Catching up with lost time.

Monday March 9th to Sunday March 22nd

I am taking drastic action to try and catch up with my back log of entries needing to be written, never mind posted! It is now March 28th and I haven't even posted from March 9th onwards. This will help get me back on track - hopefully.

I've been so busy towards the end of term and having my new baby half-sister has really upskittled my equilibrium and work effort so much. I am surprised by the stupid emotional response I have had to Chloe's arrival. It has really made me sit and re-evaluate my life and my life style and my overall way of doing things. I know that sounds unbelievably foolish and irrational but her birth has had an impact on me out of all proportion to the event.

The fact of being asked to be Chloe's godmother was probably the trigger. I accepted and the Christening was on the last Sunday before Palm Sunday, where I stood in that church and actually took part in a Mass for the first time since Richard's funeral. I made promises and vows in that church which reminded me that Richard and I were all set to make promises and vows to each other in 2010, a year after his death. I guess that is one of the reasons I had tears streaming down my face when we were gathered round the font on the 22nd.

My emotional state really worried Laura and she thought I might be having thoughts about becoming a mother my self and giving her up so I could find a suitable man to be my children's father. This upset me too. That was the furthest from the truth she could have been. Once I told her that the whole thing had convinced me that entering marriage with her was probably going to be what I needed in my life reassured her and we almost announced our engagement at the post christening party. We decided it would have been selfish of us to steal Dad and Louisa's thunder so we are going to stick to our original plan of announcing it with a party after Loll graduates!

The Camerata Salzburg concert, with Nicloa Bendetti on the 14th of March was wonderful. I was really impressed by her playing and stage presence. [Again Laura told me I had a Lesbo Pash on her!] I had not heard the Bartok Divertimento before but it exceeded my expectations. I find he can be a chancy sort of listen, sometimes he is so lyrical and expressive in the old classical style and at others he slaps you in the face with his modernity.

The rest of the pieces I had heard: the Mozart Violin Concerto No 3 and his Symphony No 29. My favourite of the evening was the Bruckner Adagio for strings. I have recordings of all three pieces at home.

Mum was there again with her new beau Tony. I am still not convinced that he really, actually, does like classical music but the fact he is prepared to attend these things with Mum is an enormous plus point in his favour. I am a bit worried that her attachment to him may be a sort of reaction to the fact that Dad and his new wife (OK, wife of three years this summer) have just had a baby. Maybe I am over thinking these things but I have this nagging question in the back of my head wondering that her seemingly swift infatuation with the joiner from Totley has another agenda behind it.

I am just being stupid I know. The question I have asked myself over and over, since we first met Tony, is can I see him as a Step-Dad and I'm afraid the answer is, no. That he makes Mum seem happy is good but...

She was happy enough on the Saturday of the concert, even when I told her about how Jane, Laura and I had been out buying ourselves new outfits for the christening. She expressed a genuine interest in our purchases which was a reaction I hadn't expected. She was amused by the fact that Angela had wanted to buy a Princess Elsa type dress (Frozen) and how she became extremely annoyed when none of the shops we went into had anything that fitted the bill. The one place that had anything remotely like one was no good as all their dresses were too small for her!

The end of term drew on to its usual wimper of a closure. The campus seemed to just get emptier and emptier as the last two weeks went on. My two Thursday lectures rounded off that module of work quite nicely and both seemed well attended. Once again the Q & A was funny, especially as when I asked for any other questions, near the end, I was asked where I was going for the vacation. That made me laugh! They seemed surprised I wasn't doing anything "historical", I thought that was quite revealing about the way thy viewed me.

Feli waltzed off to Bordeaux early, once again. I am not sure how she manages to do this almost every semester. Is she sleeping with the Dean or something? We had a meal out together in the week before the she went and she thinks I am honoured to be a Godmother to my new sister. She said the meal was a way of wetting the baby's head in absentia. That is double absentia - Chloe wasn't there for the meal and Feli won't be there for the head wetting!

We drove up to Cumbria on the Friday afternoon of the last week and were delighted that the Saturday was glorious, weather-wise. We dragged Dad out on to the fells and had a long walk and chat in the Lorton Valley. He is really a very contented soul at the moment. It is hard to pin down why I have arrived at that conclusion but there is something about him, his manner or whatever, which seems changed.

When I mentioned this too him he agreed, he told me it was 'bloody fatigue'! He claims to be knackered out completely. After Chloe's arrival he tried to fit in driving to Lancaster every day for work and back again in the evening! This lasted a couple of days before he decided to take his paternity leave. 180 mile round trip each day is plain stupid.

They have decided that, when the new semester starts, they will spend the whole week living in the flat in Lancaster and just use Cumbria for the weekends. They'll drive down on Monday morning and back on Friday afternoon.  It is a small flat but is ideal for their immediate needs. Once the initial exhaustion of the new baby has worn off they will re-assess the situation. Dad didn't mention his impending retirement at all which makes me wonder if he hasn't had his contract extended again!

The Christening was really good. There were three babies being splashed with water so the church was packed out. Chloe was decked out in the family's Christening robe. It went from Magdeburg to Australia in the 1880s and came to the UK for our three christenings, then for Suze and Phil's three children each - the last one was baby Sophie's Christening last year. Being the eldest, Suze is now the official keeper of the robe. It will go back to Australia after this event. Given the ages of my siblings' children, it won't be needed again for quite a while - hopefully. Jill is the oldest grandchild, being 17, but she has her sights firmly set on going to University in WA and becoming a marine biologist. It doesn't look like children are on her horizon for a while yet. [Things do change with in the blink of an eye, of course!]

The post Christening party was quite a cheery affair, especially as nobody fell out with anyone else. OK, I mean Jane kept Phil under control - he can be a pillock at family gatherings. I thnk the fact that the actual family were in the minority at the bash may have been a factor too.

He even complimented me on my ivory tulip dress, this is quite unheard of and put me on alert for some request or favour coming my way. There wasn't one, which was unusual. He did ask if we were going away for the vacation and I told him we were spending nearly three weeks on Arran. If he was going to ask if he could have use of the van, over the Easter Holidays, he kept it really well hidden. There wasn't a glimmer on his face when I told him our plans. Perhaps I had better not play poker with him.

I explained we had booked on the 9.45 ferry the next day and that was why I wasn't knocking back the grog like I usually did. The cheeky bugger did say he had noticed I was on soft drinks and thought I might be on a diet. I told him it was a shame they didn't do diets for fat heads!

When I took Dad's three dogs and Callie for their last walk of the day, a tired but happy little Angela asked if she could come too. We strolled hand in hand slowly through the village and then on up the Tall Hill road. She asked me if I was going to have a baby. I laughed and said, "Not yet." She told me she had thought about it a lot since Sophie was born and seeing her Mum so tired for the first few months after she arrived has sort of scared her. I explained that babies were pretty scary things, worse than monsters or dragons. She asked why and I tried to jokingly tell her that it was scary that they were yours for life. How they would turn out as people was mainly because of your parents. I said I was a pretty silly, reckless, devil may care sort of person and I would be worried that I may end up with children who were just the same.

She told me she thought that was true, not the silly reckless stuff, but because I was so like Gramps and Nanan! I asked her what she meant and she explained that I looked like a young Nanan and I did things with my hands and arms and the way I bent down to talk to her and stuff like that which Nanan did, but when I talked I sounded like Gramps. (Out of the mouth of babes, eh?)

