Impromptu Garden Party & DIY. Mum's Friend Dies. Laura's 1st Exams. Tewkesbury.

Monday May 26^th. Bank Holiday Monday.

I was all set for a “laze about alone day” as I mistakenly assumed that Laura would like to spend the time revising at home. Wrong. She wanted to ‘do’ the garden (not really a high priority on my list) so I was persuaded to get my arse into gear and my pink romper suit on (boiler suit) and join in with my blonde buddy in getting the vegetable beds sorted out and the lawn cut and other garden-like tasks which I only do when dragged screaming and kicking away from my books.

We removed the dead growth from the lavender plants; weed picked the veggie plot and I cut the grass with our wonder floating lawn mower. There were also a surprising number of ‘sneaky little bugger’ plants growing through small chinks in the pathway and from the base of the raised beds, which needed rehoming in the composter behind the redundant greenhouse.

There is something quite satisfying about cutting the grass so that it looks like a billiard table again. Sadly I had only just cut the damn thing when Callie decided to christen it with a cable of pooh that only needed a cherry on top! I installed a dog pooh septic tank behind the greenhouse when I first moved in to cope with such an eventuality (Dad advised me to just fling any pooh into the huge field behind the house but I couldn’t bring myself to do that, especially as I sometimes walk her in that field if the weather is too grotty for a proper walk) so I was able to dispose of her present in there.

We had finished in a surprising short time so we pulled the cover from our table and chairs and sat with a bottle of cheap pink wine (Footprint) and a few dishes of nibbles. We hadn’t been sat there very long when Julie and Andrew popped their heads over the fence and asked if they could join us. We agreed so they came through the back gate of my garden armed with a couple of bottles of wine and several large bags of nibbles; including doritos and two different jars of dip. Yummy.

We had barely started to munch our way through the dips when we were hailed by Arthur and Simone from the other direction who also asked if the party had started. They came and joined us too, with more plonk and nibbles (and two more chairs).

We sat and scoffed and quaffed for a good couple of hours until Muriel and Ken arrived back at their house. They had zoomed off in the morning to visit their grandchildren. Ken said we ought to get a barbeque going and have a proper tea. We had a discussion about this and discovered between us we had enough grub at our houses to feed everyone (and the five thousand) so we rushed indoors to grab some comestibles while Ken dug his Barbie from the shed and set light to some charcoal.

We reconvened with two packets of sausage, several chicken pieces, I had made some beef burgers from mince we had in the fridge and onions and herbs and the like. There was a plate of lamb chops and a mini mountain of bread rolls (these were from Muriel). Laura and Julie scoured our two respective fridges and devised some salads to go round. Then Steve and Ann appeared, they asked to join and brought an unopened wine box, Gallo – White Zinfandel and some more beef burgers.

By now Ken’s coals had burned down and were white so we appointed him as head cook and with Steve and Ann's collapsible table and some more chairs we had an impromptu barbeque party on our back garden. Ours is a good space as there are no low level flower beds to accidentally walk on. There is a large patio space at the top of the Odessa steps (which lead down to the small back yard and my conservatory). The lawn is compact and bijou and had just been cut, plus the raised bed walls are at just a convenient height for us to sit on if we wished.

A smashing time was had by all, scoffing the barbequed meats and then swigging the vast array of wine. We had a good old giggly, silly, bantering gossip and related each other’s news, stories and plans. It felt really lovely to get together like this, so impromptu and informal.

We sat outside in the evening until about 8.30pm when we seemed to arrive at an unspoken consensus that we should go back to our own houses for the rest of the night.

Laura said she thought what had just happened was just brilliant and I agreed 100%. I suppose it is only possible like this, in our situation, where there is a small row of terraced houses whose gardens don’t have huge, ‘keep out’ type fences separating them from each other. Plus everyone seems to know each other reasonably well and we all get along so amicably. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t fit in when I first moved here. A single woman with her dog among all the couples might have been out of joint, but once I showed my mettle by demolishing the old wall at the end of my yard and having the Odessa steps put in (with which I helped with the labouring) the folks in our little enclave rallied round to help this feisty female newcomer.

I was even lent a lawn mower to cut my newly laid grass when I realised that, in all my planning, buying a device to cut the aforementioned green stuff had been forgotten. They were totally amazed when I converted half the existing shed into a dog kennel: I boxed out one end, lined it with 3/8^th inch plywood and insulated it with polystyrene pieces. I put a tube heater inside and an old sofa Mum was throwing away. I bought a cheap radio and rewired the whole thing too. (The last owner had installed electricity to both the shed and the greenhouse.)

They had watched in complete surprise as I then constructed a 6’ x 6’ run at the side of the shed made from one 6x6 fence panel; 2” square timber; tongue and grooved planking and heavy duty kennel mesh. I did this all from scratch having drawn up a rough plan. I made a 2 foot 6 wide door for the front of the run and covered the roof with sloping (30 degree) corrugated plastic sheeting. I call it Callie’s Palace. A later project was to tap into the water supply in the green house and put a mini, self-filling dog water bowl system in the run too.

I think it was my willingness to have a go at DIY things, and not make a bad fist of them either, which finally got me accepted into our little community. Last year I lined and insulated my cellar, which got them all interested again. The only thing I couldn’t manage was to lay the large stone slabs which make up my Odessa steps. There are seven steps altogether, which run the full width of my garden and once I had the ground work dug out and the footings all concreted and ready, I hit a snag; a major snag. I just couldn’t move the bloody slabs at all. They were far too heavy for me alone and almost too much for me and Dad to try and shift. I had to admit defeat and hire a little man to help out. (Two little men, as it happened, who weren’t so little!) They did all the lugging about and concreting into place while Yours Truly was the person who made the concrete. They found that really helpful and we got the whole thing completed in a day and a half.

I have digressed.

We decided that we had just spent the day in the most productive way possible and we ought to try and do it again over the summer months (when we aren’t in Australia).

Tuesday 27^th May.

Mum had some awful news today, her friend Karen had died suddenly over the weekend. She was a few months younger than Mum and worked as a Doctor in Norwich for quite a while before going down with ME. 

Karen was one of Mums’s oldest friends, they met at University (Glasgow) and discovered that while Mum was from Hawick, Karen was from Melrose, just up the road a bit! Despite the fact they were on different courses; medicine and education, they became great friends. A friendship that continued into their professional lives as they both pitched up in Norwich. Mum marrying a University lecturer and Karen marrying a pharmacist. I remember Karen and Hamish and their two kids Gregory and Rowena very well. They were older than me (more of an age with my sister and brother).

Karen’s ME eventually put paid to her work at the hospital and her medication made her get increasingly bad tempered and irascible. This was something Mum found very hard to deal with. She told me once that Karen was turning into a different person – one she didn’t know and didn’t like. It seems that she must have had complications with her illness because she died, unexpectedly last Saturday afternoon. Mum shot across to Norwich, and is still there now, when she found out. She only heard the news on Sunday evening which upset her, too. The kids have all returned to the family home with their spouses and children, so there is a house full at Woodbastwick. Mum is staying nearby.

She’ll be returning home during the week and then is going back to Norwich for the funeral and wake afterwards. She called Dad to let him know too, but he was a bit “offish”, so they had an argument down the phone and she hung up on him after calling him a pillock! I have spoken to her each night and have tried to feel, and express, sympathy but it is hard when the person who has died is a relative stranger to you after all this time.

