Sally goes on her hols.

 It has been very difficult to put a positive spin on this. I was expecting to be in Greece at this time but I’m not. I did all the typical things one does prior to heading off to the sun. Most of all I got really excited about a holiday with Diane in Greece. Now, I am back home feeling really sorry for myself. I have spoilt Diane’s trip. I am full of doubt about my competence. I just don’t feel happy. Ezra-Mae has noticed it, and she has tried to cheer me up. Nothing works. I just feel shitty.

What to do when you can't travel. Thank you Sophie

All started well. Diane and I set off for Gatwick. So far so good. We headed for the gate. Gate 112. Then we were told it was now gate 113. No probs. We queued; showed our boarding passes and were told it was the wrong plane. Ours was halfway across the airport at gate 55. We legged it along with five others. We got there and the gate had closed. We argued but it looked like only the two people who had luggage loaded in the hold would be allowed to board. In the end it was just me they wouldn’t allow to travel.

The worst thing happened. I still can’t quite believe it; my passport was out of date. I expires in June BUT it was 10 years and 3 weeks old. New BREXIT rules… You can only travel to the EU within 10 years of the issue date. Diane left. I got escorted out of the airport like a criminal along with six others from different flights.

The next day I applied for a new passport. I had to put the expiry date of the old one on the form. 17^th June, 2025. Putting that date really galled. I could have travelled to Asia and I would have been fine. Bloody BREXIT. Having looked into this, I found that 2.4m Brits had been caught by this rule before March 2022. That is a lot of disappointed people.

Currently I am living vicariously through Diane’s photos and catching up with her on face time. I am missing a wonderful experience. I think she is missing me. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have collected Sally Sourdough starter from Nasser’s house – her holiday home. Sally is my highly excitable, bubbly companion that makes tasty bread. She exploded on one occasion, so I asked Nasser to be nice to her and make her welcome.

Sally does her best.

My bubble friend after a short sojourn 

There is something about a “starter” that makes me feel it is a companion more than a food source. I told Ezra-Mae I had Sally living with me. When I showed her, she was adamant that it wasn’t a person. She now has her own “starter”, Peppa Dough. I wonder where that name came from? Danielle looked on the internet for possible names: Bread Pitt, Brigit Bar-Dough, and Ringo Starter were among the celebrity sobriquets mentioned.

So, along with more than 2.4m failed British travellers and those who elevate their sourdough starters to a high status of being, I feel slightly more normal. It hasn’t stopped the sadness I feel of a failed get-away though. What to do? 

Spectacular

Westminster Abbey in all its glory

It has been quite a week. We are still reeling from the after effects of the rain. The fields around me are still lakes. Last Tuesday I cycled to the orchard, pottered in the polytunnel and then retired to a local café with fellow diggers for spectacular cake and coffee. It was quite a morning. Even in sub zero temperatures, we have a tea break at the orchard itself. Going to a café is something entirely different.

After coffee, I donned my fluorescent waterproof on and battled the elements along the tow path to home. I considered myself to be totally foolhardy even thinking cycling an option. I couldn’t see for the downpour. Then, I met a fellow cyclist on the Iron Trunk bridge. He was splattered with mud. He had a big blob on his cheek and I wondered if I had anything similar. He was a bit lost.  He told me he had set off from Hemel Hempstead and was cycling to Birmingham in the rain! Suddenly, it made my short jaunt seem mundane. He is truly mad!

I went to London this week. The weather was kind on this occasion. Sophie and I had booked a trip to Westminster Abbey. The building is spectacular and even more amazing for the hotch-potch way that people have been remembered. I got the feeling that committees over time had made illogical decisions where to squeeze in yet another statue. Robert Peel has a toga! William Gladstone’s statue is much more in keeping with what he might have worn; and he has a slab too. Mary I and Elizabeth I share a tomb, yet Mary Queen of Scots has a rather more upmarket burial plot. Such is the way of history!

Other bits of the abbey are dedicated to poets, theatre, science, as well as various dead kings and queens. The crowds of visitors spoilt the experience. You could do no more than shuffle along in a sea of people from all over the world. And, with this mixture of cultures, it was difficult to predict who would sensibly stop and allow someone to cross their path. Many of the slabs were difficult to read because someone was standing just where I wanted to read. My verdict! I am pleased I went there but in future I’d like to know when it is likely to be less of a sardine-like experience.

On the way home from London on the 18:56, I experienced the efficiencies of the rail system. I sat and looked out at Bushey station for an age. Then when the train finally shifted, it rolled along at a snail’s pace. That mad cyclist would have got to MK quicker! My legs were so stiff when I actually got to my station, I could hardly stand straight. I was told to claim a refund, which I have done, and in addition to that I used my FREE bus pass on the London buses for the first time. Oh, the joys of getting old! Spectacular!

 

Portentous Signs

Stony Stratford isolated by flooding

I went to my NHS surgery to pick up a letter on Wednesday. There had been a brief lull in the rains, and I was desperate to get out on my bike. The surgery itself – like all NHS establishments – is a depressing building set just off the High Street in Stony. The only redeeming feature is a massive wooden frieze of an ancient king placed halfway up the stairs.