She also said that she though Sophie wasn't as pretty as Chloe. That made me laugh. She is going to have lots and lots of babies and they are all going to end up behaving like her and her Mum rather than her Dad because he gets sulky. I had to bite my tongue not to ask her what he gets sulky about.

At Dad's we turned in early, to prepare for our early start in the morning. Phil and Jane and the littlies had set off back to Leeds as soon as Angela and I had got back with the dogs. It only takes him two hours to drive down to Leeds if he leaves later in the evening.  To catch the ferry from Dad's, you have to leave at about 6.30am. If the M74 is busy it can take three hours to Ardrossan. If we were early we could have a cooked breakfast in the Asda by the ferry terminal.

"I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue" LIVE.

Friday 6^th March

What a week. It has been quite a roller coaster of emotion and tiring events. My yesterday’s lecture was good, according to the students who spoke to me this morning. Dad is still knackered and I assume Louisa is too, however, Dad’s all-encompassing egotism didn’t tell me about Louisa but about himself. I had to ask about Louisa before she was mentioned! Chloe was described again and again and is still wonderful. My brother has been more ingratiating and less obnoxious, which is a revelation; I think he may have been nobbled by someone – probably by Jane. She is the person who humanises my brother so many times. Mum has veered from being initially very antagonistic when the pregnancy was announced to much more conciliatory now that Chloe is here – she phoned Louisa on one of the days that Dad was at work (Wednesday I think) and had a really long chat with her, which has probably brought about the Damascene conversion. She was even happy for me to be ‘the child’s’ godmother when we spoke today.

I am not sure exactly why Mum has been so ‘anti’ really, as Louisa wasn’t a contributory factor in their divorce, she and Dad met years later. It could be the fact they have had a child together which has knocked Mum’s equilibrium into the long grass! However, she is fine and now and raring to head down to Nottingham tomorrow to see I’m Sorry I haven’t a Clue on tour.

Loll and I bit the bullet after work and, with Felice in tow, went to Dominic’s for a meal. This was the first time we’ve been this year. He treated us like long lost family members and refused to accept our order but told us what he would cook for our meal instead. I suppose he has got to know us quite well during the time Laura worked there. I definitely would not have chosen squid as my main course but it was absolutely delicious, tender and succulent and nothing like the horrible squid I had in Sicily once, which put me off for life! He made it with tagliatelle and a rich creamy sauce and it just blew me away. We went through two bottle of delicious Pinot Grigio with the main and then a bottle of Marsala with the dessert which, of course, was Zabaglione. Yummy in our Tummy.

Dom has only met Felice once or twice and of course her Gallic charms worked their spell on him, so much so that we were given a free liqueur coffee afterwards, which I had to refuse as I hate coffee. (I don’t like the taste.) Dom said I could choose a liqueur by itself instead and had a Kummel. We wandered up the hill to my house very, very slowly.

Felice was kipping over and persuaded us that we needed a night cap after I had let Callie out in to the back field for her final stroll of the day. If a dog can do disgruntled Callie did when she realised she wasn’t going for a proper walk. Our night cap ended up being a bottle of Hilmar’s Lieblich Dornfelder which was sublime. (It always is.)

Felice was definitely over the limit and got very lovey dovey with both of us, so much so that I had a terrible thought that she might try and join us in our bed for a three way lesbian orgy. She didn’t. She actually walked into the second bedroom, shouted, “Goodnight!” And just fell on to the bed. Next morning I found her lying there, fully clothed, on top of the bed fast asleep. Well – I didn’t, Callie did, as Feli hadn’t closed the door properly and Callie wandered in to see who was invading her space!

Saturday 7^th March.

After walking the aforementioned woofie, my girl and I drove down to the pool and swam our 100 lengths despite being a little fragile. We sat in the Jacuzzi afterwards as a special treat and then headed back to see if the girl from D’Arcachon had roused herself from her slumbers. She hadn’t.

She put in a bleary eyed and shell shocked appearance at about 10 am, when I began to hoover the lounge carpet after giving everywhere a quick dust through. The noise of the Dyson roused her from her sleep and she was ravenous and thirsty. Luckily for her I do have a jar of instant coffee on the shelf and she had two mugs before she was able to embark on a brunch (well, it was way too late for breakfast). She was able to drive herself back to Crosspool and home after she had downed a bacon and egg buttie. Laura still thinks that she is amusing and asked what we would have done if she’d got into bed with us. I said we should have had sex with her and scared her silly because she is as much a lesbian as I am an astronaut. {Every person she has slept with since I have known her has been the owner of a penis!}

Mum came round at about 4pm and we had an early meal and then hit the motorway for our drive down to Nottingham. I know this route quite well, as I used the Ikea on the junction for Nottingham when I was furnishing my little house in 2011. I must have been there about seven times in two months to collect stuff.

When we went into the auditorium for I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue we found there were kazoos for each of us, which was quite a surprise. We also found pretty quickly that Tony Hawks was standing in for an unwell Graham Garden, which was a major pity as GG is worth ten TH’s in my comedic Top Trumps.

We had a warm up from the producer and a then were off. There was a very smutty and innuendo ridden explanation about why Samantha wasn’t present and we were show the amazing laser score board.

It lasted quite a lot longer than we were expecting and Jack Dee was marvellous as the compare. It was also quite a considerable amount ruder than it is on the radio. They explained that is just as rude on the radio but they do re-takes and edit it all out! They played Mornington Crescent; preceeded by a hilarious explanation of tonight’s variant being played because of our location. My favourite round, the Alternative Definitions, was included and Laura found this a hoot, because I do it all the time at home.

We had to join in with our kazoos on the last round which was a musical one and we merrily kazooed away to “We’ll meet again” which we all agreed was a brilliant way to end the show. Mum was overwhelmed by seeing the thing being done in the flesh as she has been a listener for as long as she can remember. She also reminisced (in the bar) about something called “I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again” which promoted a long and animated conversation with a couple who had travelled up from Grantham to see the show. This was a sort of radio version of Monty Python type sketches which has passed me by entirely. The Grantham couple, Sandy and Howard, told me there are tapes (I assume they meant CDs) available of some of the shows. I will look them out.

Mum stayed over in the same room that Felice used last night although she didn’t just collapse on the bed after having threatened to join us for a night of hot sex! Phew. {Yes, I changed the bedding, what kind of host do you think I am?}

Sunday March 8^th.

Mum wandered off before we got busy Skyping with Dad this morning. He has applied for his allotted Paternity leave which will take him right up to the spring break. When they restart in April he and Louisa and Chloe are going to spend the week days together in the flat in Lancaster and just go back to Tallentire for the weekends. This seems a much more sensible idea that 180 miles a day round trip, by car!

Jane called and asked if we were going to buy new dresses for the christening. I said I hadn’t thought about it but she said that Angela had been pestering her so they were thinking of coming down to Meadow Hell next weekend and did we want to join them in a dress hunt? I agreed, after a swift consultation with my slimmer, sexier, younger partner.

I couldn’t help wondering if this was Jane’s way at getting back at Phil for being such a pillock about Laura and me being Godparents. Is that me being cynical? I hope not. We arranged that they’d arrive after breakfast and then we’d go into Meadow Hell on the tram to avoid traffic. If there was nothing in MH which took our fancy we could always try several clothes shops in the town centre. We have a concert on the Saturday evening where Nicola Benedetti will be playing so I could christen my new dress before the christening, if you see what I mean?

As the weather was nicer than we could have hoped for we decided head out into the Peak and do some bouldering at Alport Castles. This would be a secondary activity as we planned on parking up at the plantation by the foot of Derwent Dam wall and walking over the top to Alport. So the walk would be the primary focus with some bouldering thrown in for good measure. I packed a rucksack with some climbing gear and Laura packed our snap.

