May 10, 2017

Well the bad news is that I’ve watched the 52 episodes of House Of Cards and finished Season Four with nothing left. However help is at hand as those nice people at Netflix unleash Season Five at the end of May. Given the surreal politics all over the world at the moment and not least in Washington DC then this epic story about a US President, which involves murder, betrayal, sacrificing others, money laundering, occasional sex and attempted assassination makes complete sense. Until it comes out then I’m watching Better Call Saul.

The politics drags on and is so dull that the lovely BBC led on the sacking of the Head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation tonight. Frankly who in the UK cared? Given that we are in the middle of a General Election campaign then somehow you’d think that the FBI, an institution that about 70% of the UK population couldn’t identify, wouldn’t be the lead item unless you obsess about Donald Trump.

We visited Skipton on Saturday and enjoyed the market. Boy was it cold, I had to buy a hat (not much hair I’m afraid) and yet today it was scorching and shorts were worn and more importantly the hood was down on the Morgan. I cannot remember the temperature fluctuating so dramatically in a day or two.

Skipton should be a sleepy farming market town in the Dales but it still surprised with the market stalls. One selling old vinyl LP’s – where else can you get an old Millie Jackson album for £3 and Asian vendors with their young lads, beside them learning the trade, selling just about anything. We bought plums and strawberries. After this excitement we went on a barge trip on the Leeds Liverpool Canal where we learned about its mill history during the Industrial Revolution. The trip home was via Ilkley where we stopped off at the sensational The Veggie for lunch. Frankly, if everyone went there for a meal then it would be a threat to future meat sales. Wonderful place… oh, that Portobello mushroom burger was beyond bliss.

The present Mrs Ives still can surprise (and worry me) after 30 years of marriage. I had had breakfast when she appeared in the kitchen and emptied a recently boiled kettle of its water and refilled it? So I enquired as to why you’d throw away recently boiled water rather than just re-boil it? Apparently re-boiled water has a detrimental affect on the flavour of her coffee. Yup, me neither…

April 28, 2017

So it has been a while since our foreign travels and I have thought about producing a Journal post. So what’s happened since then then? It seems like a busy time of house letting, painters and roofers. Sadly the tenant who I wrote about in a previous Post, where I played the role of an inadeqaute agony aunt, didn’t resolve her problems and they both left, which was very inconsiderate for our revenue stream! 

However, on another level then It seems that life has returned to normal with an Election in the news, whether British or French. Picking up on another Post that I have written, then the worst thing about it is the media saturation and the BS we’ll have to work our way through until June 8th, in fact I think most folk know how they are going to vote this time and so bothering with the hustings is a waste of time. I feel that it can only ramp up with hysteria in the intervening days and if the campaign has no exciting things for the media to write about then I imagine we’ll be latching onto ‘Armageddon’ like comments from anyone in Europe about our future.

Of similar pleasure was a trip to the dentist for a chipped tooth. This occurred in the IKEA cafeteria, which was scant reward for good behaviour. Instead of having the meatballs and chips I had a piece of grilled salmon with a risotto. (My daughter’s boyfriend had the 15 meatball option and a hot dog at the Exit on his departure – I well remember when I could stick this stuff away with no weight implications). I avoid the dentist and can see no reason for check ups – pain or mechanical problems lead me to his seat. The injection for numbing the gum does feel like he’s inserting something like the blunt end of a metal coat hanger into your cheek. Let’s hope the teeth now behave or I will contemplate moving away from consuming solids.

Yes, the sign is not a protest poster but a sign from the Council. Read it slowly!

One of Anna’s many delights is that when I pick a concert to go to then she likes the fact that most of the audience are younger than her. This is often a reality born out of my taste in music. More of the edgier stuff, with a younger audience, is not her bag and this observation about age is likely to continue for her. We went to one of our favourite venues – Pocklington Arts Centre – to see The Blues Band. I had seen them twice previously – both times in Southend in another life and over three decades back.