I waited my turn to see the receptionist. Something caught my eye. On the bookcase opposite the reception window was a book whose title struck me as an ominous sign. I pointed out to the receptionist that the title in big black print said “Death….” Was this the best they could offer to those trying to alleviate the interminable wait to see a doctor, I wondered aloud. We laughed. I was asked to turn the book to mask the title. I can’t remember ever seeing a doctor at this surgery. Maybe those who manage that feat have had time to read a book or two on offer on those shelves. This book might well set reader up for their appointment.

As for other portentous signs, from Sunday onwards we have had rain so heavy that most of the roads in the area have been flooded at one time or another. On the Monday, I looked out of the window and thought twice about cycling to the swimming pool. It was wet outside but not actually raining! It was a toss up. I enjoy the short ride along the canal but I thought I would end up far too muddy even to enter the pool reception area. It was a good call. I was caught in floods along Stratford Road on my way home in the car. In the two hours I had been at the pool, the road had become thigh deep in water! Stony Stratford is cut off still.

Nasser was going to visit with his son, Kenan, on Monday night. I had promised to help with his homework. The A5 was closed, as were other roads, so they gave up and went home. He apologised. We did a face time instead. I said he should have taken a leaf from the Milk Tray adverts. I sent a couple of old ads from Youtube to set the benchmark for future forays. I think that is the least he could do!

Obviously there has been no tennis this week. Neither has my local been in operation. The water washed through the pub on Monday night and it has only just opened again. For me, that is a close call. The pub is next to my house. Luckily I wasn’t affected. A good sign, indeed.

Another good sign - cuddles after a lovely meal at The Bell

Love Match

After the match

It was finals day at the club this week. We turned up expecting the continuing downpour which had flooded many roads nearby but the inspired timing of the matches meant it was mostly dry by the time it was our turn to play. From our combined efforts, Nasser and I are now the plate champions – another medal! At my age I should treasure these victories. There won’t be too many more of them for me.

I joke with my doubles partners that I am in love with them when we play well. As many of my partners know, I am very fickle with my love. This time I was true to Nasser throughout the run of the tournament.  We got into the plate by the toss of a coin! How fortuitous - the club coach had decreed it so!

Here I must mention other love matches of the week. Mark from Cornwall came to stay with Syd, his 6-month-old dog. Syd is truly delightful and such a good-looking dog to boot. I could imagine him in a beauty contest telling the compare that his hobbies are farting and digging up the garden and he would like to see world peace.  

Syd wearing his green socks

Sadly, Syd had an accident where he was run over by a car in my village. I saw it unfold in slow motion and could do nothing about it. The lady driving was so shaken knowing that she had hit a dog; she needed almost as much aftercare. The injuries weren’t too bad in the end but Syd has already seen one of his nine lives slip through his paws.

While we are talking about matches, I’ll tell you about my attempts to get a bonfire started in the church graveyard. The village clean up session on Saturday was well attended. I started on the gutters around the church. Then one of the helpers needed help starting the bonfire. The matches wouldn’t strike so I popped home, picked up some kindling, a lighter and fire-lighting fluid and started mini fires round the outside of the pyre.

The wood smouldered and caught but I couldn’t sustain a flame big enough to get the whole thing ablaze. Trust me, I worked really hard on it. When I finally got things burning, the heavens opened and put the fire out. Schade! It didn’t take much persuasion, while the rain poured I retired to the arse-end of the village to sample Peter’s homebrew for the remainder of the day. This was a good move, my failure as an arsonist no longer haunted me. Since it has been raining torrentially overnight and this morning, I doubt anybody could get a fire going, matches or no matches!

Neat

The Horse Tunnel

I hate shopping! I can think of almost nothing worse than traipsing around shops to find just the thing I thought I wanted. It seems to me to be a great waste of time. So, it doesn’t surprise me the ire I have felt not being able to buy “Neat” refills for my eco-friendly, multi-surface cleaner. I bought the starter pack months ago and really loved the stuff. It doesn’t irritate my skin or make me sneeze – what is there not to like? 

Tesco had loads of the stuff. Now it doesn’t have any. I even tried buying it on “click and collect”. The website said I could get money off until the 17th September with my club card. Yippee! I thought. I picked up my shopping from the van outside Tesco in Wolverton and there was no “Neat” in my trolley. I asked in store. No Neat! I have been looking for the stuff for about a month now. 

At one time I could have bought “Neat” products for nearly every bit of my home, now they are nowhere to be seen. I have sent off to the company for 10 refills which will probably last me for life. It was the only way to get what I wanted. This is an inflation beating way to shop. I shall bequeath the remaining to my children. I just have to remember where I store them at home so that I don’t think I have run out. At one point I had three bottles of mouthwash as I forgot I had already had plenty already. And there was me thinking I am organised! 

Meanwhile, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t comment on the weather. It dropped 15c over two days and then it stayed really cold so I stowed my summer T-shirts and put my dresses at the back of the wardrobe. Now the sun is shining once again. We just can’t tell how the weather will be any more. 