On a weirder note, at the solicitors’ this afternoon, I bumped into Adi again (the escort) and she not only remembered me but asked if I had done any work yet! I had to confess I hadn’t. The thought is still there at the back of my mind but it seems like a fundamental betrayal of Laura if I do. I guess I won’t actually get around to having sex for money with strangers at all. Finding out the practicalities made it seem more like a possibility but I know I will never actually go through with it. There is more chance of me fcuking Christopher (in accounts) than becoming an escort.

Back home Laura was in full study mode in preparation for tomorrow. I was a bit concerned that last minute revision might have been the wrong thing, but it seems she was merely testing herself with old questions which is an excellent idea on the eve of an exam. She had even cooked the meal during the 'revision'. I asked her if we could perform a sex act after each successfully answered question as a reward but she refused, saying that she wouldn’t be able to stop at just one and once we started 'revision' would fly out of the window.

At around 10 pm I informed her that the sex act delivery system had just brought her a mouth in need of exercise and she agreed that all work and no play would make Jill a dull girl. We did spend rather a long time exploring each other’s important little places.  Callie got chucked out on to the back garden instead of her last walk and we continued to be naughty with each other in the kitchen until she came back in. We finally went to sleep at about midnight.

Wednesday 28^th May.

Laura decided we needed to continue our usual routine this morning and every exam morning, so I walked the dog, we went swimming and then, after a big breakfast, I dropped the mathematical genius off at the door of the exam hall about twenty minutes before kick-off. I arranged to have lunch with her in the refec a bit earlier than usual and then she’d come up to XXX & Y after her second exam to wait in our office at work. 

Lunch with Laura was quite fraught as she thought her first paper was a bit tougher than she had anticipated and was worried that the second one would be too. She needn’t have worried.

If her sun had been behind a cloud at lunch time, when she arrived in ARR at work, this afternoon, it was definitely out again. Everyone had thought the first paper was hard but she had been told that was usually the case. The afternoon paper was much easier, according to her, and she was quite bouncy about her prospects of having done well. I roped her into helping to photocopy some of the case law I was searching for during the afternoon and that seemed to make her relax even more.

Back in Archives proper she made all of us a cup of tea, that’s the four regular archivists and Mrs B, and we had a long gossip over the brew about what she was doing. Once again they were gobsmacked by the fact she was doing Pure and Applied Maths! Well, Mrs Briggs wasn’t but she and Laura have met several times already, at the theatre or concerts, so she knows all about my GF’s maths brain.

She sat at my desk and read her text book for the next hour and a bit until we finished for the day and then she said that we ought to have a bite out rather than eating in, so we called the Yorkshire Bridge and booked a table for 8 o’ clock. We zoomed home and picked up the woof diddly docious to have a stroll before we ate.

Mistake. It started to rain on us just as we’d drawn level with Ladybower Dam wall and its plug holes! Luckily I’d had the foresight to pick up a rucksack with our waterproofs in before we strode out so our top halves were dry when we got back to pub; the hems of our skirts were rather sodden and our shoes were soaked through, however! I squelched up to the bar to announce our arrival and our feet made squeaky noises as we walked through the pub to our table. It made me have the giggles as we sat down!

The meal was excellent, as usual, despite our shoes being rather damp. The car, however, when we got out to the car park, was thoroughly steamed up and reeked of wet dog. At the end of the lane from Bradfield, I got Laura to drop me and the woofie off and she drove home. I then squelched my way down through Onseacre to home.

Callie loved being towelled dry when we got in (not) and Laura said we ought to have a shower to get ourselves and our feet warmed up. So we did. We tried something different tonight. We washed each other as usual but didn’t do anything too sexual, we then dried each other off (just as we normally do) then we laid a bath sheet on the bed and applied talc to each other’s bodies, massaging it in as we went. This got us both incredibly horny but we held back until the last little bit of powder was applied. I thought I would explode before Laura said I could touch her properly. Variety is the spice of life. 

We’ll have to try that again; maybe with body butter or baby oil. The only rule we had tonight was we couldn’t do anything sexual during the application of the talc. Mmmm…. I was positively dripping before Laura’s fingers got anywhere near my labia! 

Thursday May 29^th.

Compared to the last few days, today was virtually another Radio Star’s Song day.

Laura stayed at home revising and I whizzed off to Uni to meet up with Feli and sort out what we were doing on our casket journey this afternoon. We arranged to set off at around five pm, that way we’d arrive at our hotel about seven (Felice is driving in her car!). The room will sleep three but Laura has decided that she’ll stay put in Sheffield and look after Callie instead of coming with us.

I came home early and packed a bag then Feli arrived at about 4.30. We set off straight away, leaving a revising Laura and a sad looking Callie behind. We made excellent time down the M1, A42, M42 and M5 and we were surprised to find the Tewkesbury Travelodge was really close to the motorway junction so we had no trouble getting there. An extra useful find was the fact it had a bar / café thing attached so we bought ourselves some fast food for tea and then had a swift snorterino or three in the bar afterwards.

I skyped the Lollster before bed time and she had just returned from Callie’s last walk of the day. I tried speaking to my woofie over the internet, as well, but she didn’t respond to my voice at all. I guess it doesn’t sound the same to her once it has been rendered electronically. I was hoping she’d at least do that really cute head twizzle, which she does when she is listening to what I say. It felt weird not having a dog to walk before I hit the charp and even weirder to be sharing a bed with Felice. Remembering how we had almost got it on together some time ago, I was prepared to respond if she decided to make a move while we were in bed together.  

She didn’t, we just slept. Phew!

One man, two mistresses! Am I a music snob?

Friday 23^rd May.

One man two mistresses (well, three if you count Mum as well).

I have seen this as the original Goldoni play in a ‘straight’ translation when I was an undergraduate and I found it very funny then, this newer version is equally as hilarious perhaps even more so. I was really pleased that James Cordon wasn’t in the cast for the tour, though, as I find him thoroughly unconvincing as an actor. However the guy playing the servant was brilliant, Gavin Spokes I think. (Mum snagged my programme!)

I hadn’t realised our show was the beginning of a much longer tour around the country, that may be why it seemed really fresh and exciting. There were masses of really good laugh out loud until your sides ached moments, especially the falling down the stairs waiter - who had the house in stitches. I thought it was a wonderful variation of Victoria Wood’s Mrs Overall, as a waitress sketch, which worked really well because of the repetition. I thought Rachel, played by Alicia Davies, was the best of the bunch.

I fear the people of Sheffield will have missed an absolute treat as the majority seem to think the “theatre” is only for toffs or clever people. This farce certainly beats anything they would have seen on TV by miles. The physical comedy was brilliant and the wit of the one-liners and the supposed improvisations with the audience were a joy to behold. Just don’t sit on the front row of any production!

Mum and Laura thought it was an absolute hoot and well worth going to see. If this doesn’t revitalise Laura’s spirits for her first exam next Wednesday I don’t know what will! [Not that her spirits are down but you always appreciate being taken out of yourself, don’t you?]