Paul Jones, lead vocalist, of Manfred Mann and BBC Radio 2 fame was 75 and looking well on it. However for all the modern marketing that makes you cynical about how many ways they want to empty your pocket then old men have a neat line. Shamelessly he plugged a band or solo CD’s as they played every song. They then all disappeared at the long interval into the foyer to flog and sign them at £12 a piece. Concert merchandise is not new but they are usually a pleasing side benefit for the audience rather than the main reason for the band being there! I spent some of their set adding up the number of seats, number of CD buyers, CD costs and number of nights to work out that Paul was well into four figures of profit by the end of the tour.  Let’s home he gets the very best Care Home. An unlovely experience frankly.

As an update on my reading then I am ploughing through Roy Jenkins biography of Gladstone, the 19th Century Prime Minister. It is 650 pages of close print and is not an easy read. I was saying to Anna that it is a brilliant cure for insomnia because after about four pages then the eyelids become leaden and sleep beckons. To borrow a phrase, more associated with Crimbo, then I have another 40 sleeps before I finish it.

March 23, 2017

So the week started with the ‘Forces Sweetheart’ celebrating her 100th birthday. Judging by the BBC programme then she also appeared to be in quite decent nick for a very senior citizen. In summarising her importance then Barry Humphries commented that she ‘was a voice of an era when civilisation was under threat.’

I like that but also I like the fact that to sing to the troops she went to the other side of the world – Burma in 1944. No Jumbo 747 into an International airport and then a stretched air-conditioned limo to a venue but a brutally hot, time consuming and dangerous journey into the jungle to stand on a soap box and belt tunes out beside a bloke on a piano whilst you hoped the look outs were concentrating on the perimeter rather than the music. She is simply the best of British.

Raising some money for York Carers Centre has been productive as I took my talk on my bike ride across the USA to a couple of ladies evening groups in Harrogate and a home gig in Acaster Malbis with the local branch of the Yorkshire Countrywomen’s Association this week. The talk lasts under an hour and I take the folk chronologically across the country – mountain ranges, camping, churches, deserts, bears, mustangs and the full 9 yards (as they say over the pond). The greatest interest seems to lie in my talking about dealing with saddle sores! This became known as the ‘Knaresborough’ problem. This was because I didn’t mention some serious discomfort as I cycled in the daily blog but obviously mentioned it to my wife in Face Time conversations. She then told anyone from Knaresborough who appeared in her shop. My arse was the talk of the town! Anyway more evenings in the diary.

So if Vera is a heroine then PC Palmer also was at the Houses of Parliament. He lost his life to a terrorist who stabbed him to death. This

tragedy was compounded by two other innocents losing their lives. In addition the terrorist was shot. We have a daughter who works in central London and this is far too close for comfort. I feel so sorry for those families who will not see their loved ones again.

The politicians talked of the horror but ‘life will go on’ and the worrying but frank admission by the Mayor that no city is ever completely safe. Stand by for vigils, bouquets of flowers and other actions that will not solve the problem but may ease the grief.

Against this numbing catastrophe then we buried, with literal honours, another former terrorist who oversaw the murder of many innocent men, women and children as well as British soldiers. I genuinely accept and believe that we must look at his defining contribution to the ending of the Northern Irish conflict and his critical subsequent political leadership. His cause was about the errors of colonial miss rule and the resentment it developed such that murder seemed, to the IRA, the only solution.

The London Islamist terrorist no doubt had the roots of his vile beliefs created by partially the colonial and western mistakes in the Middle East and he was prey to others who poisoned his mind and created the belief that killing your own countrymen, he was British, would promote their cause. I doubt, however, he would have had a former US President fly several thousands of miles for his funeral with the great and the local good. Confusing isn’t it.

March 19, 2017

So the week started with attending a Speed Awareness course. This £85 bargain was because I went through a sleepy village at 36mph instead of 30mph and apparently put other lives in mortal danger. It had few redeeming features apart from my avoiding future higher insurance premiums, but it was Blog Gold.

