Patrick’s Day? It shouldn’t be difficult you’d think.

Mum and Gran went shopping at Meadowhall today and Gran was suitably impressed by the place. Mum said she absolutely hooted when she told her about me and Kaybers being thrown out for roller blading in there. They had caught the tram in from Herdings Park, the southern route terminus, and Gran thought that was brilliant too. I sort of forget that she hasn’t been to Sheffield all that much and is still discovering the delights of the city. I promised to meet them for lunch on Friday and we’d go to the Turkish restaurant on Broomhill for lunch. I said that I would bring Felice along, that should liven up Gran’s day too!

Once again Laura was at the restaurant but tonight it was for work not being a customer. She was really tired out when she got back in so we had a relatively early sleep.

Definitely a Radio Stars day today.

Wednesday March 19^th.

I hugged an actor tonight. I felt a bit silly afterwards and a bit like a foolish schoolgirl but the trio of guys had entertained us so well for almost two hours, so when we met them in the foyer afterwards where they were doing a meet and greet session I just couldn’t help it.

We went to see The Reduced Shakespeare Company’s “The Bible, the complete word of God (abridged)” at the Nottingham Playhouse. It is somewhere I have never been before but we were given excellent directions from Mrs Briggs and we drove almost straight to it. I parked in an Underground multi-storey carpark, which was quite unusual, and the theatre itself was just a couple of hundred yards away from there.

We found an eaterie to have a swift bite to eat as Laura had picked me up straight from work and we had driven down to Nottingham without eating. The theatre is compact and bijou and reminded me of a smaller Crucible being quite stark and modern looking, not at all what I was expecting.

The play is the one which was banned in Ireland (and then unbanned) by a selection of narrow minded bigots who hadn’t even seen or read the damn thing. It just gives further evidence of how religion makes people stupid, in my humble opinion! I have seen their Complete Works of Shakespeare, which is hilarious, so I was expecting great things of this one too.

We were not disappointed. The bigoted Northern Irish would have found nothing to twist their knickers either, for while it was extremely funny, it was not in any way irreverent, profane or blasphemous. OK, the Prime Bigot of Ireland – The Reverend Ian Paisley – would have found something to hate about it but then he is the most reactionary bastard on the planet so it would have been no surprise!

They didn’t actually do the ‘Complete’ word of God, just the edited highlights, with the first half being devoted to the Old Testament  and the second half (loosely) to the New. I said loosely because they introduced an audience participation section about Noah’s Ark in the second half which made me glad we were in the middle of a row not at the end. It was funny though seeing people pretending to be animals from the Ark.

If you haven’t seen the show, or any of their shows, go and see one. See them all. Give your chuckle muscles a thorough workout. You’ll be so pleased you did.

Like I mentioned at the start, after the show they announced they’d be doing a signing of programmes and a chat in the foyer so we duly lined up with the other grockles to have our proggies signed and that was when I threw decorum out of the window and gave the hunkiest looking of the guys a hug. I think he was quite surprised (I know I was) and he just muttered something about they were staying at the local Travel Inn, which got a laugh from those around who heard.

Not to be outdone, Laura gave the same guy a hug too. She told me afterwards that she felt she had to so that she wouldn’t feel left out. Way to go Laura.

Driving into Nottingham, in daylight was quite straightforward, driving out was a nightmare. I was sure we must have got lost as I couldn’t see the M1 sign for quite a while and then all of a sudden we found ourselves at the M1 roundabout. Places do look so different in the dark, especially if you don’t know the route and you don’t trust sat nav. We were able to drive right up to Chapeltown on the M1 so a swift ride over Jaw Bone Hill and we were home in under an hour!

Thursday 20^th March.

Swim and walk and the normal routine kicked in again today. Felice couldn’t quite get her head round the fact we had been to see three people tell the Bible story in two hours at the theatre last night. I had to explain it several times before she understood, I think.

Then a few hours later she came and told me she’d surfed to their website and now fully understood what I had been talking about and if they were playing nearby again I had to invite her to go too. The woman is as ditzy as me sometimes!

I asked her if she wanted to join us at Lokanta tomorrow and she jumped at the chance. She has met Mum before but not my Gran. They could either hit it off famously or it could be a disaster. My Gran used to be quite a fluent French speaker when she was young so that may be a surprise for Feli.

Laura came bursting into the broom cupboard at lunchtime to ask if I wanted to go a student party on Friday night? One of the crew with whom we went out for a meal not so long ago has invited her and me to a do at their house tomorrow night. It is pretty short notice but Laura seemed really keen to go so I said it would be a good idea.

When she had gone back to her studies in the afternoon I reflected on another student party I had been to in Cambridge where I had met Richard. Who would have thought my life would have been so turned around by attending that one particular event? Until Laura came along I would have said Richard was the best thing that happened to me. Laura is joint first with him now. Would I be tempting fate going to another student party? I know I am just over thinking things, again. I am guilty as charged on all counts when it comes to that.

Once again Laura was working at the restaurant tonight and it seems she had an almost identical conversation with Dominic about last night’s show as I had with Felice. He didn’t get the idea either. Maybe that shows just how radical an idea their work actually is. I don’t think it can be down to the fact that Feli and Dom are foreigners, I think it is just the unique nature of what The RSC are about.

Laura wasn’t so tired after work tonight, so we made ourselves tired by some other kind of work instead. 

Living frogs by Crummockwater restore birthday girl's happiness.

Friday 14^th March.

We weren’t ships passing in the night, Dad & I, he drove down from Lancaster (where he works) and we drove up the east side of the country on the M1, A1 and A66. I love the A66 from Scotch Corner it is one of the nicest routes I have driven in the UK.

We got to Dad’s about 4pm and walked the dogs at once. It was a surprising mild day for Cumbria but not as warm as it had been in Sheffield when we left. Dad called at about 5 o’clock to let me know he had arrived safely but that my house had been burgled and all the contents sold for charity. He does this a lot. If he’d not put the sold for charity bit I might have been taken in.

Part of our swapsie’s deal was I was going (with Loll) to the pub grand refurbishment tonight and he was going to see the Halle tomorrow at the City Hall. He wanted to put his nose in at the pub so he has an alternative to the Bush but won’t be there, so I have to make myself known as his proxy. Why do I agree to such stuff?