The plantation car park was packed by the time we arrived but we managed to squeeze into a space and then set out following the side of Derwent Reservoir until we reached Ouzelden Clough and just yomped up the valley side until we arrived at Alport. This is my favourite way of getting here, unlike a couple of years ago when we did the route from Crookhill Farm and were charged by a herd of cows which cause mild panic among the Scampi Tails who walked with us. That route takes forever really. The Ouzelden Clough route has the benefit of reaching the target directly and I am all for that.

Another benefit of Alport Castles is the plateau section which has a liberal sprinkling of depressions across its surface. I knew Laura had packed a ground sheet in the rucksack and the plan was to find a hollow, and have sex in there. The hollows are not that deep and grass lined but the best thing about them is they are sheltered from most of the weather. She was able to lay on the ground sheet exposed to the March sunshine whilst I attacked her exposed pudenda with my mouth. She returned the favour once she had recovered. It is the excitement of possibly being discovered which makes it so much more interesting. At one point while she was eating me we heard voices getting closer but they then faded away again, Laura hissed, “Stop moaning so loudly.” I replied though clenched teeth, “I can’t help it, you are driving me wild.”

Once our blood pressure had returned to normal and our heart rates down into double figures again we discovered that, although the day was gloriously sunny, the temperature made climbing a bit risky. It was just too cold for our fingers to work properly. As if to reinforce this Laura somehow managed to wedge her wrist in between two millstone grit slabs and come away with her hand dripping blood. She hadn’t noticed it at first but I could see the redness gushing out from between her finger and thumb. When she did spot it the colour drained from her face and I thought she was going to faint. I rummaged in my sack for a packet of tissues which she caught in her right hand (it was her left that was bleeding). I think the action of catching stopped her succumbing to a faint.

I found my climbing towel and wrapped it round her thumb, which was where the cut was. It slowed the bleeding but didn’t stop it. We packed up our stuff and headed over the ridge back down to Ouzelden. At the brook we dunked Laura’s hand in the water until the bleeding stopped – this took quite a while and once the flow had ceased we could see the cut was quite long and relatively deep. The flap of skin was sliced laterally and hanging off her thumb like a cut of ham from a bone but she could push it back in place and hold it there with her wad of tissues.

We whizzed down the Clough and I drove as quickly as possible to the Northern General were we had a major wait to be seen (about two and a half hours). The nurse dressed the cut and agreed it needed stitches. The doctor (I assumed) arrived and put eight along the length of the cut. He told her that she could get the stitches removed either at out-patients or at our own GP’s surgery in the village, in about 10 days.

I drove us back home and Loll did the dying swan impression in the passenger seat. As the injury was caused in the rough and dangerous wilds she’d been given a tetanus jab and was more upset about that than her thumb. Apparently it stung like hell.

Back home I treated her like delicate porcelain and she played along like a pro!

She woke me up in the night to complain that her thumb was throbbing, so I went and fetched some ibuprofen to see if it would help. I had the mad recollection that Rick used to wake me in the night and tell me it was throbbing, too. That wasn’t his thumb though, and it didn’t need ibuprofen to put it right again!

Lesbians as Godparents.

Monday March 2^nd.

Still excited about Chloe.

Showed Sarah the pictures  and even she said that Chloe didn’t look like the typical ugly baby.

After our swim the day progressed as normal until after our evening meal, when Dad called and asked me if I would like to be one of Chloe’s Godmothers. I was stunned. I was so stunned I actually said I had to think about it and could I call him tomorrow?

He said that was OK and we left it at that.

I am now in a deeply metaphysical and religious quandary. I would love to be Chloe’s Godmother. In fact it is quite likely Chloe could be without a Father before she is in her twenties – especially if Dad’s heart gives out again; he has had one heart attack already (aged 48!) and would need someone to step into the breech. BUT…

It is the stupid Christening ceremony and all those promises and declarations of your faith you have to make. I won’t do that. I am a staunch, committed, almost evangelical, believer that all religion is complete and utter rubbish; that none of it is true in the slightest degree; how can I become a hypocrite and suddenly declare that I believe in the one true god and all that crap? I just can’t. I won’t, I am not going to put aside what I know is true even for my gorgeous new Half-Sister.

I spoke with Laura, post Trevor’s visit, and she said all I had to do was stand there and not say the words when the priest asked everyone to repeat them. If I wanted to I could just move my lips as though I was saying it under my breath so people would believe I had said the promises and such but I knew I hadn’t really. This is what happens when you have a mathematician as a partner; they avoid the contentious and go for the heart of the matter. It did make her ask what about our wedding and I said I would be the same there too. I would only go through with any ceremony if god was removed from it.

Tuesday March 3^rd

I called Dad before Olivia arrived and he said, “It’s the God thing, isn’t it?” H ethen went on to almost paraphrase what Laura had said yesterday. I told him this and he said that great minds thought alike so I reminded him of the corollary to that statement.

However, it is settled, there will be four Godparents but two of them will be a Lesbian couple [Laura and Me] and if the priest doesn’t like it he can stuff it. (Dad’s words, not mine.) There are times when I love him so much it hurts. I am so impressed that he is going to allow Laura and me to be Chloe’s godparents and not just have me by myself. I hadn’t realised that was what he meant when he asked me. When I told Laura she was gobsmacked because she had assumed (as I had) that the invitation was solely for me.

The only dampener on the news was a phone call from my boring old fart of a brother who called to ask if it was true that Laura and I were going to be Chloe’s Godparents. I told him it was and he sort of chuntered unintelligibly as I expressed my excitement at the prospect and at Dad’s wonderfully open mind for such a wrinkly. That was probably the wrong thing to say because the BOF took it to mean I was insulting him. I simply said, “If the cap fits…” and hung up. We argue all the time so this was nothing new. However it did leave me feeling a bit disappointed that my stupid brother was more concerned that two lesbians were being his half-sister’s godparents than the fact I was going to do it!

I would call him an arsehole but arseholes are very important and useful, whereas, a lot of the time, Philip can be a useless tosser. I hope I have not blown access to my two nieces and nephew in Leeds because of my reaction to his bigotry.

Wednesday March 4^th.

More phone calls to Cumbria. Louisa is home and Dad is knackered. He has done one day of driving to Lancaster and back and is going to try one more. If he feels as whacked after his 160 mile round trip he is going to take his paternity leave pronto. I told him he was a fool to think he could do all that driving and be in a fit state to help Louisa with the baby.

He came back with, “Say what you feel, why don’t you?” He then asked what had happened between Philip and me. As I was still annoyed by the bigoted brother I explained everything. It was Dad’s turn to be annoyed as, apparently, they had discussed the idea of me and Laura being god-parents and Phil had been fine with it. I told Dad that was further proof, if any was needed, that Philip was the Milkman’s baby, not his. He told me I shouldn’t be so wicked. Not about Phil but about my Mum. It is sweet when he does that, defends her even though they are divorced. I do know hates Phil’s chosen profession and thinks he is a money grabbing little git at times.

He rang off saying he would have a work with Mr Phil Istine but I told him that would only make things worse and I didn’t want to be excluded from his children’s lives even if I wasn’t part of his!

As a post script to this little internecine spat, Jane called and offered her congratulations on being a Godmother and apologised if Phil had been a little brusque. I like Jane but I am sure she does this kind of thing regularly to smooth over the shite storm my pillock of a brother has left in his wake. I asked if they were all coming to the Christening as it is before the school holidays start and she told me they are coming up anyway and are staying at Dad’s. That is very unusual! I am looking forward to seeing them all (Phil excepted) on the day.

