Walking "The Great Ridge". A brother's madcap scheme...

Friday February 28^th.

For my sins I subscribe to several magazines, it is cheaper than buying them off the shelf and paying the full price. I have BBC Music; the Radio Times and Classic Inspirations. The latter is an Australian Quarterly embroidery magazine; I first started with it on my gap year. One of the full page adverts in this quarter’s edition [it flopped onto my door mat this morning] was for that South African woman’s cabinet classes and lots of illustrated pictures of the modern versions she will be making. They do look gorgeous. I am not going to shell out nearly $3K for the privilege though.

Laura has said I ought to put together some sketches of a wooden cabinet of my own and find a local carpenter to make me one, following my plans. [I may have mentioned this already.] Seeing those glossy photographs in the advert in Classic Inspirations has goaded me into some action. I will draw up some preliminary sketches and then let my fingers do the walking to find a suitable carpenter / joiner / woodworker willing to make one for me. The price would have to be right, of course.

After our usual walk and swim the day went pretty much as it normally does at Uni. My Supervisor finally got back to me about my Research Support Manager and has assured me there is nothing to worry about; it is just a bit of admin / bureaucracy which got overlooked when I was appointed. It came about because of the resignation of the Fabulous Andrea and the headless chicken approach of the department in deciding what to do next. According to my Supervisor they had toyed with giving Felice’s job to me but in the end went for her because of her subject knowledge (specifically the Old French). I have to wonder who the mysterious “they” are.

Laura has put her stats work on hold for a while. The one based around my shoes and the i because she has been asked to do some more probability stuff based on the last assignment she handed in. She got a First for it and they want her to do some more along the same lines. [It could be Old French to me!] She is chipper about the whole thing, mainly because it came as such a surprise to her. To celebrate, if the weather is good tomorrow, we are going to walk the Lose Hill, Mam Tor Ridge around Castleton.

Tonight, after our meal she zoomed off to the restaurant again. Our Scampi Tails meeting at Ann’s last night got cancelled because she is ill. The doctor was sure what it was at first but it turns out to possibly be glandular fever after all. Phew. I sent her a card and some flowers from work this morning and she e-mailed me this evening to thank me for them. They had arrived mid-afternoon well, the flowers had, I expect the card will take longer being sent by snail mail.

I had a long and seriously mad call from Phil as well this evening. He had just been all day with Jane after a false alarm at the hospital. Whilst in the hospital he had been looking through one of the magazines left lying around and found a set of barns with planning permission already granted for three detached dwellings in Loxley. He wanted to know if I knew where they were, what sort of area Loxley was and if they were good did I want to join him in buying them and converting them to sell?

I think impending fatherhood has affected his reason. They are only £290,000! ONLY ! ! ! He does get some pretty mad ideas at times and I am afraid I told him so. He couldn’t see it. He has worked out if we pay {we?} the asking price, it would probably take another 150K to convert them and we could them sell them at about £400K each. The maths does sound interesting but I told him I couldn’t commit my savings into something like that.

He flew off the handle a bit and went on about me buying the stupid caravan on Arran with Dad. I had to point out that my contribution to that was only £10K and I would be using it for the next 20 years or so for my holidays. Plus Dad was paying two thirds to my third because of the amount of usage we had worked out between us. It is quite a difference having  to find £225K with no guarantee we would make the return he has predicted.  He went on about me being Daddy’s Favourite and I was always the spoilt one and in his eyes I was little Miss Perfect. I told him he was just being silly and upset because of upheaval caused by Jane’s false alarm. I’d telephone again on Sunday and talk about it again then.

I had a call a few minutes later from Jane. She’d been in the same room as Phil when he called me and she was calling to tell me he was so sorry. In fact, he took the phone from her and bleated the same thing to me. He was sorry. I was right. It was the worry. Jane isn’t due for another month or so and today had just been a nightmare, getting her to the hospital, sorting out Peter and Angela; the disappointment of the false alarm; sorting out the kids again; then the house thing. He knew he was being an idiot. I asked him what his excuse was when there wasn’t a crisis. He laughed and told me I had to wait until I went through it then I would understand what he had been through. So I quietly asked, “Erm… What about what Jane has been through today? Have you considered her?” That brought a profound silence from the Leeds end of the line.

My brother can be a complete pillock at times. This is the person who handcuffed me to railings with his toy handcuffs and left me there for hours!{I was about five} OK, we did some cool stuff too, like sailing to Yarmouth and blowing things up [I don’t mean we blew things up in Yarmouth.. LOL]. Where did the likeable, mad, reckless, wild, funny brother go? Maybe he’s right. Perhaps I do have to live through those things to know what it is like. Perhaps that is why inside I still feel like a little girl, at times, instead of a supposedly grown woman?

Bloody Laura. I told her about Phil when she came back. She has searched the net, found the properties and done the maths. She thinks it could be a real winner. Well, thanks for that, oh Princess mine!

Saturday March 1^st. St David’s Day.

Next major Saint’s Day is mine!

The weather, while not being 100%, looked passable so we went for a different kind of walking today. We parked up at the Middlewood park & ride car park and caught the tram to Sheffield Station. From here we bought return tickets to Hope and set off on our mini “expotition” as Winnie the Pooh might say. Callie hasn’t been on many trains [or trams for that matter] but she seemed at one with the travel.

The journey from Sheffield takes you along the River Sheaf for quite a while. Where Sheffield gets its name. There are terraced houses and industry near the centre but after a while it thins out and the roads get more tree lined and there is more greenery. We went past Millhouses Park, which you drive past on the way to Mum’s house but from a completely different perspective. At Dore I began to wonder what was going to happen as we didn’t seem to be climbing too much [I am too used to trams, obviously] after a couple of minutes we entered a tunnel which seemed to take a week to pass through. I am obviously a stupid cow as I hadn’t even thought about tunnels, it’s coming from Norwich that does it I guess.

At the other side of the tunnel [only about five minutes in reality] we entered paradise: The Hope Valley. The first stop was Grindleford; then on to Hathersage; next Bamford and finally our stop: Hope. I have driven the roads through the valley quite a bit but this was our first time by train. I can thoroughly recommend it. The views are delightful, all the way from Grindleford onwards. I expect it is equally picturesque on from Hope too. The Edges are visible from the train and the gently rolling White Peak stretches softly away to the south. In contrast the separate tops of the Dark Peak crowd the northern view, with Win Hill dominating much of the skyline.

Our stop, Hope, is probably smack bang in the middle of the whole length of the valley and to the North Win Hill looks massive. To my eyes it is so unlike how it should appear given its diminutive height compared to the Lake District Giants with which I am more familiar. We know what the view from the top looks like having been there a fortnight ago, and the effort required to reach the top is quite little in comparison to those aforementioned LDGs.

Our route today took us through the little village itself and along the Edale Road for about a Kilometre. Then we branched off left and climbed the cone of Lose Hill. From high we have the Great Ridge, which runs from the summit of LH to Back Tor, Hollins’ Cross and then climbs to the shimmering mountain itself; MaM Tor. I don’t know who Hollins was or why the rigde is called “Great” but it is an impressive sight. There are so many in Cumbria that would put it to shame but in its own context it is Great, I don’t know of another feature like it in all of the Peak.

From Mam Tor we were going to skirt round the back and down the dale behind Peverill Castle, explore the village of Castleton (avoiding the tourists) and walk back along the river to Hope. That was the plan, anyway.

The walk from the station to the path up Lose Hill was a trudge, to be honest, but from then on everything was wonderful. Not too steep, not too demanding and great views all round. It was a lot muddier than I had anticipated but we have the gear so it’s not a problem. The view from Lose Hill summit is excellent, especially over Kinder Scout. That looks like it could be our next destination.

You can see why Great Ridge is called that because from Lose Hill it looks so inviting. Sadly it is so inviting it was like Sheffield High Street along it. I had planned to have lunch (sandwiches) at Mam Tor summit – so, it appeared, had everyone and their father too! I was heaving. I guess it is such an easy climb and the weather was pretty kind this honey pot had definitely attracted the bees. It made me think of Rocher Edge above High Bradfield which has equally stunning views and could be walked without meeting another living thing, except birds and the odd sheep.

Never mind, eh? We scoffed and drank and gawped and chatted to a group of girls who were doing their Silver Expedition first practice walk for DoE. When Laura blabbed that I had my Gold Award we couldn’t get rid of them for ages. They were all from a Private Girls’ School in Darley Dale. I had to confess to being ignorant of the area, being from Norwich, so I had no idea what they were describing at all. They seemed very keen and eager to show off their knowledge. A couple knew the Lake District and they were impressed by my list of Wainwrights bagged. [I only have the Far Eastern Fells book to complete then I have done all 214. Out of the 36 in that book I still have 15 left to do!]