Mum phoned to say Gran will be down to hers tomorrow and they are waiting to visit Sophie until Monday when Dad has returned to Cumbria. That way there won’t be world war three when my Gran meets Dad. Gran is getting a train down instead of driving herself. I am so pleased. She is a bit old to be driving all that way by herself, pottering around Hawick and the border towns is one thing but over 200 miles down busy motorways is another altogether.

Mum has persuaded her to stay for a week and a bit so we will have some time together at my place next weekend. I have invited her to stay at my house but whether she does is another matter entirely. 

Grannies have their own agenda.

According to Laura I snogged everyone in the pub last night. I am sure I didn’t. I did make myself known as John’s Daughter and the woman behind the bar seemed to know what I was talking about. 

Unluckily, Laura’s oldest sister and husband were at the pub too and they announced to all and sundry that it was my birthday (it is on Monday, but not Friday) this resulted in masses of drinks arriving at our table for me. Luckily, I was drinking those mini bottle of wine (with a screw cap) so my drinks arrived ready packed to take with me if I didn’t drink them at the pub.

The last thing I can remember clearly is getting into an argument with some idiot about immigration and how the Tories were distorting and misrepresenting the figures to make immigrants the scapegoats for the country’s ills rather than their stupid policies and the recklessness of the wanker bankers! I did get birthday kisses from a couple of people but I don’t believe I snogged the whole pub! [Now as an undergraduate, that would not only have been most probably true but I would almost certainly have slept with at least one of them too! I am so pleased that Laura doesn’t know about my grubby past…]

When I woke up this morning (it is now Saturday early o’clock) I had eleven unopened bottles on the kitchen table, so god knows how many I drank. I am quite fortunate as wine doesn’t give me too much of a hangover, whisky does but not wine. I am a seasoned sozzler when it comes to the grape.

Saturday 15^th March.

We decided, after a brilliant breakfast of bacon and egg baps smothered in red sauce, to go to Crummockwater. The cloud was looking a bit gloomy but I thought I could detect breaks here and there. So at about 10.30 we parked up at Lanthwaite Wood car park and climbed up my fell. There were a few buzzards about but we didn’t spot any Red Squirrels. The clouds did begin to break a bit as we descended to the boat house on the east shore of the lake so we decided to walk round to the other shore and buy ourselves lunch at the Kirkstile Inn.

On the opposite shore from the boathouse we could see the newly installed ‘waterdoor’ quite clearly. It looks exactly like an up and over garage door from that distance. I wonder who could have had it put on and more importantly, why?

The best bit of the day was the pond which is situated right by the path at the side of the limnological tower (assuming it is a limnological tower and not just a water draw-off point for the lake). This is a small affair only a few yards across and in the spring it is brimming with frogspawn and later on tadpoles, I decided to have a peek in to its depths to see if I could spot a frog or two. I did! Between us Laura and I counted 16 of the creatures swimming about, hiding in the debris at the bottom of the pond and a few actually bonking! It was brilliant! Back in Sheffield I only get to see the remnants of frogs after they have been squashed by passing cars here we were able to squat down at the water’s edge and watch them in their natural environment. It was truly amazing. I wonder how many of the people who walk along this lake side path ever spend the time to look into the pond and see the life teeming there?

We strolled round to the pub where I had my usual beef and caramelised red onion baguette and chips with a glass of white wine (I know I shouldn’t with beef but what the heck). Laura had a ham salad baguette and chips and wine too. Callie sprawled out in front of the roaring fire and after lunch, I must admit, I felt like joining her on the carpet. As usual there was nothing chocolaty as a dessert on the menu (when will they learn) so we made our way back to the car park armed with a mars bar each instead.

The frog pond was equally as unnoticed as we walked by but even a casual glance, without bending over revealed five frogs almost immediately but then Mrs Clodhopper decided to step into the pond and cloudied up all the water. Sometimes my dog is a real pain!

We drove back to Dad’s avoiding the mess that is the Cockermouth Main Street utility replacement programme by turning off by Hundith Hall Hotel and heading for Eaglesfield School instead. We felt a little overcome by the effort, the food and the alcohol when we got back to Dad’s, plus the three woffies who’d been cooped up in their kennel were a bit overpowering in their welcome on our return, so we had a longish snooze in the lounge. One sofa each. (That’s me and Laura, not the dogs.)

Laura woke me up at about 6.30 with a glass of pink wine and a promise of a homemade burger for tea to follow. The little star, eh? We spent the rest of the night steadily drinking our way through the 10 remaining mini bottle of wine from the pub. We also watched the final two episodes of Salamander which I thought ended surprising well, although that may have been the alcohol clouding my judgement. 

I wobbled my way up Tallentire Hill with Dad’s three dogs and Callie while Laura went to get the bed warm for my return. I confess I only sat on the bench at the corner where the road bends down to Gilcrux for a moment but my phone revealed I must have been asleep on there for at least thirty-five minutes! I had got a bit chilly out in the open like that but the dogs had either spread themselves at my feet: Callie and Dad’s silly spaniel; or were snuffling about in the hedgerow without a care in the world. I wobbled back down to our old holiday home and found Miss Thomas pushing the zeds with a soft snore that seemed to indicate she’d been out for a while. I snuggled up next to her and she muttered, “I love you, you know…” and was off again.

Sunday 16^th March.

One day to my birthday. I will be 27. It is frightening how quickly it seems since I was seventeen although to be honest I don’t feel any different now to what I did then, except I know a hell of a lot more things! When I was seventeen Dad and Mum hadn’t officially split up although he had moved to his job in Sheffield leaving Mum and me in Norwich. This was the beginning of the end really, I can see that in retrospect. Mum got her job in Sheffield at the end of my first term in the upper sixth and moved to Sheffield too. I spent the next part of my life commuting during school holidays to Sheffield from Norwich and spending term time with Kaybers (Charlotte) and her Mum. My 18^th birthday was spent getting pissed with Kaybers in the town centre and trying to get a couple of guys to drive us to Cromer in their car. They didn’t.

What ever happened to that girl?

Back to reality. Dad phoned to say the Halle were excellent and the Scottish Symphony the best performance of it he’d seen. Drat and double drat! They were not setting off back until after tea time so we would probably be ships passing in the night again. He would leave my card and pressie on the kitchen table for me. I wondered what he could have bought. He did hint it was useful but I would get great pleasure out of using it. Mmmm….

