Friday 7th November.
If ever you needed proof of what a set of lying cheating
bastards these Tories are, the debacle over the alleged renegotiation of the EU
bill is a case in point. £1.7 billion becomes £850 million because of George
(Tax Avoiding lying Cnut) Osborne’s discussions in Brussels. Was it bollox. He
never even mentioned it at the meeting. The EU ministers announced that once
the UK rebate was taken in to effect it would half the amount. I am so pleased
I listen to BBC Radio 4’s “Today” programme. It give you the facts with no spin
or bias about absolutely everything.
The downside of this, of course, it makes you realise
what a set of incompetent twats the whole set of politicians are. What we need
in this country is not reform but revolution. We need to put these funking bar
stewards up against a wall and shoot the lot of them! It is particularly
relevant just days after Guy Fawkes night – we need a modern version of him to
get rid of this scum in Westminster.
Rant over.
Tonight we went to see the Royal Northern Sinfonia (I
wonder when they were given the epithet “Royal”?) at the City Hall. They had a
mixed programme, possibly of crowd pleasers but they were good nonetheless.
The kicked off with a little known Mendelssohn overture, The Fair
Melusine (I have it on a complete set of Mendelssohn Overtures, but for that I
wouldn’t have heard it before at all). This was followed by the Wagner-light
digest that is Siegfried Idyll. I like this piece but it doesn’t beat Parsifal
(IMHO). After the break we had my third favourite Requiem Mass (The Mozart
one). It was done really well and could have lifted its position higher in my
estimation where it not for the fact that my numbers one and two are even
better musically. So excellent playing and singing alone wouldn’t move it.
During the interval we met up with Mrs Briggs. She joked
that we looked like twins! I guess we did, in a way. We had both decided to
wear ankle length leggings and baggy top. I had my Mondrian style leggings with
a fluffy, plain, cashmere sweater whilst Loll had plumped for plain leggings
and an explosive riot of a top. This is a T-shirt with a collage of old master paintings
printed all over it.
My two side plaits (being still in tact) pulled my hair
back and Laura had achieved a similar effect with a complicated knot in her
hair. A bit like a variation on a French Knot.
We talked about the first half and Mrs B admitted she had
never heard The Fair Melusine before. We touched on the Mozart to come and
Laura said it wasn’t her favourite Mass. When asked which we both preferred we
simultaneously came out with ‘Faure’! She laughed and said, that was proof we
were twins!
After the performance we walked back to our cars
together, she had parked in the same car park. She is thinking of swapping her
Mercedes SLK for a Porsche Boxter. I think I may have disappointed her when I
showed a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the idea, saying as far as I was
concerned a car was just a tin box on wheels used to get you from A to B. She
asked why I had bought my new car then? (I bought an ex-demonstrator Kia Cee’d
last year). I had to explain it was because when Laura moved in my little
Picanto wasn’t roomy enough, so I got something bigger, and cheap, which meant
Callie could have her own space in the boot and we used the back seat as our
load area. If the Picanto had been big enough I wouldn’t have swapped at all. I
don’t think she was convinced. I hope I haven’t offended her.
Saturday 8th November.
We did a food shop this morning (ouch). Dumped the
groceries on the kitchen table and headed over to High Bradfield to take a
stroll round Agden Reservoir ended up at the Horns for lunch. We were lucky
with the weather, it stayed dry despite threatening rain. The pub was not too
full (I had booked a table in advance yesterday any way) and we didn’t get hit
upon by guys thinking we were fair game. This has happened to us quite often in
this particular watering hole. It did a couple of times when we have been together
and I can remember five occasions when I was in here by myself that guys tried
to chat me up!
We had an uninterrupted meal, looking at an uninterrupted
view across the Strines Valley up to Derwent Edge in the distance which, during
the course of our meal, disappeared into the low cloud. I had their home made
meat and potato pie, it is always delicious. Laura went for scampi and had a
mountain of the little creatures on her plate. I counted 16 pieces of scampi!
