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.
Reminds me of her mother…
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.
Instrument of torture and yes it turns on its base!
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.
Somersaulting perfection
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.
Flooding in the centre of York but we still have a hosepipe ban!
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?”
I was listening to a podcast about football when in the introduction the presenters were asking each other about their week so far? One mused that on a walk he’d seen a selection of conkers (brown seeds of the horse chestnut tree) lying on the ground.
This pile filled him with some boyish glee and transported him back a few decades to when finding them would have enabled him to play ‘conkers’. You drill a hole through the centre, thread string through and in alternate swings/shots you and your opponent attempt to demolish the conker. The most intact conker wins. He concluded that this was surely more interesting than today’s boys holding a game console? This year I was too tempted to walk past them on the ground, collected a few and deposited them on window sills. Anna is now surreptitiously disposing of them!
An envelope was unearthed by Anna’s sister, Cath, that was used by my father-in-law, Eric, to write his wedding speech for our nuptuals in September 1987. In fairness, he was not a man given to talking unnecessarily but this was admirably on the brief side. As I wrote recently weddings are now packed with various participants making dreary orations. Maybe the issue of white envelopes to those inclined to talk might shorten matters?
On June 30 2021 I pedalled through Lockerbie as I was completing the bike ride from Lands End, Cornwall to John O’Groats, Scottish Highlands over a couple of weeks. It was a sunny day and the ride since crossing the Scottish border had been quite easy bar the very rough road surfaces. Lockerbie was a distant memory as a disaster as it had happened 32 years earlier and this small town seemed unremarkable except for a large Tesco supermarket in the centre. However the scale and audacity of the atrocity hung over me and I cycled a little way out of town to the memorial.
With these memories I embarked on watching Sky TV’s Lockerbie: A Search For Truth that follows the tragedy from before the flight until the conviction of the Libyan, Abdelbaset al-Megrahi for the death of 270 people. The story unfolds following one of the parent’s children boarding the flight to his pursuit for the truth including meeting Colonel Gadaffi, British Cabinet members and attending the trial in The Netherlands. The acting with Colin Firth is breathtaking and the story is not as straightforward as you might expect. Brilliant television.
Climbing out of Thixendale in my beloved Yorkshire Wolds
Since I last wrote quite a bit of time has been spent in Greater Manchester with my daughters and their offspring. Anna has a weekly schedule but due to my lack of child care skills I’m in attendance less frequently. There is considerable cost running two properties but that nice man, the Manchester Mayor, Andy Burnham, has tried to alleviate some of the strain. As a Council Tax payer I can get a free travel card for the buses and if I pay £10/year it can be extended to trams and local trains for all of Greater Manchester.
My resemblance to a Nazi who escaped to Argentina in 1945 is as coincidental as it is unfortunate.
However, whilst a bargain it does require Andy to ensure that they don’t cancel the trains at the last minute, as they did on our last trip. Clearly ensuring that they’re manned must be part of his Phase Two plan.
So, to paraphrase Margaret Thatcher “we are a grandfather” (again). Katrina delivered a very beautiful daughter on September 13, Elodie Mabel in Manchester. Everyone’s healthy and occasionally sleeping!
I suspect I would be banned from posting a photo of Elodie and so this is her cousin on a trip to a petting zoo in York with very greedy sheep.
Since I last blogged, we’ve bought and moved into a flat in Bramhall, which for those not familiar is in south east Greater Manchester. (This is not our main residence as our home is still in York.) It’s a smart suburb with a nearby railway station and some nearby nice amenities such as a park with several vital ingredients including ‘quack quacks’, a cafe and playground. As you can see, we hopefully have found a convenient spot for seeing and supporting both families.
We’re the ‘A’
To buy this we sold a rental property in York in August 2024. It took until January 2025 to complete the transaction: simply a function of the buyer selecting a useless solicitor to convey the sale. At this point we handed the Chancellor £60,000 (18%) for the Capital Gains tax. It was so high because we bought this property in 1997 and after so many years it had appreciated substantially. After a poor property search in winter the selection of properties, to buy, in south Manchester improved and we found a flat. This wasn’t straightforward as we offered and were accepted on another property but the vendor made no progress on their purchase of another property in a month; so, we looked elsewhere. We found somewhere (at a price a lot lower than we’d sold for in York.) However, we were initially passed over by the vendor for the sale. Luckily for us the original winning buyer dropped out. At this point we gave the Chancellor, again, just over £16,000 in Stamp Duty tax. This was such a large amount because of the Stamp Duty ‘premium’ on second properties.
If anyone wants to engage with me in a debate on whether we should tax the wealthy more heavily then you have my email address.
Barratt, the house builder, put telephone boxes in a couple of houses’ gardens on the estate. Periodically it needs painting. Not a quick or easy job. Fortunately the weather just about held for me to get it completed.
It’s been such a long time since I blogged that I must rewind to mention a couple of memorable events. The first was a visit to the WW2 Air Raid shelter in the centre of Stockport. Still brilliantly preserved; it was very evocative and a reminder of sacrifice, danger and spirit deep in our communities then.
On our Norwegian trip I possibly finished it one blog short. I say this because we went back to Oslo before flying out and I didn’t publish anything about finding Anna’s grandparents graves in a large public cemetery at Frogner Park. The site was massive and so we knocked on the door of the maintenance department and asked for help. The supervisor went onto his data base and we were able to easily find it. Needless to say everyone who helped us spoke perfect English.
With a family friend, Steve, we went up to Grosmont near Whitby to the Engine Shed of the North Yorkshire Railways. This facility keeps the steam and diesel engines running on this heritage line. The line has been featured on national TV but unfortunately Piglet wasn’t in on the day we visited! It was interesting to be amongst so many pieces of heavy metal!
The next day we took his Jaguar F Type to the Harewood Hill Climb at a Jaguar Owners meeting. Some the cars were to die for. When you are amongst such design beauty you have to scratch your head how Jaguar has got so ‘lost’ as to its way forward and how in the pursuit of a different type of customer the ‘baby gets thrown out with the bathwater’. Back in the day I had a couple of XJ6’s.
I looked at the total cycling mileage I’d done since 1994. It’s over 105,000 in just under 32 years. The least miles I ever did in a year was 2,031 and the most 4,294. I suspect getting to 200,000 is very unlikely but I’m working on it.
Funnily enough this parking by the present Mrs Ives (the smaller silver car) demonstrates an occupation of my space and is eerily similar to our sharing of the marital bed
In the 1970s or 80s you used to be planning to sell a car when it’d done 40,000 miles. Corrosion had started to appear, reliability was becoming suspect and the risk of some significant expenditure was looming. In many ways this part explains the demise of the once massive British car industry along with our parlous industrial relations and emerging global competition.
My Morgan, or ‘Samantha’ as I know her, is now creaking into its 16th year. She’s exhibiting some of the above reliability maladies along with paintwork or trim problems. In fairness a lot of its original design was done in the 1950s and 60s; durability wasn’t on their minds. The suspension is jarring on the wrong road and such a rigid ride rattles every component. The joke goes that if you run over a coin in a Morgan you can tell whether it’s head or tails! I say the wrong road because 16 years ago the road surface was not pock marked with botched repairs or providing a slalom challenge of avoiding potholes. Neither were there the speed bumps that can reduce me to gibbering wreck where the low hung car has to scrape over one with distressing metallic noises.