Laura isn’t quite as used to the fermented grape as YT so she was a bit on the delicate side this morning. A couple of the same style eggy bacon baps from yesterday seemed to revive her a bit and lunch at her Mum & Dad’s brought her up to speed, if she wasn’t before.

Molly gave me a birthday card from her and Eric and even Steven had a card for me which was a surprise. Still, he is quite a nice lad despite being fourteen now! There is time for him to change and become like his father though! I asked if they’d be offended if I didn’t open them now as it is our family tradition to open cards etc on the day of the birthday. They were quite happy for me to do that.

We pottered back to Dad’s mid arvo. I had a swift clean round everywhere we had been, and places we hadn’t, and we left Dad’s at about 3.45pm.

We may have been ships passing in the night as I drove back the M6 way this afternoon but, even if we were, I didn’t see Dad’s Citroen on the other side of the motorway. Back at chez nous there was a pile of cards on the kitchen table and an envelope marked “Present. Not to be opened until Monday”. This was dad’s offering. I was very intrigued as to what it could be that would be so useful and give me great pleasure in an envelope. Being the good girl that I am I resisted temptation and left it with the card pile to be opened on Monday morning.

An early night was required by all, so at just past 10pm Callie and I went for the last walk of my Unbirthday. Laura wasn’t asleep when we got back so we made like some of those naughty frogs in the pond for a while. Ohh la la!

Extra-mural sexual activity...

Monday March 10th.

 I am going to stop recording newts moved or died, it is so upsetting having to shift bodies never mind reporting doing it. So it will cease forthwith and forever. Probably that makes it one of the shortest wildlife surveys ever, apart from the annual Dodo count that is.

 We swam as usual and then spent a relatively uneventful day at Uni. Laura has had her latest assignment marks back and as usual she has recorded the highest grade in her group. Rah rah rah! Beautiful and clever; the perfect combination!

 We had lunch on Broomhill to celebrate the highest marks with a few of her peers. It was nice to see that she’s been accepted in to the group despite arriving late [She transferred from another Uni in September.] What is even better is that they accept her and my relationship and aren’t stuffy or awkward about having a pair of raging lesbians in their midst… ROFL.

 We have decided to do a home swap with Dad this weekend. He and Louisa are coming down for more baby viewing and we are going to do some dog sitting for a couple of days. Plus the pub in the next village is having a grand reopening after its refurbishment, so we will be going to that too. Gilcrux has two pubs / bars which do food. The Barn Bistro does excellent food but can be a bit on the pricy side across the road, the Mason’s Arms does equally as good food – in a pub – and is therefore quite a bit cheaper. The Mason’s is the pub having its grand do on the 14th.

Our idea is; on Friday we will pass like ships in the night somewhere on the A1, Dad will stay in my house and I’ll stay in his. The same thing will happen sometime on Sunday too, in reverse. Laura spent the evening at the restaurant again and I put the absolute last stitch into the first panel for my cabinet! I am very pleased with it. I took a few pictures of it and have wrapped it in acid free tissue paper and stored it in my embroidery trunk [it is what doubles as a table in the attic study]. We both walked Callie for her final walk of the day and yes there were newts to move.

Bugger, I said I wasn’t going to mention them. Still I am reporting what happened.

We had a major snog leaning on the gate that leads down that leads down to Don View House and the bloody thing swung open! Luckily Laura had the sense to jump onto the gate with me and we continued the tonsil tennis until the gate hit the end stop and knocked us both from it. The people who live here are very posh and it would have surprised me if we’d set off an alarm or something. We ran down the road whooping and giggling like a pair of silly schoolgirls. I guess mentally we still are!

 Tuesday March 11th.

 Callie found a huge stick this morning on our walk. She is quite keen on sticks – it’s a dog thing. She usually picks one up, carries it for a while and then something else distracts her attention so she abandons it. This morning I guess the challenge of trying to balance the thing in her mouth so it didn’t drag along the road and path must have kept her brain cell occupied for longer than usual.

Why do I mention the retrieving habits of my dog you may be wondering? Has the bespectacled one finally tripped over the thin line from genius into insanity? No. It refer to it because the bloody stupid wazzock of a dog used it to trip me up head first into the largest bramble patch in the known universe.

 I suppose it was my fault because I had spotted a green woodpecker in the newly planted pasture and as such I wasn’t paying any attention to what The Muse of Epic Poetry was doing. The woodpecker flew further in to the field for me to see properly and as I turned the woofter managed to get the stick right between my legs at about knee height. To be fair I only caught the edge of the brambles, I sort of half rolled, half fell into the brambles and grass verge. Sadly it was my head that came into contact with most of the evil tendrils of this bloody plant and it took me quite a while to get my hair untangled from them. [I was holding my hat as I had got too hot tramping up through Hill Top Woods and had removed it. That may have prevented me getting as caught up.] Luckily I had my ski-gloves in my jacket pocket so I was able to put those on to grab the suckers wrapping themselves into my locks. With two lengths of sucker I had to give up and snapped them off, leaving them in my hair for removal when I got home.

 Laura was a) shocked and b) amused when I strolled in with my new hair extensions. By carefully cutting the lengths of sucker into smaller sections she was able to get all of them out without removing too much of my hair in the process.

Sarah at the pool thought Laura deserved a medal for not just pulling the whole lot out at once. Well, thanks for that!

 I had more promotion at work this afternoon again as Mrs B was off for the rest of the day and tomorrow too. It simply means I will be the first port of call for any queries addressed to ARR. I handled hardly any the last time she was away but you never know the warmer weather may have brought the crazies out of the woodwork and I’ll be needed to delve into the depths of our archives! I wasn’t this afternoon, so why Wednesday should be any different I don’t know?

 Laura had cooked a pasta dish of Dom’s for dinner tonight, it was delicious. She said it was identical to the restaurant one except for the fact we didn’t have penne so she’d used fusilli. I would have known. Not.

I walked her down to the restaurant tonight and watched her get ready for work, she looked so hot in her black skirt I just wanted to do naughty things with her in the staff room – she wouldn’t let me (obviously), she said if I walked down to collect her afterwards we could do things to each other in Coumes Wood on the way back. We did.

I’d walked back down in my denim skirt with no underwear, she had discovered this fact by the time we got to the path alongside the doctor’s surgery. We spend rather a long time on the new concrete steps up the bank side. The thought of being caught makes it even more exciting. I had even placed a smallish purple object in my handbag which was soon hidden in two different locations.