Gavin, our workshop leader did enquire of the 22 other criminals as to whether “has anyone here been on a Speed Awareness course before?” and saw three quarters of the attendees put their hands up. At this show of hands he grinned from to ear to ear and said “welcome back!”

From here the course’s star turn, Elaine, proverbially ‘took the floor’. Gavin was going through administrative chores and he touched on the freedom to go to the toilet as and when required:

Gavin:                     “If you go to the toilet then what do you all have to do?”

Elaine:                   “Wash your hands?”

Gavin:                     “No, come back”

Gavin did however bite his tongue when required…

Gavin:                     “What are the implications of driving too fast in terms of safety in residential areas?”

Elaine:                    “You might hit a cat?”

Gavin:                     (long silence as he composed himself)…”no I was thinking about not hitting children or the elderly”

Gavin:                     “Why are there less safety issues as regards accidents on motorways?”

Elaine:                    “Less pedestrians”

Gavin:                     “Err… hopefully no pedestrians”

Gavin                       “So we’ll all agree that alcohol is not to be taken if you are driving. What else goes with alcohol?”

Elaine:                    “Kebabs?”

Gavin:                     “Err…  no, I was more thinking of drugs”

He wasn’t awfully lucky because as he went on to explain stopping speeds and the laws of physics (that explained that the greater the speed the longer the stopping length). He confidently asked “if anyone knew any physics?” hoping this selection of nurses, retirees, farmers and van drivers would know nothing only to find a physics graduate in his midst. This thankfully shut him up!

Oh by the way, Elaine, a nurse, was caught speeding when she was visiting a friend with a dog wheel chair (the contraption animals with non functioning rear legs use). As she ruefully commented that it was a cruel blow when she was on a mercy mission. This is true because even I couldn’t make this up. I am not keen to re attend anytime soon unless they can confirm that Elaine will also be in attendance.

So this week I finished reading Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall.A very interesting analysis of geopolitics, which also made it into the top sellers listings. I need now to find a book to enable me to sleep with one eye open, my wife is studying a number of dark subjects. On Anna’s beside table I list for you 10 of her current, past or future reads – Bone Field, The Impossible Dead, Standing In Another Man’s Grave, The Drowning Man, Dead Lane, Orphan X, Unguarded, The Hunt, The Woman In Cabin 10 & Her Every Fear.

Lastly, the Grim Reaper took Chuck Berry and James Cotton. Chuck, as they say needs no introduction, but apart from a worrying interest in under age girls he did bring a more articulate form of rock n’ roll to the world. Not only great tunes well constructed but great lyrics that painted a picture of teenage America in the late 1950’ and 60’s. They told of young love, cars, dancing, travel and who can forget C’est La Vie from Pulp Fiction as John Travolta and the dangerous boss’ squeeze, Uma Thurman, dance to it.

James Cotton was the Blues harmonica player with Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and many others including solo work. Given that these originals just about drank themselves to early graves then James clocked up 81 years, which is still soon I know. I love his sound but in 2015 when I cycled down America I eventually turned east when I hit New Orleans and cycled along a very empty and quite dull parched coastline. I had seen only one other cycle tourer in 2,000 miles when a cyclist came into view barrelling along toward me. Immediately recognising each other as fellow tourers we stopped and chatted. Andrew Alli was heading to New Orleans to meet friends and play blues harp. He had a Blues band. As I’d been to the home of the Blues in the Mississippi Delta I told him about my trip and favourite artists. Given he played harmonica I raised my love of James Cotton to which he told me that he’d met him. Before I shook Andrew’s hand I asked if his hand had also shaken James’? He had and so in one way or another I have touched Blues royalty.

March 13, 2017

Sadly I clocked up another birthday on Monday and have, however, to thank everyone for their good wishes. Cakes and presents abounded and I was a grateful man. By way of a celebratory outing we trekked across the North Yorkshire Moors before adjourning to Pickering for refreshment.

