Bill Reed passed in early December. It had been a 15 year struggle with cancer and whilst he coped brilliantly then eventually it called time. I had known him over 55 years. He must have been my oldest friend. In fact so many of my passions and values came from him that I owe him an incalculable debt. He came into my life as my sister’s boyfriend in the early 1960s. Our own relationship started in earnest in 1965 when he sat me on his shoulders in The Scratching Shed at Elland Road and started my life long love affair with Leeds United. From here he married, my sister, Ann Marie, and formally became part of my life. Always true, always completely trustworthy, always a friend, always fun and forever one of our family despite an eventual divorce.

He lived in Leeds and we met whether at Elland Road, at our house, mutual friends or his flat. It’s impossible to list how we shared many amazing times together. A few included a Christmas morning where a present of a football was wrapped, beneath the paper, in chicken wire with bags of grit in the package to give it a very odd noise when you rattled it. I think it must have taken me ages to open it!  Next was getting a call from my housemaster at boarding school when I was 17 years old saying that the next day I’d be going to The FA Cup Final (Leeds vs Arsenal). What an unexpected thrill. Other expeditions included finding his uncle’s WW1 grave in Northern France as we ventured abroad seeking his location. All these trips had hilarious moments and great camaraderie. Bill was my Best Man and that included a Stag Night dinner at The Flying Pizza in Leeds where unsurprisingly I drank way too much!

Throughout his life Bill liked to read and was passionate about sports but not many other hobbies. He worked until he was 67. It was people and their company he cherished. I can hardly remember Bill not working and the farmers or work colleagues, who I hardly met, loomed large in my life. Their legend was chronicled through stories of boozy lunches and foreign trips. If that was one set of friendships then he adored his grandsons. Also he would be delighted at a chance meeting in the street with, say, a waiter he used to know at a local restaurant. Everyone who came into contact with him found a positive and welcoming man with such a joie de vivre. He truly was loved.

Latterly he’d come to stay with Anna and me. This would entailed a hearty meal and either some cricket or football on the TV. It’s some time since I saw him take a drink but he was a knowledgeable connoisseur when it came to the grape and usually had a bottle in the boot of the car. 

We’ll drink to his memory as we say our final farewell on January 10th.

So it has been a month of momentous family news: some happy and some terribly sad. 

The Happy: Our eldest daughter, Katrina, became engaged to her long time partner, Matt (a sometime contributor to the site). Anna and I thought it was only a matter of time. It is happy news and another important step in their lives. They plan to buy a property in the Manchester area and tie the knot next August. Congratulations to the happy couple and I promise to behave on the Father’s Speech (maybe).

As if all things were falling into place Katrina secured full time employment at her employer, Arcardis, and so getting that mortgage became easier. Another happy event was my Favourite Youngest Daughter, Sophie, eventually starting to complete the purchase on moving apartments. This move has been awaited for 8 months whilst their buyer was generally disagreeable and sought various lease changes. It has been a long period of uncertainty and it tested everyone’s patience. They should move in early January.

I mentioned terribly sad. Bill, our former brother-in-law and my Best Man, after living with cancer for 15 years eventually succumbed. I will write elsewhere in a separate blog such is his important place in my life.

I’ve written in my travel blogs about Anna having double vision due palsy in her left eye. This came on in South Africa at the end of November. This is a difficult condition as operating with one eye is very limiting on her mobility: she can’t drive. The good news is that an MRI scan and other tests reveal nothing sinister behind this problem. However we’ll have to wait possibly months for her nerve to heal and her sight to be restored. 

With no idea when this condition might correct itself I made the decision to cancel my trip to Australia. I was planning and had prepared to cycle 2,500 miles from Melbourne to Cairns. I cannot leave Anna stranded in our small village 5 miles south of York. 

Her new chauffeur has been bemused at being called to run her to have her brows done, who knew women paid other women to shave and manage this area of their faces? At our Pilates class the topic of Christmas presents came up. One lady wanted a puppy. I’ve always resisted such an acquisition but I did volunteer that if Anna could find one with a full driving licence I might weaken.