 As we walked along the last bit of the lane to my house Laura said, “God, that was so exciting. I am getting wet again just thinking about it…” We were going to do it again on our garden wall behind Callie’s dog kennel but we bumped into Muriel as we came up to our conservatory door.

Chatting to her made me realise we shouldn’t be caught by the neighbours bonking in our own garden, so we went inside instead and did it in the kitchen, the lounge, on the stairs, in the shower and in the bedroom. Never was a small purple item so well used!

 Richard’s photo on my bedside made me think of all the times I had persuaded him to fuck me outside, in locations we could be caught. He’d been very reluctant at first but had eventually warmed to the idea. The only time he had refused my desire was when I wanted to blow him in a telephone box in the town centre. I wonder if Laura would be up for a little reciprocated frolicking in a call box?

 Wednesday 12th March.

 The power! The Power! It would be gratifying to report that I had excelled as Mrs. B’s stand in for the day and a half of her absence but I would be mendacious in the extreme if I did. I actually did nothing at all, all day; nothing in my role as the temporary stand in Mrs B. that is. There were no calls put through to her, no urgent request which only a skilled deputy could handle during her absence. Nada. Zilch. Rien.

 I was expecting the day to be more interesting than it turned out it seems, still this is not a fault I am sure. It must be better to have boundless optimism than to be a misery guts? The rest of the non-work part of the day was another Radio Stars tune. Still life would be tedious if exciting things happened all the time.

Laura had another gastronomic delight waiting for me as I got home. It was a chicken type dish in a white wine sauce which she claims is her own invention and was delicious.

I asked if she was up for a repeat performance of last night’s sexual gymnastics and she said, “Yes, but bring the car this time!” So I picked her up at about 11.15 and we parked up just along from the Convent, overlooking the Strines Valley, and we had a more comfortable exploration of each other’s valleys.

 Thursday 13th March.

 When we got back from swimming there was my first birthday card waiting for (sometimes the Postie is very early) it was from my Gran in Hawick. She’d put a letter inside saying she is coming down on Saturday to see the new Great Grand Child and will be staying at Mum’s for a week. She also said she has now got Skype. Rah Rah Rah.

I will attempt to find her during the day and hopefully have a chat. Uni was much of a muchness. I did get another three cards though which was nice, all from the personal Tutor group, including one from Mandy who seems to have calmed down a lot this term compared to the first one. (I must stop calling them terms, I sound like my Mum.) I hadn’t realised I had told anyone in the group when my birthday was, but I obviously have. Still, I do make a joke about not being called Patricia to people so it is quite likely, I suppose.

 We packed up a few item overnight so all we’d need to do tomorrow is get the pup and zoom off and while Laura was at the restaurant I gave the house a mega clean through. Dad and Louisa will find the place spotless. I bet he leaves it a mess though, one of the downsides (it seems) of having your own cleaner is it makes you less tidy or thoughtful about cleanliness. Certainly Dad is getting more and more scruffy in his old age when it comes to his level of house pride!

 I just hope he and Gran don’t meet at Phil’s because I know she’ll kill him! In fact it would be quite amusing to be there if they did meet just to watch the fireworks. She is not averse to speaking her mind about her former son-in-law and his despicable behaviour and he, being an Australian, would be equally as forthright back! I might warn Phil and Jane and as them to video any encounter between them because it would be a shame to miss it! LOL

Tonight we didn’t indulge in extra mural sexual activity, we confined ourselves to the shower and bedroom after I had walked the woofie. Well, you prefer the comfort really, don’t you?

A weekend worshiping the newborn. Me? Broody? Who said that?

Friday March 7^th.

I don’t know how he gets the time off work but Dad called at lunchtime saying they had arrived at my house, had left themselves in, exercised Callie and had a drink. They were going to zoom off over to Horsforth for the afternoon and we weren’t to bother about dinner because they’d be back at 6 with an Indian Takeaway for us. Did I want Jalfrezi as usual? What would Loll want?

What can you do with him, eh? He just does stuff. He always has. This is probably where I get my sense of adventure from and love of travel. [It is certainly not from Mum, that’s for sure.]

We met up with the science bods again and their Professor. He [it always seems to be a “he” have you noticed?] was of the opinion that they could use any work done on our project as credits for their degree course. They will be mainly using multi-spectral imaging and if they need a different approach they can go down the x-ray fluorescence route. I sort of understand the multi-spectral stuff but x-ray fluorescence left me floundering. Felice wasn’t floundering as far as Eddie was concerned and when we got back to her office she told me they had arranged a date for tomorrow.  Laura thought it was a hoot and that she was only being true to her character. Leopards and spots.

I mentioned the male bias in professorships to our supervisor and she told me that a few of the female professors on the staff had made a video for the local newspaper about that very issue. I went and searched the Sheffield Star pages and sure enough, among all the coverage for Sheffield United being in the FA Cup semi-finals if they beat Charlton (Yawn Yawn) was their video. Laura’s own professor was on it! Plus the woman from Bible studies whom I have met a couple of times. They were pretty damning of the culture where undergrads and post grads are about even in gender  numbers (being 50/50 across the board) but when it comes to Professorships the ratio drops to 90/10 in favour of men.

The Bible Studies lecturer had a theory about this, namely not enough women blow their own trumpet about their achievements. In reading between the lines she was arguing that we are too self-effacing and we don’t lie like men do! According to her when we encounter the word “NO” we just accept it and move on to something new, whereas men keep pushing and kicking against it. It struck me this is also the reason so many women get raped and sexually abused. We say “NO” but men’s psyche makes them not believe it. In other words, it is the rapist mentality in men which gets them their professorships! I don’t imagine she meant it in quite that way but if you extrapolate the logic behind what she is saying it is obvious.

Laura thought I was just being too radically feminist in my condemnation of men but I had to contend it was that very attitude of hers which meant men would always take the lion’s share of everything. They still bloody do in our society despite our so called equality. She had to agree I was right. I don’t think it is my lesbianism which is turning me into a man hater, it is just the way society (run by men) has organised itself to keep us women oppressed which makes me so angry. A world organised and run by women would be so much nicer.