However, the week was mainly given up to music. After having followed the Americana Music Show podcast assiduously for some time and heard some fabulous music then the host, Calvin Powers, invited me to write up a few reviews of new releases – click the above for one of my efforts. The show, playing out of North Carolina, plays that undefinable genre called ‘Americana’ that includes Country, Folk, Singer Songwriter, Rock n’ Roll, Roots (what is that?), Soul, Blues, Gospel…. well you’re getting the picture now! Receiving free music and being allowed to write about it was fine by me! Calvin now publishes these reviews (and others) plus plays music from the albums in questions in a 15 to 20 minute slot – check it out and subscribe for free.

Next was a sojourn to London to spend two nights at the O2 Arena listening to the cream of American Country Music at the Country2Country music festival. Anna came along on the Friday and the Favourite Youngest came along for both nights (and bought a ticket for me on one of the nights). This time I ticked off seeing Reba McEntire, Jennifer Nettles and Chris Young as well as seeing other favourites again.

 Accommodation was provided by the Favourite Eldest. However this was not without scares for Anna. On the Saturday when Sophie (Favourite Youngest) and myself got back from the show we crept in late with the house asleep. Sophie was bunked up with Anna whilst I was on the floor in the living room (five in the house and the eldest ends up on the floor). Anna commented the next morning that in her late night drowsy state she awoke to the worrying sound of heavy breathing very close to her and it wasn’t Sophie. She was correct! I was blowing up an airbed in the room next door!

Taxis? Don’t like them. The only time I take them is on holiday and one of the last rides involved being ripped off getting from Las Vegas Airport to our hotel by our driver taking an inflationary detour that wasn’t necessary. So over the weekend my profligate children insisted on avoiding taking a bus and I discovered Uber. Yes, I know it really is not new but after downloading the wonderfully informative App and receiving prompt service at knock down prices I cannot see how it can fail. Viva la revolution.

Lastly this image will tell you a story. On the train back from London to York (and then onto Glasgow) a man in a kilt with a set of bagpipes gave an impromptu concert to the carriage he was in. Such a lovely surprise and much cheering and photo taking ensued.

March 5, 2017

One of the downsides of owning a less popular make of car is finding someone to service it. Obviously anyone can change the oil but fiddly bits like sorting kingpins, shock absorbers, balancing steel wire wheels and replacing failing trim etc. then you need to go to a specialist Morgan dealer/garage. So I drove ‘Samantha’ north to Beamish (near Durham) to deposit my weekend mistress for some tender loving care. I was back later in the week to collect her. This is a nearly a 200 mile return trip that involves the train but here things get better because York railway station is an easy link to most places by being on the main North to South line. I don’t take the train many times in the year but it is a mystery to me. It cost me £33.60 for a single to get from Durham to York and the return single ticket, Anna bought me, was £7.00. What is that all about?

However, when I went back, I discovered Aladdin’s Cave next door at the Aston Martin workshop they also own. It is in here they rebuild the bodies, rebuild and test engines, repaint and or service old Aston Martin’s. I asked how much to rebuild an old ‘barn find’. Prices started at £150,000. One Saudi had six cars in here once; all being reworked. You’ll see with the Bentley that they had other treasure.

I reply to a number of Tweets posted by celebs. I suppose I cannot help myself! A number will occasionally reply if you are interesting and somehow can ‘get to them’. Egos are fragile things. I noted that Piers Morgan was following a wacky Tory MP who belongs to a different century, and not necessarily the last one. I called him out on this and he explained why. (Still not a good reason to follow him though!)

Some times you cannot win and life isn’t fair. You may know this. My father-in-law, like a number of older chaps, gets house bound during the winter. As my mother-in-law had earlier informed High Command (my first wife) that someone was required to retrieve the dry cleaning from Morrisons then I thought why not take Eric with me? So armed, additionally, with a small shopping list we embarked on our adventure.