The rest of the day was pretty much as usual, with dog walking and then swimming first thing, then off to the Uni for 8.45. It seemed quite deserted at the moment we’d arrived, or maybe that was just my imagination. Feli and I did more work on the inventory document and then we sorted out the logistics for the trip to Tewksbury and finally we adjourned to the local pub for a sandwich and chips with Laura, she brought one of her fellow maths bods along and we delighted in teasing her about what Feli and I did.

We'd met Mum at the theatre (in the bar as usual) and she had another moan about Dad and Louisa. I guess that Christmas time won’t come fast enough for the blossoming step-mum and Dad. It would be pretty dreadful if the sprog was born on Christmas day though, wouldn’t it.

Saturday May 24^th.

Quite a relaxing day all in all.

After the early dog walk and swim (where we told Sarah she just had to try and see the play) we had breakfast and then zoomed into the Peak District. We spent some time dodging the showers for a scrabble about on the rocks at Burbage this morning. When the rains did fall we decamped to Mum’s to cadge lunch but she was out! That was a blow and a half. I toyed with phoning her to see where she was but that seemed too much like a role reversal for me to actually do it. Still, we managed to struggle to my little house before the hunger pangs became too unbearable.

After lunch Laura went up to the study and revised some more Fluid Mechanics and I set about making some crumbles with apples and then rhubarb. I did four altogether, two of each. We ate one with our evening meal and I froze the rest when they had cooled.

Laura was at Dominic’s again this evening so I drove her down in the car just in case we had more rain. We didn’t. I spent the evening moping about, not finding the inclination to sit and settle to anything at all. I read some of my new book (Jo Nesbo); I played the Baroque CD I had bought form Japan; I put a few stitches into my embroidery, I sat in the fading light of our conservatory watching the long descent of evening and I even challenged the computer to scrabble. It won! I don’t know why I was so restless, I just was.

As the rain had held off for most of the night I decided that I’d walk down to the restaurant with Callie, as her last walk of the day, that way I wouldn’t have to go out again with her when we got home. She decided to jump into Coumes Brook for some unexplained canine reason, the daft dog! Dominic was pleased to see me but wouldn’t let me and a drenched pup into the building. I don’t blame him really.

As we strolled back home the clouds above us seemed to be massing over our particular heads and we were only halfway up the lane when they gave us an brilliant imitation of an Australian downpour. We were soaked in seconds. I do mean literally soaked right through to the skin! To avoid wetting the kitchen floor too much we stripped to our undies in the conservatory (hopefully we didn’t give old Ken, next door, a heart attack) then we stepped into the shower to warm ourselves up and get a bit frisky together.

Sunday May 25^th.

It seemed unusual for there to be a concert at the City Hall on a Sunday but who am I to argue with the booking policy of the place (or the availability of the Halle Orchestra)? Today’s was the last concert in the International Concert series, which we have attended since last September. They have been a brilliant series of shows which we thoroughly enjoyed and it gave us a huge range of pieces of interest. Last night’s (it’s now Monday BTW) was no exception; a series of American pieces which, perhaps, tried to prove that America isn’t a third rate nation when it comes to Classical Music. In this regard it failed miserably, IMHO, with the exception of the Ginastera Harp Concerto but he doesn’t really count, being Argentinian rather than American.

I may be old fashioned in my musical tastes but I was unconvinced by the works on offer at the City Hall: BERNSTEIN Overture: Wonderful Town; COPLAND Rodeo: Dance Episodes; GINASTERA Harp Concerto; BERNSTEIN West Side Story: Symphonic Dances and GERSHWIN An American in Paris. To my ears, attuned to the delights of Parsifal or Miserere these pieces were mere flim flam and had little in the way of depth or feeling – especially the Bernstein. This was basically music for the Classic FM listener, not a Radio 3 addict’s choice at all.

My young friend and lover, Laura, told me I was being a Music Snob when I expounded these remarks but I am sticking to my guns on this. Even Mrs Briggs, who we met at the interval, as usual, was of the opinion I was being a little too harsh in my criticism. I went on to bemoan the dumbing down of the Proms last year with the bloody Dr Who prom and the Cinema prom. I don’t think I won any converts to my cause.

Despite my lack of appreciation for the works themselves, the musicianship on display was, once again, excellent and you can’t fault the orchestra for being given the task of trying to make silk purses out of these poor pieces. OK, I loved the harp playing and I may try and buy a copy of the Ginastera but the rest of them won’t be forming part of my collection any time soon.

One thing I did do during the day which will meet with lots of approval was getting tickets for “Hetty Feather” at the Crucible in June. I checked with Phil and Jane first and they could see no reason why Peter and Angela can’t come down and see the show in Sheffield with their mad Aunt and Laura. In fact Jane asked if she could have a ticket too, as she is becoming of the opinion that their Mum (and Dad) ought to be taking the two little ones to cultural events, and not just her sister-in-law, as it might give them the impression that the theatre is not for them. I know it isn’t on Phil’s radar at all but I see what she means. My love of literature, theatre, ballet etc all stems from the fact I was taught to read at a very early age (3 years) and taken to the theatre and ballet by my parents as soon as I could appreciate it. Parents’ likes (and dislikes) all too easily become their children’s likes and dislikes if you aren’t extremely careful.

Laura, for example, had only been to the theatre on school trips before I came along and had never been to a Classical Music concert either. Those things weren’t, and still aren’t, on Molly and Eric’s radar. Not that I am criticising parents who don’t take their children to these things but it does seem to be closing doors of experience for their children before the kids have had the chance to decide for themselves.

I will get down off my high horse.

One surprising note about the concert (although in a way thoroughly predictable, I suppose) was the way that Mr Smith from accounts – who also happened to be there – agreed with me over the shallow nature of the repertoire. I know he only did so because he thinks he has a chance of getting into my knickers. He still, after three years, doesn’t understand at all! Christopher and I could have been great friends now, but the stupid idiot had to get all lovey dovey over me. When he’d gone back to his seat, Mrs Briggs said, “Well, that was no surprise. was it? Your puppy still loves you!”

My real puppy does love me and I love her. When we got back home she was waiting for me with a pile of my underwear, snaffled from the linen basket. She does this from time to time. She doesn’t chew anything, just carries it around in her mouth making whimpering noises. Dogs, eh? I assume this is a way of her showing her affection and how much she misses me when I am out. I am bloody glad Christopher doesn’t behave like this, imagine how embarrassing that would be. (Pretty funny too, when you come to think about it!)

Loll and I walked Callie through the woods tonight, as it was dry. Callie was delighted by the longer walk, I was delighted as Laura and I could get frisky with each other in the woods. We ended up walking back home without any knickers on under our skirts, I had Laura’s in my jacket pocket; I have no idea where mine went at all. Perhaps they are still in Hill Top Woods?

It turned out to be lucky we did walk through the woods when we did, we hadn’t been home for more than a few minutes when the heavens opened and it rained solidly until about 6am! Phew.

Serious revising versus totally unprepared students!

Monday May 19^th

Back to the routine today; with walking the dog, swimming and work.

Laura is now in full on revision mode whilst Feli and I are in wind down to the end of the year mode. The semester ends pretty soon and then I will be doing a couple of weeks at XXX & Y to get enough lieu days in for our trip to the Anitpodes. Tickets are booked, visas sorted and a new suitcase each has been purchased for the flight. Our little day sacks will be small enough to take on board as hand luggage, we have already checked.