However, the looks of the car remain sublime and an open country lane in sunshine with the hood down is one of the most fun activities you can have with your clothes on. The admiring looks are myriad and I’ve lost count of the middle aged or older blokes who’ve cornered me in York, supermarket car parks or European campsites to ask about the car. I recollect once in Sweden that I had to flee into my tent to escape the inane questions of “I believe the car has a wooden frame; is the chassis ash as well?” (No, in case you’re not certain.) One car lifetime highlight was taking my Favourite Youngest Daughter to her wedding and the car appearing in the wedding photos.
Transporting the future Sophie Fuoco
This event spawned another memorable event where as we’re all sat awaiting the entry of the bride and groom in the room, to be joined by the registrar for the marriage ceremony and I was heard to utter, by my other son-in-law, the immortal words of “bloody hell, there’s someone sat in my car!”. Through the window I could see the car and in it was sat a complete stranger. Storming out I confronted my new passenger who rather than being contrite asked if I could take his photo? After his eviction I returned to the small matter of my daughter’s betrothal with one of the venues staff standing guard over the car.
When I took car abroad in 2016 I was less concerned about its reliability but as I plan a tour through Holland, Belgium and Southern Germany before France in a day or two’s time I’m nervous. You worry what could go wrong a long way from home. It won’t be the radiator. That’s been replaced after the plastic header tank cracked. The new radiator is aluminium. New Morgans now have aluminium ones fitted and the depth of the radiator necessitated, in my opinion, the fitting of a mesh guard to stop possible stone damage. Fortunately the wonder crew at Copmanthorpe MOT garage are now the custodians of the car and can fit or sort anything.
Leon, part of the wonder crew
In fact as regards dealers for the car there are 17 in the UK and the nearest to me is across the Humber Bridge close to Scunthorpe where any visit required it to be left overnight. As with all main dealers their prices became eye watering and you’ll find most Morgan owners have a beloved local garage they lean on. Some owners are engineers who actually perform many of the jobs on the car. I fall into the category of ‘polisher’ but with some accumulated knowledge from years of ownership.
A year or two ago I had a terrible smell of petrol in the cabin. The problem was a frayed hose that was routed next to a part of the engine that vibrated. Fortunately my sleuths at Copmanthorpe MOT identified the problem and after I ordered the new hose they fitted it and tied it down in such a way to stop movement. Fortunately the Ford Duratec engine and Mazda gearbox are mass produced and reliable; they worry me less. However, with an average mileage of 3,000 per year (I cycle further on my bikes every year!) you can forget to replace stuff such as spark plugs or change the oil in the gearbox or differential. On the latter then you’d not think about this type of maintenance but who keeps a car for 16 years? The body work polishes up nicely but in may places it’s tatty and a respray seems unavoidable on certain panels. Quotes suggest that I’ll be well into four figures and I’ve delayed this years, unsurprisingly.
This is the luggage space I have for any expedition. Just a little more than my touring bike!
Other tribulation came when I cracked the windscreen. This meant replacing the frame around the screen as well as the glass. Needless to say due to the fairly bespoke nature of the car the first frame assembly that came didn’t fit. This was inconvenient as I was going on holiday during the ordering process and I had to leave the car at Auto Windcreens for a couple of weeks hoping for the best. In the end they did a fine job. This incident brought home the necessity to have specialist insurance. I have such a policy and it’s very competitive. If the car ever needs repairing through an accident I feel an appropriate body shop will be selected.
The latest concern is that the fuel gauge never indicates when it’s full and tends to wander around when driving! The wonder crew (Leon and Mark) at Copmanthorpe MOT have ruled out other maladies to conclude it’s a dodgy sender unit. (A float sits on the fuel and translate into a level on a gauge.) You may well be thinking maybe the car should be a ‘return to sender’!
Anyway the Hull to Rotterdam ferry beckons. Wish me (and Samantha) luck!
My blog ‘Texas Odyssey 2025 – Bob 2’ was about Bob Sanders epic cycle ride from San Diego in California to St Augustine in Florida in a plan of becoming the oldest person to ride across the USA since 2023 when, the mere stripling at the age of 78, Bruce Closser did it. Bob is 85 years old, yet, any dealings with Bob will make you wonder if this is a mistake as he has the energy, determination and fitness of folk several decades younger.
After meeting Bob in Texas in mid April we returned to the UK and left Bob to roll on toward Florida’s east coast. As a busy cyclist communication with his audience, as he toiled every day, was limited with occasional photographs but little else. I compared this situation to being sat in NASA’s Houston Mission Control as the various Apollo craft disappeared behind the moon preventing all radio contact. As then eventually communication would be established and all was well.
Bob kept to his schedule and arrived in St Augustine, Florida after completing the crossing in 44 days (49 overall including rest days) and having accumulated 3,010 miles. Bob did tell a local news website in his home state of Oregon – “I’ll tell you one thing, without hesitation, I wouldn’t do it again.” Frankly, there’s no need as this record will stand for a long time. I think his lack of enthusiasm may be influenced by his now considerable administration of collating the photos, videos, witness forms, daily logs, and GPS tracking information that the Guinness Records require in order to confirm his achievement. However this won’t be completed perched on a thin saddle in 30 to 40°C heat in a headwind.
Congratulations Bob. I’m truly in awe.
If I have any female readers I must advise of an exceptional opportunity: the current record is held by Lynnea Salvo who sauntered across at the age of 73. Frankly a babe in arms. This was her second crossing although it must be added she did warm up earlier by acquiring the oldest female records for cycling North to South (in the USA) and then across Canada. If you need advice, I know a man.
So waving goodbye to our Austin hosts, in fact we gave them a bottle of prosecco, we hit the Interstate heading east to Houston. However, the small compelling matter of consuming dangerous levels of unhealthy cholesterol for brekkie called and an early stop was scheduled. We stopped at Maxine’s on Bastrop’s Main Street.
Biscuits (scones to you and me) laden with sausage, two poached eggs smothered in ‘gravy’ with other veg lurking underneath and a small pot of salsa coming. The fried potatoes were magic.
Bastrop is a very old town (by American standards) and owes its importance to being sited on the Colorado river and a historic crossing point for a major road going east. The road was important for the Spanish and then Mexicans heading east (to parts of their possessions.) These two nations were the colonisers of this part of the globe. Spain first and then they got booted out when Mexico gained its independence in 1821. The Republic of Texas was formed when a Texan volunteer army beat the Mexican army to create the Republic in 1836. This Republic became the 28th US state in 1848. Still with me?
Main Street.
So why did Texas rise against the Mexicans? The Mexican regime was hostile to more Anglo/white immigration into Texas and by all accounts were not good masters. The Anglo/white population was mainly white European (Germans, Czechs, Irish and French) immigrants who’d moved here for the available land. It also helped that they could farm the land with the legal use of slaves. Mexico inconveniently banned slavery in 1827. There were initial concessions for Texas over slavery but when Mexico banned further European immigration there was conflict. Hence the war and subsequent independence. (The USA didn’t ban slavery until 1865 and you may recollect that that entailed the further death of over 600,000 to get that across the line in the American Civil War.)
