Three generations dining out.

Friday 2^nd January

The warm contented glow continues this morning. I am sort of bursting with a desire to shout it out from the rooftops. I told Laura this and she said she felt the same and did we really want to wait until June? Sitting down to breakfast, after walking the dogs up Tall Hill together, we looked at the pros and cons of announcing now. There are a lot of pros, equally there are a lot of cons. We have decided to wait until after the holiday period was over, in the first instance, and then have another pro and con session.

Mum and Gran arrived at about 12. Mum was full of annoyance at the road works all along the A7 where they are reinstating the Edinburgh to Carlisle railway line. It will be brilliant to go for a day trip from Cumbria to Edinburgh direct. I can’t wait until it opens. I’m so excited about it! That’s two things already this year.

We had a swift snack for lunch and then took the Parent and Parent’s Parent into Cockermouth. I parked up outside Harris Park and we walked through the park, with Callie, down to the river and then along Rubbybanks Lane into town. It is a lovely little town, Cockermouth, and it feels vibrant and fresh. There are no run down, grotty bits at all! Callie and I walk through it regularly, and she is used to being tied up outside shops on the Main Street, and today was no exception. We went into several clothes shops and arty-farty, knick-knack shops and the National Trust shop.

Mum was amazed by the change to Lowther Went. She remembers the Wilko store building being part of a grocery chain called Walter Wilson’s. That is way before my time. Although, apparently it isn’t. WW’s was still there when I was a little girl, I just don’t remember it. Mum thinks it changed in about 1996. They were both gobsmacked by the height of the flood marker on the Globe Inn’s wall. It is about a foot higher than the top of my head and I’m 5’ 7”. Gran asked what the Spice Club restaurant was like, she loves a curry. I told her it was brilliant. Indigo used to be the best one in the town but that closed after the floods, I think. Anyway, we went in and booked a table for four for Saturday night. We were lucky to be squeezed in, but as we had asked for an early slot that was fine. We would have to vacate our table by 9pm.

The stroll up Station Street and back around to the car was a bit of a pull for Gran, but she managed it quite well and wasn’t too out of puff. Mum is impressed with Dad’s tank (VW Passat estate) but thinks it would be far too big for her. I have got used to it now, apart from having to press a button to switch the engine on. That seems totally mad to me. I am considering driving us down to Sheffield in it on Tuesday just to avoid putting extra miles on my car; is that naughty? I probably won’t.

Back home we had another cuppa and gossip until the evening meal was ready, cottage pie with cabbage and petits-pois. Yummy in my tummy. For dessert we had some of the apple cake Dad had left in his freezer. I always write a label for stuff I put in his freezer otherwise it just festers there (or it used to, Louisa is quite good at not abandoning stuff inside it). This one was made in mid-October so would be good for another three months. Not with four gannets like us though. Gran liked it and wondered where I had got the recipe. (It is one of hers, TBH.)

We had a relaxing evening watching Gran’s choice of TV programmes. She is a bit addicted, I think. I suppose it’s her age. We planned a stroll along the harbour walls and pier in Maryport tomorrow if the weather holds. I will treat everyone to a cuppa at the Aquarium too, aren’t I the generous one?

In bed after walking the dogs Loll and I had a comforting snuggle which led to the inevitable. Mum and Gran are not on our staircase so we could make as much noise as we wanted but we stifled our emotional outbursts, just in case…

Saturday 3^rd Jan.

Bloody cold this morning. I banked up the wood burner and fired it up to add to the central heating. When we got back from walking the pups up the hill the lounge was like toast and Gran was looking admiringly at the cast iron box. She said she thought one would be good at her house. I agreed, especially as it can get really cold in Hawick. Which is surprising as it nestles snugly in the Border Hills, away from nasty blasts of wind and the like. I guess it is all down to latitude. When we lived in Norwich our winters were usually very mild. It was as though we had our own private weather system.

The decision to walk the hounds at Maryport was agreed and we drove off (in Dad’s tank again – it and the Land Rover are the only vehicles which will take all four dogs). We parked at the Flimby end of the path and strolled northwards up to the huge red sandstone harbour wall. Walking along the top of that Gran thought Maryport looked quite nice. I hadn’t the heart to tell her parts of it are a University of Crime and others are Benefits Street personified. The area round the dock, harbour and marina are lovely, though, and look very tasteful. Mum also knows these facts about Maryport but she kept schtum too.

The plus points this morning were the harbour area looked really attractive and Gran was impressed by the size and scale of the whole development. She also thought the new housing along by the harbour was really attractive. I have to agree with her, I does look really well designed and well thought out. The only minus point was that the Aquarium wasn’t open, which meant no café and no cuppa! I did explain about the Roman Museum, so after getting back to the car I drove us round the harbour, up the hill and we parked up at the museum. It was open.