I left my little lovely in the Library and Feli and I did the usual procedure of selecting this week’s document and getting to work on that. I think it is going to be another inventory. There seem to be an awful lot of those, for some reason (which we will never ever find out).

We all had lunch together and then went our separate way back to our respective work. The plan was we’d meet up again at four and go to Mum’s for our meal. Then, back in our village Laura would continue her revision and I would kick my heels.

Mum was in full on inquisitor mode when I arrived, as I knew she would be. She had already gone through shock, surprise, anger and resignation at the news of the impending baby and was now in the amused phase. This was good, as we didn’t have to witness the intervening stages of her coming to terms with the news. I can’t really get my head around why she would be angry but she said that was what she had felt at one point over the weekend.

She was finding the idea of Dad having to cope with a stroppy teenager when he was in his seventies very amusing indeed. I have already given this some thought too and I think they may find the whole process of child rearing at this later stage in their lives a challenge!

We left mums at about 7pm and Laura muscled straight on down with some maths revision, her first exam is on the 28^th of May. She is pretty well prepared but exams are always a challenge aren’t they? I helped out by bringing half hourly cups of tea as a break from the routine. By 10 she was done in so we both walked Callie and hit the charp and had a go at horizontal stress relief. I think it worked at treat.

Tuesday May 20^th.

The two part split day was pretty much as usual and not much happened at all in either place of employment. I guess the Uni seemed more interesting as it is a much busier, more bustle and diversion; wheras XXX & Y are more sedate and unhurried. I can go a whole day at work and not see more than three people the entire time.

Definitely a Radio Stars Song Day.

Wednesday May 21^st

Girly dining night was round at Brooksie’s tonight. Our youngest member had done us proud with a Spanish themed meal, with the ubiquitous paella as the main course. I suppose Laura is technically the youngest member (or honorary member) but she was busy looking in to the probability of getting a First in her exams though meticulous revision. I have no doubt she will succeed.

The news of my Dad being a Dad again was the earth shatterer in the conversation. They just kept coming back and nagging at the bones of the story again and again, like sharks attacking a dead whale floating in the ocean.

I had to admit I was shocked about the idea but also pleased and sort of looking forward to it. The couple who were mums could imagine how it would feel being a mum again in their mid-forties to which most of us who weren’t mums said that we couldn’t imagine how it would feel at all. One or two seemed to understand my worries; the incidence of disability in children of older parents is quite high. I could see that was a real possibility and it scares me quite a lot.

One thing Claire had done with her meal was to find some nice Spanish wine. A rioja reserve was very tasty, she had only got two bottle. I had dragged along a couple of bottles of Riesling as I guessed we might be having sea-food but generally the wine was as diverse as we were. My bottles were two of Hilmar’s; an bog standard Qualitatswein and a really tasty QMP Spatlese. I think the girls who poo-poohed Greman whites were quite surprised at how nice these two kraut plonks were.

At about 9.45 I had a frantic phone call from Laura. She had let Callie out into the field behind the house for a wander and a call of nature and she’d trotted back in carrying a dead rat! I told her to examine Callie really carefully to make sure she hadn’t been bitten anywhere and then to bag the rat and put it in the rubbish bin. Once again I found myself at the centre of attention for a few minutes; explaining what had happened to the assembled eavesdroppers as they had only heard one side of my conversation with Laura (obviously). I told them the details and explained that if Laura called back in the next few minutes it meant she’d found a rat bite and I was going to zoom home and whoosh Callie down to vet. I would have to hope it wasn’t Alan who was on the emergency standby rota tonight.

Luckily there were no more calls from Loll and we didn’t have to rush Callie to the vet. Phew (a double phew actually, if you think about it). I rolled in at about eleven and it was my turn to find a sleeping figure on the sofa. Callie didn’t even murmur when I walked in and I was able to wake my sleeping beauty with a kiss.

You have to be careful doing this as the sleeping person may not react or behave in the way you expect. Richard was gobsmacked and shocked when he did this to me once. OK, the kiss was lower down in a more intimate place but my waking words of: ”Ian, not now…” took a hell of a lot of explaining away before Richard was satisfied.

Ian was the first boy I had sex with, when I was fifteen. He could be very impetuous and a bit clumsy too.

Luckily Laura didn’t wake up muttering her secret love’s name, she just responded in kind and Callie had her walk delayed by about an hour!

Thursday May 22^nd.

Sarah, at the pool, was also astounded by the news of my impending return to being a sister. She was very aware of the potential hazards in being an older mother, too. I was able to give her my stock response to this and other questions by now as I have had a week to formulate them in my mind.

Sarah was the first person to ask what Louisa’s daughter thought about the news. I had to confess I had no idea. I have only met her a couple of times and she lives with her Dad and step-mum so I don’t get to see her very often. It is as though she has taken sides with her Dad against her Mum. You often hear about that when couple divorce, don’t you?

At Uni I was stunned to find several of my Tutees hadn’t even drawn up a revision timetable for their exams! (I had my pre-exam pep talk with them and check on how their revision was going.) By now you would have expected that they had been burning the midnight oil and getting into a cold sweat about what was going to happen in the next couple of weeks, but no. One bloody drongo said he wasn’t even going to bother to revise because he knows it all. I bet he is not a student next year!

Why is it that it is usually blokes who have this totally misguided idea of the abilities? All the girls in my group, including Mandy rounded on Mr X and told him he was being stupid, but he wouldn’t listen. I do enjoy these group sessions I have with them, even though it is a logistical nightmare finding a room and then organising my tea and biscuits.

Laura came and helped at the start with the boxes of mugs etc and I cadged her revision timetable to show them how she had organised her time for the last month. One pillock said, “Well, yes, she’s bound to isn’t she? She has had you helping her with it all.”

I was going to reply but Laura beat me to it, (paraphrased) “How dare you assume I couldn’t manage to work this out by myself. I know I could have asked Vic for help but I have done this before for my A Levels and my end of years’ last year, so I know what I am doing. I didn’t ask for her help because she wants me to be independent and to think for myself, even though I knew she would have given me it at the drop of a hat. I am now going to put what I say into practice by going and doing Thursday 11am to 12 am’s revision session on Fluid Dynamics.” With that she walked off leaving a momentary stunned silence.

This was broken with the girls rounding on the unfortunate individual and giving him a bent ear as well. I just smiled. Sometimes they seem like bloody babies in front of me, not supposedly intelligent undergraduates. I was never like this, surely?

Felice and Laura were waiting for me at the Cottage for lunch and I had a good old moan to them about the tutor group. They thought it was funny that I was getting worked up about a group whom I had had foisted up on me and would probably not see again in the second year. (Apparently the pastoral tutor system does sort of fall away a bit the older the students get, which I think is a pity, TBH.)

They had decided I need fire in my belly and had ordered a Jalfrezi for me! Rah rah rah. After lunch Feli set out the plans for looking at another casket next week. It is in Tewksbury in Gloucestershire (or is it Worcestershire, I can’t remember). We are both going and kipping overnight in a Travelodge, for which she got a mega deal. It is her turn to drive so I will have to get some tranquilisers for the journey, although how bad can it be? It is motorway almost all the way. Laura can come if she wants to, she has not decided yet. It is the day after her first exam and then she has a lull until about June 4^th. It will also mean I won’t have to cadge any time off from XXX & Y as it is on a Thursday and Friday.