This might explain all the Spanish city names and this considerable influence, to this day, on food, art and diversity of population in Texas, as well as the Spanish name itself. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Bastrop. It had a small magnificent museum down the street from Maxine’s and the history was told in great detail. It was fascinating, a little gem of a place. After a good look, on we continued.
The roadI can promise you that no small town US museum is complete without a selection of different types of barb wire. (Cross my heart and hope to die.)
Houston is a very large sprawl and frustratingly the Space Center was in the south east as we approached from the north west. However we found our Holiday Inn and checked in. Over the car park was a Costco, always carry your membership card, for cheap petrol and a mosey. The mosey included the purchase of an iPad for one of the son-in-laws. He’d identified that all Apple products were cheaper than in the UK. That and fuel are about it.
Hurry now whilst stocks last…
After this transaction a little detoxification ensued for dinner.
Plastic cutlery everywhere. Aaagh!
Visiting the Space Center was my idea. (Not the present Mrs Ives.) I’m not awfully scientific but I find the whole Apollo era engrossing. The adventure to a planet 239,000 miles away when technology in the western world still made this the best selling UK car in 1969 blows my mind.
Good old BMC. A Morris 1100“This is ground control to Major Tom…”
Houston was the ‘control’ but the launches were made in Florida at Cape Canaveral. However, here they had assembled a whole rocket and displayed it in a purpose built building. These parts are original: the Apollo launches had been planned to go up to Apollo 20 but the project was abandoned after 17; hence the left over rockets for the displays. One early Apollo mission left the three astronauts dead after fire during testing and, of course, Apollo 13 had to be aborted and the world watched as they adapted smaller rockets and components to get back to Earth. Otherwise they were all a brilliant success. To think, at launch, the 40 metre high rocket with three astronauts has about 500,000 gallons of liquid oxygen and kerosene as fuel on board seems lethal.
What also struck me was the intricacy of all the pipe work and electrics. A total ‘spaghetti’ of components all needing to work when you’re 90 miles from the surface of the Earth in a low orbit before being propelled to the Moon.
All the astronauts were former USAF test pilots. They had, no doubt, nerves of steel, familiarity with phenomenal speed, expert aircraft control experience and were trained to sit precariously amongst a whole set of prototype components on their first trajectory at thousands of miles per hour through thin air and then space.
They had a Space Shuttle (or Thunderbird 3 to those of a certain age) to look at.
So after rockets it was a visit to the Mission Control room where even Anna started to get excited. Here we received an introduction then sat through that moment of elation as we hear ‘the eagle has landed’. Eagle was the name given to the Apollo 11 craft. This included hearing the President (Nixon) talk to the astronauts in space . I loved it all.
A TV relayed this footageLive commentary from the landing
I loved less the hour and a half of driving through Houston motorways to get west again. If that wasn’t stressful enough juggling lanes at 55mph on motorways with many vehicles crossing behind and in front of you to take exits there was the commentary of Middlesbrough vs Leeds United to raise also blood pressure. Bless the TalkSPORT App. Two disallowed (good goals) and a last 15 minutes of hanging on to our slender 0-1 lead was nerve racking. However, they did hang on and we barrelled along to Schulenburg for the night before travelling on to San Antonio.
I think we all think we can see things coming. Up until the impact I had no inkling that a gentle drive to the doctor’s, to collect a prescription, would result in near death, if not for me but four others.
I approached a cross roads half a mile from home at around 5pm on a sunny dry day and as I gently pulled up to the white lines to check the road was clear in both directions I was hit, relatively gently, on the passenger side by an old Fiat on the wrong side of the road and in considerable disrepair.
Its caved in side was the result of having driven across the cross road and being hit side on by a BMW X3 probably driving at 50mph. (The speed limit was 60mph.) The BMW deployed its airbags, crumpled the front and came to rest. Two people staggered out. Their immediate concern was the toddler strapped into the back. The driver was fuming and shocked. Frankly he should have been grateful that he and his family were alive. Rightly he was urging his wife to get clear of the smouldering wreck in case of fire. As he’s shouting and looking bewildered the Fiat driver got of her car, again in one piece, and was hysterical. She sought out the driver to repeat through tears and distress “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry”…
Speaks for itself
I drove my car away 15 yards from the scene, not least to unblock one of the roads off the junction. Sadly it was not properly drivable and creaked onto the verge. This busy road was now blocked or impassable and rush hour traffic was piling up at either end of the crash site. However, folk appeared from nowhere to try and calm the Fiat driver, brush up the broken car debris and direct the traffic. I handed my mobile to the mother of the toddler who rang the emergency services. In what seemed a very short period of time we had two fire engines, two ambulances and four or five police cars there.
In the ambulances the two car’s occupants were checked out. All seemed in one piece and, maybe, whiplash might be an issue and bruising later. I was asked if I was hurt but frankly I was fine if not a little shocked. If the impact might have happened a few feet more up the road I might have been badly injured or worse as the out of control missiles/cars hit me. The Police shut all four roads and the traffic abated as it turned around or avoided the cross roads. I gave three sets of the same details to three different Police Officers. One was a statement for being involved in the crash and I was asked to blow into a breathalyser! Obviously this read ‘zero’ but having a drink later was certainly on my mind. The Police did a thorough job but three sets of details to three Officers, was it the best process? They’d come from two separate stations as well.
Our reporter at the scene
The senior Police Officer, after telling me he used to be our postman, advised that as there were no witnesses and no serious injuries that the Fiat driver would likely escape points on her licence and, simply, have to take a course as the punishment. I think the minimum might have been an eye test, medical and another driving test. Also was the car legal? However, he said it would all be reviewed but as ‘the courts were busy’ a prosecution was improbable. Her admission of being responsible from the ‘get go’ was helpful (and obvious) plus it took away any further future debate.
A neighbour collected me sometime after 7pm. (However, the Police did offer to drop me home but when that offer was made I was on the phone and couldn’t accept.) In the neighbour’s car and at home I embarked on reporting the accident to Aviva. Forty one minutes later I ended that phone call. The person I dealt with had a thorough process that took all the details and gave us re-assurance that we would not incur any cost or lose our no claims bonus. They also arranged for the car to be collected from the verge and be taken to a repair shop. That was less slick and the truck didn’t arrive until just past midnight. The recovery driver looked at the Ford and said “it won’t be a write off”. I laughed at his comment but he was serious saying that writing off was a serious consideration by the insurers. I’m still wondering whether he was loopy or knew something I didn’t.
Sad Ford Focus
During the evening I received texts and emails from Aviva and more curiously texts from the Fiat driver’s insurer – Hastings. Hastings also rang me before 9am the next morning offering £250 to let them repair the car. There was also some other deal about a courtesy car as well (which we had, in any case.) I heard him out and declined before he advised that, in fact, he could increase the offer to £300. It seems that the costs that Aviva would seek from Hastings were inflated and that Hastings and probably other ‘guilty’ insurers pursued the claimants to incentivise them to switch garages. I was irritated by this but I can imagine the traumatised BMW driver would be furious at this call, although maybe his car was a write off and that wouldn’t suffer the mark up?