Amongst my responsibilities was to ensure that there was a minimum amount of deviation from the shopping list. Disciplinary action would ensue should this be discovered. So in our cruising up and down the aisles I was horrified to find that Eric was enjoying himself and adding to the shopping basket away from the agreed written instructions. Clearly this was not a liberty to be well received on our return.

You’ll be relieved to learn that I managed to minimise this ill discipline and limit Eric’s enjoyment. However, despite this achievement I was subject to a later one-to-one debriefing to find out that the two tins of fruit cocktail in syrup had been identified as unacceptable by all the women in his life.

Eric, however, was not advised of his role in this misdemeanour but ironically had commented to High Command that whilst grateful for the expedition he was a little disappointed at the speed at which I had wanted to progress down the tinned fruit aisle. Apparently I am to receive further training…..

February 26, 2017

Everything hasn’t been complete plain sailing over the last few weeks as I carelessly collected my second deep vein thrombosis at the end of January. The earlier one was seven years ago. As illnesses go then it was a needle fest with daily blood checks and booster blood thinning injections for a few weeks. For a man who had spent his whole life avoiding hypodermic syringes then this was a condition to make up for lost time in a month.

Second time around then the treatment is less demanding, mainly popping pills. However, there has been the requirement for a CT scan, which required the insertion of a cannula. As we all know then none of this hurts but to describe my anticipation of the event, as anything less than stressful would be wrong. I actually came out of the scan shaking like a leaf. Feeble I know but we’re all made differently.

Possibly and strangely then I always feel that I should not be using the NHS. I walk in there  knowing that it is a precious resource and maybe it should be prioritised for those who couldn’t afford health insurance. It lives in a world of bad news stories about a lack on money, patients on trolleys in corridors, political strife and unhappy staff, which is probably not completely or nearly true. My experience of York District Hospital is nothing other than good.

Other trips into York were a lot more pleasurable and the present Mrs Ives took me to the theatre to see ‘Sunny Afternoon’. This musical has been on tour from the West End. It is the story of The Kinks. They take the story up until the early 1970’s when their catalogue of classic pop songs was at the top of the charts. Great stuff. Even more salutary was the power of the ‘grey pound’. On a damp Wednesday evening on a cold February night to get a full house at £36 a seat is no little achievement. The audience, my wife excluded as she reminds me, was of a certain vintage and they have the time and money for nights out.

As my Twitter description (@AHIves) advises then I have a large record collection – about 3,000 albums. I list this, naturally, on a spreadsheet (I am male and this is what we do). I wanted the spreadsheet to do something quite sophisticated with various ranking charts. So I asked my Favourite Youngest to put her immense talent to find a solution and I sent her the file. She played around with it and sort of found a fix. In her work she input some data to trial the fix. If you look at the picture then she’ll see what she thinks about my record collection!

Lastly when Anna gave up her grocery/delicatessen in Knaresborough – ‘Mungo Deli. Then it was probably time to move on but she so did enjoy the people interaction and misses the folk she became a friend to. I asked her about a small toy on her counter that wound up and would then somersault to entertain the small children who visited the shop with their mum. Unfortunately this was surrendered amongst the other assets. However a replacement toy has been sourced and now resides in Acaster Malbis. Ahhhh…..

February 20, 2017

I have become disillusioned with Trip Advisor over a number of things. Things To Do are biased and slanted toward promoted activities also I’m not sure that the accommodation is particularly complete as a selection in any town. So you end up, in any case, searching Google to truly understand what you can. I want small digestible chunks of information that either interest me or I can quickly discard.

So I thought why not do this with York? I’ve started to do this. I started a new Facebook Page called ‘York in 30 Seconds’ where I give a snapshot of what I’m talking about. With York there is a lot to cover and I shall tick off attractions when I go to a part of York where there is something to talk about.