I can’t let the General Election go without comment. With this event complete and the selection made then the dialling down of hate posts on social media and the reduction in coverage on the mainstream media is a joy.

So seasonal greetings to my readers. We’ve made our last trip to Marks & Spencers to carry out that particular grocery shopping. This is a supposed period of peace and goodwill. However, it involves facing down the steely look in the eyes of 75 year old women. They are  armed with a full trolley advancing toward you with limited control over this WMD. Hopefully I can now avoid this until next year.

November 4, 2019

Whilst my first wife was watching Strictly Come Dancing on the TV she glanced up at the living room ceiling, as you do. She saw a large wet patch. Consequently I was despatched to the room above it, a bathroom. There was no sign of any leak. A couple of days later a plumber appeared to ferret about in obvious areas to find this fissure. A lack of success gave rise to stroking of his chin and a considerable intake of air as it whistled between his front teeth: the floor had to come up or we had to access the pipes by going up through the ceiling below. 

Deep joy.

Continue reading Leaks, Springboks & Science – Week 45 : 2019 →

October 17, 2019

I have several cycling routes that I ride fairly regularly. One takes me out and back into the Yorkshire Wolds. It’s quite a lonely ride with few settlements: just sharp hills and lots of arable farming land. On my way home on such a four hour jaunt I ride through the peaceful village of Full Sutton. I say peaceful because on the outside it is anonymous albeit with a reasonable amount of residential housing and a large prison. I’ve reflected that as the prison is designated ‘high security’ it contains the worst of humanity. However I trundle past and look at the pigs running around in the field opposite reflecting on the free range nature of their existence before becoming sausages.

Despite this tranquility it is somewhat disturbed by being the location of a recent horrific stabbing that led to a prolific paedophile being murdered in his cell. This awful development even made it onto the CNN website. Incarceration can be a violent and hellish existence. I suppose being locked up with malevolent and mentally disturbed men for decades, with no hope of a better future, is a situation that spawns this terrible environment. My next cycle past will make me shudder at what goes on inside its high walls.

Continue reading Murder, Discounts & Christmas Pudding : Week 42 : 2019 →

October 9, 2019

I was sat at my desk and a voucher from Lloyds Bank caught my eye. As a customer they gave us six cinema tickets. I’d had half a mind to go and see the above film from its release. So on a cold Friday afternoon with nothing better to do than various chores that seemed deeply unappealing, I wended my way to north York to the Vue cinema. 

I grew up with musical films – South Pacific, Calamity Jane, My Fair Lady, High Society, The Sound Of Music. Most of these were from the 60s with no pretence at gritty realism or more ambition than seeing off a baddie and the guy getting the gal after a bit of a chase. The soundtracks were all sublime: how could you fail with Cole Porter, Rogers & Hammerstein or Frederick Loewe. Unfortunately there was no music involved in Downton Abbey but the harmless beautifully overdressed fun was similar.

Continue reading Downton Abbey – The Movie/Film – Week 40 : 2019 →

September 18, 2019

An early morning text from an old friend alerted me to the latest edition of the local newspaper – The Yorkshire Post. There was a pull out section with images of the past. On the back was a photo of my father. He died in 1989 and 30 years later you don’t expect to see his photo in a newspaper. By the time of his photo I was living away from home but I vaguely recollect him coming across this post box/plate. He was a Councillor on Leeds City Council. I think this may have been something that was surplus to requirements after an old building was demolished and he he bagged it. He did have it refurbished and I expect it then languished in the garage or similar.

Continue reading Father, Flu & The Garden Of England – Week 38 : 2019 →

August 20, 2019

So after over three weeks away on my cycle to Vienna (see Posts elsewhere on the site) I was quickly into what my Favourite Eldest Daughter calls ‘life admin” or what I’d call outstanding paperwork. However before I started on this a trip to the supermarket was in order.

My bride had switched off the fridge and freezer before flying out to join me in Austria. This is something that I could have done. It’s worrying to know she has acquired my gift. The fragrance was not attractive on opening the front door. Despite the cleaning up and emptying the putrid freezer it does offer an opportunity to stock up on items that you want to eat. I expect you all experience the same swerve on various frozen foods that have lain dormant in your freezer for months when you check what there is to eat.