The administrative slog wasn’t yet over as we had to find our way to a car rental company to pick up a courtesy car the next day. Anna didn’t like the attractive Mazda SUV – “can’t park it at Waitrose…” and so the assistant disappeared back inside the office to get the keys to a Fiat 500. However, she reappeared with a Mercedes key fob. Cooking on gas I thought! However, Anna had decided, that despite being unwashed, the Fiat 500 would be excellent in supermarket car parks and it was more than acceptable grubby or sparkling.
I was now contacted by the Aviva garage after being asked to send photos of the damage. By this stage I’m wondering whether I’m being ‘courted’ because Aviva might be worried I was tempted by Hastings. Anyway the texts and emails have kept coming. Lastly, the prescription wasn’t ready for collection and had I been able to get through to the surgery on the phone (“you are fourth in the queue”) I would never have gone out and/or picked Anna’s car that was blocking my own in. I’m off to Texas now. We hope the Focus will be restored on our return and I hate the Fiat 500.
After Anna’s ankle break it’d been a while since we’d got abroad and when we did we added another Canary Island to our tally, Gran Canaria in February. It was grand (geddit??) to get abroad and out of the British winter. The island follows the usual pattern of being a big parched rock (in the middle) and towns on the coast. We stayed in Las Palmas, which is quite a large settlement (ninth largest town in Spain) with some attractive bits. I got along the northern coast on one day on a rented bike.
(breathing in…)
Meeting up with some friends holidaying there was delightful but soon we were heading back to Blighty. We’ve got lots of trips now scheduled for the year, starting with Texas in April. Did I hear Yee haw?
Anna, Jude and Peter
My football addiction is still a problem and Leeds United torture me with their possibility of getting promoted. As they say it’s the hope that kills. The present Mrs Ives and myself have been down to the shrine to see a couple of games. One was the unbelievable 7-0 victory over Cardiff City. Leeds United had last won so convincingly in 1972 beating Southampton 7-0. I was there as well. We have more tickets to go and hopefully they’ll keep the promotion show on the road.
Anna’s research, as previously noted, has found some cousins, three in fact. These are folk who I’ve either never met or not talked to for fifty years. Delightfully we all came together in London to have a meal. It was rewarding to bring all together and be amongst the youngest.
Sadly though, I’m not that young. I clocked up 70 at the beginning of the month. How the hell that’s happened I have no idea. For some reason Facebook dropped my birthday details from my profile and I avoided getting hilarious comments about getting a telegram from the King and any birthday cake being a considerable fire risk. It seems to be an age that people celebrate and cards and WhatsApp’s were lovely to receive although it’s only through the insistence of the family that any celebrations were held! The festivities included a family meal with close relatives and, earlier, a trip to the theatre and a meal at one of our favourite Indian restaurants (Bundobust) in Leeds. ‘Calamity Jane’ was fun at The Grand although being barked at by an usher to stop taking photos was unsettling for those around me in the dark!
Quick snap before the Gestapo arrived…
I treated myself to a new record turntable as my present to me. You’re uncomfortably into four figures for a good one and the main trick on this model (Rega P6) is the glass platter the vinyl spins on. It’s all about taking out the vibrations and movement so you hear everything that’s in the grooves. Needless to say I’m having a wonderful time spinning records.
The gateway to joy
Talking about records I’ve been selling a number of records on eBay for a good friend who’s disposing of the surplus discs she doesn’t want to keep. Up to press the gross figure for 29 sales is £700. Ever concerned to avoid complaints I meticulously check and play the records before listing, take and publish ample photographs of the vinyl and sleeves and then despatch with sufficient packaging to ensure a safe revival.
I appreciate that you have an interest in my TV viewing habits, thank you, and it’d be selfish not to share my enthusiasm for ‘Outback Truckers’. Here rough and ready Aussies, usually rough, drive enormous American trucks around the country often with several trailers (road train) through rain, floods and impossible mud. Each story usually has a deadline or mishap. One trucker had a 25 ton car crusher press on the back of a trailer, which enabled him to compress the vehicle before loading it on another trailer. I can imagine you’ll be tuning into the ‘5 Action Channel’ (Channel 33, one of those innumerable channels you never knew you had.)
Isabella continues to delight and I leave you with a photo of her departing to bed, fully laden.
Recently the snow fell and the news channels ramped up the advent of Armageddon for all living creatures with an ‘Amber Warning’. The snow basically lasted a morning before melting and we were left with some patches as the temperatures fell later that week. It seems that all my summers were sunny and hot when I was a child and then I do recollect my early years of driving were regularly in ice and snow. Something heavier and more dangerous than our recent fleeting flurry. Such was my proficiency I managed to drive my Triumph Spitfire into another car as my windscreen refroze. Does anyone remember that de-icer spray that worked for 5 minutes before turning, again, to ice! I then drove a Ford Sierra, with my nephew in the car, through a fence into a field fortunately missing two large trees. I achieved my hat trick of icy misadventure by spinning a Jaguar XJ6 on black ice using a fence as my brakes. The damage was considerable. This catalogue of errors did mean that when this sprinkling fell I was careful and expert. In our village most folk seemed to stay home and where others did venture out skidding was de rigueur. Climate warming means our preparedness and driving skills are poor when it snows. Another reason to keep our planet cold (?)
The end of the world as we know it
I was thinking that Elon Musk’s been successfully sullied by the British media and a lot of politicians because they don’t like what he says. However, why should we care what Musk says or really thinks? Undeniably the boy Musk is a loose cannon living on the spectrum with too much money and a selection of occasionally difficult political views that offend those who wish to be offended. He puts his thoughts out by X (formerly Twitter).However when we talk about his platform then how many of your family are on X? Are many/any of friends on X? If you went up the street and did a survey of your neighbours, would you find one person on X? To me it just seems only those who are political or politically inclined and in the media hang onto his every word and then relay it to the rest of the country. From here Musk gets the influence he sought.
I’m not a particular TV ‘Who Dunnit’ fan but Slow Horses was recommended and we ended up bingeing all four series. It is exceptional. This spy thriller is blessed by having Gary Oldman as the lead and Kristin Scott Thomas alongside. We had a ‘window’ of owning Apple TV after buying a mobile phone to do this. Frankly having a subscription to Netflix, Disney, Sky, Apple TV, Amazon Prime etc. is impossible and not worthwhile as it seems they seldom have a full selection of programmes to keep you interested. Don’t get me started on football being spread over five channels…
Whilst we’re talking about ne’er do wells then in Anna’s digging into my forbears we found a cousin, Malcolm. In my twenties I met him as he visited my father and sister in Leeds. I mainly recollect him being a bit flash and hiring a big car to bring him and his family up from London. However, at a young age he’d emigrated to New Zealand where he ran a ladies’ hairdressing salon until leaving for Australia to study and qualify as a lawyer in his forties. This I knew but never enquired or understood his branch of the law. It seems that the Australian police did and there’s quite a lot written up about him. The Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia set up a Royal Commission of Inquiry into Drug Trafficking, which reported in early 1983. The narrative says that he was the lawyer who moved money around for one of the ‘Mr Big’s’ in this organised trade of importing narcotics from the Far East into country. Apart from enormous sums of money involved this activity involved many players, some of whom were convicted for murder. Malcolm, was interviewed by the authorities and his nefarious actions identified. I would like to track things further to see if he did time but our trail has gone cold. If he’s alive he’s 88 years old.