Talking about ‘something’ to talk about then Anna is a devotee of rhubarb. (Eating not talking). So we ended up on tour just south of Wakefield at a rhubarb farm on Saturday – Oldroyd & Sons. This farm is one of eleven in the UK and is in the magic rhubarb triangle (I’m not making this up).

I was interested to learn about the various species, Sainsbury’s specific requirements, it’s arrival as a vital ingredient in Molten Brown cosmetics, blood thinning and cholesterol reduction properties, it’s WW2 history, its discovery on the banks of the River Volga in Russia and their reliance on Eastern European labour to pick the stuff. Sadly stopping hair loss hasn’t yet been attributed to this divine fruit but you feel that it is only a matter of time.

All this was explained by the most down to earth Yorkshire folk who just say the way it is. In the dark shed we received an apology for the low temperature – this was due to some previous visitors fainting when it was kept at its usual 24°C. Oldroyd’s couldn’t have that happen again because it “meant lots of form filling and it damaged the rhubarb when they fell on it”.

I shall have to slow down as a Speeding Fine has been received from the laughingly called ‘West Yorkshire Casualty Reduction Partnership’. These thieves (Police) have put in a speeding camera in a village just south of Wetherby, called Walton. For about half a mile you go through this sparsely populated settlement at, hopefully, 30 mph. I lost concentration and in the dark, at about 10pm, with no pedestrians or cars about; I soared to 36 mph. Booked.

At its worst that is 3 points, a £100 fine and an increase in insurance premium on the four cars we drive so, say, another £200 p.a? There’s a chance I will be allowed to attend a ‘Speed Awareness Course’ and at least avoid the points and the need to declare this crime (against humanity) to the insurance company. I wonder why so many people don’t respect law and order?

Lastly, like Star Trek, then with the present Mrs Ives I ventured to ‘where no man has been before’, namely east of Hull. We went to the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust reserve on Spurn Point. This is the long sand spit/bar that extends well into the Humber estuary. We were transported up the spit on a truck flat bed, in safari style, and got to see the wildlife, RNLI Station, WW1 & 2 emplacements, lighthouse and a lot of shipping heading for Immingham and Hull! Tremendous, put it in your diaries.

February 15, 2017

As I cycled along in the middle of nowhere on my American cycling trips then I always knew that somehow there would be enough to write a daily blog about. This journal/blog is no different. Imagine my delight at the arrival of ‘Comedy Gold’ from my Favourite Eldest.  Pornography.

One of the perks of her working for NBC in t’Smoke, who own Universal Pictures, is the occasional invite to a London premiere screening. So collecting her from York railway station to bring her home involved a review of the soft porno follow up called ‘Fifty Shades Darker’. To think I would be debating such a topic with my daughter is not even fathomable.

Also as regards the Silver Screen then we succumbed to a Netfix subscription, yes I know I am the last person in the world to get this arranged. The lure of being able to see the remaining episodes of ‘The Crown’ proved too large a temptation. I’ve been buying DvD boxsets on Ebay to feed my habit. The free month and eventually monthly subscription rate seems good value.

Less expensive are podcasts. I got my weekly fix of BBC Radio’s ‘Desert Island Discs’ with their guest this week guest being the brand that is David Beckham.

For those not familiar with the format then you get to hear the eight records that they would take to a desert island whilst Kirsty Young, the interviewer, picks though a handy recent autobiography.

Our David always struck me as a handsome footballer who played as long as he could and then had the frightening problem of being beyond wealthy but having little idea of how to spend his next 50 years without a football at his feet.

Quelle surprise, he has devoted a lot of his life to promoting good causes as well as underwear, after shave, watches etc. Recent media reports suggested that David, Goodwill Ambassador for Unicef, was furious that he didn’t receive the obligatory Knighthood. Frankly judging by some of the plonkers who have got this gong then he was right to be perplexed but nevertheless ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ and his frustration just highlights how obsolete and broken the British Honours system is.

