I write as the weather has turned decidedly wintery in Yorkshire. Snow nearly settled today and temperatures fell to freezing. As a weekly cyclist this is a blow and so I went to the gym to ‘get my fix’. As I usually ride outside in the countryside thinking I’m doing myself good there is, frankly, an absence of science to confirm this. However, the gym static bikes all have metrics to measure your efforts. So after 40 minutes of grinding through Singapore and Sardinia I was told I had burned 285 calories. My relief at learning that after this workout I could now have half a biscuit conscience free was not motivational. I look forward to better weather.

In my journey of learning to be a grandparent I need to report on two challenges. The first is the car seat. When our daughters were young there was a lightweight seat that snuggly fitted onto the backseat held in place by a seat belt. No one’s kids, that I know, were jettisoned through the windscreen like an Exocet after sudden braking. However, in the 30 years legislation has moved on such that the child seat has a similarity to a brick sh*thouse in its construction. The fact that it weighs a lot is not the only problem. Its installation in the car has it plugging into two ISOFIX fittings (buried in all modern cars’ rear seats). It is so difficult that a parallel with docking with the Space Station seems apposite. It took me 10 minutes. I had wondered what kept Elon awake at night and now I know.

My other challenge was a defective somersaulting tiger. It should land on it’s feet. After reporting the issue another one followed quickly. Isabella isn’t as excited by the leaping cat, as I am, quelle surprise. The investment was made to hopefully distract her whilst her grandparents have a cup of coffee. I will report back.

In an earlier blog I advised we had bought a place physically between the two daughters to provide child care. It takes about 100 minutes, by car, to get there from York. So rather than battle through the traffic I thought I’d let ‘the train take the strain’. I also got to the railway station from the bottom of our street by bus. A complete surrender to public transport. The result was that it took 5 hours! Firstly, it is a slow journey but when you add that the train from York was delayed by 37 minutes and then I missed a connecting train in Manchester it became comical. Being of a certain vintage I’d have to admit that with bus passes and concessionary train fares (plus the partial refund over the delay) I got to my destination for diddly squat. However, you couldn’t seriously maintain a job schedule or anything time sensitive with such a tardy operation. I’ll have to ride my bike over there and see if I can beat the train? It’ll be close.

Lastly my brother-in-law, Jeff, invited me to an evening of folk music at one of his local pubs. The two guitarists were Mark Radcliffe and David Boardman. They worked their way through some engaging tunes over the night but the between songs banter was epic. Radciffe had, and still has, a radio presence presenting many shows for the BBC; with this came a wealth of stories about his life. He’s a cheeky chap with a ready wit. So it was sobering when he recounted the recent funeral of his mother. She was an old lady and whilst sad her death wasn’t unexpected. Afterwards he was approached by the vicar who observed that he was now the head of the family. Radcliffe hadn’t realised that and was a little surprised. The vicar noting that he was taken aback volunteered some help and said did he have any questions? Radcliffe momentarily pondered this and asked ‘Do you have the wi-fi password?” The vicar was appalled at this and blurted out “Your mother has just died!” Radcliffe absorbed the blow and then clarified “Is that upper or lower case?”