Lastly, Over Christmas and the New Year we saw a lot of our daughters and husbands over in York. It was lovely but I did reflect that many years ago, when they started courting and boyfriends visited with them, I was unenthusiastic (and out voted by Anna) that they should share a bedroom, let alone a bed, whilst under our roof. I need not have worried, things change. With the priority of actually sleeping, conflicting types of bed preferences and a light sleeping baby they split up and utilised all our bedrooms as they all slept alone!
Someone who was always sleeping by herself had a lovely Christmas and her favourite present was Grandma’s pan drawer.
Here’s my year through letters of the alphabet although dreaming up a skirmish with a zebra for the ‘Z’ did prove elusive! As always it’s been a good year, but ‘A” does begin the alphabet with a fall…
Austria certainly changed the year. On a forest mountain path, near Hinterglemm, Anna stepped onto a tree root and broke her ankle in two places. From here mountain rescue retrieved her and we eventually got to York District Hospital five days later, at 4am, to start the proper treatment. Anna has worked hard, recovered really well and is making great progress. This journey was blogged – click the link.
Books. I’ve read Slow Horses (Fiction – M Herron), A Bit Of A Stretch (Prisoner journal – C Atkins), Abroad In Japan (Living in Japan – C Broad), We Need to talk About Xi (China Politics – M Dillon), Decline & Fall: Diaries 2005 – 2010 (Politics – C Mullin), Hundred Year Marathon (China Politics – M Pillsbury), Why Can’t We All Just Get Along (Social musing – I Dale), Politics On The Edge (Politics – R Stewart) and Becoming (Biography – M Obama.)
Cousins meet up. Anna has been enthusiastic about genealogy and researched both sides of our family in. On my side an illegitimate child and a criminal have come to light but more pleasing but maybe less exotic some cousins have been found. My mother was one of six and the youngest. Anna found two cousins from my Uncle Jack who I had known albeit I think I last saw and spoke to them fifty years ago. From my Uncle Bert, a man I have no recollection of having met (and if he met me then I was a baby/toddler) came Bernice. Our meet ups have been nostalgic, educational and informative. Here’s to more relatives!
Departed. This year has been light on deaths but I recollect a call to a friend (Lyndon) in London, when beside the road on my bike leaving Mildura in Victoria, Australia at 5am, to learn the chap who introduced me to publishing album reviews had died. His website and podcast were The Americana Music Show. Calvin was 58 and lived in North Carolina. The other news came via a Facebook post. Duncan Warwick, the owner, editor and main contributor at Country Music People also succumbed to cancer after a very short illness. This is the magazine I write for. He was 63 years old. I knew he had health challenges but didn’t anticipate this.
Expedition. I loved another long bike ride from Sydney to Canberra and then onto Adelaide. This was through the Australia I liked: working folks, big distances, big skies, great campsites and unbelievable memories. My February and March 1,100 miles are much covered elsewhere on this website. Click the link there are several blog from beginning to end.
Flight. A memorable visit was to the Duxford Air Museum. Apart from many exhibits of aircraft from bi-planes, military vehicles to Concorde there was a Spitfire and Hurricane taking off and landing on the runway. The vastness and breadth of the exhibits was engrossing. Having driven past it so many times on the M11 it was about time we popped in. Fabulous.
Gigs. There were plenty and even a couple in the USA. The list included Molly Tuttle, Tommy Emmanuel, The Average White Band, Julie Roberts (in Nashville), Lionel Richie (In Memphis), Kiki Dee, Guy Davis, Blackberry Smoke, Crowded House, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit. Which was best? I enjoyed them all bar The Pretenders but Nathanial Rateliff and the Night Sweats bordered on astonishing.
Holidays. As retired folk then this is always on our mind and you’ll see the 2024 ones listed here. 2025 has already got Texas and France booked. France will be in the Morgan via the ferry, thanks to one of P&O’s promotions.
Isabella Isla. Our granddaughter continued to delight and she clocked up 12 months on Planet Earth in early December. A beautiful child with a lovely temperament being brilliantly brought up by her hard working parents. Her smile can melt away a number of problems although as she now becomes mobile she’s generating a few! Next year will be another interesting year.
Journey. Cycling keeps me fit, lets me see the world and provides great pleasure. Inevitably I get a number of injuries to keep the local physios busy; the main worry I always have is whether I can get back on my bike asap! Since 1994 I’ve cycled over 103,000 miles. In 2024 it was 4,200 miles.
Kangaroos. On February 23rd I truly lived the dream. It was an 84 miles ride between Temora and Narrandera in NSW, Australia and it was all through flat farm land with nothing to see. I pedalled for 8 hours listening to podcasts or music wandering what the town ahead offered? As I’m deep in my own world having not seen a car or person for what seemed like hours I spied in my peripheral vision two kangaroos bounding past me silently in a parallel field. (They can move at speed!) After they got past me they crossed the road and disappeared into a wood. That’s why I do it.
Last Guide Tour. I enjoyed my time as a tour guide. It got the adrenalin flowing and I’ve seen much of Yorkshire, Northumberland and The Cotswolds. Most of the guests were interesting and fun to be with. The company I worked for veered between supportive and kind to disorganised and deceptive. This is why I ended the work, however, I learned a lot and have some great memories.
Madeira. We were there for a few nights in April. What a lovely island. I’d thought it may be very similar to the Canary Islands but it was quite different with more to see. A super break. Highly recommended.
Narrandera. This small town in New South Wales was a stopover as I headed from Sydney to Adelaide. With the use of the Talksport App I was able to listen to Leeds United vs Leicester City as I cycled the next morning. I listened to live commentary of an evening match. We won this table top clash but from here our season drifted into disappointment. If there was one addiction I could kick then supporting this damn team would be the one!
Peeved. So many of these entries are significant events but one thing that stuck with me from the year was a testy conversation with a bar owner in Rome. With Neil and Paul I entered a bar close to our accommodation and ordered drinks. The barmaid who took the order didn’t pour our drinks but, behind the bar, washed glasses, moved things around and then disappeared! After some time I got frustrated and suggested we leave. So we ambled down a narrow street home when a short woman appeared asking why we’d left the bar after ordering the drinks? Here was a small woman facing up to three men in the dark; it seemed unusually brave. We told her clearly about the lousy service and she countered that it was being sorted but in an adjacent room! I was impressed by her ‘front’ if not their service and so we wandered back to have a drink.
Older. As I clocked up 69 years in March I was now older than both my father and paternal grandfather when they died. It seemed profound. Let’s hope I can stretch the gap!
Qatar Airways. The bastards stopped me boarding a flight to Doha, and then onto Sydney. The reason was the condition of my passport. Anna had washed it in Queensland but despite being a little weary it’d since got me in and out of New Zealand, through Australia and in and out of Spain and Portugal since it’s ‘wash’. To find that you’re bounced at Check In was devastating. I had to reschedule and rebook at considerable cost.