 Recently the Horse Tunnel by my house flooded from the rain. The watermark was hip level. What remained of the flood was slippery sludge. Where did all that come from in the space of a few hours rain? I have been inspired by Colin, my neighbour who spent hours on a Saturday afternoon dredging the tunnel and clearing up the mess with a bucket, spade and brush. What a wonderful act of kindness for the village. Thank you, Colin. If only I had the wherewithal to clean it up.

Getting Together

A big highlight of my week was meeting Margy in Saffron Walden. This didn’t go without incident, however. The plan was easy. I had checked out a pub – The Railwayman Arms which is a community owned pub for our meet up. The pictures looked good and it said on google that it did food. I got there ahead of Margy and found it only did food at weekends. The barmaid told me The Cross Keys on the High Street was the place to go. Change of plan!

No problem. I called Margy, who said she was running late, and told her that we were meeting elsewhere. I walked down to The Cross Keys – a pub/hotel that dated back to 1509 – and waited patiently. The barman was sympathetic. I sat and read my book and drank water. I had another call from Margy. She was running even more late.

I started to worry that I would outstay my two-hour parking time but every moment that went I thought that Margy would be here any time at all so I sat put. I finally bought a drink. Margy then texted me to say she was parking. Fantastic! Another while passed and still no Margy. I really did need to move my car now otherwise I would have to leave halfway through my meal.

Margy turned up! The barman put my drink in the fridge and we both left to move my car which was near the other pub. Highly unusual behaviour, I know. We trotted off together through Saffron Walden to re-park. I parked it close to Margy’s one and then she told me how difficult it had been to pay the parking. Second time round it was much easier. We headed back for the pub, retrieved my drink and had a most wonderful meal – despite minor burping as I had had a bit of soya. Whoops!

Finally- together again!

I got the impression that the barman was slightly amused by us. I am sure our behaviour had appeared quite eccentric – leaving a drink in the fridge – spending a long, long time chatting over our meal, arguing about paying… He did take a lovely photo though… nice man.

Meanwhile… back at the ranch, Ezra- Mae did a bit of cake making on the kitchen floor - tasted good too.

 We met at the Community Orchard Heritage Day on Saturday. The weather was perfect, the event well attended and we raised a goodly sum too. Ezra-Mae is very agile and climbs trees easily. Now she has a little sister who is also shaping up to be strong. At 8 weeks she is holding her head up and trying to crawl already! Laura crawled at 3 months so Mattaya has to put in a bit of training before she catches up with her aunty!

Two happy sisters

And now, the weather... we have had plummeting temperatures and thunderstorms. The noise from the thunder was ominous, even so, we played on.  It got so dark at tennis on that Sunday morning we put the floodlights on  and still played on. When the heavens opened we ran for cover  - so many people squashed in the club house! So sorry I missed out on tennis but I am glad it has rained  - my garden desperately needs it. 

Last blast of summer

Wow, we are heading for Autumn. A new school year and the first day of nursery school for Ezra-Mae – a big milestone in her life! Where has this year gone? One of the things I really appreciate here in the UK is the seasons. Now, it is more obvious that the nights are drawing in and it gets darker earlier and earlier. In less than a month, sunset will be 7pm – almost an hour earlier than now! I look back on this year as a blur.

Village cricket - closer than the camera shows

I sat and watched a village cricket match this last weekend - this being probably the last one of summer. The first team to bat were in the ascendency. They were tonking the ball all over the green. The wicket keeper was probably responsible for at least a third of the runs but undaunted a boy of about 11 years old ran all over the ground picking up and returning the long balls. It was a joy to watch on a Saturday afternoon.

I do have so much to look forward to as we head for colder days – a trip to Greece, meeting friends, tennis matches and lots more swimming. There are a few downsides though. I have just got the results of the X-ray on my right heel. It’s official, I have a Haglund’s deformity. My heel has a special name – how nice -  and I know I am not being fussy when it really hurts. It only took the NHS from June til now to find this out.

As everybody does, I looked it up on good old Google. It means an operation – something to look forward to, or not. With the speed the NHS moves I will probably have it sorted just before I’m 70. I cannot wear some of my shoes and this will be a bigger problem when the weather gets colder. A swollen heel forces my toe against the front of my shoe and now I am getting a sore toenail as well.

A Haglund’s deformity could be genetic or the result of too much running around. A lot of the time it is not too bad but it can keep me awake at night. This is a very big niggle and another little issue that arises with old age. I have started practising going upstairs backwards on my bottom again in preparation for my aftercare. I did this when I had my knees done and the physio at Gleneagles got me walking up stairs two hours after I came round from my op. I am expecting a similar speedy recovery from this one – fingers crossed.

And… while in recovery I’ll be able to watch all those TV crime dramas where at least three people get murdered each episode. When I pass through typical English villages, I see them as potential sets for murderous intent where competent but flawed detectives always get their suspect. On reflection, I probably don’t need to watch any at all as I already know the outcome.

A village already named for murderous intent

However, I have mulled over the idea that it could be a good government policy to share these programmes internationally. With each village having at least three murders an episode it must put the UK in a dark light where danger lurks on the tiniest village green. It would certainly make potential asylum seekers think twice about the danger they would face in our fair land. Just a thought!