Callie was in her element at the top and eventually I had to put her on the lead as she kept disappearing to go and sit in front of people eating their sandwiches giving them the big, sad, doggy eyes which said, “Please feed this starving doggy. My mistress never feeds me!” Unfortunately, she is very successful at this and cadges way too much than is good for her. The girls all fell for the googly eyed routine too. I tried to stop them feeding her but they did anyway. I did insist on no chocolate though.

We left the girls heading back the way we’d just travelled and we strolled across to the top of Winnatt’s Pass. This is an old collapsed cavern by the look of it which now has a raod running through it. We continued across the top and down Peverill Dale instead to arrive in Castleton. This was even busier than Mam Tor top, no surprise there I guess. It is a very picturesque, typical Pennine village although I suppose there are more off-comers and holiday makers than locals here now. We did the tourist stuff, I am sorry to say, and looked in some shops [OK, all of the shops] and had a lovely cake and cuppa in a café before taking the wettest footpath in Christendom back to Hope and the Railway Station.

To be honest, Castleton was a bit of a canker on the otherwise idyllic walk today. I guess it has grown as tourist place because of its proximity to Sheffield and the good transport links to the city. We caught one of those good links and watched the Derbyshire countryside vanish before our eyes again as we rattled our way back into Sheffield.

All in all, out little venture was quite an expensive affair. The train tickets and tram tickets cost us far more than we would have spent in diesel driving out to Hope but the experience was probably beyond price really.

The whole walk was about 8 miles and Callie seemed to have brought every scrap of mud from the walk back with her. In the car I have this silly pressure spray device, they are meant for watering plants or administering weed killer and the like. I use my one specially to hose Callie down [and Dad’s dogs when I walk them]. It only holds five litres which sometimes isn’t enough for Dad’s three and Callie but by herself she only uses a small amount. It must have looked strange in the Park & Ride car park to see me washing down my pup before letting her into the car. It is a cylindrical pressure vessel, made from plastic, with a pump which you use to build up the pressure. A fine wand gives a spray which cleans the dog(s) down a treat. I saw one advertised in the Dog’s Trust Magazine (I think) for about £30. I bought mine on line for a fiver! When I am cleaning down The Aged parent’s pooches I have to keep re-priming the pressure, with Callie one lot is sufficient. I don’t think she enjoys it very much and she stands there with a resigned expression on her face while I indulge my cleanliness obsession on her!

At home our stew was ready to eat but we waited half an hour while I cooked dome dumplings to go with it. It was yummy.

We hit the charp after Salamander on BBC 4, which is early for us, on a Saturday night. I guess we were more tired than we thought.

Sunday March 2^nd.

What a contrast today; grey and cloudy and looking like rain for most of the time. This morning there were no dead amphibians again, which was a pleasant surprise, but this warm dampness will fetch them out in their droves now. As spring has meteorologically sprung, too, I guess their little amphibian passions must be rising as well, so there could be lots of frisky amphibs out there looking for Mr or Mrs Right Amphib to bonk. [I know they don’t bonk, BTW, their eggs are fertilised outside the body, they don’t use the mammalian reproduction method, don’t fret, I am not totally ignorant about how babies are made.]

Today was definitely a Radio Stars day, especially as mid arvo the heavens opened and we got a huge deluge that lasted well into the night. We spent our day sewing, working, reading, cuddling, cooking lunch and generally watching the rain spots as they fell. You can’t beat snuggling up together on the sofa and listening to the rain beating against the windows.

Callie and I got drenched on our evening walk, and try as we might we didn’t encounter and amorous frogs, toads or newts on our travels. However, we did encounter an extremely aroused Mathematician when we got back home whose needs I attempted to satisfy for an hour or so and who, very kindly, returned the favour.

What’s the song? Spring’s in the air, when you’re young and in love?

Squashed amphibians make me cry. French Shoes, really? I hadn't noticed...

Monday 24^th February.

Every year, usually starting in about March, Callie and I pretend we are Gussie Finknottle and begin our Pleurodelinae Protection Service. We extend this service to other local amphibians too, specifically the Anura. Imagine our surprise, therefore, to find a squashed toad on the Onesacre road this morning? Usually they aren’t about until the weather is much warmer which goes to show exactly how mild the temperature has been over the last few days. I carefully removed it into the long grass where its corpse could become food for some other creature instead of being spread into a patina on the road’s surface by passing cars and no use as food to anything but bacteria.

I lamented its demise to Laura who thought I was being overly sentimental about a witch’s familiar! Good for her. I love it when she tries to drop literary references into the conversation. I explained that this particular Paddock was way too early even to be squashed yet, familiar or not. She thinks I am silly to worry about toads and frogs but she does support my care for the newts. I told her she was being “speciesist” but she just laughed.

Callie loves the idea. I say to her, “Find them newts” and she searches the road head down, nose working away like billy-o until she finds one. Then she does the Weimaraner point until I come and shift it. She only points ones which are still alive, which I think is quite clever, but maybe dead ones smell differently to her. I then carefully pick them up and put them well away from the road. They are mainly common ones and the occasional palmate too. We have never seen a crested in the locality. If we do I will be very excited but I bet the local landowner won’t because, as a protected species, they have to be reported and monitored. Usually they have become beached in the road by the growing cold of night, so when I pick them up they are quite docile and will lie in the palm of my hand until I put them down in the grass.

The smallest one last year was about half the length of my pinkie and the longest stuck out at either side of my palm. OK, my hands aren’t plate sized but this common fellow was huge. One dreadful night in June we had ‘newtmageddon’ and I had to remove ten dead ones from the road. They had all been squashed. I ended up in tears moving them all. Callie must’ve realised I was upset as she let me walk back home with my hand on her head all the way. Something she doesn’t do very often.

All this got me thinking that if the toads are about already, we may get frog spawn and taddies in Muriel and Ken’s pond before too long. Last year they had dozens of frogs leaping about their garden as they escaped their nursery and went off in to the big wide frog world. It is almost worth putting a small pond in my garden to see if we can’t attract some too.

All of this before our early morning swim. I was teased at the pool’s counter by Loll who told Sarah I was in mourning for my Familiar. She didn’t get it so we went into a lengthy explanation about witches, Macbeth, familiar spirits and such. She just said, “I sometimes think you two live on a different planet to the rest of us!” To which I replied, “You’d better keep that quiet or the Tralfamadorian Security Service may come and neutralise you. We can’t have our invasion discovered before it’s begun!”

Her response was, “See what I mean? Completely barking!”

At work I met up with our Research Support Manager this morning. I should have done so ages ago, she tells me. [I didn’t even know there was such a person.] We had a long chat and she had a form she had to fill in about me and some boxes to tick no doubt. Afterward I mentioned it to Felice who said, “Mais, Oui. Naturellement,” and carried on with what she was doing. I thought that may be a bit of a brush off so when I asked if she had been to see this person she told me she hadn’t. This set my radar twitching so I left a message with my supervising tutor who got back to me after lunch. She was of the opinion it was probably merely routine Uni procedure but she’d not heard about the position either. 

She’d get back to me. Am I being paranoid? Are they out to get me?

Laura was at the restaurant tonight so I got on with more embroidery. I am getting to the point where, with my first panel almost completed, I will have to work out what sort of thing I need to make/buy to put it on. There is a South African embroidery woman who gives online lessons in this sort of thing and those lessons actually include a wooden Tudor Style Cabinet but it is thousands of dollars for the whole package.

I have also discovered there are groups of women [why is it never men?] who make specialist boxes from cardboard. They are pretty sturdy affairs and then they get covered in fabric. Sometimes the pieces of the boxes are covered in fabric before they are assembled. I am going to do some further research.

Tuesday Feb 25^th.

OMG. The Frog theme continues. Today “the i” ran a feature about my shoes! I can’t believe it. My lovely French Sole shoes were on display for the hoi-polloi to peruse and maybe even buy too! I was gutted. I love these shoes. I felt really pleased when I discovered them and found that no-one else whom I knew had heard about them. Now they have been splashed over one of the quality national newspapers! I am as sick as a parrot to use moronic footballer speech. How dare they expose my brilliant little secret to the entire world? I was all for putting the three pairs I have into the charity shop but Laura got me to calm down and see reason. She has told me to wait and see if anyone I know comments on them, when I am wearing them next. That seemed a sensible idea so I went back upstairs and changed my wardrobe entirely so I could wear the African Violet type pair to Uni and work today.