Records. I never threw away my vinyl records when from the 1980s they went out of fashion. Viva the CD! However, they’re back and riffling through racks in second hand stores is a joy whether in Yorkshire, Australia or the USA. This year I acquired a further 47 discs. I think I will do a blog on this next year.
Sightseeing. A trip in October to Rome with Paul and Neil was to see the Vatican, Colosseum, Pantheon, Tiber etc. As very old friends we’d started meeting up in London for a meal and then progressed to a few nights in Malaga. This year it was Rome. See the blog on the website – click the link.
Tennessee – In late May Anna and I flew to Nashville. Here we saw the sights and heard a little music before driving to Memphis to do the same. I was last here in 2015. Later we flew out to Georgia to see my niece and family before driving back to Nashville via the Smoky Mountains. It was good to get my regular dose of America. This is written up elsewhere on the website – click this link.
Victoria. Amongst my annual highlights was to ride a bike in Savannah, Georgia and then back in Yorkshire later in the year with my niece. The first time. The USA ride was on the flat at pace on a titanium framed bike her husband, Ben, provided. The UK trip was around our house. Such a memory. Oh yes, she’s a lot better than me!
Writing.My monthly album reviews keep me sharp and working to deadlines. I write at least three reviews a month. Most of the artists I’ve, frankly, never heard of before which means lots of research to knock out c350 words per record. All this is for Country Music People. It’s part of my life.
X Factor. A surprising but complete delight was a visit to Leeds Playhouse to see Opera North’s My Fair Lady. Lerner and Loewe’s adaptation of a George Bernard Shaw play hit Broadway in 1956 and was one of the golden age of musicals. This cast did a wonderful job and re-ignited my enthusiasm for live theatre.
For those tracking Anna’s rehabilitation after breaking her ankle on an Austrian mountain side in August then she’s been signed off by her consultant and is doing well. Her independence has returned i.e. can drive. Predictably, her ankle still needs physiotherapy and dedication to a regime to continue the improvement in flexibility and strength. She’s been stoic and patient and her rewards are now plain to see. Hopefully this will enable us to plan a little more and get some holidays booked.
An important visitor came to Chateau Ives and is now becoming highly mobile!
Son-in-law, Harry, received his Master’s degree in Engineering in the wonderful setting of The Bridgewater Hall in central Manchester last month. He’s worked hard and gained another qualification, well done! He’s musing about a doctorate now.
Sadly, a man who played an important part in my monthly schedule died after a short illness at the age of 63. The editor at Country Music People magazine, Duncan Warwick, passed away after a short illness. In 2017 I made a speculative call to him and after he checked my writing I was reviewing for the magazine and on the news stand. I enjoy the monthly work with its need for research and deadline requirements. It also kept me nicely abreast of what was happening in Country music and Americana. Given that Duncan was the editor, owner and main contributor there is a large gap to fill.
Next magazine cover
My last post was an article I wrote for my first company’s (Aveling Marshall) magazine. This prompted me to travel to Newark in early November to look around a heritage tractor show. Not only were there Marshall tractors on display but Ford ones as well. After I left Aveling Marshall I went directly to Ford Tractor Operations and spent six years there. It was fascinating to look at tractors that still had components on them that I bought from the UK, Germany and Spain back in the day. Very nostalgic.
Over the last few weeks there has been plenty of live music to report. Crowded House at the O2 in London were exceptional. The songs, including new ones, were fabulous and the banter fun. The Pretenders in Nottingham was plain disappointing. Chrissie Hynde was fully intact and arsy at the majestic age of 73. She bashed through lots of newer thrashy stuff and was parsimonious with the ‘hits’. I wasn’t the only disappointed attendee. Guy Davis an old black bluesman played Selby Town Hall. On acoustic guitar he worked through a catalogue of his own tunes and some blues standards. He had lots of personality and managed an obligatory pre-election rant about Trump. (I’ve heard several from the stage over the years.) Needless to say that went well didn’t it! Savannah Gardner, an aspiring country singer at a small venue in York was terrific and then we drove up to Stockton to see Jason Isbell. Maybe a name not known to many outside of Americana and Country circles, however, a major star who delivered a fabulous rock fuelled collection of observations about America and relationships. I will be knocking up my Top 10 shortly.
Lastly, I am not a foodie but we had a delicious lunch in North Yorkshire at the Abbey Inn at Byland Abbey. I do like a nice meal with the first wife but we seldom push the boat out. Given the festive time of year it was truly time to propel the vessel toward the water and in biblically wet and gale force weather we drove up the country lanes north of York. It’s a Tommy Banks’ establishment and after smoked mackerel pâté on sourdough, as a starter, I chose one of his famous pies. (He recently had a van stolen with 2,500 of them in it. The loss was terrible but the publicity priceless on TV and radio.) Mine was a sumptuous braised beef and blue cheese one with vegetables. Needless to say this would have got stuck in my throat without a little lubrication. This was overcome with a draught pint of blonde ale from Helmsley Brewing Co. Still finding room I couldn’t resist a dessert, a chocolate delice. This outing won’t cheer the daughters. Paying for it meant denting their inheritance with a hefty clout. But hey, you only live once!
My first full time job was at a factory in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire where I joined as a graduate trainee. It was a steep learning curve going from a happy go lucky student to a salaried employee. Relatively recently I’d found a page on Facebook talking about the company, Aveling Marshall. Sadly, the company is long shut and the factory in Gainsborough is now a shopping precinct! No doubt the size and reach of the global construction and agricultural manufacturers was always going to see off a little player. In following the Facebook page I got into a conversation with the author/administrator (Ian Palmer). He asked if I’d write up my time there for a quarterly magazine he published. See below.
To make this remotely interesting for the readers of the magazine I’ve peppered it with the names of staff I worked with. Unfortunately I never did get to know the names of the two strippers…
“When Ian asked me to write about my time at Marshalls I really hadn’t thought a great deal, for 46 years, about those two years at the Britannia Works, I now realise how much that time was integral to my growing up and an early education in business. I graduated from Manchester Polytechnic in the summer of 1976, at the tender age of 21, I had no idea what I’d do but my then graduate girlfriend signed up with a recruitment agency; so I did! They found the opportunity with Aveling Marshall and I trundled down to Gainsborough to meet the Training Manager, Peter Watkins. All I knew was that they were part of Leyland Special Products. This group contained the makers of refrigeration, military personnel carriers, dump and fork lift trucks and construction equipment. He asked if I was interested in Finance or Purchasing? With little thought but aware I’d taken three attempts to pass O Level Mathematics I plumped for the latter! From here I had a second successful interview with the Purchasing Director, John Walker and on October 4 (after a telegram advising of my successful application) I turned up for work on the princely sum of £2,512 pa.
The product portfolio was the Challenger, road rollers and Track Marshalls AM 100 and 105 although new products were coming. Overall in the Purchasing Department I had three jobs: Purchase Analyst, Buyer and Senior Buyer. My recollections of the first job were the pricing up of many pages of A3 size Bills of Materials. These Bills related to machines being transferred from Aveling Barford, namely the articulated wheel loaders/shovels. The hundreds of sheets bore down into exceptional detail and I well remember pricing thousands of fasteners! Doing this today with a laptop and spreadsheet would have been easy and relatively fast. With a biro and Tippex I just about got there although I’m sure the accuracy of all these manual entries would have been dubious. Not all the time was spent in the office I had a couple of several week blocks away at a college in St Helens doing a qualification in Purchasing. I must thank Aveling Marshall for a post graduate qualification from the Institute of Purchasing & Supply.