The rest of the day was a fairly lazy one, although we
did wander into the garden and had another potter about getting the lavender
trimmed back and any renegade weeds removed from the raised beds. The lawn
could do with a trim but it was too wet. I will have to wait for a dry day to
get it scalped, even if it means cutting it in the dark after work.
Sunday November 9th.
We had another lunch out today, in Horsforth as we went
to see baby Sophie again. (OK we did really visit my brother and family but
baby Sophie is a big draw!)
She is really coming on and has begun to smile at you
now. I am not sure if she knows who I am yet but I would like to think she
does. Philip was less obnoxious than he sometimes is and we had pleasant chats
about life the universe and everything. Even he was appalled by the bare faced
lies told by his favourite political party which has given him several million
brownie points in my eyes.
Laura and I strolled with Sophie, in a carrying sling,
down to the newsagent to buy a Sunday paper and I was asked how old my baby was
in the shop! Before I could answer Angela told the shop keeper that she wasn’t
my baby at all, it was her little sister. I was her auntie. This is going to
sound absolutely pathetic but I was quite saddened by my niece’s interruption.
I could happily have pretended Sophie was mine to a complete stranger.
Back at Phil and Jane’s Angela told her folks about how
the man in the shop had thought Sophie was my baby. They all laughed. Then
little Peter piped up with, “You will have a baby of your own one day, though,
won’t you?” I could have hugged him. What a prescient little lad he is after
all. Not made of slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails like his father.
Angela wasn’t going to let this go however, she
announced, “She won’t. You need a husband to have a baby. Everyone knows that!”
I joked that I could rent a husband for the task. That
got her thinking. I was expecting another childhood gem of wisdom from her but
I think Phil might have sensed we were heading for quick sand with this
conversation so he steered us round to The Snowman instead. They are both
looking forward to going to the show (and Phil seems to have got over his
little spat about it should be him taking them to things like this). They hadn’t
a clue what a matinee was so I explained. They thought that was a great idea
but were worried the people in the play wouldn’t be as good as the ones who did
the show in the evening!
Lunch was delicious. Jane had cooked a huge leg of pork
and we had crackling and apple sauce plus a mound of veggies. It was good to
see the kids getting tucked in to their vegetables, often children and
vegetables don’t mix! Afterwards we had an amazing chocolate dome dessert, with
Cointreau. It was stunning. I asked where Jane had bought it. She mouthed Aldi,
at me as though it was something to be ashamed of. I use Morrisons for my weekly
shop as there isn’t a convenient Aldi, but Dad has one in Cockermouth and we
have shopped there regularly. I told her as much trying to make her less
embarrassed. Phil was off the mark with how it was a brilliant, successful
retail model and there was no wonder it was doing so well, even despite the
recession it was going to succeed once people understood the rationale behind
how it operated.
I told him he was being pompous, the only rationale most
people used was the fact it saved them money. Angela said that lots of her
friends at school used to look down their noses at the idea of shopping at Aldi
but now they seemed to have got used to it. They still look down their noses at
Lidl, though! Kids, eh?
At around five we made our excuses and left. I did ask if
anyone would notice if I smuggled Sophie away with us. Peter said that no-one
would mind at all (interesting comment, I thought) Angela was appalled. She
told us in no uncertain terms we couldn’t take her with us. It wouldn’t be
right and it could be dangerous. I asked her why it could be dangerous. She
replied, “You haven’t got a baby seat!”
Apart from eating our meal, and when she had her
afternoon nap, I had been cuddling baby Sophie all day. There is something
really comforting about having a little life in your care. It makes you feel
all grown up and protective and, I don’t know… Maybe I am just getting broody?
Laura says it is because I have never really encountered
such little babies before. I was miles away in Norwich, Australia and Cambridge
during Peter and Angela’s early childhood and so never got to see them much at
all. I was in the UK for the births of all three of Suze and Pete’s kids so I
missed their infancy too. Laura is of the opinion that if I was with Sophie
24/7, like she had been with Stephen (her kid brother), the gloss would soon have
worn off. Perhaps there is some truth in that. I do know that if Rick hadn’t
died, I would most likely have had two of my own by now. That thought made me
feel incredibly sad!
I think I do want to be a mother, someday.
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