At uni, despite doing my utmost to flash my famous footwear to just about everyone [don’t even ask, it is so embarrassing to think about], no one seemed to cotton on that a) I was deliberately trying to draw attention to my shoes or b) they were French Sole shoes!

At XXX & Y I tried a more subtle shoe flashing approach again with nobody at all noticing what I was doing, apart from one guy in the lift [he is in conveyancing, I think] asking me if I had cramp. Again don’t ask what I was doing to elicit this response. I am so ashamed of myself. This was even more embarrassing as he volunteered to massage my foot if it would help and then dropped to one knee to do as well! Luckily no-one else entered the lift between me getting in and out. Phew. He was very gentle with his hands on my foot though…

Laura thought this was hilarious when I got home and explained my day’s experiment had proved her right. Nobody had given a damn that I was wearing shoes covered as part of a fashion feature in a local newspaper. She did shoot down my plane of relief though, by saying, “Of course, we get our papers so early [The Times and The i] maybe no-one else had read today’s edition?” Thanks a bunch you statistical little wizard. I will now have to do all that contortion and pedal display all over again tomorrow and Thursday.

She then asked me the one question which put it all into perspective: “Erm… Why does it matter so much Vic?” 

Right on the button question. Why does it matter? Even if matters; does it matter that it matters? Am I being silly and irrational? The answer to the last couple is a resounding YES.

Wednesday 26^th Feb.

Arrrggghhh! Another squashed toad! I don’t believe it. What have we got living in the pond up there, the North Sheffield Anura Seppuku Division? To be fair it was a fair bit smaller so maybe this was the Juliet Toad out looking for her long lost Romeo Toad. Maybe I am getting silly.

At the pool today I asked Sarah if she’d heard of French Sole shoes. She hadn’t. Laura took that as proof that I was being over the top about them. After swimming we asked Sylvia when we picked up the newspapers. She hadn’t either! Laura was quietly going “Laura Two, Vicky Nil.” I decided I wouldn’t wear any of mine to work today but merely ask every one if they’d heard of them. I was going to claim that I had seen the piece in the paper about French Sole Shoes and wanted to know if they were really any good or not.

I now owe Laura a tenner or a meal out somewhere. She made a bet that fewer than the number of digits on one had would be the number at work who had heard of them. She was right. Nobody had at all! I couldn’t believe it. Not one single woman I asked had heard of French Sole Shoes! I am gobsmacked and out of pocket. Laura said it was a matter of statistical analysis in action. They are quite an unusual shoe brand at the moment, only those who have bought some already are probably likely to know the name. The newspaper article would be glossed over by 50% of the readership anyway (being male) and of the women who read it only a few would be people who cared about brands given the i’s demographic. Coupled with the fact that its circulation is only about 300, 000 out of 60 million, statistically the chances of meeting someone else who had seen the feature are pretty remote.

She actually though Uni might prove more likely as the nature of the i’s readership tended to put them in the better educated, independent minded thinkers – like students at a University, rather than the great unwashed out there. The majority of whom don’t buy the i or any other quality newspaper because they are too dumb to cope with the polysyllabic language and serious concepts espoused in these publications.

She is so mathematical at times. I love it. It I so unlike me and the way my mind works at all. I am much more driven by feelings and emotions; she uses logic, reason and statistics. It is no wonder I love her so much. If only she wouldn’t squeeze the toothpaste tube from middle. That really makes me wonder if she actually does use logic after all.

Once again she was at Dominic’s place tonight and I did some catching up with my notes and e-mails, especially to Australia. I have had quite a few from acquaintances in Oz looking forward to me coming out in the summer and chiding me for not seeing them last year. I had to tell them the truth, there are so many of them and so little time.

I think I may have found a box-making group who meet fairly locally, so I am going to go along to one of their classes to see if what they do may be useful for my cabinet. They meet somewhere near Halifax, which is only a little way up the road(!).

Thursday February 27^th.

Yaay! No squashed toads, frog or any other kind of amphibious life on the road this morning. I am so pleased. I do get upset when I find any. The worst is finding rabbits. That makes me cry. I know it is completely stupid because I am one of those heartless bastards who takes her dog out shooting and will kill and eat rabbits and pheasants and the like; yet to see one run over seems such a stupid waste. [I don’t think I’m a heartless bastard, BTW, I think I am doing my bit for the survival of the fittest and also anything I shoot and eat has been living a happy normal free life until I bag it for the pot, unlike all those farmed chickens and pigs and cattle whose whole life id destined for the plate. At least Peter Rabbit has a chance I will miss and he can go on raiding Mr Gregor’s garden to his heart’s content until next time.

After swimming and breakfast we decided I would ask as many people at Uni about French Sole shoes. I would keep a tally of gender, approximate age, Undergrad or graduate or employee. Laura was going to do the same and use it as a piece of analysis to work out the actual benefit of a piece like the article to the company who manufactures my shoes. She is thinking of sending the results off to the company.

Laura Thomas’ research data: Thurdsay 27^th Feb 2014 collected between 0900 and 1600hrs.  Total number questioned 326; m 116, f 210. Students 268; ug 197, g 71. Staff 58; m 18, f40.

Knew what French Sole was; 54. Knew what French sole was and had seen the article; 29.

Breakdown 54 = 47 f, 7m. 31 ug, 18 g, 5 staff.

31 ug = 29 f, 2m.  18g = 14f, 4m. 5 Staff = 4f, 1m.

My data: Same dates roughly the same time frame. Total questioned 62; m 8, f 54. Students 33; ug 23, g10. Staff 21; m 6, f 15.

Knew what French Sole was; 21. Knew what French Sole was and had seen the article: 13.

Breakdown; 21 = 20f, 1m. 6ug, 3g, 12 Staff.

The only male was a Staff member.

She is going to get busy with this and a lot more details I haven’t included to come up with a correlation between our establishment and other, similar, places and arrive at a conclusion. It does my head in just to look at the numbers! I think I have copied them down correctly. If not, the fault is in the transcribing of them; not in the statistics I have been copying from. I can sort of see why a little exercise like this can suddenly grow to something totally huge and I think I understand the buzz Laura gets from playing with all those numbers.

I asked if she thought the road deaths on the lane would be as interesting but she said there weren’t enough variables to make the figures dance. Mmmm….

Once again she was at the restaurant tonight. I did not work but sat and read Armistead Maupin’s “Tales of the city” again. I have been selected as a world book night giver and this will be the book I am giving away. I wanted to reacquaint myself with the tale in advance of April 23^rd. I discovered, on line, there was a TV serialisation of the book. It is available on DVD. I may have to have a swift visit to Amazon once I have re-read it.

Survival bag sledging during a quiet weekend.

Friday 21^st February.

Dog walk. Early morning swim. Shower.

Work.

Drove to Dad’s after work.

Tried to remember why we were going to Dad’s at all. Couldn’t.

Drove past mountain summits covered with snow realised those are the reason.

Got there at about 4pm. Still light.

Went to Crummock with Dad’s dogs and Callie. Ended up at The Kirkstile.

Had to walk back to the car in the deepening gloom. Dad phoned to ask where we were. He sounded panicked. Ha ha ha. Asked us to bring in Fish Supper for tea. Cheeky bugger.

Planned Saturday excursion if weather good. Sledging. Somewhere over Ennerdale way.

Hit charp at about 11pm completely whacked.

Saturday 22^nd February.

Louisa woke us all with the smell of frying bacon. Mmmmm….. We had obviously been pretty tired as it was coming up to 8am when I stirred from the pit. The usually sound sleeper Laura was already up and in the shower! That is a first really. I am normally the one leaving her asleep in bed.

The bacon devoured, the fell forecast wasn’t promising for snow. With most levels under 600 metres probably being clear. We knew that north facing slopes tend to keep more of their white stuff and in the places where there are gullies the snow lingers longest.

The drive to Ennerdale was not promising, cloudy on the tops and very little snow left too. Still the plan was to clamber up Herdus and see what was available near Floutern tarn and that area. This proved to be a winner. There was a good amount in the northern slope gullies making brilliant survival bag sledging runs. The downside is Dad’s daft dog who tries to get on the survival bag with you. You set of at a run, throw yourself down on the flimsy orange plastic and instead of whooshing at breakneck speed down the gully a bloody chocolate labrador lands on your back and tries to steal your hat!

What was funny at first proved to be tedious in the extreme after a while and we had to take it in turns to be the dog warden but only for the silliest of Dad’s dogs. Mine was fine and the other two of his were very well behaved, too. It was just Moss who decided that joining you on the bag looked like great fun. Where the hell she picked up the idea of snatching your hat from head I’ve no idea.