Thursday March 5^th.

Another lecture crossed off the list. I am getting into the swing of things now and really enjoying myself. Once again the Q & A proved the most interesting / distracting as we veered into Early Colonisation of the Americas as a result of Henry’s actions. I went and checked I was OK talking about this afterwards and was told to try and avoid “stepping on other people’s toes”. I had to counter with; other people need to let me know where their toes are. Which made my supervisor think. Surely if they (the powers that be) want us to give a full and detailed analysis of historical events I have to go where the students questioning takes us, not say “I am sorry I can’t talk about that, it is part of Mr (Mrs, Miss or Ms) X’s course.” That is bloody silly. I am going to have to learn to keep my gob shut and tug my forelock, I think.

There were no repercussions by the end of the day to my little critique of the comments I received but I bet it has been written down in the naughty book, to be brought up should I transgress again! 

I'm a BIG sister. Rah, rah, rah!

Friday 27^th Feb.

There has to be a time in the early hours when you must never phone someone, ever. Even if it is to tell them amazingly good news, the time is wrong. When the ‘phone rings the iron hand of fear clutches your stomach and you know, instinctively, that the news is going to be terrible or worse!

I told my Dad this at 5.35am this morning. I berated him because he couldn’t even use the excuse of being in Australia and had got the time differences muddled up. He hung up! I couldn’t believe it! He rang me at 5.35 and then hung up because I had a go at him. I used redial and the number was engaged, when I put the phone back on the cradle it rang immediately.

His first words were, “You have a sister!” If he had started the last call with those words I wouldn’t have been annoyed. I am afraid I started to blub a little, I bounced up and down in bed and ruffled Laura’s hair, who turned and went, “….Wha…?”. I started to apologise profusely but he shut me up and said I had to listen to the details.

Chloe Amanda Marie, 7lbs, 6oz, born at about 3am this morning. Both Mother and baby are fit and well, it seems. She has a full head of hair already! The first thing she did when Dad picked her up was to be sick over his sweater! According to Dad she doesn’t look like a wrinkly old man but I have said we need to be there in the flesh to judge that. He told me to ring off and get my tablet and he’d Skype me live from the hospital.

We spent the next half an hour cooing at the baby, chatting with Louisa and generally getting all broody. Dad is right, or at least appears to be right; she doesn’t look like a wrinkly old man at all. I told him we were dropping everything and coming up pronto ballero. He said we ought to hang fire and check in at Uni first then buzz off at around lunch time. He was being given the ‘heave ho’ in a few minutes and was told he couldn’t return for at least 10 hours to give Louisa uninterrupted rest. She had been in labour for almost 24 hours and she was whacked out.

We were as excited as kids on Christmas morning when we rolled up to the pool and I showed Sarah the pictures of Chloe Dad had sent. She was delighted for us and Chloe and Dad and everyone. Because we were rather late arriving we decided to do half our usual lengths and then head off to buzz everyone else.

Dad had called Suze already. The girls were really pleased, I am not sure that Jeff was all that bothered. Suze did let slip that Dad was definitely thinking of taking the Curtin job. I quizzed her but she shushed me and said she hadn’t meant to tell anyone yet and I mustn’t blab (as if). He hadn’t called Phil who seemed rather less than overwhelmed by the news (I suppose he sees out inheritance being split four ways now instead of three, is that harsh? Probably, but probably true too!)

I then called Mum who was a bit stunned and subdued. I wasn’t really surprised. I suppose if you hear that your ex-husband has had a child with the younger wife he married you won’t really be impressed, will you? There was another reason for the subdued tone though, I distinctly heard a voice saying, “Is everything alright?” and then Mum shushing him. It sounded like Tony.

I told Mum what we were planning to do and she thought that was only natural. I told her that she mustn’t worry that I would love her any the less and she was still my MUM, Louisa was never going to take her place. I then asked if she and Tony would like our tickets for a play at the Crucible tonight, it’s a thing in the Studio called “Fleabag”. She ummed and I said, “Well, why not ask him?”

She went, “Oh…” but the sound stopped for a moment, as though she had covered the mouthpiece, she came back and said, “We’d love to. How, though?” I told her we’d call in at the box office on our way up to Cumbria and leave the tickets there to be collected. I also said I was going to want the low down on her, ahem, news too. She became all Assistant Head Teacher on me and said, “That is not going to happen, Young Lady.” Which told me, didn’t it?

I called Kaybers and a couple of other friends, including Mrs B. and then we whizzed off into work. It seemed to take ages until we hit noon and then, with Felice covering for me, we hit the road to The Lake District. Dad was at home when we arrived and looking stressed. He told us Louisa was a bit unwell and had a bleed. She was sorted now and fine but they were keeping her in over the weekend and only he was allowed tonight. They didn’t want to over excite her or tire her out unnecessarily. That was a bit of a blow, but we asked if he could use Skype in the hospital and he said he had before, so we asked if he could do that this evening and it would be like being there in person.

I rustled up a swift meal for us all and Dad zoomed across to the hospital. Louisa looked very, very pale but was cheerful enough. Dad showed us Chloe again and we had an inconsequential gossip with Louisa. Chloe had been her choice. She was definite she wanted that name – it sort of matches Cheryl (her daughter, who has been conspicuously absent from her life since she married Dad). Louisa had called Cheryl but the only encouragement she received were the words, “That’s nice!”  How horrible. I suppose the fact she went to live with her Dad after he and Louisa divorced speaks volumes, doesn’t it? It wasn’t as though Dad was responsible for the divorce either, she hadn’t even met him then!

I walked all the dogs so Dad could just come in and flop. I was surprised at how cold it was. Dry but bloody freezing. I should be aware of Cumbrian weather having been a temporary resident all my life but it still comes as a surprise that 120 miles can make such a difference.

Laura asked me, as we lay in bed, “Do you think we’ll be sexually active in our sixties?” I replied, “I bloody hope so. But if we aren’t let’s make some memories to fall back on…” So we did.

Saturday Feb 28^th.

I am a big sister! Rah rah rah!

It is wonderful and scary at the same time. Laura muttered that if we went out all-together people might assume that one of us two might be the parent. That made me laugh but then I realised she was being serious. Wouldn’t that be awful? Imagine, people coming up in front of Louisa & Dad and asking me (or Laura) what our baby was called? I resolved that if it ever happened I would cheerfully say, “She’s my miracle Kid sister!” That should solve any confusion.

We went along with Dad this morning and Louisa was looking a very pale colour. She was annoyed that she wouldn’t be coming home but Dad mollified her and assured her that they wanted to make sure she was 100% OK before letting her into the lunatic asylum in Tallentire.

Chloe Amanda Marie (I asked Dad if he realised her initials would be CAMS and he said he had and he wasn’t bothered. It wasn’t an unpleasant or rude acronym.) is lovely. I mean, she really is lovely. To be honest, she does look a little bit like an old wrinkly man but not as much as Sophie did. Knowing how Dad passes on a lot of information between us down to Phil I decided I had better not say that. I needn’t have worried, Laura said it for me! It actually made every one laugh. Dad said he wasn’t surprised as the paternal source material was hardy a photograph, was he?