Continue reading Goosegogs, Technology & Roast Dinner – Week 34 : 2019 →

July 12, 2019

Chris left the bar leaving nearly half a pint sat looking lonely and abandoned at the table. Den and I had no interest in the drink but if he’d left for good then we could command the table and sit down. We did. Den and I were in The Bluebell with our wives. Needless to say we were apart from the ladies discussing gripping things such as plastering, taps and the mysteries of insurance claims. 

Chris, however, returned but was happy to share his table. Like us he was enjoying a summer pint on Fossgate. Chris was around 70, thick set, a ridiculous shock of thick grey hair and a Van Dyke beard.

Continue reading New Drinking Partner – Week 29 : 2019 →

July 10, 2019

Katrina, Favourite Eldest Daughter, is leaving London and her old job to move to Manchester. London was fine but she cannot envisage ever getting onto the property ladder in t’Smoke and the North offers much better prospects. I’m not sure that the fact that her younger sibling is already established there is the draw! (Sophie is flourishing at adidas and now moving into her second flat with her partner). As a professional Human Resources professional Katrina’s job in London was very much a ‘coal face’ type of responsibility looking after the NSL employees servicing Westminster Council’s parking regime as a contractor.

Her previous job was at the plush offices of the National Broadcasting Company in central London. She went from here to hot desking above a shop somewhere in Westminster. Apart from a salary there were no cushy perks. She handled the recruitment and disciplinary issues of over 150 staff. It seemed to be a completely male dominated environment with a large churn in Parking Marshalls (wardens to you and me) of considerable ethnic mix. These people were not highly paid and trudging the streets in winter issuing tickets and on occasion receiving abuse cannot be the easiest way to earn a living.

Continue reading Parking Fines, Pisces & Grunting – Week 28 : 2019 →

June 25, 2019

Apparently it’s Summer. I usually take a foreign holiday in June and so suffering our chilly and rainy weather has been depressing. Clearly the Summer of 2018 may have been down to global warming but it was a memorable few months. A trip to London saw a visit to Stanfords in Covent Garden. Here I perused their vast selection of maps. Specifically I investigated the Australia section. I was looking for fairly detailed maps of the East coast. I was successful. With this I take a further cycling step toward ‘Australia 2020: The Grey Nomad Goes Forth”.

 All news now seems to come with such a presentation that you’re obligated to agree or disagree with it. One development where I was at odds to the popular sentiment over the BBC’s decision to abandon the concession of free TV licences for viewers over 75 years of age. In line with the world today D-Day war veterans were hauled out, replete with medals, to emphasise it was a heartless decision. Gary Lineker’s salary was identified as one way the BBC could save money and populist Tweeters like Piers Morgan waded in. uncomfortably, I thought the decision was right.

Continue reading Tissues, Hoses & Maps – Week 27 : 2019 →

June 5, 2019

Surely you’ve seen the episode of Fawlty Towers when Basil (John Cleese) is trying to catch a rat? The rodent belongs to his waiter, Manuel. A long term resident, the ‘Major’, sees said beast and takes Basil to task about his sighting. Basil denies everything…. 

So I’m sat outside my father-in-law’s quite plush and modern Care Home when in amazement he chirps up that he’s seen a scurrying rat! (Eric is 87 years old and we’re sat outside waiting for someone to appear from inside with a wheel chair to take him inside).

His observation is preposterous. However as we continue to sit outside biding our time I see the rats – eek! Yes two of them playing happily near the front door. More frustrating for Eric is that they appear to nest in a large bush outside his room near a door. We mention this to the staff and get a proverbial shrug of the shoulder. Seems the rodents are a feature of the accommodation and entertainment programme for the inmates.