A Track Marshall crawler tractor
Shortly after I joined a Purchasing Manager was recruited, David Forman. David loved a document and I well remember his spending what seemed weeks designing dedicated Kalamazoo cards that kept all the detail about components on them. These were stored in a special filing cabinets. I think the administrative staff in the department kept them up to date. This must have been either Pearl, Shirley or Sandra. I’m still in touch with Sandra today who is a proud grandmother who still lives local to Gainsborough. When we worked together we’d have been amazed to envisage ourselves now as grandparents! I was sat next to Lennie Auckland. Lennie was in his sixties and was a kind and helpful guy who was fiercely proud of the town and drove a three speed Ford Popular. This car seemed ancient even then! I had been given a Triumph Herald by my parents a few years earlier but using the Leyland car discount I bought a Triumph Spitfire. I’m not sure how I found the money: no doubt a lot of debt.
Other staff included David May, Steve Tonks, Dyer who delighted in answering the phone with “Dyer here”, Cameron, a Scotsman, who could have three lit cigarettes on the go as he moved around the office from desk, to filing cabinets to other offices, Neil, a Jehovah’s witness and Alan who looked after non-production purchases.
The tractors are still common on the beaches of Norfolk taking and retrieving fishing boats out of the sea. I snapped this on a holiday.
It was an era of high inflation and suppliers sought regular uplifts. In line with the Government’s Price and Incomes Policy there was a lot of bureaucracy and justification sought. (Frankly, ask a supplier to justify an increase then they can!) However, I remember being sat in John Walker’s office as he often put suppliers to the sword trying to get the increases reduced. Also, in John’s office Cathy would appear with a memo from her boss the Managing Director, Fred Clem. All Fred’s memos were on green stationary. He was an elusive figure but I well recollect a dinner where he posed all the graduates the question ‘if you had one component in stock and you had a request from a customer via the Spares/Parts department for it or you could fit it to a new tractor and sell that unit what should you do?’ The correct answer, in an industry that depended on service and equipment to work 16 hours a day, was to sell it as spares.
As I got used to turning up for work five days a week I also got used to wearing a suit and tie. I recollect trying to make the same shirt last three days before I might disappear back to Leeds for my mother to do the laundry. Eventually I moved from week day digs in Torksey to a flat in Gainsborough where I moved in with Mike Gordon, another graduate recruit. This Scot joined as a Profit Analyst. He ruefully commented, after several months, that a better title would have been Loss Analyst! The week nights seem to have been spent listening to vinyl at the top of this two storey abode and I think I wore out Boston’s first album along with Peter Gabriel’s first solo album. However, the weekends could see us drive to the metropolis that was Retford to a disco. Alternatively, it could be a trip to Cleethorpes to see The Stranglers. It was the height of punk rock and I still have all my Sex Pistols 45’s. Sunday morning saw me often donning a white shirt and any other kit and striding out to play for the mighty Real Aveling football team. I only scored once from full back and I think I can remember the exact move and how I stroked it under the ‘keeper. Clearly I never scored many goals! If that was memorable so was the night at the Social Club when two strippers were on the bill. It just seems inconceivable that today a company venue would be used for such entertainment!
‘The Indestructible caterpillar returns’ – a poster I took when I left and had mounted.
After a couple of years I became restless and started to look for a move away. I wrote to Ford Tractor Operations in Basildon to join as a buyer and was successful and departed to Essex. I eventually left Ford to study for a Master in Business in Administration full time at the University of Bradford. I didn’t return to Ford but took a job as a Purchasing Manager at a furniture manufacturer in Yorkshire. I spent 23 years here rising to be a director and moving eventually into sales, marketing and then running their nationwide cabinet installation. The company had sales in excess of £100m and was the subsidiary of an American company. Today I’m very much retired and apart from family responsibilities I like to spend time riding my bike whether in the Yorkshire Wolds, across the USA, around Australia or all over Europe.
Wonderful memories. Thank you, Ian, for this trip down memory lane.”
For those of you who followed Anna’s ankle break with concern then I’m delighted to tell you that 11 weeks after the unfortunate backwards step on to an Austrian mountain forest tree root she’s made fabulous progress. Only wearing a (ski style) boot outside she’s mobile and gaining confidence every day. It helps that she’s diligently keeping to the physio’s twice daily programme. The next big step (not literally) will be being allowed to drive. For me this will have the downside that having learned where the ladies who do her hair or nails, in the surrounding villages, reside I will no longer have to chauffeur her there and then twiddle my thumbs for an hour. I did previously report my bemusement at spinning around Tesco in search of items that I had never heard of let alone shopped for. This problem ended when Anna started to drive herself around.
Anna Louise Hamilton
Staying with the family then we continue to delight in our granddaughter. She has a sweet and fun disposition: clearly that hereditary gene can be traced to me. Although I suspect the other females in the tribe may wish to debate this. Her mother recently declared at 9 or 10 months old she had reached the ‘dog stage’. Jarring a little we sought clarification. Firstly, she’s always pleased to see you, next she watches you intensively as you eat and, lastly, she is capable of tricks. I would have previously rolled my eyes at other parents or grandparents proprietorial pride when she responds to your clapping by clapping back!
Now possessing the acceleration of a Ferrari she was retrieved from the stairs as quickly as we could!
I had to smile when Gary Richardson announced his retirement. He covered sport on the BBC Radio Four ‘Today’ programme and had his own Sunday morning show for literally decades. Moores’ (one of my former employers) hired Gary to speak at a golf dinner we hosted at The Belfry. As Sales Director I hosted the evening dinner that included lots of prizes being handed out and Gary’s talk. (No, I didn’t play but turned up in the evening!) He was very entertaining and opined to the diners that he’d once personally lent me £3,000 but hadn’t seen me since until now. However, on balance he thought it was probably money well spent to secure my long term absence! Following this night he invited my favourite eldest daughter and myself to visit the BBC studios in Shepherd’s Bush to look around and then sit with the producers whilst the Sunday morning show went out live. Great memories.
Gary Richardson
On a bike ride I recently entered in to a theological discourse in my head, or helmet to be precise. As we know Jesus is reported as laying hands on various unwell folk and suddenly their incapacity vanished. Maybe Jesus was a physio? This seemed a possibility as I have often had cause to submit to the ministrations of various practitioners around York. Their healing can be immediate and I too have ‘picked up my mat’ and scurried into the car park, poorer, but restored. Clearly not as exciting as the possibility of a miracle but, I jest ye not, my proposition needs considering.
I’m well aware that in my leadership position that my thoughts on fashion will be sought after. King Charles needs a makeover. This profound observation came after a friend’s (Bea) mother clocked up her 100th birthday. This pin sharp observer, whilst pleased to receive the card, did immediately see a likeness of the King and Queen to Albert Arkwright and Nurse Emmanuel from Open All Hours .
(Sorry if the sight of the Royal card ruins the surprise for my various readers approaching a century.)