Dad (and Louisa) weren’t home when we got back so we had a cuddly snuggle on the sofa. Callie made nary a sound when they did roll up (5.45) and so Louisa walked in on me stroking Laura’s hair whilst cuddling on the sofa. Her reaction was quite weird, she pulled a face like a sucked lemon and went “Oh, Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt….” I think she thought we were up to some “perverted” lesbian act on our living room sofa.

Dad came in like a boisterous puppy and said, “Right, enough of the lovey dovey stuff, get your arses to the table, Grub’s up!” Laura woke up at this and was none the wiser to what had transpired. I know it’s nothing really but I was a little surprised by Louisa’s face pulling and comment. It is not as though we have made a secret of our relationship and at Dad’s we regularly cuddle up and caress each other (nothing sexual) on Dad’s sofa in front of them both. Maybe her hormones were out of kilter at viewing the new baby? Who can say? Perhaps I was just reading too much into a fleeting glance and an unguarded comment?

Indian food is gorgeous. We had different mains each and Dad had also brought sag aloo and chana masala as well. We had a taste of everyone else’s main and wolfed the lot. I love the flavour of Jalfrezi it is so spicy but it doesn’t blow your head off. Dad had also managed to purloin several bottles of Indian Lager, which only he drank; we cultured ladies drank wine with our meal. He was disappointed to hear I had none of the Belgian Blue beer left from the Bradfield brewery as he would have like to try it. He is going to drive over the hill tomorrow to see if they have any of the Christmas brew left. I very much doubt they will.

The Aged parent came with me as I walked Callie at the end of the day, which was nice. He thinks seeing the new baby has upskittled Louisa a little as she and he have been trying for a baby for a while now. He was impressed by the way my child skills had manifested themselves at the hospital; apparently Jane couldn’t get over the way I had held Sophie in one arm and pointed stuff out to her as naturally as though I had been doing it for years! I hadn’t thought about it, I’d just done it! It seemed obvious.

I suppose quite naturally this lead on to him asking if I had thought about having one of my own. I told him I had thought about it a lot and if all things had gone to plan he’d have two grandchildren from me by now! That shut him up a bit and he did have the grace to say sorry. I told him what I tell everyone, when I have completed my PhD and got settled in the next phase of my life I will think again about the question but until then it is off the agenda.

The cheeky bugger said he understood and that living with Laura would present a complication. I bit at that one and replied that if I was still with Laura (and I didn’t see why I shouldn’t be) getting pregnant could be quite easily achieved without having to abandon our relationship. It had the desire effect, I shocked him. When I told him I could always do a Garp’s mother, it made him almost swallow the mint I’d just given him.  Not to be out done (I think) he answered “That’s My Girl!”.

As we walked back to my little house with an arm round each other’s waist like a May to September couple, I sort of wondered was that a normal sort of conversation between a 26 year old girl and her father? I suppose it is with my Dad.

Saturday March 8^th.

Arrghh! Four newts and a frog/toad squashed. I am going to stop keeping count. It is just too upsetting.

We went to the pool this morning and Sarah was all ears to hear about baby Sophie. [She wasn’t on early shift yesterday.]  Laura told her it had made me broody and that I was contemplating having sex with a complete stranger just to get pregnant. The floor could have opened up and swallowed me on the spot. Where does she get it from? [Erm… That would be me, actually. It is kinda cute and kinda scary hearing your own sarcasm being voice by someone else.]

We were able to reassure her we were only joking. The description of Sophie and her shock of hair made her forget about our silliness. Laura did go on to tell her that I was a natural with little Sophie, so much so that Sophie’s Mum (Jane) had told my Dad about it.

After the splash we had a family breakfast and the Aged P & Louisa announced they were off to Meadow Hall for the morning and then they’d drive straight up the motorway to Phil’s after lunch. As soon as they’d gone I got on the phone to Mum who must’ve broken the land speed record from Holmesfield to my house. [She did tell me she had driven round the edge – our name for avoiding the town centre.] We made Phil & Jane’s by 10.30.

Luckily we had none of the “Oh Vicky is a born mother” type chatter. Although, I did catch Mum giving me a sideways look as I played with a toy rabbit with little Sophie. Maybe she is too young to want a Mr Wabbit of her own yet because she didn’t find it as interesting as I would have hoped. She is less than a week old though, so perhaps it isn’t surprising.

Mum just loved the idea of another girl in the family. Coming from one where she was the only girl I can sort of understand it a bit. My older brother and sister are really so much older compared to me that they don’t really count I suppose. I was almost like an only child when I was old enough to realise these things. Angela is so delighted that the three of them will be able to gang up on Peter and her Dad when Sophie is older.

I asked Phil whether he would have preferred a boy and he snapped my head off with a snide aside. I don’t know why as I hadn’t been outrageous or anything. He whispered, “Typical bloody non-parent stupid question!” I made sure I poked him really hard in the ribs as he walked away. What a git! Sometimes he can be a complete arsehole, my brother!

At about 1pm Dad’s car pulled up outside! I recognised his huge Citroen swinging onto Phil’s driveway so I went and told Mum (discretely). I guess I was expecting World War Three to break out but I needn’t have worried. Mum and Louisa hit it off like long lost chums and even Dad held the sarcasm in check for the whole of the time we were together. The look on Dad’s face, though, when he walked into the lounge to see Mum holding little Sophie was priceless. He sort of went through about five or six different faces, ranging from surprise through to petulant annoyance before he settled on his “addressing a full lecture theatre face”. His first words to Mum were in a sort of surprised awe in a way, “Is that your Audi out there, then?” It was as though he couldn’t believe Mum was capable of buying such a cool car on her own.

He actually gave her a quick peck on the cheek (that must have cost him something) and then introduced Louisa to her. I am pretty sure they have met before but I could be mistaken, Mum and she seemed to behave as though it was the first time they had set eyes on each other and they started as friends straight away. By the time we were getting ready to leave I could almost imagine them synchronising their diaries for a girly get together to discuss the foibles of father! From Dad’s expression I think he could too.

As we left yet more people turned up to see the new arrival. One of Jane’s Aunts and Uncles who live in Dewsbury. (Someone has to!) In the car on the way back to chez moi we heard Mum’s opinion of Sophie – a little angel; Phil – a complete prat (she had heard his comment and was surprised I’d only poked him); Me – a star in the making for being so sensible about my brother and so competent with the baby; Dad – a patronising pillock as usual; Louisa – just like Susannah, what was Dad thinking?