In the end we attracted a crowd, which for the top of Mosedale is saying something. A couple of younger types (OK they were about my age) decided they would give it a go too.

Feeling suitably sledged out we trooped back down to the Ennerdale Wood car park and scooted to the Shepherd’s Arms Inn at Ennerdale Bridge for lunch. Dad’s treat! We only just made it in time, last food orders were at 2pm and we strolled in at 1.50! Phew.

After lunch we hit Cockermouth and had a stroll round the town, giving the dogs a good wash in the River Cocker at Harris Park. I spend an age in the Linden Tree and was almost forcibly dragged out by an impatient parent! There is always a really nice feel about Cockermouth; it is a civilised place. You get the opposite feel from places like Workington for example. I guess it is the lack of large chain type shops and the plethora of artisan food places and eateries. If I ever relocated, here would be really nice, but so too would Arran, and Lindisfarne, and Barnstaple and…. My list gets bigger and bigger.

The pups dried and snoring in front of Dad’s log burner we had a long sit and proper chat about the caravan on Arran. I am so looking forward to going to stay but that looks like it won’t be until the end of our current semester. Dad is planning a couple of weekend sorties, but leaving his car at Ardrossan and using the bus service on the island. The saving in Ferry costs is huge. We even discussed whether buying a cheap 2^nd hand car to leave permanently at the site would be a feasible idea. It was hit on the head by some serious mathematical input from a slender blonde mathematician who was snuggled up next to me.

The difference in savings on the ferry crossing, according to her, was only going to make a difference if we got the car for free or stole it! Even buying a cheap one, it would still take us years and years to recoup the cost of the car from the ferry savings. I am always stunned when she sits there and recounts a hugely complicated set of figures, which she has calculated in her head, to prove an argument.

We searched the net for a suitable table and chair set for the deck and came up with a round table and matching chairs by Guardman. It is a bit more expensive than the usual but it has a long warranty and looks comfy. Plus, the reviews on the website were universally good or excellent! It was wonderful to think that we’ll be away in our own place on the island in a few weeks’ time. I just can’t wait.

Another relatively early night tonight. It is obviously all the fresh air and exercise doing us in.

Sunday 23^rd February.

Up at the normal time today. (That means very early.) I had walked the dogs up Tallentire Hill and back before 8am. As we were setting off for home after lunch I decided get up and get on with the meal prep. Everything was set to go by 9am apart from the meat (leg of lamb, which didn’t need putting out until about 10am).

I refrained from cooking up a fried breakfast for the simple reason there was no bacon left. We must have wolfed the lot yesterday! I did a series of eggy baps smothered in Tomato sauce and Mayo for me and Loll then Louisa wandered in and she had two, finally the Aged Parent strolled down so I did two more.

We went up to Silloth to walk the dogs along the prom and then across the green. We bought some tea / coffee to go from the local shop and took it up to the pagoda, where Laura and I had chips last month. It was surprisingly fine and clear and we were able to point out all the Scottish points of interest to Louisa. She has never been round that side of the Solway [neither has Laura] so we planned a trip around to Rockcliffe when we are next up at Dad’s

We had put the lamb into the oven before we zoomed off so we made steady progress back along the B5300 looking for signs of storm damage. There was much less than we had expected; it was mainly sand all over the place really.

After lunch Laura and I cried off any further activity and after our meal had settled,  I drove us both back to Sunny Sheff. It was sunny too.  

It was only as we were nearing home I realised Dad still hadn’t given me the surprise from Australia! I am going as doolali as him. Obviously it is nothing perishable or he’d have given it to me already [like he did with the four multi-pack bags of Cherry Ripe – I do love him really].

I wonder how long it will be before we go survival bag sledging again?

Memory Lapses and Remembering Past Lovers.

Monday February 17^th.

Walked Callie and then swam as usual this morning.

Finally got through to Dad as he, and Louisa, was on the early sailing from Arran back to Ardrossan. 

They have loved the van and location. We have chosen an excellent site, as the pitch is in a really sheltered spot away from the any prevailing westerly winds or southerlies. The electrician guy has wired the external water pipes with a heating element triggered when the temperature drops below zero. [It is only in used if the pipes haven’t been drained down, ie when it is occupied – as Dad has left the van for about a month he has done the winter draining. This is something I will have to learn when we go.] The van itself is brilliant. The best bit, according to Dad is the French door opening out on to 

the deck right behind the sea wall. It just needs a table and some chairs to make it perfect.

Dad took across a TV set (32” LCD flat screen job) my contribution is to be a PVR. I have already bought it, a 500Gb Goodmans one which should do the job nicely. I have also bought a Goodmans Mini Hi-fi system to go in there too and have embarked upon burning copies of all my Classical CDs to take. Dad is doing the same with a selection of his Rock CDs.

We have worked out a sleeping order. If we go to Arran together a coin will be tossed for the main bedroom, if we arrive separately it will be first come first served for the main bedroom. That seems fair to me. The second bedroom beds can be pushed together and with a thickish mattress protector it should make a good double bed. I have suggested clamping the two single frames together and tying the mattresses together with webbing, this should stop slippage when the sleepers get amorous [I didn’t say the last bit to Dad].

As we are not letting the van out Dad is thinking of putting a set of waterproofs in there permanently, this is a good idea too, it will save space in the vehicles when we drive up. I have enough sets of gear to donate a set for me and Laura without needing to actually buy anything new.

Today’s meal was one of my mega chillies. It is huge and usually serves us for three meals. I used to make them especially hot for Richard but Laura isn’t a fan of having her head blown off so I have toned down the peppers somewhat. It was prepared mainly on Sunday and then put on the timer in the oven to be fully cooked by 5.30pm. We had a mountain of rice to go with it. Tomorrow we will serve it with baked potatoes and on Wednesday we’ll use tortilla wraps.  This is the first of my mega chillies I’ve done in 2014. I did one for the Scampi Tails last year and they loved it. To give an idea of how big “mega” is; a whole usual sized Chilli actually was enough for 8 women!

The first Scampi’s meeting of 2014 is next Wednesday (26^th) and we are at Ann’s house. The next night will be the first of the monthly quizzes at my local pub so the Tails will be on display two nights in a week next week. There was a reason why they decided to have the meal and go to the quiz but I can’t remember what it was. Often they have chosen to do the quiz as the meal instead of going to someone’s house. (The pub serves two meals for £10 on the monthly quiz night.)

I looked at tickets for Australia tonight and the Business Class, I am after, is still a bit high in price. If I wait until March I may get a better deal. Laura has said she doesn’t mind flying Economy (she has no idea what it is like in economy for 20+ hours) but I insisted we fly B.C. plus I have some points from the frequent flyer scheme to spend too which will bring the cost down slightly.  OK, it is only six flights worth of FF Points but it is better than nothing. Then there is my $5K winnings from Australia to add to the pot. It will soon be costing us as little as economy with all those considerations included. 

Suze is expecting us to stay for at least six weeks; which is brilliant. We have been offered the camper and the children for the two weeks school holidays in August if we wanted them. Naturally we have accepted. It may be a squeeze but we’ll manage. I don’t plan the mega tour of last summer (their winter) we’ll just whizz down to Albany, Augusta, Margaret River and Bunbury. That way we should see whales and dolphins and get some wine tasting in too. Laura has a thing about lighthouses so we’ll pack those in as well. It’ll be a busy two weeks. The camper does have a high level bunk at the front which we’ll have to persuade one of the girls to use. I bet Jill will be up for it, I expect Annabelle will want to sleep cuddling up to Aunty Vic again. If Jeff baulked at three women in the camper last year, I guess four will put him off totally.

As you can probably tell from this entry, today was really a bit of a Radio Stars Day, to be honest.

Tuesday Feb 18^th.

Two part day as usual. First half, University; second half, XXX & Y. Pretty normal really. I spoke to Mrs Briggs about working time off in lieu for the Australia trip this summer, which was agreed with no fuss. Even though I am part time, because I have worked full time for over a year, when I first started, I am entitled to statutory holidays and holiday pay which is always nice to hear.

I met Christopher in the lift and he came out with, “I hear you went for lunch with our superstar ‘Prossie’ last week”!! Where is he coming from? I told him he heard wrong. I felt there was no need to say anymore. I hope I am right.

Laura was at work as usual this evening and I did some more sewing and re-writing of my notes on the Cabinet. I seem to have a whole chunk of translations adrift. I’ll have to check with Feli that she hasn’t borrowed them when I am back in on Thursday. That is the only explanation I can think of for them not being in my wallet file.