She does have a full head of hair. Dark and fuzzy, it is really cute. She seemed quite a happy baby and was quite content to passed from hand to hand to be cooed over and fussed. 7lbs 6oz is actually quite tiny when you are holding the bundle of cuteness in your hand, but she looked absolutely perfect as I rocked her in my arms and played with her minute fingers. Her finger nails are just adorable. They are so little and precise. I was pleased she wasn’t sick on me, but Louisa said that christening Dad’s shirt was only a reaction to the pattern, she hasn’t done it since, which was a relief as bouncing her about in my arms seemed to bring a smile to her face, but I didn’t want it to bring anything else.

We were ushered out to give the new Mum and baby time to rest. We whizzed down into Whitehaven and had a fish supper (although it was only lunchtime) at Arrighi’s (that could be a complete mis-spelling. Back home we had a call from the hospital to say that Louisa was suffering from a PPH, which sounds horrendous and is, apparently relatively uncommon (under 5% of women have bleeds after the delivery). However, there is an increased risk with women over 40 and at 42 Louisa fits the bill. I won’t go into details but they had taken her in to theatre to make sure everything was OK. Dad rushed back to the hospital but made us stay where we were to answer the phone and (wo)man the fort. We wanted to come with him but he persuaded us that there was nothing we could do and Louisa would probably only want him to be fussing and worrying around her, not a whole gaggle of people.

I phone Mum, my fount of all wisdom about things gynaecological, and she assured me that if they had found it so quickly Louisa would be fine. I know it sounds silly but I was afraid she might die. I told Mum this and she was very sympathetic. We wandered off the subject of birth to the performance at the Crucible last night: “Fleabag”. Mum was shocked. It was really, really, really rude. I think as a shared experience with a new guy it might have been a make or break event. Tony wondered afterwards if this was the kind of thing I went to see often, and Mum had to defend me and the show saying that I went to everything from Shakespeare and ballet to ‘this’ and anyone who loved theatre was usually open minded. Good for her, I thought.

They did think it was very funny in places and the audience roared for lots of the show. As a one woman performance Mum thought the actress who delivered it was amazing. A bit quick and rushed in her delivery; was Mum’s only criticism. Tony, it appears, was gobsmacked but was prepared to go to something more conventional in the future. She did say that if she had read about the show in advance, she might not have gone to see it; although she found it funny and uncomfortable in about equal measure. She was able to extrapolate that the major theme of the play was grief and loss, in the case of Phoebe, it was the death of her best friend and her mother in quick succession. I did wonder if she might touch on how I reacted to Richard’s death but, luckily she didn’t. (Suze has sworn not to tell anyone about my attempted suicide and as far I know she has kept her word.)  

It did reinforce her view about pornography being a pervasive and possibly destructive in equal measure. She asked me if I had watched porn or had wild sexual encounters. I told her she had just over stepped the mark. I countered with, I would answer if she told me about her and Tony on Thursday night. That shut her up.

Dad called at about 7pm. Louisa was weak but stable and probably anaemic. The hospital had planned to release her on Sunday but were now going to keep her in for a few more days, it’s about her age, apparently. He rolled in about 9pm looking shattered. I made him some bacon butties and he showered and hit the charp almost immediately afterwards.

Laura and I walked the dogs together and snogged whilst sat on the bench at the top of Tall Hill road. I reflected on how our lives change without any warning and how lucky our society is to be so advanced. If Louisa had PPH during my favourite time in History, she’d have been dead by now! I spouted all this to Loll, who had her head resting against my bosom whilst I stroked her hair – she was fast asleep!

Sunday March 1^st

Dad whizzed off in the morning to the hospital and Laura and I went to her Mum’s for lunch. We brought Molly up to speed on the latest developments and she said she hoped everything would be OK and was looking forward to seeing the baby.

I showed her the pictures we’d taken on my phone which were duly cooed over. Even Eric seemed more amenable this lunchtime. Since I corrupted his daughter things have been tense (probably an overstatement really). He wasn’t sure that Loll doing another degree was a good idea but he did like the idea of her work at XXX & Y being extended so that her costs were almost covered. He is funny to read sometimes. When Loll and I were just friends he was like another version of Dad in his dealings with me, since we became lovers he has been conflicted. At times I feel it is like being in the same room with a dormant volcano.

We chatted to Louisa over Dad’s phone before we drove off back down to Sheffield. We had a 7pm concert at the Firth Hall – Trevor Pinnock playing several pieces, Bach (JS & CPE), Handel, Haydn and Bartok. The Bartok was a bit of a surprise and I am not sure I enjoyed it but the CPE Bach was a delight. I find him a much more melodious composer than JS. Mr Pinnock was brilliant though.

What a weekend we have just had. I could do with a holiday to recover from it. Just 19 days to go until we get one: rah, rah, rah!

Grand Inquisitor (ess)! And a grope in the woods.

Monday Feb 23^rd.

Another one of those days. They run into one. Trevor, this evening, was actually non-controversial and didn’t say anything racist, sexist or homophobic. I almost game him a gold star!

I had a call from Eva at the pub who called to ask for a favour. She was going to be short staffed on Wednesday for the quiz (it has changed days, by popular request) and wondered if I would be up to being the quiz master (mistress) for the evening. I said that I’d love to have a go. There will be a free meal for two in it for me and Laura on any other night of the week. I wasn’t too concerned about  a payment. I just thought it might be fun.

Tuesday Feb 24.

After watching Only Connect last night I decided that I may base my Quiz Master style on Victoria Coren-Mitchell. Laura offered the suggestion that Eva may be being very clever and has asked me to be the questioner so that my team doesn’t win (again). I hadn’t thought of that. Is she right?

Sally and Olivia are getting geared up for their exams in the summer. Olivia is a different girl to the shy, rather diffident one who arrived way back last October. Her Mum says she has shown a great change in a lot of ways, since she started getting help with her English. I think it might just be that someone who can give her the time has actually encouraged her and reassured her that she has a good knowledge base already and that all that was needed to succeed was a small bit of grammatical work and some tweaking of her writing style.

Her marks for all her pieces have been much better than when she was in Year 10. Plus she has written some brilliant stories. Not earth shattering mini novels but works which have shown she can use English very well.

Laura says Sally is going to be a maths star if she wants to be. I’m sure she thinks this of everyone. She thought I was until I showed her that I can be a total duffer!

Wednesday 25 Feb.

I tried on about 10 different outfits before settling on something sensible and safe for my role as grand inquisitor at the pub. Laura didn’t help by attempting to have sex with me at each change of outfit. She eventually asked, why not wear what you usually wear to the quiz? This got me thinking again about the impression I create with my clothes. What I always wear? Am I predictable?

She is right of course. I usually wear trousers of some kind; jeans, chinos, slacks, leggings etc when we go to the quiz. Why go out of my way to be different? I settled for black leggings and nude t-shirt top with the red lace blouse over it and then, amazingly, found those items on the floor as Laura was finally able to get me to indulge her desire.

The quiz. It was done in themed rounds of 15 questions; 7 rounds of ordinary questions and one photp round, this month it was famous place round the world. The question master asks the questions, using the pub’s PA and the teams (of four) write down their answers. After each round we swap the answer papers and mark as we go along. The photo round marking is saved until last to give the teams a longer time to dredge up their knowledge.

The answers were on a separate sheet for each round so I decided to have a go at answering my own questions. I came drastically unstuck on the TV round (scoring only one point) but got all the History and Literature questions right (30 points for Maia). On the white board I wrote down the teams scores for each round so they could all see who were the high flyers and who were the Daily Star readers.

All the way through it was really close between the Scampi tails and a team called It’s A Fair Cop. They wanted to be called Norfolk n Chance but Eva vetoed that as it had been done before and wasn’t funny then, either.