We had a cuppa first from the vending machine and then bought a ticket each to wander round the Roman artefacts discovered here during the previous centuries. It had to be the biggest collection of Roman items outside London. There are masses and masses of antiquities in there. The biggest items are Roman head stones from a cemetery that was uncovered. Lots are as pristine as those in the big museum in Rome, which makes the inscriptions really easy to read (if your Latin is up to it). What was really surprising is the number which were bought by ordinary legionnaires, not by the equestrian classes or the elite of the society.

We took double the time in the museum than we had on the walk and Gran was even more impressed by Maryport afterwards. If the place had the funds, they would love to excavate and expose the actual Alauna Roman Camp – which is right outside the museum’s door – to a permanent display, like the ones on the ‘wall’ itself. Funding doesn’t really allow for that. There is also the University of crime element to consider, sadly. The youth of the town are known for their mindless vandalism, so there is a huge risk it wouldn’t be safe at all. The scumbags have already forced the closure of the toilets on the prom with their moronic behaviour.

In fact Mum recalled how, some years ago, a gang of the feral, bastard children, placed a stone over the chimney-pot of a local man who had tried to tell some of them off for their unacceptable behaviour and the build-up of fumes in the house killed him! All of Ewanrigg knew who these little twats were but (Mum seems to remember) none of them were brought to justice. It goes to show that scum live in the countryside and small towns as much as in big cities.

Cockermouth always seems relatively scum free, as far as its population goes. We had a great meal at the Spice Club. We ordered a different main course each, which we left in the middle of the table and shared. I eschewed my usual Jalfrezi and had a Dansak instead. Gran ordered something (the name of which I disremember) that blew our heads off! As we’d booked an early table we were finished well before 9pm. Walking back to the car, Gran was surprised by the number of young people walking about with hardly any sensible clothes on. Teenage girls, especially, prancing around in buttock skimming dresses and no coats to protect against the elements. She was a bit shocked. I had to tell her it was a common feature across the country. It happens in Sheffield, it happened in both Norwich and Cambridge too, from what I can remember. Mum backed up my claim, telling her she bet that Hawick was the same as well. Gran was reluctant to believe it.

Our busy day had made the Parent’s Parent a bit whacked and she hit the charp straight after a swift nightcap of Malt Whisky. Mum wasn’t too long behind her in climbing the wooden hills to bed-ford-shire. Laura and I snugged on the sofa, like we often do at home. It was a wrench to have to walk the dogs, but they seemed content with a run out in the paddock.

It was a really good day.

Sunday 4^th January.

More grotty weather. Well, it is Cumbria, so what do you expect? We looked at the unappealing climatic conditions and decided that staying put was a good idea. This got hit on the head after a call from Molly asking if we fancied lunch at the Stag in Crosby. Did we? Of course we did.

We met inside the pub as we’d gone in two cars. Dad’s tank is big but he didn’t opt for the three rows of seats version as he wanted boot space for his three dogs, otherwise we’d have taken everyone. Each of us had variations on the roast dinner, with Gran, who claims to have the appetite of a bird, ordering the three meat roast. I stuck to roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. We gorged ourselves on the good wholesome fare but cannily left room for dessert. The sticky toffee pudding was ordered by everyone but me and Stephen; we both had the hot chocolate fudge cake with local ice cream. Yummy in everyone’s tummy.

After the meal we decamped back to Dad’s and I played the hostess for the afternoon. Molly, Eric and Stephen seems to show no signs of going home as the afternoon wore on, so I rustled up a cold collation with the rest of the cold meat we had, and the pork pie, sausage rolls and various salads. I’d set some baby new potatoes to cook while I was doing all this and boiled a few eggs too. We scoffed ourselves into a stupor again.

After a suitable pause I offered desserts but everyone declined. Thank goodness! Any more food and I would have done a Mr Creosote after his last “wafer thin mint”! We sprawled in Dad’s lounge, Laura and I snuggled on one sofa, Gran and Mum on the other with the chairs filled by Eric and Molly. We made Stephen play at the waiter and he served us drinks. We gossiped and giggled, reminisced and chatted and had a really pleasant evening. The Thomases (sans Laura, of course) headed off at about 9pm, so I followed them through the village with the wolf-pack, and then on up Tall Hill. I went all the way up to the seat and sat on it, reflecting on how lucky I was with my life, really.

My luck didn’t last, though, half way down the hill again the heavens opened and by the time we got back to Dad’s I and the dogs were soaked! Loll came to help dry off the woofies and then she offered to dry me off too, after I’d had my shower. There was an offer I couldn’t refuse. It is strange how, when someone else dries you off it makes you wetter!