Started the gift today which means Loll won’t be far off too. This may mean a sex free weekend in Cumbria which will be a downer. I still can’t get over the fact we are so synchronised now. It is weird.

Wednesday  February 19^th.

Dog walked and swim completed, we had a long cuddle after our shower this morning. I just love it when we do that. The mega chilli looks like it will last three meals as there are still masses of it left. The downside is we have no wraps! I must remember to get some tonight.

Quite a long old day at work as the scanner was playing up for some strange reason. We had to send for the IT guy in the end. That was like a discovery in itself. I have only heard of Darryl in conversation but never met him. He is like a creature from another planet. He speaks in a high pitched tone which makes you think he may be gay [he isn’t] he also seems to conduct most of the conversations he has with other people through himself. He sort of repeats the question you’ve asked him and then tells himself the answer. It is hard to describe properly but it’s definitely strange.

He also makes comments all the way through what he’s doing; saying what he’s doing. But he seems to put little asides into the mix. I am sure I heard him say “Blondie has lovely legs” as he was fiddling in the back of the scanner. I got a bit concerned when I thought I heard “Wonder if they open?” or it might have been “Wonder if it opens?” I started to get quite freaked so I left him to it.

I described him to Laura over dinner (we both bought wraps so now we have a surfeit!) and she has decided the place is stuffed with weirdoes, just look at that girl they have in archives…

I had another major loss this evening. I keep my better needles in a handmade needle case. I made it when I was about fifteen. It is a bit like a cloth book with an embroidered cover and felt leaves into which I store my needles. Well, after Loll had zoomed off to work I could not find the damned thing anywhere. I searched absolutely everywhere, twice.

I sat down and thought of all the places I had been since I last used it on Tuesday and retraced my steps to each room in the house and examined every place it could be and every place it couldn’t. I decided to go through all my pockets of the clothes I had worn yesterday – no good. I even took my ugg boots off and looked in there! The needle case was inside my ugg boot! It had fallen in (I assume) back uppermost and as I had put on a pair of socks before slipping my boots on I must have desensitised my heel so that I didn’t notice it was wedged between by heel and the back of the ugg.

I debated long and hard as to whether to tell Laura when she got back in. I did and she had a major giggle and then went up to the big wardrobe in the front bedroom. She started looking in my boot collection [the long ones, not the ankle boots] I asked her what she was doing and she said looking for my lost papers! I had a mini wrestle with her and we ended up on the bed having rather messy sex. 

Well, I thought it was messy, Laura said she didn’t mind.

Thursday February 20^th.

Missing papers found. Felice did have them after all. We bought a job lot of wallet files when we started the project the snag being they only came in four colours, clear, Black, Red and Blue. We had simply jumbled up our black ones. This lead to one of those Durr Moments when you realise you have been doing something so stupid for ages. We decided we should have two colours each. I would have black and clear and Felice would have Red and Blue. It was such a simple thing to do we couldn’t believe we had been such dozy cows not to have seen it before. A combined IQ which would makes us as clever as Marvin {Hitch-hikers Guide} and yet we could even see the sense of not jumbling up our wallet files. This is one I am definitely not telling anyone else!

I told Feli about the needles and she said there would be a third thing to watch out for. It always happens in threes. (See what I mean about high IQs and silliness?)

We lunched in the refec today and had a stroll along Broomhill afterwards. It is the first time we have been able to do this for ages. The weather has been pretty horrible usually. We looked in the window of the Turkish restaurant where Adi and I’d had our meal. I suggested we should try lunch there one day in the future. It will sort of cover my bases if necessary. Is that being ultra-sneaky? I hope not.

After work we had a whizz across to Holmesfield to see Mum and have tea with her. She dropped me right in it by telling Laura that as a child I was always losing things (funny that, I don’t seem to remember). She described the lost teddy bear (at Grandma’s); the lost tricycle (Dad’s office stairwell); the lost school bag (school bus after Mum was staying late); the lost Knickers (forgotten after swimming). I had to shut her up in the end. It was just so embarrassing.

Confession time: the knickers weren’t lost after swimming. They had been kept as a trophy by the boy I had let be naughty with me; with whom I slept not much later. (This was Ian, the brother of one of my friends from school.)

I dropped Laura off at the restaurant directly then went home to reminisce about my mis-spent youth. Ian and I were both virgins and I was able to persuade him that we should have sex with each other because we had no emotional attachment, so we could learn all about bonking without the tedious falling in love. Hence the losing of my knickers as a sign I was serious. In order to show him I was serious, I had let him touch me and put a finger inside me. He was like a bloody bull at a gate. He had no idea about gentleness or foreplay, he just stuck it straight in after I had removed my knickers. If I hadn’t already introduced myself to my own fingers and various vegetables before this, it could have been quite painful but my extra few month’s experience meant I was already damp and it didn’t hurt as much as it could have. 

For my part I had played with his willy until he came, which didn’t take long at all. (He was dead keen for me to put it in my mouth but I refused until we had arrived at an agreement.) I eventually taught him all about finesse, foreplay and oral sex in the months we had as teenage rabbits before he turned 16 and it became illegal for him to fuck me anymore. We did start again after I turned 16 but it wasn’t the same, so I dumped him. Plus I had my GCSEs coming up and didn’t want distracting.

The thought of Ian lead on to me thinking about all the other guys I had slept with over the years. I don’t think I could have been a subject for a Lars Von Trier film, but it would have been close!

Two Concerts, Valentine's Day and a walk in Peak District.

Friday February 14^th.

Valentine’s Day.

Last Valentine’s Day a guy, to whom I had been writing, after becoming a contact on Yahoo Answers, flew from France to Manchester, zoomed across from there to Sheffield all with the intention of delivering flowers to me for Valentine’s Day.

I had suspected he might be planning something owing to the nature of his e-mail messages so I went incognito for a week. I avoided Y!A and didn’t open my e-mail account. I don’t know what I was expecting to find, maybe he’d bought me something from Amazon or Diamond Geezer or something. I certainly didn’t expect him to have flown to the UK to give me flowers!

I felt so guilty that I hadn’t been there to receive them. He had taken photo’s of his hotel in Sheffield, the bouquet, the spot where he had asked me to meet him; lots of pictures in fact.

The snag was [still is] I didn’t feel anything for him like he obviously felt for me. It is a bit like my relationship with Christopher at work; he is like a love struck puppy, I am Cruella De Ville! The difference with Christopher is he hasn’t fallen for a disembodied person at the end of an e-mail connection or on Yahoo Answers, he has fallen for the real life, flesh and blood, sarcastic little blonde cow at his place of employment.

What Eremey did [I know he won’t mind being mentioned by name] was the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me in my short spell of time on the planet. I am not exaggerating! It was truly a gesture of epic proportions and if I had felt the same for him as he felt for me I think we’d have become an item, without a doubt. I did tell him, at the time, that if he did a similar thing for a girl he actually knew in real life he would probably be welcomed unconditionally.  I sincerely hope he has this year. For his sake.

We drifted apart over the following year and now we no longer regularly correspond, this is probably a good thing as Laura moved in with me last September. I occasionally hear from him and if he reads this I just want him to know there is a small corner of my heart reserved for what he tried to do that day in 2013. I am sorry I was such a cow and that my actions spoiled your beautiful gesture and our further correspondence. If you continue to shower a future GF with similar attention and affection you will find true happiness. I hope you do.

Laura knows all about it [I try to have almost no secrets from her] and she says if a guy had done that for her she might have seriously suspended her lesbianism just for him! [Only temporarily, but he would have deserved it.]

This Valentine’s morning I left a card and present on Laura’s bedside cupboard whilst I walked Callie, before our swim. She met me on the way back with a kiss and cuddle and she then bundled me into the car so we weren’t late at the pool. Foolishly I was imagining she had arranged something for me there. 

She hadn’t.

We did our lengths, showered and dried off and rushed back home. She seemed quite anxious and fretful. At 8.10 I found out why. A delivery person rang our doorbell, he was hidden behind a huge bunch of red roses – for me!  The note said, “They were white but I painted every one red because I love you so much!” She knows I love white flowers so this was a lovely thing to say in her note. I started crying and did so for quite a few minutes. Laura joined in too after a bit. I put the roses down and tried to kiss her tears away but she ended up intercepting my mouth with hers and we had a major snog in our conservatory. We broke away and started giggling. I went and found a vase and began to arrange the flowers in it. She came and hugged me from behind and buried her head into the hair at the back of my neck.