Laura’s revision timetable has allowed her to work at Dominic’s tonight, so after our evening meal I drove her down to the restaurant and she was greeted like a long lost friend by Dom. So was I actually. He really is a very nice guy. He still can’t believe she is doing Mathematics, though. Until she astounds him by remembering the courses each table has had and giving him the bill amount from her head before he has had time to work it out himself using a calculator. The he realises just how special she is. (It amazes me too, TBH.)

Only £30 in tips tonight but she had enjoyed the break from revising and was looking forward to her first exam next week. Looking forward to an exam? Mmm… Not so sure about that one.

OMG - My Step-mother is pregnant! (Plus Rannerdale Video! Wowee!)

Friday May 16^th.

We decided to head up to Cumbria this afternoon and invade Dad’s.

Laura decided she’d like a visit to her Mum & Dad and we could maybe get some climbing or fell walking in too. (Laura’s Mum and Dad live in the same Cumbrian village as my Dad.)

So after finishing Uni a little on the early side, we drove up to Dad’s via Scotch Corner. I have a feeling we may be giving this a miss in the future. Previously we had spotted lots of the trees and bushes along the route from the Bedale junction northwards had been felled or uprooted, well near to the start of the vegetation carnage is now a huge sign, they are going to make the section up to the Durham A1 (M) a motorway too. I can only assume that means they are going to make it three lanes wide like the bit down to Leeds. The downside is, the sign informed us that the work wouldn’t be completed until Spring 2017! I think we may put up with the drive over Woodhead to the Manchester motorway system until the works are completed until 2017!

However, the views over Cross Fell and the Pennines were so clear I was certain the Lakes would look wonderful too. Sure enough as we rounded the corner of the A66 at Stainmore Summit the fells were visible over thirty miles distant, the most obvious one to spot being Blencathra. As we drew closer and closer you could see the whole of the Helvellyn ridge with not a cloud in sight.

The drive along the 66 from Penrith can be a distraction; it certain was this afternoon, each twist and turn of the road brought even more distant fell tops out. Behind Robinson it was clear enough to see the Buttermere Red Pike. Down Borrowdale you could see Great End so clearly and Scafell peeking out over its shoulder. Laura was amazed that I could name all these fells, but as I explained I have been coming here since before I could walk, expressly to be in the mountains. I am bound to know them really well.

She laughed at that and said she had been born just down the road from here (Whitehaven hospital) but it was only since being my GF that she had even been in to the fells, never mind walked and climbed some of them! [This is so true of the many Cumbrians I have met.]

We arrived at Dad’s at about 5 pm and he informed us tonight’s meal was down the pub after 6. Not one to look a freebie in the mouth, we had a swift shower and then toddled along to the Bush for our evening nosh. Dad and I are known in their (Dad more than me to be honest) as he is part of their Quiz Team. Their special tonight was trout from the Gilcrux trout farm, so naturally I had that. I just adore fish. My blonde haired beauty had scampi. She is not quite as adventurous with pub grub. Laura is also known at the pub a she has been a village girl for all of her 20 years. Eric and Molly were meeting us at the pub (they are Laura’s Mum and Dad) and a couple of other people whom had been invited along. Errol and his partner, Keith and his and Bob and his (Memo: I really must try and remember their wives names.)

After the bunfight we all headed back to Dad’s where we had some of Uncle Hilmar’s wine (a rarity for non-family members to be offered a taste, TBH) and Dad announced that he has decided to retire at the end of the current semester after all.

I whispered to him at an opportune moment, “Is that all?”

To which he replied, “Damn. Just my luck to have a daughter who is brighter than I am. No, it’s not all, but don’t tell anyone yet – just in case – we aren’t going to be needing IVF after all. We found out at the last hospital visit that Louisa is pregnant. We aren’t telling anyone at the moment because we don’t want to tempt fate. So please no blabbing. OK?”

I gave him and extra special big hug and at the next chance I got I hugged Louisa too. She was less than amused, “Oh… He’s told you has he? The pillock!” I explained that I had, sort of, guessed there might be an ulterior motive for inviting his chums across for the meal and so I had asked him out right. My reasoning being that these people were all either villagers or locals none of his University chums were here, so I hazarded a guess that the retirement was really the reason at all.

“You really are as sharp as he is aren’t you?” She commented. I am not sure whether that was meant as a compliment or an insult to be honest. I treated it as the former.

I went on, “I am so pleased. It will be brilliant. I am going to love having a new sibling. Can I officially volunteer as chief baby sitter?”

“Mmm… He said you’d ask that. He really does know you very well doesn’t he?”

I had to agree that he and I were very close, despite him moving away when I was about 12. I did warn her that although Philip appeared nice and amenable, he would turn out to be the proverbial black person in the woodpile, from the old racist saying. He has a reputation for being almost the opposite of Dad in tolerance, understanding and, to be honest, level of intelligence. If anyone will kick off and be a complete arsehole about the news you can put on money on it being my big brother!

Louisa was surprised at this, given that he had just become a father again himself. I had to tell her that he had been a complete bastard towards Susannah and Peter moving to Australia. He actually stated that, “It will be like you are dead for me now. There is no way on this earth I am ever going to cross the globe to see you and that bloody sister snatcher’s offspring!” I know this attitude upset Suze and Peter and Mum & Dad too, even though they were in the process of getting divorced when he said it. I was fifteen at the time and I had been really shocked that he could have behaved like that.

I was even more shocked that he took the fact of Laura and I being a lesbian couple in his stride; no snide or nasty remarks; no refusal to visit me or anything like that really. I guess that you don’t stop riding the tiger or it might turn and eat you!

All of this went on under the pretext of Louisa and I being the perfect hostesses and bringing out our guests selections of nibbles and canapés. I had to hand Louisa a tissue to wipe her eyes where she had started to blub a little. It’s the hormones, pregnancy makes you a bit weepy. She also told me that if I wanted to, she would be delighted if I could one day call her “Mum” as she considered me her second daughter. (Ouch, ouch, ouch… That might be a step to far at the moment. Maybe once I have a baby sister (or brother) who will be calling her Mum I will find it easier to do.)

I recounted all this to Laura, post-coitally, in bed. {I think I have just made up that adverb, LOL] She was amazed. I had to make her swear not to breathe a word until it is all officially announced later in the year, hopefully. Naturally she agreed.

Saturday May 17^th.

It was a glorious, if very windy morning, so after their morning walk and breakfast I took Callie and Dad’s pack out to Rannerdale to look at the bluebells.

I asked Dad and Louisa if they wanted to come along but they declined, so it was just me and the Lollster who wandered lonely as clouds but to watch a crowd, a host of bluebells, sorry Billy.

Louisa did give me a swift hug before we set off and said, “You know what we said yesterday, it doesn’t matter if you can’t bring yourself to say it. It know and understand.”

I replied with what I had been thinking, “When the littley comes along, I expect I will probably get used to calling you Mum naturally. I wouldn’t want to confuse the little  blighter any more than is totally necessary. Plus, it is very unlikely they’ll ever be introduced to my ‘real’ Mum, so it won’t be a problem.”