I accept the old boy is knocking on and dealing (brilliantly) with his illness. However, whilst I’m not convinced that the Royals are overly relevant as we plod into the 21st Century I do think they could look less like a relic. Charles needs a haircut. A balding bloke with a wispy grey hair combover and a selection of suits (often creased or baggy) and tropical climate casual shirts that appear to have come from the stage wardrobe of an Agatha Christie revival simply need to go. Next time I discuss the crowd pleasing merits of Prince William in an Aston Villa away shirt…
You’ll not need to be a rocket scientist to work out that most of my time has been spent hovering around Ives Towers cleaning, cooking, gardening, sorting out trades and variously tripping out to post or collect parcels and shopping for my bride (since our return from Austria with her broken ankle.) I have borne this yoke, as you must agree, heroically yet less kind close friends did observe that it was time I returned the favour after all those years of wifely servitude. I suspect the pleasing image of me bedecked in a pinny flourishing a feather duster in one hand and the Dyson in the other drove them to such disloyalty. However, there has been the benefit of everyday being a ‘school day’.
Who knew there were certain ways to clean a work surface? That the dish washer goes on once a day and that the washing machine has various settings? If there’s a qualification on how to use an air fryer then I’ve nailed that. If my burden has increased then so has the workload of the sales staff in Tesco. I suspect they’re now watching, in trepidation, the car park for my arrival. I was pretty good at spinning round and collecting meat, chocolate biscuits, frozen stuff, beer and dairy but complicated stuff like certain exotic brands of salad dressing, small bottles of shampoo with formulas that seem to be a cure for smallpox, various spray soaps (??), flax seeds etc have necessitated collaring a member of staff and asking for help. For example, who knew Auntie Bessie made a meat free toad in the hole or where it lurked?
One of Anna’s several frustrations include being unable to climb the stairs. A solution to the daily ‘will you find me x and bring it down’ has been helped by WhatsApp. We call each other and put on the video camera; I get guided to the ‘third drawer in the cabinet near the window, on the left hand side, in the spare room, where beneath the birthdays cards where you’ll find…’ I have now been to the deep recesses of the property that I barely knew existed let alone what the furniture contained. Everyday is indeed a school day.
Anna is now into her recovery after the operation and is optimistic, stoic and calm. It’s going very well but it’ll take time. I’d like to say it’s one step at a time but in her case currently it’s one hop at a time! Obviously in our situation concerts and socialising has taken a hit including a wedding bash in Scotland. Anna has been fulsome in thanking everyone for their kind thoughts and gifts. The kindness has been overwhelming.
Felt I should be honest with Rodney as his valet wasn’t. Seems he liked my help.
This has left a little time for reading and I have completed a quite brilliant book on the rise and global intentions of China. It’s called The Hundred-Year Marathon by Michael Pillsbury. I tracked this down in Columbia, South Carolina on my travels. It’s written by an American China expert who worked for several Presidents and has had a high profile with China over decades; all helped by his being fluent in Chinese. It’s not a happy story for the West as China seeks to dominate. This is by economic absorption and elimination of competitive industries (mainly by state subsidy of their own production) or more aggressively dominating near nation states by military might. Their inexorable rise continues at the price of democracy or freedom of speech not just in China but all over the world. Much of the commentary is how the West were mugged in plain sight by the Chinese playing up to US misconceptions and naivety over decades. It’s very readable and not a sensational Sino hostile read but a measured deep dive into the history and the track record of the Communist Party and its relentless ‘progress’ on this path. Beware.
Lastly, with the Mighty Jessney and Mrs Blues (or Steve and Sharon.). I went to York Art Gallery to see Monet’s Water Lilies. The exhibition included other Impressionist artists of the late 19th Century and some of his influences such as Japanese prints. It was interesting and I approached it with curiosity but I am to fine art what Kylie Minogue is to brick laying.
Over a century on with so much technology it’s hard to place yourself in this era when no doubt this art was seen as adventurous, brave and new. Anyway, it was a great hour or so and maybe I should study more.
I think we’re all aware that medical matters can be complicated and despite our reverence for the National Health Service (necessitating worship and respect like a religion) it was dilatory in processing Anna, which caused us unbelievable stress (as if the Austrian part wasn’t daunting enough…)
A virulent infection can be found in European hospitals. This meant our admission into York District Hospital would necessitate Anna completing three successful tests beforehand. Had she not had her brief stay in Austria then this would not have been a requirement. The first test/smear was taken on the morning of admission: Thursday August 15th. On her discharge I was sent to the local GP practice to obtain two further kits for the tests. On the Tuesday (August 20th) we submitted our last sample and awaited a call.
We got one. We had submitted two further tests that were not relevant. A doctor’s error. The hospital wanted us to obtain the correct test kits and start again. Given the time sensitive nature of her pinning I was very upset and anxious. However, with the correct test kits we submitted our last smear on Thursday August 22nd. We’d now lost a week. So much for the efficacy of the emergency actions by Anna and I to get to the hospital in the early hours of August 15th.
A call came through on the afternoon of the 22nd from the Trauma Co-ordinator. He talked of a Friday operation and went through the requirements of not to eat and stop certain medication and where to go to. Our joy was palpable. We asked about the test results? No, they were still outstanding and that was an issue but if unresolved then they might still operate but have to place Anna in a separate room afterwards.
On the morning of August 23rd he rang again. The operation was off. They had a capacity crisis with two children being admitted and the test results were not back. The department that analysed these samples didn’t appear to process things very quickly and our samples weren’t prioritised or no one pressed for them. He said he’d call back later that day to give us his next plan. It was Friday and weekend was a Bank Holiday: not propitious. He left for the weekend without calling again. How could he? We called the hospital.
At this point you don’t know who to call on a Friday evening and whether they had access or knew where to get any information. One critical issue was that if the operation was imminent (although we were unaware) then Anna would need to stop certain medication and fast. If she didn’t then we would accidentally extend the timescale for her to be ready for surgery. We were promised a call back. (That came 12 hours later. Frankly, useless.) However, with that delay we placed another call.
A brilliant nurse on the Orthopaedic ward took our call and did some research. Apparently we were scheduled for August 25th (Sunday). This was great news but still two weeks after the accident. We were told to call the following (Saturday) morning. That call, with a doctor, confirmed that all the tests were back and negative. No, he couldn’t confirm that they were all set for Sunday and they would call later to advise if a Sunday operation would take place.
No one rang. We kept checking with the ward about what they knew. Eventually a doctor rang in the evening confirming that Sunday would proceed. On Sunday Anna had her pinning. Her recovery now starts
What my story doesn’t dwell on is all the calls we made, the absence of knowing when a call would be returned and not least being in the dark about test analysis timescales or when they would operate.
As it’s the NHS and the eventual surgery was completed successfully you’re inclined to ‘move on’. However, frankly were it any other business you’d be contacting a consumer affairs programme. Despite the undoubted challenges the NHS faces our problems arose through poor processes and a lack of communication. They don’t necessarily cost much to resolve.
Lastly, several folk have been interested in the events and given support. I’m most grateful and heartened. It helped . Anna now has the tricky bit of healing and getting fit to work on. She’ll get there.
Tony Ives’ Blog 