“You have made me a different person since we started going out…“ I tried to answer but she put her hand over my mouth. “Shush! Before that I was wandering in a directionless way, feeling helpless about my emotions and despairing of ever finding someone I could love as much as I loved you from afar. When you returned my kiss on Piccadilly Station I was the happiest girl on earth. When you let me sleep in your bed I thought I would just burst with joy. Moving in with you has turned me from being a chrysalis into a butterfly. I love you so much. I can’t imagine what I would be like now if it wasn’t for you!”

I almost said something stupid and sarcastic. I held it back. If Richard had poured out his heart to me like that, I would have replied with my usual sharp tongue as a way of deflecting the emotion. I just couldn’t with Laura.

We drove into work in sunshine, and not just from the sun [which was putting in a rare appearance].

The concert this evening was excellent. The Prokofiev was the ideal thing to hear on Valentine’s Day, apart from the stupidly pointless deaths at the end, of course. The Liszt Piano Concerto was just as it sounds on my old Richter recording, fury and passion directed at the keyboard. It is quite a good accompaniment for the R&J. I have only heard the Bartok once before and I thought we were given an excellent performance though it wasn’t in the same league as the first two pieces.  If I had been planning the programme I would have given us something more lyrical to counterpoint the passion and fury of the first two pieces.

There must’ve been a lot of people out in town as we had to park in car park on Arundel Gate and then brave the howling gale which was whipping through the city. I was going to wear my floaty lace dress but I am glad I went for my blue jersey instead. The lace thing would have billowed beyond control in the wind and may have been impossible to control whereas the jersey was much better behaved. In retrospect trousers of some description would have been a far more sensible option all round!

There was no Mrs Briggs at the concert which was unusual but we did strike up a conversation, over interval drinks [theirs were on the same card as our and we arrived to collect them simultaneously] with a couple celebrating their 30^th wedding anniversary at the concert. We have seen them at a few concerts here before and I think they recognised us by sight too.

Laura told them she thought it was wonderful that they had lasted so long together [or words to that effect]. She hugged my arm and said, “I hope Vicki and I can make it that long too.” I was expecting the eyes to roll into the back of their heads and for them to walk away but they didn’t. The woman asked how long we’d been together and Laura told them 18 months but we moved in together 6 months ago. She also told them I was the best thing that had happened to her. I think I blushed at this point. [I couldn’t help but think the same thing, though. She is the best thing that could have happened to me, too.] I made a joke about it as usual.

I manoeuvred the conversation away from us back to them and asked if they’d any children. They have a two, a boy and girl. The girl is married with two children of her own; the boy is in America and a bit of a drifter really. I think they thought he was a drifter because he had no partner and said he hated the idea of having children ever, too.

I thought this was getting a wee bit too personal so I moved on to the concert instead. They were enjoying it so far and thought that the programme promised to be very good. I mentioned the Beethoven String Quartets we were going to see tomorrow and they were surprised they hadn’t heard of that concert. I had to fill them in with details and they muttered about phoning up to see if there were any tickets, in the morning. While they were at it I also put in a good word for the Firth Hall series of concerts and they’d not heard of those either! I am amazed at how little people actually explore what is going on in their own town or city. I find this at work too. I mention something we are going to and get blank looks or questions like, “Where did you hear about that, then?” We parted on the bell, learning that they would be at the next three City Hall concerts as we. I bet we don’t see them tomorrow though!

I walked Callie in the gale at home after I had changed out of my dress. The wind was whistling around places it oughtn’t to be whistling, so I put some jeans on. Despite the force of the wind, whilst walking her up to Onescare, there was no rain. As if the gods had favoured me especially, I had just locked up the conservatory door, as we got back in, and the hose pipe in the sky was turned on full blast. Phewee Muskey. That could have been us out there getting wet if I had lingered over my drinking chocolate like I was going too. It was only the fact it was far too hot which sent me out at the time I did.

Saturday Feb15th.

It was still really blowy again this morning but no rain. The puddles across Long Lane, though, stretched from one side of the road to the other. A sure sign there has been a deluge. We went to the pool driving through large puddles across the Old Manchester Road too.

We did out 100 as usual and had a chat with Sarah before we left. She was envious of the fact we were going out again tonight. She moaned that she hardly ever goes out anymore. I told her we went out to see stuff because I was brought up doing that and it was second nature to me. Laura just got dragged along whether she liked it or not. She butted in with “Yeah. It’s terrible…!”

I smiled at that because she never used to use sarcasm at all.

We did the boring old, boring old stuff this morning; menu planning, shopping, washing, cleaning. Well, we had a division of labour, I did the washing and cleaning while Laura went and did the shopping. It got her from under my feet for an hour and a half and I was able to whizz round attacking the dirt. Mum says I see dirt where none exists but I know the little buggers are lurking there.

Laura had brought some apple lattice Danish pastries back with her from the shops, which were delicious BTW. So after polishing those off I decided we could have a go at making our own. I defrosted a bag of our homemade apple puree. While that was defrosting I set to and made the pastry. It was at this point I realised we had no cinnamon. Curses! Laura went to Muriel’s, next door, to see if she had any – she didn’t. She then leapt the fence to Julie’s on the other side and came back with some cinnamon held in Julie’s hand!

Laura had invited her round for a cuppa and to watch the great Sheffield Bake Off in action! She really is getting good with this sarkiness. We had a good gossip and caught up with all that had been happening during our sojourn at Dad’s. Julie hadn’t even known about the arson on the opposite hillside, though, which made me wonder just how reliable her gossip was. She did say that Sylvia, who owns the newsagent’s, was thinking of retiring. I told her she had been telling me that since I had moved in. Apparently though, she has had a couple of people round looking at the business with a view to buying it.

My apple cinnamon Danish pastries looked and smelled wonderful. I had glazed them with a honey mixture which gave them a golden glow when they came out of the oven. It was all we could do to resist trying one straight away. I recounted my hot potato incident from January, which made Julie decide not to chance it after all. We put three on a tray and stood them on a table in the conservatory which doesn’t have heating on at the moment, in an attempt to cool them down. Delicious. Different to the ones Laura had bought but just as good.

We almost lost all three though as Callie somehow managed to nuzzle open the kitchen door; it was only Julie shouting “No!” that stopped her thieving the lot! She doesn’t snaffle things very often but she has got form for being an opportunist if temptation is placed in her way. That isn’t anthropomorphism, it is doggy nature [and human nature too, if you think about it].

Tonight’s concert was far more cerebral that last night’s offering from the Halle. The weather was also far more clement. We both wore trousers, though, in case we were going to be caught out by the weather changing on us! I had some chino type things on and Laura wore skinny jeans which made her look slimmer than ever.

The Quartets played were the Opus 18, the 74 [Harp] and the 130. The 130 had die Grosse fuge (Opus 133) finale. The Elias Quartet were excellent and their finale of the 130 just as brilliant as it is on my recording of it. It is so modern sounding, which sounds odd as it was written almost 200 years ago. The Upper Chapel venue was a new one for me but it was a very good, if intimate concert space. We were close enough to watch a bead of perspiration trickle down the viola player’s face at one point!

The drinks couple from last night obviously hadn’t tried to get tickets as there were a few empty spaces around the room. Maybe they were just being very good at hiding their hatred of lesbianism. LOL. The gig was over pretty quickly it seemed and we were back out in Tudor Square amid hordes of youngsters going to get bladdered in the millions of bars in the city centre. We merely behaved like old fogeys and headed for our car and drove back to my little house.

That is the second time since Christmas we have had two things on consecutive nights and then a long lull in between. I will have to have a word with our “Ents Organiser”. Oh, That would be me!  Checking the diary we don’t have back to back items planned as far as I can see. We do have a gap of just a day between two things in May though! We are seeing “Yes”, with my Dad and Louisa on the 7^th of May and then the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra on the 9^th. I think they are both at the City Hall too!

Had a message on our answer machine from Dad when we got in. He and Louisa were in the van on Arran and it is wonderful. Jealousy rules at the moment. I will phone in the morning for an update!

The moon was just past full tonight, as I walked the “would be Danish pastry thief”, but if anything the light was even better. I didn’t need the torch at all as everything was so clear. The only snag with the place we live is the hilliness [if there is such a word], it would be nice to have an uninterrupted view all round instead of being hemmed in by the geography. I think that may be a metaphor form my life really.

Sunday 16^th February.

I phoned the aged parent three times this morning but his bloody phone was switched off! Grrrr!

We bit the bullet and decided to go for a walk. I wanted to have an all-round view so we drove to Bamford and went up Win Hill. The weather was lovely but the paths up and down the small Marilyn were as boggy as hell [if hell is boggy, that is?]. For such a small height gained I was amazed at how steep the slope was from the dam wall at the foot. The path though could have been negotiated in the dark by a blind man, it was so well defined. Yes, that is a euphemism for seriously eroded!