The result: winners – The Scampi tails by just two points from It’s A Fair Cop. The quiz mistress, playing by herself, would have come second! The picture round was tricky for quite a lot of people. Masses didn’t know the Chrysler Building in NY or even the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

I really enjoyed the evening but it was difficult sometimes as the players did become rowdy and argumentative from time to time. Fortunately I was able to deal with all of the hassle with calm, quiet determination, despite wanting to yell at the person objecting to any given answer.

At the end Laura handed me a glass of Highland Park and told me I had done really well and was there a chance that the quiz mistress would care for a f*ck when she’d finished? As we had walked down to the pub, we had a major goping session behind the surgery, on the path along Coumes Brook, until a chap walking his dog came along. It is a good job he had a torch and we spotted his light coming towards us or he might have found a pair of women entwined round each other with their hands down each other’s trousers! We giggled our way back home and continued where we had been interrupted; leaving Callie to wander the back garden with the conservatory and kitchen door open.

Thursday Feb 26^th

Another day, another dollar.

Laura has spoken to Mr Carr and if she gets the grade required for her MA course he can see no reason, at all, why her hours can’t be increased when she goes part-time at Uni. Rah, rah, rah. He came down and had a chat with me afterwards to tell me what I already knew as she had detoured to ARR on her way back to Repro. Mr C surprised me by asking about Mum & Tony. I was gobsmacked that he knew but hopefully I didn’t show it. I pretended we had only met at the City hall for the one concert, and that he seemed quite pleasant.

Don’t tell me he is still holding a candle for Mum? That would just be silly. Wouldn’t it?

Sunday lunch observing Mum's man!

Friday 20^th February.

Our day began like it always does and didn’t deviate from the norm all day. This can be seen as either a good thing or a bad thing depending on your point of view, I suppose. The only difference was that Laura went to another careers forum for prospective successful graduates (I suppose all graduates think they are successful). I think the decision to go to a part time Masters has been made for her when she spoke to the organiser afterwards who told her with her degree she could virtually chose her job anywhere in the country. She asked what if she wanted to stay in Sheffield? The speaker then became very dismissive of what he called a parochial mind-set. That got her really incensed so she left.

In the evening we had the BBC Philharmonic at the City Hall. I hadn’t realised they’d moved to Salford, which means it was only a spitting distance of travel from their HQ to here. They did a brilliant Peer Gynt Suite, which even though Greig hated Ibsen’s work, he treated it to his best music. I suppose having a hunky Scandinavian conductor would have helped too. I have heard several Nielson pieces before but his first symphony was a new one for me. It is good to hear things with which you are unfamiliar every now and then in concert. It happens all the time with Radio 3. In fact Radio 3 is the prime source of me finding new pieces to buy.

After the interval we had Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations, which I am sure I have heard before under a different name, we concluded with one of my childhood favourites - Finlandia . This is the second piece by Sibelius we’ve had in a month. The BBC Phil’s playing was warming and inclusive, if that doesn’t sound silly. They seemed very good. I hope we get them again. This is quite possible as they are based just over the bumps in Salford. One surprise tonight, there was no-one we recognised in the bar during the interval, usually there are one or two we have come to be on ‘nodding terms’ with and with whom we even exchange pleasantries about the performances; tonight nobody. Maybe they had all forsworn alcohol for lent?

Saturday 21^st Feb

Today, after our usual morning’s routine, Loll decamped to the study whilst I set to and gave the house a thorough clean through. She had to finally come down the stairs and work on the kitchen table when I wanted to clean the study. We now live in the cleanest little house in Yorkshire, maybe in the whole of the UK, perhaps even the world!

When I had finished I sprawled on the day bed in the study and before I realised it I was off into a dream filled sleep. I dreamt Mum & I were sat on a hill top waiting for Dad to come and fetch us in the car. It was snowing, there was a good covering on the ground and the traffic was stacking up along the road which led to the hill top because of the snow fall. As we waited I looked up to the sky and saw the clouds making themselves into snowflake shapes. They were really delicate and beautiful and nothing like clouds I have ever seen before. Dad eventually appeared with the car and suddenly we were then sitting in it without opening any doors or getting in.

On the backseat beside me was figure whom I didn’t recognise. It was a male figure and it said, “You need to find a replacement.” I told the figure the replacement would be Angela Sheppard. That’s when I woke up. Angela Sheppard was a really petite girl in my class at school. She had the same colour hair as me, if anything it was even blonder. She also had it cut short around her face in a sort of elfin cut. Like me, she never let on about her sex-life whilst at school. I pretended I was merely above all those base, carnal desires – which everyone believed (how is a mystery).

At one school function, just after our A Levels she and I got talking and she told me that if she ever had a partner she would be looking for someone just like me. Of course, being me, I made a joke about it – where have I heard that before? I assumed she was just being fond and sentimental because we were leaving.   I had forgotten all about that until the silly dream on the day bed. The last I heard she was well on the way to becoming a houseman in a hospital in the midlands somewhere. I wonder if she really is a lesbian? Maybe I should try and reconnect – or maybe not.

Laura appeared in the middle of this reverie to wake me with a mug of tea each and two toasted teacakes. We scoffed them in the study and then when I announced I needed a shower, Loll declared that she’d get in and help. As you can expect the showering was fairly brief but we ended up in bed for most of the afternoon and into the early evening.

Hunger drove us back to reality, and I phoned for a Chinese takeaway as we were both ravenous and it would take a good half an hour to cook anything substantial. After our meal, and letting Callie into the back field, Laura said, “Let’s go back to bed…” So we did.

Sunday 22^nd Feb.

Today we went to Mum’s for lunch with her and Tony. We arrived, spruced up and looking very presentable at about 12.30. Mum’s car was probably in the garage, on the drive way was a Hyundai estate car – it was quite large and its badge declared it was an i40. We assumed it must be Tony’s, even more so as we saw that the backseat was down and a sawdust covered blanket was spread out over the load space. I had this mad idea that Mum and he had been bonking in the back! I whispered this thought to Loll who whacked my arm in reply and told me not to be so disrespectful to my Mum.

We walked in to a scene of domestic bliss. Mum was busy setting the dining room table whilst Tony was examining the saucepans on the hob. The delicious smell of a roast of meat filled the room. He came over and very formally shook hands with us both. I yelled to Mum to ask if was there anything we could do and she said I could find a couple of bottles of red and decant one. Laura plonked herself in one of the kitchen chairs and I went to delve into the dark and mysterious recesses of the under stairs cupboard.

Mum still has several bottle of Uncle Hilmar’s wine left from last back end (which I got especially for her, though I pretended it was all for me, so as not to upset Dad). I took out two Dornfelders and a Weißherbst,  then proceeded to decant one of the Dornfelders in the kitchen using Mum’s old Aussie wine kit. I have a more up to date version of the same thing. Mum’s is a sort of stainless steel funnel with a filter, like a very fine meshed sieve, inside it. Pouring your wine through this helps aerate the red wine, helping to increase the oxygen levels, and it also filters out any impurities or sediments which may have accumulated in the bottle since it was produced.  

The only real difference between Mum’s and mine is the spout from the funnel on mine is twisted allegedly to give the wine more of a chance to breathe before it gets into the decanter. Mum’s was bought in Fremantle Market when I was a toddler, mine was bought in Rockingham in 2010.