Talking of senior people of a different generation I loved the media coverage of the Queen inspecting a mocked up supermarket check out. It was one of those check outs where you scan the items yourself. See the image:

Continue reading Camping Vans, D-Day and Rats – Week 23 : 2019 →

May 24, 2019

After expecting my football team to implode and miss out on promotion, to the Premiership, they did. It was awful to behold the inconsistency of the team and ultimate distress of the fans. In fact the disappointment spread further. I think most fair minded football fans thought it was Leeds’ turn to ascend (along with the media who’d like another big team in the Big Time).

The season ending game, at home was particularly painful. I was in the dark at a Fairport Convention concert (with the venerable Charles Greenwood no less) keeping tabs on the score by phone. On entering the venue we were winning 1-0 (and 2-0 on aggregate). Then they let in four goals.

So did you enjoy the music Tony? Not really the band were fine musicians but sat down throughout reflecting their age (and acceptance thereof); their main passion arose through selling a festival they ran, selling a biography one of them had written and any other merchandise that you could procure near the foyer. More engaging was the folk club banter between songs. Some was amusing but the fiddle player went on one rant about Nigel Farage and Donald Trump. Left of centre political lecturing or comment is typical of many concerts but I still consider it to be inappropriate and an indulgent abuse of a captive audience. If you were paying the plumber to come and do some work and out of the blue he started unloading his views on climate change suggesting that those who disagreed were ‘misogynistic, racist clowns’ and the unattractive vision of a politician’s ‘bulging’ eyes you’d be thinking ‘what is going on?’

Other poor uses of my time occured during the week. As a management consultant I had to measure ‘waste’. That is measure and dissect processes that are wasteful and result in duplication, produce unused or obsolete outcomes, demonstrate poor advance planning, create unnecessary activity to correct mistakes, lead to waiting around etc. It made quite an impact on me and now when I talk to people wrestling with whether to retire, despite being financially secure, I can’t help but reflect on how they are really doing nothing very worthwhile other than collecting a salary.

And so two women from PwC were discussing the audit results on the Pension Scheme account at a Trustee meeting I attended in some posh offices in the centre of Leeds. They had come to explain ‘adverse’ comments they had put in the annual accounts. All agreed there was absolutely no problem in reality and that in fact the monies that they referred to were rather good news. However the large amounts of cash had not been broken down into some detail on the prescribed schedule and as such a few categories seemed unaccounted for. For 30 minutes these sweet ladies gibbered about the analysis of some bloke, back at the mothership, who pronounced on these ‘technical’ matters. We were frustrated and bemused at the woodenness. From here all sorts of cross referencing was discussed to enable a change in the ‘adverse’ comment. I had drifted off by this stage to remember what they agreed but at the end of the day the only reason to give a damn is that someone might, highly unlikely but possibly, check the accounts and challenge our mangement of monies. Later, I imagined both ladies describing their day to loved ones and hoped they might have the good grace to realise that life is short and that they need to get one (albeit one that paid them at least £60k pa with a car allowance).

I’m afraid this isn’t a blog with much upside. The Morgan sprung a leak from a fuel hose and has had to sit in the garage until I can drive it to the local garage for ministrations. Driving it was a 98 Octane experience as I nearly hallucinated on the fumes pouring into the car. A local neighbour and engineer helped me identify the problem. Again, the poor design of the car has lead to a chaffing hose and this problem.

Lastly, I have to mention the untimely passing of a dear lady – Wendy Looker. After fighting Stage 4 breast cancer for over a decade she succumbed at, I think, 50 years old. She was a cherished colleague at Moores. It was some fight where she understood the disease well and the joke was that she attended her consultant appointments with so many questions that the medics had to bring their ‘A Game’ to the meeting. More than that she helped a lot of other cancer sufferers on forums, email, WhatsApp, text, Facebook etc. Strong and selfless. I’ll put a piece, in due course, under ‘Moores’ (see the tool bar above) that arose from a cup of tea I had with her in 2014 where in little less than initial anxiety and then wonderment I describe her and our chat.

May 20, 2019

Matt Gray

(Matt is an occasional contributor. Based in busy North London he pines for the wide open prairies of Northamptonshire and coffee infused with the type of stuff ordinarily found in a Christmas Selection Box. From the home of the ‘Champagne Supernova’ he writes of alcohol abuse and alliteration problems with not a little of his tongue in his cheek!)