However, I digress. Had I been asked how he might select his eight records then I imagine a PR executive on a fat retainer would be giving him advice. Given the target market and profile he has then I would never have selected Ella Fitzgerald or a jazz clarinetist born in New Orleans at the end of the 19th Century – Sidney Bechet. What a record collection that executive must have.

Lastly I reached the end of the Bruce Springsteen autobiography – ‘Born to Run’. In terms of ‘running’ then completing the 510 pages might be viewed as more like a marathon than a sprint. In his early days his wordy albums painted colourful pictures of young urban working class America often laced with epic rock tunes. His book falls into the wordy category; never afraid to use 40 words when five might do. If self-analysis is a feature of his songs’ young heroes then I genuinely feel that this book could be seen as a cathartic project for him. He’s obviously driven and tells a story of rags to riches but he pulls no punches in discussing his fractured personal relationships and his underlying mental health issues. Maybe with the world conquered it felt like time to put it all out there warts and all. He does and his honesty, if not his brevity, deserves credit.

If you’re tempted to read the book then there is a recent Desert Island Disc episode with him and you may learn as much, but in a fraction of the time.

February 7, 2017

|Tony Ives

I spent a few hours with the other York Carers Centre Trustees on Sunday at an ‘away day’ but despite this coming under the category of work I was released from a task that my wife was pleased (and equipped) to complete. That was looking after the three year old son of my nephew and his wife. Despite sharing a lot in common with males of this age group then I was frazzled after only two hours.

On returning him back to his keepers we did ask about the strange names given to a couple of his soft toys. A bear was called Barry and a cow was called Bossy. Apparently Barry was just a name knocking about when the ‘said’ animal was christened. The cow was christened around the same time and when his mother, slightly surprised, asked as to why the cow got this name then Ted looked at her as if she were stupid and calmly explained that as it was a cow then obviously it would be called Bossy cow.

As we are into mysteries then we went to the cinema this week to see ‘La La Land’. Great acting but tuneless, a stitched together plot, a Musical with folk who couldn’t sing and whilst jazz saved the couple hours for me then most people don’t like jazz! No doubt it will sweep the Oscars in between various speeches telling me that global Armageddon is imminent. Emperor’s new clothes?

Eventually the bridge in Tadcaster has re-opened after having been closed for 13 months after storm damage. The TV news crews were there in force as well as a live Facebook feed of the actual completion and access being granted. This was after the Prime Minister was asked to share her joy in Parliament by the local MP. Great to see this little place on the national news.

The weekend saw me in London. The favourite eldest has her own small corner of Haringey with her boyfriend, which enables me to perch for a very reasonable rate for a few nights. This does require the catching of buses to get around. Frankly I always thought that these were for poor people or more commonly for getting from the Terminal to the aeroplane.

Lunch at The Hawksmoor in Covent Garden was with old (obviously) school friends from Ashville College – John Varley and Mark Davies. After a short recovery the next morning saw me in the Barbican with an old chum from my MBA days, Tony Franco, for a cholesterol special breakfast. He arrived by Surly bicycle…. very cool. In the afternoon I took up his recommendation to visit the Tate Britain in Pimlico with Katrina. What a superb free gallery.

January 27, 2017

This week I attended a York Carers Centre hub in my capacity as a trustee and met some of the staff and some of the people they provide help for. In York there are over 18,000 carers and I am always humbled by how they cope and their devotion to the person they care for. It is a growing responsibility for everyone out there. I’m glad to be trying to contribute.

The grey matter was also engaged this week as I attended York University night school classes. This term it’s ‘England & The Irish Question (1823 -1923)’. A fabulous couple of hours delving into the history of Ireland and its tribulations to get to its independence.

The news continues to be difficult. No I am not referring to world affairs but the latest cancer risk revealed this week – over cooking roast potatoes. I genuinely do accept that they might have this potential but with hospitals full of people who have spent their life eating fried food, smoking and drinking like drains then I think this may not be a priority concern.