Tony stood by the stove looking at me as though I was doing something totally alien and weird. I asked him if he didn’t decant his wine. He said he hardly ever drank it, being more of a beer fan. I explained that Mum and Dad had access to vineyards in Germany where most of our wines came from and that doing what I was would turn an ordinary red into a much better wine. The wine I was decanting was unbelievably special anyway and if he didn’t fall in love with it he was beyond hope.

Mum chose that moment to come back in from the dining room and ask why Tony was beyond hope. I had to explain how he would find the Dornfelder the best red he’d ever drunk or he was beyond hope. To my surprise Mum agreed. She told him that no-one had ever drunk Hilmar’s red wine and not said, “Wow, that is amazing…” or words to that effect.

He asked for a taste now and we both told him, “Not yet.” Which made us all giggle.

Lunch was a huge thick rib beef joint and a mountain of vegetables. Mum began by serving Yorkshire Pudding in the traditional way, as a starter; cut from a large tray. The main meal was then wheeled in and we scoffed ourselves into oblivion. The wine did get a “Wow, this is amazing” said as a joke by Tony but then he did a classic double take and sipped again saying, “Really, I am not joking, this is delicious. Can you buy it over here?”

Mum asked me to explain about Hilmar and Reinhardt; Neustadt and Cochem. So I did. I tried to sketch over Dad’s connection as lightly as possible. Which is rather difficult as the family in Germany are Dad’s relations not Mum’s. I even mentioned how I had arranged for some wine to go to Dominic’s restaurant in our village, where Laura used to be a waitress. [Dominic now has a deal going with Reinhardt, whereby he gets wine from Cochem once every few months.]

Tony asked why Laura was waitressing and she told him she wanted to help pay her way, even if it was only slightly. He asked if she was still doing it and she explained all about getting the part-time job at XXX & Y (where I work part time) which meant she could give up waitressing. He seemed impressed that she was trying to earn a wage whilst still studying. He didn’t appear so impressed when he learned that she was going to spend the next two years doing a part time MA and working longer hours at the solicitors’ to fund it. But she put him right, saying she would be able to almost choose her career path with a Masters in Pure and Applied Maths rather than with just a simple degree. Plus it would almost certainly mean she could find work within a 30 mile radius of Sheffield which meant we could stay put in our little house.

I had this mad thought that she was going to let slip about our forthcoming engagement, but she didn’t.

In what was probably a veiled reference to our living arrangements, he asked Mum what she thought about all this. She told him that she was happy that her baby was happy. That was all that mattered to her. If I took off to Tibet to become a female Buddhist Monk (!) she would be unhappy at me going all that way but she would be happy for me, if I was doing what I wanted to do. Good old Mum.

He did wonder if our resemblance was more than physical (we do look quite alike facially) and she said that she was far less militant and strident than me but she did have beliefs which were held dear to her and which wouldn’t be compromised; women’s equality being the first and foremost of those. She said that she hadn’t taught exclusively in Girls’ Schools all those years without having that as one of her prime agendas – making sure her girls didn’t go down the, almost proscribed, route of marriage and motherhood with no thought to a career or the influence they could have on the world in general. She wasn’t against the two ‘M’s but they had to be done without comprising and with the complete support and help of a partner.

She ended this quite neatly by telling him to that end he could stack the dishwasher and then fetch the dessert bowls whilst she dispatched me to fetch the (defrosting) lemon meringue pie from the drinks fridge. I didn’t see it, but according to Laura, she gave her a huge stage wink when her two minions had wandered off to do her bidding.

I kept quiet about the dessert until Tony had cleared his plate. Mum asked him if he liked the pie and he declared it was excellent and asked where did she buy it. She took great delight in explaining that her baby had made it and that I was a baker and cook par excellence. He asked if I could bake some for him sometime, I said that I would delighted to. Mum explained how she had taught me to cook in Norwich as she had watched in shocked amazement as I tidied her up when she was cooking and baking. (I piped up saying it was just my OCD.) She claims I am a slower cook etc than she but I am un-naturally tidy in what I do which is why I am slow.

Laura vouch-safed this statement and said that if I was in one of my manic tidying phases and she was standing doing nothing, she half expected me to tidy her away as well!

We spent the afternoon sitting in mum’s lounge and just chatting about nothing in particular but finding out about Tony all the while. He doesn’t seem too bad a person. The most important thing about him and one which could have been a definite deal breaker are his politics; he hates the Tories and their lying, self-interested politics. He also thinks UKIP are a joke. He was against Scottish independence (we aren’t) but that was the only major blot on his copy book.

One very surprising thing about him, he has never been out of the UK in his life. 65 years on the planet and he has never once ventured across the water! I found this to be truly remarkable. I didn’t tell him so, naturally, that would have just been rude.

At about four pm, he wandered his way back home, to Totley, claiming to have things he needed to do for tomorrow and them the three of us began to dissect him like a specimen under a microscope in a lab. once he’d left. We all agreed he seemed very nice and there didn’t seem to be any hidden traits or potential for trouble ahead. Mum was a bit worried about the lack of travel and his being a ‘beer man’ but otherwise he seemed to have passed the first test. He is obviously not a fanatical theatre goer or reader, offering no contributions at all over things he’d seen or read when we were discussing forth-coming events at the Lyceum or Crucible or what we had our heads stuck into at the moment. I lent Mum “Wild” last week and she loved it and, like Laura and Me, has a great desire to see the film. (Tony didn’t display a great interest in, or knowledge of, films either, TBH.)

After a cold collation high tea, Laura and I wound our way back home skirting round the city centre and possible snarl-ups. One plus point in Tony’s favour I forgot to mention, Callie loved him. She went and sat by his feet at one point and deigned to have her head scratched too. Dogs, however, are notoriously bad judges of character! LOL

Everly Pregnant brothers Link.

Monday February 16th

What a contrast out on my dog walk this morning; I am delighted and appalled in equal measure. The snowdrops in Hill Top Wood are now a carpet instead of a few isolated clumps. They look stunning. Plus out and about in the same wood are clusters of daffodils pushing their spears through the grass ready to step in to the breech once the snowdrops have gone over. Some look as though they’ll be ready before the gorgeous whiteness has faded. I love this time of year. The nights are drawing out; the mornings are lighter and there is a promise of new hope and new possibilities just around the next corner.

Just around the next corner was the complete antithesis of this natural beauty. Some f*cking bastard has emptied their macdonald’s crappy meal packaging all along the Onesacre road. The f*cking scumbag. If I could catch them in the act I would quite happily let them have both barrels of my shot gun. However, the stupid tw@t has also dumped something they bought from the co-op as well. They used their co-op membership card at the shop, and their receipt is in among the rubbish with their name and membership number on. I have photographed the rubbish on my phone, and filmed it. I closed in on the receipt so you can read the name and co-op number. At work I e-mailed the co-op with all of that information. It will be interesting to hear what happens next. I hope Mrs Crawley gets prosecuted.

The rest of the day and our two lots of work were fine. We did what we normally do without being confronted with the thoughtless actions of people like the moronic Mrs Crawley. The only downside, minor, was Trevor (again) he couldn’t see why we were so outraged by some litter. Obviously he is a scumbag in the making too. I have had my doubts about this boy and he does nothing to reassure me at all every time he visits.

Tuesday 17^th Feb.

This morning I tied a cardboard sign to the post near where Mrs Crawley dumped her rubbish. It reads “Take it home Mrs Crawley. The police have been informed.” Laura thinks it’s over the top and will have no effect at all. Maybe the f*cking cow will be unaffected but it certainly made me feel a whole lot better.