Rannerdale was still blue with all the flowers spread out in the lower slopes. We parked at the foot of the crag and walked up the valley to see them all spread out before us in gorgeous blue carpet. They sort of stop at the intake walls, although they did seem to have spread up the side of the fell where there isn’t a wall. Maybe I just am imagining that from last time I came to see them in 2013.

Eventually we took our leave of the valley and walked up Rannerdale itself heading for the col. We debated whether to walk across to the summit of Rannerdale Knotts and as the weather was so fine we gave it a go. The wind was howling a gale, though. I dread to think what it was like on the high summits, I mean the Knotts are a mere pimple in the scheme of things in the Lakes. What I hadn’t realised was that we’d be blown along the ridge by a back wind which seemed to make the stroll take less time and be far easier than I remembered.

At the summit we had a good look around and then snuggled on the lee-ward side facing the fish ladder at the end of Crummockwater and scoffed our bar of chocolate each and an apple. We tried taking pictures of ourselves leaping across the chasm but they didn’t work as you tell that the chasm was only about six feet deep. Still it was fun. Although Dad’s trio decided they could leap over it too which gave me palpitations!

The walk into a head wind wasn’t so difficult as we were simply retracing our steps back to the col. From there we took a right turn and wandered down the steep bank into Buttermere. Here I was pleased to see the café was open [sometimes it isn’t] and the Lollster went and bought a pot of tea and some rather gooey chocolate cake. Luckily the seating area outside the café was also in the lea of the howling gale.

Once we had finished our tea, we walked on through the car park, past the campsite and down to the lake shore and the dinosaur fossil tail outcrop which sticks out into the water. There was a quite pronounced wave effect here but I bet it was much fiercer near the fish ladder at the other end of Crummock.

From this point we lost the dogs into the water for rather a long time, we only let them in there as we had gone out in Dad’s landrover, so I wasn’t too worried about having wet, muddy dogs in the car. 

Actually it turned out to be rather less muddy than anticipated and all we had in the back of Dad’s truck were four wet, but happy puppies gently, adding to the overall doggy smell of that car.

We arrived back in the village at about 2 pm, had a late lunch and then sat in the conservatory and watched the rest of the day unfold and get cloudier around us. The wind, which in the Lakes had seemed to be blowing from south to north in our village seemed to blowing up from the Solway (three miles away) which is the total opposite direction.

Best news on the TV front for some time; the Krister Hendriksson version of Wallander is back for a short season. The sad news is that Hendriksson has agreed only if the series can be ended in a way which means he can’t be asked to do any more. Boo and indeed Hoo! That will make thirty episodes he has done. I have the other 24 episodes on DVD so when the last set is released I’ll be getting them too. We watched tonight’s opening episode as it was broadcast live, this is quite unusual for us, but as it is on BBC 4 there are no bloody adverts to spoil your viewing pleasure. I also set up my PVR to record the whole series back in Sheffield, so I will have a copy of them before the DVD comes out.

We hit the charp relatively early for us as we were a little whacked after bluebell watching. Not too whacked to get frisky though!

PS I have managed to upload a video of the bluebells in Rannerdale, which I filmed using my phone. There is even a silhouette of YT in a baseball hat which makes me look bald!

Sunday 18^th May

Decided to walk the other end of Crummockwater this morning and have lunch at the best pub on the planet; The Kirkstile Inn. We only took Callie and Dad & Louisa were planning on giving the trio a run down at Grune Point (other side of Silloth) and then lunch at the Golf Hotel.

The day was much more overcast than yesterday but the temperature had dropped only slightly. We arrived at Lanthwaite Wood car park about 10.30 am and strolled the quarter of a mile, or so, to the lake shore almost in a convoy of other walkers. The wind was still whipping down the lake from the giants although at this point you can’t see them at all as Rannerdale Knotts shields them from view.

The waves were whipping along the lake, again, and making a mini sea shore by the fish ladder. I was really surprised that the pup decided she would brave the waves to retrieve a huge stick I hoicked in for her. She did though, about a dozen times. We attracted a crowd watching her swimming and fetching. One bloody git said, in a voice loud enough for me to hear, “That’s a very good throw for a girl!”  I tried to get Callie to do her doggy water shake near him but she declined. We moved on round towards the limnological building and found that last month’s mating frogs etc had produced a multitude of taddies. The pond was almost full to the brim with the black sperm like creatures. They were still just a body and tail at the moment, no sign of any limbs forming.

We continued strolling towards the holiday cottages and eventually fetched up at the Kirkstile. As though giving us a reward for our efforts Fortuna made the sun come out for us as we arrived. Good things these goddesses. We had our lunch and a glass of wine each in the beer garden looking out at Mellbreak and wondering if any deluded souls were climbing up it.

After lunch we walked up the first part of the Mosedale track, just to where the path up to Hen Comb starts, with the swimming pond at the bottom and from here we branched left to take us back to the shores of Crummock at the eastern side of Mellbreak. There were actually a couple of people on this little pebbly beach having a picnic! We ought to do that in the future.

After a further splash about in the water we headed back up the lake this time to the car. We found that D & L hadn’t arrived back yet so we shared a shower together and then continued what we’d started in there on the bed.

We had an afternoon tea with the Aged Parent(s) in the back garden but the cloud descended again blocking our views over the Solway Firth, which was a bit disappointing. 

After tea we reassured the happy parents-to-be that we were absolutely delighted by their news and then zoomed back down the spine of the country to sunny Sheffield and the information (from Steve and Ann) that we had missed a scorcher of a weekend. 

Wouldn’t you just know it?

PS Dad has asked me not to tell Mum their news, he wants to do it himself. Ooops. I texted her on Saturday night. I will have to text her again and tell her to act surprised when Dad contacts her!

Lincoln Cathedral (The 16). Swarming bees in our garden!

Monday May 12^th

I am chuffed. Nay, better than chuffed. We may have found a publisher for our book on the caskets. We have to send some samples of the work we are planning to produce, chapter synopsis, photographs etc. Felice has found a “craft” publisher who may be interested. We have to send off some stuff for evaluation and if they like what they see we will go for a proper meeting. After we had finished dancing around Feli’s office we sat down and had a think about what we had and what we should send.

We also realise that we now have to keep a low profile with our side project, lest anyone get wind of what we are doing and try to throw a spanner in our works (or a clog). Laura had a brainwave at lunch and said we should include some charts or patterns or whatever they are, with colours for threads and instructions too. That could just be what tips the scales in our favour. I gave her a big hug and kiss in the middle of the restaurant which caused a few sideways looks but I didn’t care. She also told me off for being too curry flavoured to enjoy the kiss properly. I promised I would give my teeth a brush when we got back to my broom cupboard and we could do it again, properly. She couldn’t though, she had a meeting with her tutor about a possible work placement for the first semester of her final year.

I did a lot more work on the real research this afternoon to make up for messing about this morning and I found a letter! A real, honest to goodness letter. Not a list or a bill or a receipt but a letter. It is the first one we have found in all the pile of documents in the basket. It isn’t very long, only about  twenty or so lines but from the first few words it is clear that I have discovered a missive written over 600 years ago from one family member to another and I will probably the first person to read it since it was stuffed in the casket.