On the evening of Thursday 16th May, in Manchester City Centre, a crime took place. 

A couple sat down to enjoy a fine steak dinner at Hawksmoor. Upon ordering their bottle of ‘reasonably’ priced £250 bottle of Chateau Pichon Longueville, they were instead presented with a bottle of 2001 Le Pin Pomerol. We’ve all been there, right? I mean, the bottles look very similar and sometimes we order something and the staff makes a mistake. For instance, I once ordered a latte with a shot of caramel syrup and ended up with a latte with a shot of hazelnut, and I didn’t complain. Wine is wine. 

The issue here is that the 2001 Le Pin Pomerol is the most luxurious bottle of wine that Hawksmoor has to offer. Essentially it’s the swill that they claim the three little pigs were drinking when the wolf came to the woods to wreak havoc on their homes of varying tensile strength. Adding this wine consciously to your bill will set you back a mere £4,500. Now, in my opinion, while Hawksmoor has its merits, I would say its menu sits somewhere comfortably middle class, so those who would actually order such an extravagant bottle of wine are likely to frequent rather more luxurious establishments, the sort where they serve half a truffle perched tentatively upon a gold leaf and call it an appetiser. 

While I know for a fact I would tell the difference between the £250 bottle of red wine and let’s say a bottle picked up from Tesco for a fiver, I very much doubt I would be able to justify wasting over four thousand pounds for what I imagine is a marginal improvement. I’m not convinced in a blind taste test I would tell you that one wine is seventeen times better than the other. 

So this couple, I am sure, received their wine having not even fully committed to memory the name of the wine they had ordered. They were likely celebrating an anniversary and thought they would ‘push the boat out’ and order the third most expensive wine on the menu. ‘Let’s go crazy!’ one most likely declared, and the other perused the wine list, scanned the Le Pin Pomerol and with wide eyes quickly erased it from their short term memory. 

I am intrigued to know at exactly what moment, and far into this farce the staff waiting upon this innocent couple realised the sin they had committed. Was it early on? Was it post-corking, post-pouring, and post-ingestion? Or was it as the bottle was perched at its angle, pre-pour, but already beyond the point of no return? Did the staff watch through their nail-bitten fingers as the couple enjoyed their wine, which unbeknownst to them cost the same as a second hand Fiat Panda, laughing while inside the person who served them was mentally searching Indeed for jobs? I would like to think it was when the final drop had been consumed, and the bottle was being taken away, and on its way into the recycling bin, Ernie the Helpful Busboy spotted it and proclaimed ‘Are we hosting the Beckham’s or something?’

But the crime alluded to has not yet happened. No, the sin of giving out the wrong bottle of wine is but, in the big picture of the universe, a footnote, really. The true crime was how Hawksmoor then proceeded to take control of the incident and add a ‘Positive PR’ spin on it.  The crime here is a tweet that went out shortly after the incident came to light, from the restaurant itself and ran as thus: ‘To the customer who accidentally got given a bottle of Chateau Le Pin Pomerol 2001, which is priced at £4,500 on our menu, last night – hope you enjoyed your evening! To the member of staff who accidentally gave it away, chin up! One-off mistakes happen and we love you anyway.’

Oh boy. You can smell the malice lacing each syllable. From the double use of ‘accidentally’ to the sarcastic exclamation of ‘Hope you enjoyed your evening!’. All they missed from that was an all caps ‘YOU’RE TOAST’ and a Béarnaise-stained middle finger as a tasty side. 

 ‘Chin up!’ Yes, chin up indeed you poor bastard, for it helps the axe achieve a clean cut. 

The tweet, of course, went viral. 

People saw below the surface instantly and were already quietly mourning the staff member whose ‘one-off’ mistake almost certainly sent them straight to the abattoir to be served up as part of the next day’s Express Menu. Even Specsavers chimed in, offering their services. Maybe the staff member in question will go, but I think it will be a trip to the Job Centre for them first…

May 13, 2019

Like a small boy in a primitive African village I have experienced the delight of having something as monumental as a well being sunk and water being readily available. We are now connected to Superfast broadband and I write to you at a speed of 30mb/s. Our recent speed for many years has been 1.3 mb/s. Yes, I know, not a big deal for most of the UK but a big deal here in Acaster Malbis. Yippee!