Sarah thought I was a hero. Good for her. She is amazed by the way people leave the pool and then dump their vending machine wrappers all over the car park. She has brought it up at meetings and, although they have CCTV footage of people dumping their litter all over the property, the management are loath to do anything about it. I said I would just put up stills of the people dropping stuff on a poster around the foyer. Shame the scumbags at the very least. The problem is a lot of the tw@ts who do it see nothing wrong with leaving their shit all over the place.

Today was our full Uni day and I was astounded to see how much litter we have around campus. I suppose it has always been there but yesterday’s finding a whole load in the beautiful countryside has made me more aware of it.  We went for a lunchtime special at the Indian (I had my usual meat Thali) and the litter along Broomhill was dreadful too. Laura reminded me how, out in the bush, when we drove to Kalgoorlie, and beyond, last summer, the whole highway was littered with crap thrown from passing car and lorry windows. We were both shocked by just how much detritus there was. It obviously isn’t just a UK phenomenon, it happens in Australia too. I bet it is probably global.

Our two students, this evening, were equally as shocked by the litter as we. Once again the girls put the guy to shame. But even Olivia did admit to chucking stuff away without really thinking, at times. There is no hope. We are doomed to be wallowing in a sea of other people’s shite.

Wednesday Feb 18^th.

The third Wednesday of the month seems to have rolled round pretty quickly. We had our girls’ meal tonight at Lorraine’s. She lives at Stannington and we got lost driving to it! Durr. She is a really bubbly redhead who, despite her hair, is actually very calm and placid in her dealings at work. She is a legal secretary and she has been doing this for years and years, she’s 35 and is married. Paul works at an accountant’s in the city (Sheffield) I don’t think he’s Chartered, I believe he’s the next level down [he’s definitely not an AAT though]. He’s also got red hair! Her family are from Germany, which is how we started to get to know each other although her folks are way over the other side to Magdeburg, being from Essen.

Their house is a fairly large semi-detached. It’s quite modern and has the staircase and hall as the connecting wall with the other semi. This is a much better idea than having the lounges share the dividing wall. I do know that she and Paul trying for a baby but that wasn’t mentioned at all tonight. Maybe it isn’t common knowledge among the rest of the girls. I do find people tend to share confidences with me quite a lot. Laura says it is because I have a facial expression which seems to convey the impression that I am listening intently, even if I am being bored out of my skull by the speaker or their subject. She says it is this look which makes people think I am interested in them, that and the fact that I don’t butt in or try to ‘top’ whatever they have just said with an anecdote or a point of my own. (I think she may be describing the difference between my pillock of a brother and me. I have started to call him Al – Citius, Altius, Fortius – I don’t think he has got it yet. He always has to have a ‘better’ story than yours. It is getting to be a very annoying trait.)

Our meal was a three bird roast, turkey, duck and chicken breast with a pork, apple and cranberry stuffing.  She had done some stir fry vegetables, which was a changed from boiled ones. Someone asked if she had done the prep of the birds herself and she did confess it was from Sainsbury’s. Wherever it was from I thought it was scrumptious. I think we may have to pay Sainsbury’s a visit. A couple of these in the freezer would add zest to our weekly menu every once in a while.

Our conversation rolled round to menus at our forth coming meals (and the Scampi Tails quiz team) I said I was thinking of doing rabbit. That resulted in some shocked expressions and out loud wondering if I was serious. I asked Laura to describe my rabbit and chickpea casserole. She waxed lyrical about the tomatoes and herbs and the way the chick peas seem to absorb the stock. Plus, out of keeping with the Iberian roots of the recipe I add good old fashioned suet dumplings as well. By the time she had done describing it all of them seemed to be won round. Then she went and blew it slightly by saying that last time I had missed a couple of shot pellets which came as a surprise when she was eating.

The Scampi Tails are all primed and ready to go battling with the population of my village (mainly the males, who seem to be seriously affronted by the fact that we keep winning). The next quiz is on Wednesday 25^th and we are fielding two teams again. Just as a bit of silliness, and to keep us on our toes, Lorraine whipped out some word walls between the main and dessert course to sharpen out wits. Paul had the answers and we were allowed to offer up our submissions per line and he’d tell us if we were right or wrong. They’d dug them out of the Radio Times, apparently. Our trio: Me, Sue and Chrissy completed our wall (it took about five minutes) the other two trios managed two rows each with theirs. It seems that only Lorraine and I are afficianados of ‘Only Connect’ so the others were struggling with the concept. L & P are like me, in having been fans since its BBC Four days. We followed the game rules exactly, so that when we had two complete rows there were only three more guesses allowed.

Having had our brains fried we were pleased that the dessert was a cold one. It was a pavlova and delicious. It helped cool our fevered brows. Afterwards we slumped in L & P’s lounge and finished off the wine and then drank gallons of coffee, well, all except me, that is, as I don’t like the taste of coffee. Being prepared for this eventuality I produced a t-bag from my handbag and had a cuppa made with it instead.

We giggled and gossiped and generally did what we usually do at these functions. The main one, I think, is to listen to each-others’ plans hopes, schemes and dreams and try to offer up help, suggestions or both. Laura was given some advice on funding her part-time MA and I was told that if I needed to get looking for what I was going to do after my casket work was completed, there were several people I could ask; especially if I wanted to branch into law rather than attempt to become a full-time lecturer. I didn’t know, for example, that there are non-degree courses which will allow you to specialise in a particular aspect of the law to enable you to become a solicitor. Now that was interesting. [I didn’t say so at the time but I thought that could be a brilliant fall-back option for me.]

The last of the guests left at about 12.30 (yes, that included Laura and me). Stannington is a spit from our house and we drove back via Bradfield, not getting lost this time, covering the distance in under 10 minutes. I was sort of hoping we would find the litter lout parked up along Lumb Lane or the Onseacre road, but we didn’t. Callie and I did the short walk round to Don View House this evening and I was busy zed pushing by 1.30.

Thursday Feb 19^th

My cardboard sign has gone! Whether it was the shameful litter lout Mrs Crawley who removed it, or someone else, I’ll probably never know. The good news was the Macdonald’s packaging and the co-op stuff had all gone too. That may be a sort of result. Both Laura, at home, and Sarah at the pool seemed to think it was a sort of victory. Let’s hope so.

My students didn’t fall asleep or fidget during this morning’s lecture. I had some sensible questions in the Q & A and had a few of them hang back for more details about some of the points I had made. Today was mainly about the building boom created by the new middle classes. I have a pile of powerpoint slides of places built since the monasteries went the way of all flesh. I didn’t go through all 100 photographs during the 50 minutes; there wouldn’t have been enough time.

One of them showed me a Youtube video of someone called the Everley Pregnant Brothers (spelling may be wrong) singing “Oyl int Ruwad”. This is an old pedestrian underpass in the centre of town, which has long gone, but which went under a roundabout and had the centre open to the sky. It was sung in broad Sheffieldish and had references to local companies, landmarks and products. It was a stop motion video using Lego Duplo figures. I loved it. Here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cR6FmJSyp2A If you are not a local, or have lived here for a while, you may need a translation.

Our two students tonight are local Sheffielders, of several generations, and they hadn’t heard of the band at all but they did get all the song’s references! They were also appalled by the litter and general rubbish around the city which currently makes the score - girls 6 boys 1 in terms of thinking it is a problem.

Tomorrow is the BBC Philharmonic in our concert series. Mum and Tony aren’t going but we will see them over the weekend. More Sibelius and Tchaikovsky are on the programme. Getting to be a regular feature, it seems.