‘Read it’ is probably inaccurate English, as I have only managed to translate the first two lines (nearly). Felice is impressed with my find, as you can imagine, the only slight downer was our supervisor is off somewhere or other all week, so we couldn’t tell her. Never mind though.

Laura was at Dominic’s again tonight so I did some more sewing and tried to contact Kaybers but there was no answer. I wonder if they have gone over to Jan’s family in Norway. If they have I am a little miffed that they went without telling me, but I suppose we have drifted apart a bit since Laura moved in. Maybe having a friend who was single was easier to cope with than a friend who dragged along their lesbian partner?

Tuesday May 13^th.

Normal morning at Uni. We are taking our time with the letter as the language is a real mixture of Old French and “Chaucerian” English. Felice is in her element, which is not surprising at it is her field of specialism, if it was written in Latin I guess I would be equally as focused.

At XXX & Y Mrs Briggs jokingly asked what had happened to me on Sunday? I had to ask why and she reminded me that the University Symphony Orchestra had been playing at the Firth Hall prior to the Uni exams starting. They played Elgar, Vaughan Williams and a chap called Finzi. I asked if they played his Dies Natalis and she was amazed I had even heard of him. I had to confess that I had heard it before at Dad’s Uni when I was little, but I couldn’t tell you anything more about him than that. The Elgar was that old tub thumper the Cockaigne Overture and the VW Symphony 7 rounded off the programme. I was ashamed to admit that I had forgotten all about it. (When I got home this evening I checked and found we hadn’t even written it in our diary!)

She said that while you could tell they weren’t as polished or professional as, say, the Halle they were still very good. She had naturally assumed that I would be there as I seemed to be at most of things she attended of a cultural nature!

We checked our forthcoming diary dates and found that she won’t be going to Lincoln tomorrow to see The Sixteen, but she is going to the Lyceum to see ‘One Man Two Guvnors’ and also to see the final concert in the International Concert Series at the City Hall too. My Mum is coming to the latter two events too. She and Mrs B get on really well. I suppose that Mrs B must be about my sister’s age or a bit older.

I knew she is interested in my work at the Uni so I had brought in a photograph of the letter we had found and a photocopy of our attempt at a translation – so far as it goes. She was fascinated by it and said she could see why the attractions of being a Research Assistant had overshadowed being a fulltime Archivist at XXX & Y. Mr Carr came in as we were discussing the importance of the finding of the letter and he got hold of the wrong end of the stick and thought I had discovered something amazing in our archives. I let Mrs B do the explaining and he too was fascinated by the idea of the letter having laid undisturbed for centuries until we came along and tried to render it into modern English.

He did say one thing which made me thing he was quite switched on; he thought our letter was like a piece of long lost treasure which no-one had known was there while our archives are merely forgotten treasures. People know they are they but no-one is really interested in them for their own sake. There will come a time when the law has changed or been amended so much that these ancient pieces of paper with their legal precedents will be superseded and worthless. I said that they would still be important as records of how law developed over to time and adapted itself to changing circumstances.

Surely they held some worth for that alone. He agreed and said that he wished my mind was being used by the firm all the time rather than it just being peripatetic! That is probably the closest I’ll come to a compliment from him, I guess.

Laura had the meal ready and waiting when I got in and then she zoomed off to work once more. I found there was a text waiting for me from Kaybers. They are in Norway and are being given the rounds of the family to parade the new little Orr! I hope it hasn’t cost her an arm and a leg to send a text from there, I know how expensive a place to live it is!

My lovely blonde bombshell was complete knackered tonight when she got back in, there had been a huge party in the restaurant and her legs were going wobbly because of all the “toing” and “froing” so I had driven down to the restaurant and picked her up. At home she flopped into the armchair and asked, “Do you think I could have a nice hot bath?”

I rushed upstairs and filled the bath adding some of the spa salts we had for Christmas and lighting all the candles and tealights we had in the bathroom to add extra ambiance. She lay back in the water and I proceeded to wash her carefully and gently all over. When I had done she reached out and gave me a huge smackeroo, put her arms round my neck and pulled me in with her! I was only in shorts and a t-shirt which was handy as they came off quite easily and were thrown into the shower cubicle.

She then proceeded to return the favour but we got no further than her soaping my breasts before lust took over and we forgot all about washing…

(A P.S. to this; as I’d had my ‘wash’ before Callie’s last walk all she got tonight was a stroll up the garden path and a release in the field behind the house by YT wearing her bathrobe. As doggy revenge for this inconsiderate treatment she woke me up at about three twenty in the morning wanting to go out for a call of nature. Dogs, eh? No romance!)

Wednesday May 14^th.

The 16 at Lincoln Cathedral.

Discovered an amazing fact today; which explains why I sometimes seem to be one of the few leaving the building of XXX & Y at six pm. The staff can choose to alter the length of their lunch time and go that much earlier if they have informed their line manager. This can be done up to twice a week. I have been working here all this time and never knew. I asked Mrs Briggs about it and she thought I did know but also thought I liked having long lunchtimes so I could dine out and wasn’t bothered. Even part time workers, like me, are included in the scheme. I feel a bit silly. I start could work earlier on Tuesday afternoons and go home at the same time as Laura does from Uni and cut an hour of my lunchtime every Wednesday to do the same then as well. What a drongo I’ve been.

Why am I mentioning this now? Well, I found out about it today and we left at 5 pm to drive over to Lincoln for a concert at the Cathedral. The drive itself took us about an hour and we found parking near to Lincoln Castle which is just a short stroll from the Cathedral precincts. The concert didn’t begin until 7.30 so we scouted a round for a place for a bite to eat. A pub heading down Steep Hill, called the Wig and Mitre, looked promising so we dived in there and had a bite and a glass of wine each.

The tickets we’d bought were for the front nave and were unreserved, so our plan was to head for the door as they opened at 6.45, snag our seats and then take it in turns having a swift wander round the building. That is what we did. There was already a queue outside the west door of about twenty people but as we waited it got longer and longer and longer. I carried the shopping bag with two cushions and a blanket to render our seats more comfortable and we chose a pair of aisle seats four rows back from where the choir would perform. Although, from what I remember of them performing at St. Marie’s in Sheffield, the need to view the choir wasn’t all that important, it was being in a good position to hear them which was important. We were right in the centre of the front of the nave, just before the transepts, where the acoustics should have been perfect. The three front rows had reserved labels on them; Dean, Sub-dean, Siemens(?) etc

Once we had claimed our seats Laura went off on an exploration to find the location of the Ladies’ toilets, always worth knowing. She came back and informed me where they were so I went to check too. Then she had a stroll round and when she passed the baton to me I did too. By the time I got back to my seat at about 7.20pm the place was bursting at the seams. I was glad we’d got in so early and had been keen to get seats where we did. I had tried to order interval drinks from one of the tables but the ladies manning it (womanning it?) claimed they couldn’t manage to do that and anyway there were three drinks stations scattered around the transepts and they would cope quite well. (It turned out they were correct.)

The concert started on time after a brief address from a man in a long grey frock. They performed three pieces one from each of the three composers represented, Shepherd, Mundy and Davy, then we had the interval. The piece by Davy was the weakest of three by a long way, especially as it had sections in it where the choir seemed to be singing variations on the words; “Ha ha ha”, “He he he” and “Ho ho ho”. I mentioned this to Laura and she had thought the same. Without a copy of the score it was difficult to work out what they were singing, even for a Classics scholar.