Recent excitement has included lots of concerts, which you’ll find reviews elsewhere. Without doubt this is a hobby of the older person. I survey the audiences to feel quite young! I think many of these artists might supplement their income by getting sponsorship by hair dye or vitamin supplement purveyors. I suppose we have the time, often midweek, to get out and get down, as well as the disposable income as the nation subsidises the idle baby boomers (that’s a joke btw…)

A weekend away in Bakewell was delightful. Anna rented a swish property and Cost Centre One and Two descended with respective partners. In the photo are Catherine (sister in law) and Geoff (brother in law) imbibing with us at a local hostelry. In fact I was pampered as on one evening Katrina and Matt sprung into action with homemade curries and on the second night Sophie and Harry made the evening meal of fajitas.

One outing was at the end of April to catch Danny Baker at York’s Grand Theatre. This was well before his horrific racist Tweet (a chimpanzee walking hand in hand with a man and woman). I’d read both his books and heard him on the radio over the years and knew him to be an engaging raconteur. The evening was fine if you wanted to hear him regurgitate his books again line by line. 

He’s quite confident that he is hilarious and rolls along alluding to a history of celebrity relationships, theft, Value Added Tax payment evasion and a fairly dissolute lifestyle that has, on occasion, caused him considerable upheaval. I also know his Tweets, which often recycle old photos and YouTube clips. They are often profane and mainly about football and music. 

The foul Tweet in question was an error. I don’t think he’s a racist. However, not only was that selection an error of judgement, apparently to lampoon the attendant media, but why lampoon the event in any case? The birth of a child is a very happy event that is celebrated by everyone. (Harry and Meghan seemed so elated it was touching). Why have the error of judgement to be negative and then select a photograph that, in fairness, should end a career?

A drive to the East coast saw us go to Saltburn by the Sea. We’ve been before quite recently but this time I ventured into a Sue Ryder charity shop where I bought my second record. It was in 1966 when I entered this shop, albeit it it was a record store, and bought “Strangers In The Night” by Frank Sinatra as a birthday present for my mother. The ladies in the shop helped me with the premises’ history although they only knew this through other older Saltburn residents.

(First record? “The Young Ones” by Cliff Richard from Vallance’s. This establishment was on The Headrow in Leeds and it must have been 1962 or 63 and I recollect sitting outside in the car whilst someone popped inside to buy it).

The wonderful Tour de Yorkshire came to the county and brought the spectators out. There has been worse weather for the event but it does usually bring cold and wet. I feel for these pencil thin athletes who fly in from hotter climes to don leggings, raincoats and thick gloves. It did come within 6 miles of Chateau Ives but intermittent heavy rain saw me keep warm and dry in front of the TV to watch it. One of the genuine delights is seeing these stars zoom along roads or up hills I know so well in the county. To think Chris Froome’s tyres have covered the same piece of tarmac is terrific.

Lastly, as a nation we rightly worry about crime. Violent crime is truly shocking and the level of knife crime in London is an epidemic. To this end I’m always confused as to why millions of women, mostly middle aged or older, cannot get enough stabbing, shooting, sexual violence and general misery on TV. The best drama series for 2018 was “Killing Eve” according to the British Academy Television Awards. This light hearted romp was about a psychopathic assassin. Conveniently a beautiful young woman. In the mix although not the winner was “The Bodyguard”, again that dwelt on the near fatal attempts on a woman politician’s life. What’s wrong with you?