The summit is a funny shape rather like Pen-y-Ghent but on a smaller scale, being nearly 1000 feet lower. However, as it is a stand-alone peak, albeit with a low ridge running north west to Kinder Scout it has brilliant views, especially to the south.

The northern view takes in Ladybower reservoir and then the path to Alport Castles through Crook Hill where the Scampi Tails were almost crushed to death in a stampede last year. [It’s in the blog somewhere.] This is a very photogenic vista and would have made a wonderful piccie, if I had remembered my camera. My phone’s camera is pathetic in comparison to my SLR but I snapped a few from it anyway. The view to the west was very enticing, taking in Lose Hill [alongside Win Hill, there is obviously a story in these two peaks’ names] and Mam Tor. It looked like there could be a rather good circular walk which takes in both of those tops centred on Castleton. This will call for some research.

I had booked lunch at the Yorkshire Bridge Inn so we scurried down in order to make our 1.30pm time slot. Full Sunday Roast Dinner with all the trimmings. Yummy in our tummies.

After lunch I drove into Bamford village to look at a house that is for sale. It looks pretty nice on the webpage. It’s a stone built, full modernised, detached cottage with two bedrooms, double glazing and gas central heating. I couldn’t quite make it out adequately using street view so we went for a proper look. [I am not thinking of moving but this place looked so nice and it is in the Peak District National Park; it also has a regular train service to Sheffield…]

It is better to see the real thing than rely on web pages. The house is beautiful. It is made from local millstone grit and in the centre of the village but, and it is a big but, there is no garden to speak of at all. It is surrounded on three sides by gravel and one side is someone else’s property altogether. It was disappointing because if it had anything like a decent garden I would have considered putting in an offer for the place. It is a bit further out from Sheffield than where my little house is at the moment but it is right in the middle of glorious walking country and has a very appealing grit stone edge right above the village which has several interesting route along it for climbing. Ah well. It was obviously not meant to be. The asking price £250K is far too much for what is on offer. If I bought it, I would be losing a bedroom, the cellar and a lovely long garden. In this case both the head and the heart say No!

Tried Dad again when we got back in. Still no answer. Unless there is a bad connection on the island for his network, he is heading for slap next weekend when we are up in Cumbria again! When we stayed in Whiting Bay last Easter there was an excellent T-Mobile signal at the cottage which allowed me to use my tablet to surf the net. Knowing Dad his network is some parsimonious one which has the connectivity of an analogue TV signal!

We decided to have an early night after all our strenuous hiking activity this morning and we hit the charp by about 10.45.  I bet tomorrow’s weather is back to being grotty again, still as we are back at work it doesn’t matter does it?

A Radio Stars' Song and advice from a real Escort!

Monday 10^th February.

Whoo hoo! No rain. It stayed dry all day! A wee bit of sun appeared and then went away again as though it was embarrassed to be seen in public. We [ie me and my ex-school friends] have always called the sun Lawrence because of an English teacher we had who kept saying things which we took the wrong way. Whilst studying “Sons & Lovers” she told us the following gem, ”Of course, the Son is Lawrence…” so the name stuck. For a similar reason, but in a History lesson, teapots forever became known as Betties!

On the work, social and interactive front today was a bog standard, interchangeable, nothing unusual or different happened today sort of day.

I walked Callie.

We swam. Ate breakfast. Went to Uni. Had lunch. Came home. Cooked and ate dinner. Laura went to work. I missed her. She came home. I walked Callie again. We got intimate.  We slept.

The same events as usual.

Somewhere in the masses and masses of CDs, LPs and singles Dad has a song called “Nothing Happened Today”. It is very short and I can’t remember who sang it. It is 45 seconds of silliness put on to record.

Ah, flash of lightning hits as I listen to the radio news about the Sochi Winter Olympics. It is a word association thing.

Sochi = Russia.

Russia = There are no Russians in Russia [another of Dad’s records].

There are no Russians in Russia = Radio Stars.

Radio Stars = Nothing Happened Today [Damn All, Not a sausage, Bugger all!]. 

Rah rah rah. The way my brain works sometimes amazes me!

Those are the entire lyrics as far as I can remember them.

Tuesday February 11^th.

Today was almost another Radio Stars song day. Almost…

Although, Dad did phone before we left for work to ask how I had managed for food with virtually none of the tea pot money being spent? I had to admit I had forgotten it was there. I did use the cheque he had left for the kennels but had completely forgotten he always leaves cash for food if I house sit!

The Old Codger then went on to admit he had forgotten something too; he had forgotten to hand over my $5050 winnings from my bet against England in the Ashes series and a couple of small pressies he had bought for Laura and me. I ask you, how rich is that? He calls me to tell me I had forgotten stuff and he is just as bad! I didn’t bite my tongue this time, I told him he shouldn’t be criticising me when he was displaying signs of early onset Alzheimer’s.

Perhaps I should have held back, he sounded a bit hurt when I told him that. So I asked him if he wanted to come down for a few days, he said he would consider it but he might have trouble finding his way down to my house. We finished our convo with me agreeing to go back up to his on the weekend of the 21^st, I don’t think there is anything on our schedule for that weekend and he did say he also had a surprise for me. A surprise as well as the presents? I am intrigued. I bet he’s left it in Australia or something.

Uni in the morning was same as usual. XXX & Y this afternoon was more interesting. The Adriana woman, who is the high class escort we successfully defended once, was in again. I met her in the lift on her way to the summit of Olympus and she said, “We never did have that chat, did we?”

I sort of mumbled my reply, feeling very embarrassed, as the lift was full.

“Meet me for lunch tomorrow at Lokanta. We can talk then. You have from 12.45 to 2.15, don’t you?”

Again I mumbled a reply.

“OK. I’ll see you there, 1pm.” There was no brooking of argument or dissent. I simply agreed!

She stepped out at the fourth floor; I was heading higher, towards the gods, as I had some papers to give to one of the partners. I felt as though my face was absolutely aglow and probably redder than Rudolf’s nose! I delivered the documents with the minimum of fuss, and to avoid a repeat meeting skipped down the stairs instead of taking the lift back to the Archives.

The rest of my afternoon was event free.

Dinner was courtesy of Laura, as usual, and she had done some fresh tuna steaks which were delicious. I missed her again as she shot off to work but muscled down to some serious sewing of my casket embroidery. I have almost finished the first panel.

We had a serious cuddle and hug when she got back and we finally settled for sleep at almost 1am!

Wednesday 12^th February.

I walked Callie.

We both went swimming. Just the same as usual. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to invent an excuse for not meeting up with Laura but she asked if I’d be really disappointed if we didn’t have lunch, she was going to a meeting arranged for “maths” students interested in following a career as an Actuary. 

My brother became one of these a year ago and I was secretly hoping she wouldn’t attempt to follow a career in the same field as my brother. My face must’ve been a picture because she said, “Don’t worry. I am not going to get involved with anything to do with accounting if I can help it, but the speaker is going to touch on probability and that’s the area I’m hoping to focus on. Plus there’s a free buffet!”

“What’s the probability you could sneak me in for the free buffet?”

“None at all, I am afraid. We had to sign up last week as places were limited and on a first come first served basis. Sorry!”

I feigned disappointment and packed myself a solitary sandwich as a disguise.

The Locanta Meze Bar and Turkish Restaurant is located on Glossop Road, we’ve been past it several times but never gone in before. It is tastefully decorated and looks quite classy really. I could see why Adrianna had chosen this instead of the other places up and down Broomhill. It is only a few minutes’ walk from the office and luckily it wasn’t raining or windy either. She was sitting in the reception area sipping from a glass that looked like it contained white wine. I walked in, she rose to greet me and we air kissed each other on each cheek.

A waiter appeared from nowhere with a menu and asked if I wanted anything to drink. I opted for J2o, as I couldn’t really afford to get woozy at a lunchtime when I had a full afternoon’s work waiting for me. I sat down and examined the menu. I had the Kuzu Kavurma [sautéed lamb]. It was absolutely delicious. For dessert we had a sharing size chocolate soufflé, which would probably have failed the description “sharing” if I had made it. This was also wonderful. 

During the meal we chatted inconsequentially as though getting to know each other [which we were, obviously] and I learned that we shared quite a lot in common. She was a graduate [Fine and Applied art] she had discovered her Escorting later in life. She was single after a failed long term relationship and was just about resigned to being single and childless for the rest of her days. She is 41 although she looks much younger, and has quite a stash from her earnings and wise investments at the start of the dot.com bubble; getting out before it burst.