Laura chose this moment to pipe up with, “I wish my family were as interesting as yours, Mrs S.” (She always calls Mum Mrs S. Mum has tried to get her to call her Helen but Laura can’t bring herself to do it.) Just out of interest I have been told to call Mum Helen too, but I can’t do it either.

I asked Mum if she wanted to stay for tea but she declined when she realised that Dad & Louisa would be here too.

In the evening I discovered why I hate watching Live commercial TV. Dad had discovered Crufts was being shown on Channel 4 so we sat and watched all of that. The adverts are so annoying. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them. Luckily our choice of viewing next was Salamander – BBC 4 no adverts and with subtitles. In fact the subtitles and the French being spoken veered away quite a bit tonight but I think I am the only one who noticed. Dad and Louisa obviously were not happy bunnies watching episodes 9 and 10 of a serial they hadn’t seen before so they very kindly offered to take Callie for her walk while we watched the last half an hour of Salamander by ourselves.

When they came back in Dad was amazed at Callie, “She’s been pointing newts!”

“Well, yes. I trained her do it so I can move them. If I leave them on the road the chances are they’ll get squashed.”

“Oh.”

With that he and Callie set off again, leaving Louisa behind. He may be a bit of an annoying old fossil at times but he can come good when the occasion demands it. I explained to Louisa how they had suddenly started appearing in large numbers during the last week. She thought it was a very noble thing to do, moving them so they wouldn’t die on the lane. She is alright really. Apart from the fact she wants to give me a half-sister or brother. Actually, when she is behaving like that I don’t think I would mind too much at all. [TBH my only real worry is the health of a baby born to a woman in her early forties, it could be handicapped which would be so upsetting for everyone. I sort of guess who will be called upon to unpaid babysitter for any offspring. Since this week, I don’t think I’d mind at all. Just goes to show how you can alter your opinions given the right circumstances.]

Sunday March 9^th.

A glorious fantabulous day, more like June than March. I persuaded the Aged P and Louisa to stroll from my house to the pub for lunch and then to walk back via the convent (don’t ask) and Coumes Brook to home. The round trip is about five miles. To be honest I had booked us into the Horns for lunch anyway, I just wanted to see if they would come walking with us. From the top of the hill, where the Bolsterstone road crosses you can actually look out across the flat expanse of Yorkshire to the east of Doncaster and on a clear day there are five huge power stations in view. Today was really clear and with my Minolta bins we could make out all five belching beasts over on the flatness.

I detoured by the ruins of the Motte and Bailey castle in Bradfield. These are a sad disappointment for a historian like me. If I ever manage to make Professor I would love to organise the complete and proper excavation of the site and then make a permanent display of the feature. As it is, unless you have a trained eye you could quite easily miss the thing altogether. Maybe the people of Bradfield don’t really want any more visitors than they actually have already and wouldn’t be keen on the idea?

I had a massive amount of lunch for a wee creature and two glasses of wine more than are good for me.

I pointed out the brewery to Dad as we hiked our way back round toward Kirk Edge Convent and he wanted to go and see if it was open. He discovered that girl power often is more dynamic than people expect and he didn’t get his way at all. The convent is open for Mass at 8am every day, naturally I haven’t been but the idea is very tempting I must admit.  The building itself is a copy (of sorts) of one in Paris which is why it looks so out of place and unusual in its location –that is if you get to see it. I have been in the grounds once since I moved here and the huge wall along Kirk Edge Road certainly deters any casual visitors I suspect.

We strode past this Carmelite wall and then round into the top of Coumes Brook. This can be a disappointment, being prone to muddiness however, the recent dryness had turned the putative Grimpen Mire into a minor bog which wasn’t so unpleasant after all. We climbed out on the Onesacre Road, just opposite Onesacre Hall, from where it was a spit back to my little house and a cuppa and a snooze – well for Yours Truly anyway.

I went upstairs for a kip. Dad and Louisa, apparently dozed companionably in the lounge whilst the Lollster given to contrition, no doubt, by passing the convent felt forced to decamp to the study to catch up with her studies but where she entered the land of nod too!

I woke about five thirty wondering what the hell was going on with my hand only to find a googly eyed Weimaraner nuzzling against the aforementioned appendage with something akin to affection. I sallied forth and roused the house for a swift round of sandwiches and cup that cheers. Dad & Louisa decided they needed to zoom off back to Cumbria poste haste after afternoon tea and so we waved them off as the dusk began to fall.

I am sorry to say we were glued to Crufts again after they had gone and were thoroughly disappointed that the scraggy necked weasly excuse for a dog was given best in show. We all thought that the Samoyed should have won, not the bloody poncy poodle. Even Callie had to agree though she did admit to having a soft spot for Colin! I was shocked. I thought she’d have gone for the Irish Wolf Hound. LOL 

Sporting post script (added Tuesday 11th ) Sheffield United won their football match and are now in the semi-finals. They play Hull City. Whoopy doo!

Births, Deaths and Marriage. (OK, maybe not marriage...)

Monday March 3^rd

I suppose no newts is good newts! LOL

No, I haven’t been waiting to put that for ages, it just occurred to me. It is a satisfying feeling moving the little creatures from the road when I walk the dog last thing at night, but even better is not finding squashed newt corpses in the morning as I walk her.

Today was a corpse free day. Hoorah!

The Lollster and I went for our swim as usual and then, after brekkers, wandered into Uni as usual too. Nothing strikingly different or strange about the day’s events I suppose. Oh. There was one thing. We have found quite a few documents appear to be palimpsests. This could prove fun for reading and translating. We talked with our supervisor and we will be liaising with the science department over reading the over written material.

We have a meeting on Thursday with a guy who is going to be asked to help us. This should prove interesting because previously we just handed items over whereas the new approach will be for us to be involved too!