We rushed to the interval drinks stalls and had a glass of surprisingly pleasant white wine each and then got talking with a couple who had brought their little girl to the concert, she must have been about seven or eight I suppose. I think she was the youngest person we spotted all night. The little girl thought the music was pretty but it did go on a bit in places, and there was an old man with white hair and a huge bald patch sat in front of her who kept jiggling about in his seat from left to right which blocked her view, so then she had to move. She had wanted to slap his bald head but her Mum had restrained her. I think I would have primed her to say, “Will you please stop fidgeting? Don’t you know how to behave at a concert?”

The second half consisted of five shorter pieces and they definitely saved the best work until last, Mundy's "Vox patris caelestis". I thought it was by far the most well formed and structured piece of the whole evening, probably because, to my ears, it sounded quite modern compared to the other items we'd heard. The whole concert was over by 9.15! We wandered around the top end of Steep Hill and then headed back to the real hills further east. 

I thought the whole experience was truly uplifting and inspiring, especially in such a magnificent setting. They are playing Carlisle much later in the year, I may see if we can get tickets for that, if it is on a weekend. The Cathedral was much as I remembered it from my last visit and Laura was keen to come back on a normal day and have a good old wander round whilst the cathedral and everything else is open. We have planned to do that one weekend before we go to Australia.

Home by about 10.30 and charp hitting after walking Callie and a spot of Ugandan discussions!

Thursday 16^th May.

A day of contrasts. I had a very tearful Laura to console this morning. I opened a letter from the City Hall and it was a flier for their next International Concert Season. Pre-booking opens at the start of June – just days after the final concert in this season’s programme. I said I would get us booked in for the whole of next season asap and Laura just started crying. I asked us what was the matter and she told me that it really upset her that I would buy things like that for her when she couldn’t really afford to do it herself or to pay me back the huge amount I would be spending on her. (The season costs just under £300 in advance.)

I gave her a big hug and asked her if she had enjoyed this season. She said that she had. Would she like to go to next season? Yes, she would… but couldn’t she just buy her tickets for herself? I said would she mind buying her ticket from me on the day of each performance? She said that would be alright. So that is what we have arranged. I will go ahead and buy the two season tickets for next year and Laura will buy her ticket from me each time rather than stump up £300, she hasn’t got all, at once.

I got really worried that she might think I am buying her affection or behaving in a unthinking or thoughtless way when I do things like this (ie spend a lot of money on something for the both of us – the Veronese trip cost me about £150 altogether, for example). She said that she felt awkward about the fact I would just hand over my debit card to get something without seeming to think twice about it whilst she was, kind of, counting her pennies every week. This made me upset too and we both ended up having a good cry about it.

We agreed to go through our finances together so we could see what each other was able to contributing to the house hold and the like. It does turnout that she has a pittance really from her part-time job (and tips) compared to the fortune I seem to get every month. My salary has risen from about £16K per year to just under £31K(in one almighty leap in September) but with absolutely no extra outgoings. Naturally, I have a hell of a lot of spending money.

Laura contributes to the household by paying the equivalent of the council tax each month putting that and something extra into the household bank account - which is what we use to pay all our bills, food shopping and fuel for the car etc.

We each have our own personal bank accounts too which we use for whatever spending we want. I am putting away over £500 in my saving account every month (Stocks and Shares ISA in fact) and still am pretty flush.

I had no idea that she felt so worried about the disparity in our incomes. We made a tearful vow that we must never bottle anything up again, if we felt bad about something we had to get it out into the open, not leave it to fester.

The other event of the day was a bee swarm on the side of Callie’s palace when we got home from Uni. It was a ball of seething little black creatures about the size of a netball. They seemed pretty settled and calm although their buzzing was made quite loud by the amplification effect of the shed being like a sound box. One or two scout bees were flying around, probably looking for a better location to swarm to next, but the rest seemed quite happy to use the dog’s house as their new home.  

Not quite knowing what to do I went and knocked on Ann & Steve’s door and asked them. They came and had a look at the swarm, which was very impressive and then Steve remembered a guy he knew who kept bees. He rushed off to fetch the number.

The upshot of which was at about 6 pm a chap in a blue van arrived, wearing a white overall (bee suit), he asked to see the swarm and told us he could remove that quite easily. He asked if there were any bee keepers locally and we had to tell him we didn’t think so. We had attracted quite a crowd on our little patch of lawn as people heard about the swarm and wanted to come and see it before it was taken away.

The chap disappeared for a while and came back with a roll of gaffer tape and a cardboard box. The box was about 12 x 10 x 8 inches and it was into this he was going to knock the swarm and then seal it up. He asked us to move back, so we crowded into my conservatory (or into Muriel and Ken’s next door) to watch.

He placed the box directly over the swarm with one of the side lid flaps folded in and then just shuffled it from side to side for a moment before putting it down on the grass and folding over all the lid flaps. He used the gaffer tape to seal the lid and then, with a small knife, began to make a tiny hole in one corner of the box which looked like a 1” wide little door with a ramp of cardboard.

He placed the box upside down on the grass again, with the flap of the little door down on the grass to and said that we ought to wait for about an hour for the remaining scout bees and any others to find the temporary hive and go back inside. We had him come and wait with us in our conservatory and he expounded at great length and detail about bees and bee keeping. He was fascinating and obviously an expert. This was the third call about a swarm he had had today. One was in a tree which he’d moved prior to coming to us and one was on the eaves of a house too high to reach, even with the home owner’s ladder! He had left that one until he could get them down by other means.

We had a couple of cups of tea and a few biscuits and he explained that he had a spare couple of hives which the bees would go into and then he would place the whole lot in an orchard he used over towards Barnsley. It seems he’s been keeping bees for years and currently has seventeen hives altogether. He is just about to start a new method of producing comb honey and has bought some contraptions which are placed in the hives and the bees construct their combs into them but when they are full and sealed the devices can be taken out, unfastened and dropped straight into a jar! They are made especially for that purpose. I have asked him if I can have a regular order of one of those jars (once a month) because comb honey is absolutely gorgeous.

Laura had to zoom off to the restaurant at seven, so the bee man and I kept chatting until he thought most of the other bees would have found the swarm and we went out to finish off. He closed up the little door and sealed it with gaffer tape, we then took this round to his van. He allowed me to carry it and it was amazingly light. He said there were probably about 2kg of bees in the box.

His van was a veritable Aladdin's cave of bee keeping paraphernalia. He had several full racks of combs, full of honey, which looked so tempting and several boxes with empty racks in them waiting to go into the hives. He put the second swarm of the day next to swarm number one, closed up and drove off.

Laura was still excited about the swarm when she got back because she hadn’t seen one before. I saw one once as a child but I didn’t see how it was removed from the branch it was on. I was just shepherded away from it before the bee-keeper arrived. She was also pleased because she had made over £35 in tips tonight, which (I thought) should go some way to relieving her fears about her financial situation. I didn’t tell her this though. I merely told her that I had bought a jar of honey from our bee-keeper and did she fancy trying a new way of eating it.

She (and I) did!