She then began speaking to me about why I wanted to chat with her. She had spoken with someone at XXX & Y about me, obviously. She also knew I was single and in a Lesbian relationship. She knew about Christopher’s attentions to me and how I had rebuffed him. She assumed that I wasn’t a dyed in the wool, life-long lesbian, but someone who had discovered it later in life. She also though that was why I wanted to talk to her because although I was in a loving stable and committed relationship I still had a longing for cock! My jaw probably hit the table.

Her premise was basically this: women get involved in prostitution for several reasons, the worst reason is financial hardship; the best a love of sex with lots of different partners. There are a whole range of shades of grey in between [pun intended] but the nearer you are to financial reasons the less likely it is you should do it.

She had a sugar daddy through University – several in fact – and she played them off against each other as they vied for her attention, affection and her body. They would take her on holidays, buy her expensive gifts and generally lavish money on her in return for having sex with them. She left Uni in 1993 with an extremely healthy bank balance and no emotional entanglements. Then, a few years later, she fell in love and went head over heels. Their relationship lasted for about 8 years until finally he left her for a younger version of herself.

She then decided to cut her losses with men as an emotional support and potential life partners  and so, as a side line to her work, she began part time escorting [in the evenings] to have no strings sex and also to bolster her bank balance again. She advertised on adult services web pages and charged enough to deter any riff faff [then she was charging £200 per hour, now she charges £400]. She saw maybe one or two clients per week, always reasonably well off men who were happy to pay a lot of money for her services.

Eventually, though she realised she could make as much in a week as she did in a month at work for only a fraction of the hours. She did it all legitimately: making herself a company offering adult services; filing tax returns on her income and generally playing by the financial rules of society if not necessarily by its moral rules. That is where we came in, as a company, she was reported anonymously, to HMRC as a possible tax evader and eventually our firm defended her in court and won her case. The change in the law regarding prostitution made her case stronger and the fact that she had meticulous records of all her financial dealings meant that HMRC’s fishing exercise came to naught.

Her advice was:

a) Check my motives. If all I really wanted was no-strings sex with a variety of different men it was a good way of doing so and earning money in the process.

b) Set up a page on an adult services web page. She recommended something called Adult Work

c) Only ever work with a set number of client per week and always use a hotel for the business never your own home. Travelodge, Days Inn etc are great for this; cheap but clean and anonymous. Always have a cut off time so that you don’t have to spend the night in these places.

d) Charge what you think may be too much. She advised £250 per hour at first. It really does deter the hoi polloi.

e) Always make advance booking a few days ahead of time. That way you can see more than one client per session and make sure your hotel expenses are covered. Never book a hotel before you have at least one booking.

g) Register with a sexual health clinic, explain your profession and arrange regular sexual health check-ups. This is vital.

h) Have definite no go areas. Personal Hygiene for example. No unprotected sex. No swallowing of semen. No two client or group client bookings. Make sure you have a set of standards that are clearly spelled out on the web page before you see any client. Always be immaculate yourself.

i) Get a completely independent mobile phone which is used only for this work and nothing else, ever.

j) If you are keeping this activity secret never put photographs of your face on the web page and never tell your partner, BF, Husband what you are doing. If you are in a relationship remember to stay consistent in your behaviour, personal hygiene, dress style as possible.

k) Be professional, polite and courteous. But be firm about what you will and will not do. Do not be coerced or bribed into doing anything you don’t want to. Offer the client alcohol but never have any yourself.

l) Wear immaculate clothing and sexy underwear. Nothing dirty, old,  torn or tacky. Take care with your make up but don’t overdo it.

I jotted notes down as she was speaking, I have expanded them here.

We chatted on inconsequentially for a while after our “business” was concluded and we left together. She headed off to the car park where she had left her car I wandered slowly back to XXX & Y pondering what we had discussed.

She made it all sound so easy and clinical. It couldn’t really be that simple could it? I know one thing for sure it has definitely put me in two minds about continuing down this line. Before I met with her it was only a vague idea in the back of my head, now I can see exactly how it would work and how I could physically do it. The real question is: is it a betrayal of all that Laura and I have made in the few months we’ve been together? I actually think it really is a betrayal. So far it is all in the mind. Taking the next step is the hurdle I may baulk at.

Adrianna said I had to call her once I had got started and let her know how I was doing. I don’t think I’ll be making that call anytime soon.

My work afternoon was quite a lot different as I sat there and tried to imagine entertaining a whole series of men whose sole purpose for meeting me was to fuck me. I have been a bit of a wild child in the past but this was something I would have criticised to high heaven if anyone had suggested it back then.  This got me thinking about the significant men in my life and our sex together. I got so worked up thinking about Richard I claimed I had to visit the basement archive and look something up…  …I spent over twenty minutes in the ladies reminding myself about Richard again! I have never ever done that at work before. Afterwards I felt a little bit guilty and ashamed but I knew that Richard’s reaction would have been the total opposite of those two emotions!

It is a good job the basement loos are so under used! LOL

There was an amazing sky this evening; cloudless [more or less] and with a really bright, almost full moon. It was so clear I didn’t need to turn on my torch. It was still quite blowy though, which is probably the reason there were so few clouds to obscure the moon. Obviously the day’s rain had had an effect though as the football match at Bramall Lane had been called off again – another waterlogged pitch. How many waterlogged pitches do they want?

When I got back Laura asked me if I had a gone a different route with the pup tonight. I asked her why and she said because she couldn’t see my torch along Onesacre Road! She looks out for me when I walk the dog. 

Isn’t that sweet? [It made me want to cry when I reflected on where I had been this lunchtime!]

Thursday 13^th February.

Jesus H Christ! The wind.

We were woken at about 3am by a bloody loud banging from the back garden. Wandering downstairs and turning on the security light I saw it was the dog kennel dog flapping about in the gale which was whipping down the hill. I went out to stop the banging and discovered the lock thing had broken. I made a temporary fix by wheeling the bin round to block the door. It is a good thing it hadn’t been emptied yet as it would have been too light to do any good if it was empty.

The wind had eased considerably when Callie woke me up for her walk. We left the wheelie bin in place until after I’d walked the woof and we’d been for our swim.

While Laura rustled up breakfast I went to examine the door. The hasp which held the bolt in place had come off leaving the bolt with nothing to close on to. Luckily it had only fallen a short way from the shed. I went to the cellar and fetched the tool kit. I have some large washers and some nuts and bolts in there. I reattached the hasp with a pair of bolt and put two huge washers on the inside of the shed; if it wants to unattach itself again it will have to pull two 1” washers through the side. I had bored through the shed with a bradawl rather than using a drill and I was done in less than five minutes. The nuts I used are locking nuts so I think there may have been a slight element of over kill in my repair! I am Miss DIY of South Yorkshire!

University went pretty much as usual.

Laura and I had lunch in the refec and she told me more about yesterday’s talk. We were a bit rushed last night because of my late day at work and then her being at Dominic’s. She is of the opinion that being an Actuary would be relatively interesting but not as much as the field of probability which she is considering. She has seen the sort of job she’d like to do when she graduates, there is one going at King’s College London: it involves Number Theory and Probability Theory and Programming , the salary starts at £31K. Phew. She knows that particular job won’t be there by the time she graduates but at least she has seen that something along those lines is out there. I hope she doesn’t find one that is too far away from Sheffield, though. That could present problems. I won’t dwell on anything like that at the minute. She has 18 months before she graduates which will give us time to work out a Modus Vivendi.

Once again she was at Dominic’s tonight. I drove her down and went to collect her afterwards. This gave me a chance to talk to Dominic who has already run out of the German wine Dad brought back. I suppose it has been nearly two months since Dad brought him four cases. He wanted to buy any I had left, which I refused – naturally, but I promised to phone Hilmar or Akki tomorrow to see if we could do anything for him. It is a bit bloody presumptuous of him I think but I will definitely phone and see what the likelihood is.

We both walked Callie for her the last walk of the day and then shared a shower before bed time. The sky was even clearer than last night; the moon was totally full, rather than yesterday’s gibbous version. It was so bright and the shadows it created so deep you could count the number of tentacles dangling from my silly hat in my shadow. 

We made shadows of two people kissing too. We made quite a lot of those actually. Laura wondered if her erect nipples would show bulging through her t-shirt in a moon shadow, so she opened her jacket and stood in profile. Her nipples were really visible to my eyes a few feet away, they were just about discernible on her shadow, too. She didn’t stay like that for long, just long enough for the shadow of a hand to appear and start caressing those naughty little items.

We returned home to see how well the shadow images matched reality. I think this is an experiment we will have to repeat again and again!