Major whoops tonight. It was Callie’s MOT at the vet. She has one every a year and gets her booster shots too. I still go to Alan’s practice but always arrange to see a different vet rather than Alan (there are three of them in the practice – I have been going to see Alison or Maxine instead). Tonight, Alison was off ill and Alan had taken over her appointments. It was a tad embarrassing, to say the least, to be in a confined space with my former BF. To be fair to the guy, he was thoroughly professional all the time he was dealing with Callie. We weighed her (32 Kilos); listened to her heart; checked her teeth and then gave her the booster shot. It was after that when things began to get tricky. As I was attempting to lift her down form the table he caught my hand and held it. He then started to tell me how much he had missed me. He wanted to know what he had done wrong to spoil our relationship; what he could do to get us back together again as a couple. [For someone who has missed me and wants to get back together he has hardly contacted me since I walked…]

It was hard trying not to get angry. I mean, one of the reasons I’d felt we were going nowhere was the fact he never communicated with me. He would see me and that would be it until the next meeting, when we split up he suddenly discovered what texts and e-mails were! I mean, what’s a girl to do? It was only after I told him we were doomed that he seemed to make an effort. I tried to explain this to him but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. He kept saying if I’d really wanted to split up why did I sleep with him on the day I dumped him?

After “umming” and “ahing” I had to explain it was out of a sense of guilt and pity. I must’ve looked like I had received bad news from the vet when I left the consulting room as my eyes were streaming. I really did like Alan. He was kind and intelligent. He wasn’t bad looking. He was well set up being a partner in the practice. I just didn’t get the “spark” like I had with Richard. It was like he was just a temporary stop-gap until a more suitable person came along. That was probably why I didn’t sleep with him (so unlike me, whose knickers would be flung away at the slightest opportunity). I mean we did sexual stuff, I would blow him and he’d fiddle about down below, even licking me out too, but I always held back from going all the way. I suppose I could sort of see myself sleep walking into a serious relationship with him without loving him. That wouldn’t have been good for both of us. He now tells me he does love me and thinks about me all the time. I think that is called emotional blackmail. I guess the thought was there at the back of mind, if I married him sooner or later I would definitely be unfaithful to him because of the lack of love. In a weird sort of way, I think that was a more honest thing to do for both of. He doesn’t see it like that, he was of the opinion that love would grow over time. I didn’t want to risk everything on a mere chance!

Laura could tell I was upset when she got back from the restaurant. I explained and she just hugged me for ages. She said that subconsciously I was waiting for her to make her move, even though I didn’t know it was actually going to happen. Part of me must’ve had feelings for her at the time which were stronger than what I felt for Alan even though it needed her push to get me to realise that. This made me even more upset as I didn’t. I was sure I was heterosexual through and through and I only began my relationship with Laura because she came onto me and I thought it would be a novel experience. I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with her at all. In a way I did with her what I was reluctant to do with Alan.  There is no way on earth I am ever going to tell her that though. I will let her think her analysis of the event is the true one.

Tuesday March 4^th

Oh no! Four squashed newts and two toads! Arrgghh! Walking along the road this morning was the worst morning I can remember since moving into the village. Four newts flattened by passing cars and the road is so lightly used, I dread to think how many corpses there would be if the road had the usage of our lane, for example!

Our swim took my mind off the newt situation and after brekkers Laura and I zoomed off early into Uni. A normal morning ensued with no more corpses of any kind interfering with my mood. I encountered some at work, though, as I continued through the file digitising; another murder where the husband beat his wife so badly she died from her injuries and then he had tried to claim it had happened while she was home alone and a burglar had done it. We had represented the family of the woman. This got me side tracked into looking up the number of domestic violence cases in the UK. The figures are horrible. They would seriously put you off ever getting married. Maybe being in a lesbian relationship has made me re-examine my opinions of men as partners and husbands but even so these statistics are a pretty damning indictment of how brutal men are and how society in general seems to think it is acceptable.

After work we had a frantic phone call from Mum. Jane has been admitted to hospital. She has gone into labour and this time they are sure it isn’t a false alarm. Phil is on the phone to her and Jane’s folks with regular bulletins (every half an hour it seems) and Mum is then passing on the news to our side of the family. She wanted to drive over to Leeds herself (so did I when I heard) but Phil says the hospital would appreciate it if everyone and their father didn’t arrive until after the baby is delivered. Jane’s folks are looking after Peter and Angela, who are equally as excited, especially after last week’s false alarm (was it only last week?)

We caught the call just as we were leaving for the Firth Hall and tonight’s concert: an ensemble called Endymion, performing a programme of Beethoven, Brahms and a chap called Ligeti. The latter was a piece called Homage a Brahms and that is exactly what it was. A bit trite, in my opinion but then my hormones were raging with the news of the possible new arrival so what could I know? I had the phone on silent throughout the concert but there was no vibration to tell me a text had arrived. As Laura drove us home I tried to reach Mum but her number was engaged all the time. I eventually gave up as a bad job.

We went to bed quite late, with still no more news apart from the initial headline. Mum told to Phil to phone her at whatever time the baby arrives and he said he would. I’d told Mum she had to phone me the moment she heard, too, so she will call when there is news.

I am going to be an auntie again. The sixth time. Rah rah rah. We hit the charp feeling very, very happy indeed.

Wednesday March 5th

It is official. I am the auntie to a healthy and bouncing baby girl (Peter is distraught apparently, he was hoping for a brother) Sophie Emma Rachel entered the world at about 10 am this morning! I know! That is over 12 hours in labour! Twelve hours. It defies the imagination, doesn’t it?

It seems the labour stalled as soon as Jane arrived at the hospital [this is a new one on me] but they midwife was certain it was on its way. She was right. But over twelve hours? Phew.

Sophie was 8lbs 3oz and has a shock of hair already. Owing to the fact she was born during the working day we had to wait until after work to zoom across to Leeds to go and see her. There has been a steady procession of visitors to the new Mum and sproglet all day. Mrs B, in a typical show of understanding told me to go early, after I showed her the photo’s of my new niece on my phone which Phil sent at 11am. He has sent everyone pictures of her, including Susannah and Pete in Australia! Phew.

I called Laura and at the end of her day at Uni she came straight up to XXX &Y instead of “tramming” home. As soon as she arrived we left. It took us nearly two hours to get there. I know I moan about the traffic in Sheffield during the rush hour, but bloody hell – Leeds! We were in a queue on the M621 motorway to start with, then we could have walked faster through the city centre. The hospital wouldn’t allow a football crowd at the bed side so we had a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafeteria until there was a gap in the numbers at the bedside for us to go and see.