April 24, 2019

It was clear that Sri Lanka had its tensions despite their suppression of the Tamil uprising in the 90s. On our February holiday we learned much of this history. The bloodshed was horrific and deeply divisive. The Tamils are Hindus and the majority, the Singalese, are Buddhists. In the religious mix of the island are also Christians and Muslims. If the Sri Lankan government are to be believed then the latest appalling atrocity is by a Muslim terrorist group. However our trip to the island was delightful. We visited Hindu and Buddhist temples and safely traversed the southern half of the island in a bus. The island didn’t look prosperous and with so many mouths to feed and so few resources this is probably the reality of the whole of South Asia. You can imagine that this ferments deep unhappiness.

The scale of this atrocity is devastating and not least for the Sri Lankan economy. Tourism brings in the most foreign revenue. I cannot imagine that this will do anything other than destroy hotel bookings, guided tours, bus company revenues and the income of thousands upon thousands of Sri Lankan workers for many many months/years to come. 

Near tragedy might have been closer to home but by a thread. Sophie (Favourite Youngest Daughter) took her car into Kwik Fit in Fallowfield, Manchester for two new tyres. They were fitted and she drove away. The next day, coming across to Leeds, she heard a “rattle” but drove on despite a car full of colleagues, including one who was pregnant. She eventually left them in Leeds and drove over to York thinking the rattle was getting worse. Here she went out shopping with her mother who thought it best that they divert via a Kwik Fit in the town.

There the fitter discovered that out of the necessary five nuts holding on the wheel there was only one. The other four hadn’t been tightened up, had come loose and flown off the wheel. Needless to say she and her mother were badly shaken and angry at what could have been a catastrophe. From here we’ve invloved many parties to establish what happened and for her employers and lease company to know of this incompetence.

My in-laws’ care home is a fine place with a lot of expertise and pleasant surroundings. When you first visit you delude yourself that it is probably not a bad place to spend your last days. The problem, of course, is that if you end up here you yourself are not in sparkling condition. Your enjoyment of the service, food, facilities is limited dependent on your faculties – physical and mental.

My mother-in-law, a lady with no diminution of any intellectual faculties, reported that the better weather had lured some of the ‘inmates’ from the first floor downstairs and outside onto the patio. She hadn’t seen some of them for a while and engaged one lady who she’d talked to a few months ago. Rather worryingly she enquired at what time “the ferry came”. Margaret brushed this off with some comment. The same lady in a conversation with another resident confidently advised her companion that “she was dead”. Reassurance that she’d be unable to converse if this actually was the case cut no ice: she was convinced that she was dead. Only later I concluded that this probably wasn’t as daft (as it obviously was). I think we all know people that to all intents and purposes are dead albeit with a heartbeat and movement.

Anna, who likes the odd TV ‘who dunnit’ is having a splendid time on ancestry.com putting together family trees on her and my side of the family. I knew about quite a lot of this lineage, vaguely. I had a maternal great grandfather depart Poland in the 19th Century when Poland was part of the then Russian Empire. He was Jewish. He was proud of his new home and became a naturalised Brit. Meanwhile his wife came from Ireland. She wasn’t fleeing the Russians with her family but no doubt her father was escaping poverty and potato blight in rural County Roscommon. Anyway she is digging deep into a lot of documentation that resides on the site and I await with interrest further discoveries.

I wrote about Leeds United last week . Since then a fatal defeat against a lowly team with only 10 men at home beggared belief. With it came our capitualtion of an automatic promotion spot. From here came another defeat and all of a sudden it was over. There are the play offs ahead but we look like an exhausted and defeated crew. The disappointment in and around the city is like a bereavement.

I also mentioned researching a tour in Australia. I’ve been reading several blogs of many different age groups, men and women and those who do high or low mileages etc etc. An interesting description of elderly male cycle tourers has emerged: ‘grey nomads’. I think I may have a new name!

Lastly my cycling mentor, Tim, continues to add to my knowledge of his life and relatives. We recently cycled past his sister’s house (and small holding) and more excitingly passed the very grass tennis court where he has made his one and only appearance on the green stuff (Sutton On Derwent – look for the blue plaque). Adding to my entertainment was his near death when turning onto the very busy A1079 to Hull. He managed to aggravate a swerving massive articulated lorry that sat on his horn to express his displeasure. If he keeps up those high jinx up then he may not be available to cycle with me for much longer.