Sophie is so cute. She does look like a wrinkled little old lady at the minute, no matter what people say, it’s true. She is beautiful however. I was allowed to hold her and carry her about the room. She is tiny and absolutely perfect. Her little fingers and finger nails are like perfect tiny replicas of my own. She looks a very placid child, not grizzling or crying once while we were there. I took her to the window and showed her the city and told her she was going to have to get used to living in such an awful place. This made everyone laugh.

I just felt so protective of her. I am going to have to get used to this feeling I suppose. I can’t really remember too much of Jill’s birth and Annabelle and Jeff were both born in Australia. For Peter’s birth we still lived in Norwich and we didn’t get to see him until he was about a week old. I was in Australia when Angela was born and didn’t see her for a couple of months! This is the first of my nieces or nephews I have seen and held immediately after they were born. The feeling I had is so overwhelming, I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes. Jane’s brother and wife were waiting to come and see Sophie so we went back down to the café for another cuppa. I just sobbed and sobbed. A baby was what I had given up all those years ago in Cambridge because it wouldn’t fit my lifestyle and circumstances, so I had the pregnancy terminated. OMG. How could I have done such a thing?

Sophie is wonderful. My baby would have been just the same. The enormity of what I did washed over me like a numbness. At the time my head said yes; if I had held a new born, like I had just held Sophie, then I know my heart would have said no! I can’t not have one of these. I can’t. Obviously I am not going to go out and get myself pregnant any time soon, but I have got to have one of my own. I want one because it seems right and not just to make it up to the one I could have had in 2007 and chose not to. Laura, bless her, could tell I was upset because I was thinking about my termination. She is so attuned to my feelings. No wonder I love her so much.

“You were a different person then. You couldn’t have coped with a child and university, nobody could. It was a hard decision but the right one for you at the time. I love you so much. I love the way you appear all hard and brusque and tough and sarcastic but underneath you have the most profound feelings and emotions. I am so happy and privileged that you let me share the true you…”

That made me cry some more.

They are keeping Jane on the post natal ward overnight, mainly because the delivery was so long and she was absolutely whacked out by it. They are scheduled to go home tomorrow after the midwife has given the all clear. Phil has taken his Paternity leave from his work, they are giving him 3 months, which seems a pretty good deal. He is puffed and proud like a peacock, as if he has any reason to be – all he did was ejaculate inside Jane, she has done ALL the rest herself. I guess it must be a man thing; they have to make up for the feeling of being totally unnecessary after those few moments, nine months ago!

We went back up to the ward to say bye and that we’d be over whenever they wanted. Jane was so pleased we’d been and said that tomorrow and Friday would probably be hectic with her family all wanting to come and gawp, especially the ones who couldn’t make it today. We arranged to drive over on Saturday morning. If they wanted I could bring a meal over too. They didn’t need that. It seems Jane’s Mum has been busily stocking their freezer with meals she has cooked for them for the next fortnight! She (and Phil) has also declined any offer of clothing and stuff for Sophie. They have masses of items already and if we felt we wanted to do something to help out, a contribution to the hospital’s neo-natal ICU would be a much better idea. [I bet that was Jane’s own suggestion, not Phil’s.]

Mum had arrived while I was having my cry in the café and she was so pleased that Sophie was fit and well and that we’d put in an appearance to see her too. [What did she expect? We would boycott the birth for some weird reason?] She even said that seeing me holding Sophie, as though I had been doing it all my life, had made her feel really strange, but she didn’t want to talk about that now, with me; at a more opportune time she may broach the subject again. Mmmm…. I bet she does!

If we went to bed last night feeling happy, tonight we were elated.

Thursday March 6^th.

OMG. More newts and toads squashed last night too. There were none on the road at all when I walked Callie but this morning there was carnage once more. I counted five toads / frogs and two newts. I guess the wetness of the overnight rain and the mild temperatures must have enticed them out from their houses. They should have stayed indoors and watched the late movie instead.

I sort of floated through Uni today. Everyone asked me what the matter was, and why I was grinning like an idiot (well, not in so many words) all the time? Felice thought the news was brilliant. She has decided when she gets married (!) she wants a whole houseful of children. A husband would be a good idea first Feli! LOL. I contacted my supervisor and told her, she was really pleased too. I toyed with the notion of printing a copy of Sophie’s photo and pinning it to the door of the broom cupboard with the legend “New Auntie inside” but I thought that may be a bit much really. I told Laura about that at lunchtime and she said we should do it anyway. Plus, she had a picture of me holding Sophie we could print out, so we did that instead.

When we got back to the office a bit later, after our meeting in the science department, some wag had added a note to the bottom of the photo and legend, “Warning: Hormones Completely Out Of Kilter Inside!” Felice was appalled but I thought it was really funny. (And so true!)

The science guys were really nice. I say guys; there was actually a man and a woman. The guy was called Eddie and the woman Ruth. They were doing work on some kind of imagining and thought that they could maybe use different types of light to reveal the writing on our papers. Eddie is a complete hunk. I mean he is absolutely gorgeous. Felice was all over him, metaphorically, as soon as we met the two of them. Ruth could be a clone of me in appearance. She has long blonde hair, is pretty slim and has glasses. I suppose that she is quite good looking too, but she doesn’t draw they eye the way Eddie does. I hope she and Eddie aren’t a couple as I can foresee trouble ahead with Felice if they are.

I always say “the look is the hook” and to be honest if I wasn’t already happy with Laura I could be persuaded…  No. I will not even give voice to those thoughts. Shame on you Victoria!

So, next week they are going to try using the non-visible spectrum to see what is visible on our paper. At least I think that is what they will be doing. Let’s hope it helps us to read the over writing. Ruth did mention some other techniques they may try but I am afraid the technicalities were beyond my GCSE Physics!

At home we had a phone call from Phil to say the mother and child had arrived home safely and the two others are now busy squabbling over who is going to look after her more. I suppose they must be really excited to have their baby sister home. I was a little surprised to hear that Peter was equally as keen as Angela, but hey, what do I know about little boys and their feelings? Perhaps their father’s sexist stereotyping has rubbed off on me! LOL.

Dad phoned to ask if he could spend the weekend with us so they could visit the new grandchild. I agreed and am expecting him to turn up tomorrow arvo. He has said we aren’t to cook dinner as he and Louisa will take us out somewhere for a meal. I hope he doesn’t meet Mum at the hospital, we’ll have to phone her and work out a schedule that keeps them apart.

Parents, eh? I hope Sophie's parents last longer as a couple than her Grandparents have!