As a landlord we have a flat in York that we let. Experience has enabled us to avoid problem tenants but there can be challenges. The current set are young with one working and one being a PhD student. Infrequent visits to the property reveal that they aren’t house-proud and I am inclined to line them up like errant teenagers and tell them to buck up and dust and wash up or note that the drawers are there for putting things into. (I have a gift for communication).

Apart from being easy going and tolerant then also you have to stay on top of the condition and performance of the property. We have hit a cycle of refurbishment and we are spending a lot of money changing the internal heating solutions. I agreed a  price with a contractor and a date was set. On the day I turned up to let the contractor into the house.

I discovered a scene that looked like parts of the flat had been burgled with the added bonus of dirty pots etc. So I apologised to the contractor; showed him the work and left. Anna visited on the lunchtime the next day to see how they were getting on and to establish a finish time for me to inspect the final work. She was not impressed to find one tenant in bed and a pile of dishes in the sink that seemed architecturally impossible to stack. She sent them a text expressing displeasure! Now usually she is calm and conciliatory and I am unreasonable and confrontational (another gift).

I came to inspect the final installation and let the contractor go. Up and about was the tenant and so maybe a few words might be exchanged when I’d finished with the electricians.

However, the tenant wanted to speak to me (!) She led off with an apology for the state of the flat and advised that she’d been sent home from work as she was so upset. She and her partner were splitting up. Hence the state of the property. So I went from being Mr Angry to an Agony Aunt – clearly a ‘work in progress career change for me! We sat down and had a chat about the future tenancy and the like. Poor girl.

I can’t believe my wife sent that text.

An expedition was also made to Huddersfield (of mashed potato fame) where a visit was made to the temple aka Vinyl Tap and this gem procured for my favourite eldest daughter’s LP collection.

Lastly, I was out on Thursday night with a pal having a curry. Got back to be asked “do you know how many pairs of underpants you have?” by  the present Mrs Ives. Before venturing a very inaccurate estimate I enquired as to why she knew the answer? She had been tidying/organising my drawers. So if anyone has some suggestions as to how she might spend her time more usefully or the exact number of kegs I have them then please feel empowered to let me know in the ‘Comment’ box below.

January 23, 2017

In what was generally a tumultuous week, which saw The Donald installed in The White House and hundreds of thousands on the street then life in York was a lot more quiet. It was a time for seeing old friends and so coffees were drunk and biscuits ate.

As a fashion icon then mistakes were made when I found myself in Lidl wearing Crocs. Despite a concession for age then the rules of engagement dictate that you are not allowed to wear them more than 100 yards from your front door. It has to be said that as opposed to attracting ridicule then I did fall into step with other footwear on display! 

However, probably not much more than 100 yards from the front door was a splendid walk with the present Mrs Ives on Sunday in a local wood – the image shows the early morning sun but regrettably not the rapidly departing deer that fled on our arrival! It was cold first thing but got colder and after this stroll I ventured out briefly on my bike returning when the temperature had fallen to -2.1° C or 28° F. A bit too much like ‘brass monkeys’ as they say round here.

As you might suspect then I spoil her and the latest indulgence involved an outing up to Middlesbrough to watch some Premiership football. (This is not my team but we enjoy watching a quality spectacle). We watched the ‘Boro lose 1-3 to the cheeky East London Cockneys – West Ham United. Andy Carroll was a class apart from the other players on show and for that he only graced the contest for 66 minutes but found time to score two goals and make numerous defensive headers. Quite a tidy stadium but being sat close to the away fans wasn’t all good as they took The Sandpipers’ 1963 hit of ‘Guantalamera’ and replaced the Cuban lyrics with the delicate refrain of ‘you’re just a town full of paedos’. Southern class.

With all things Donald in the air then I took to the airwaves to join Jonathan Cowap on the BBC Radio York morning show to add to a conversation about holidaying in the USA. I have to admit that being on the radio would have been beyond exciting a year or two back but I have done it five times now and feel like an old hand. 

For an hour I commented with a bloke from London, on the line, giving expert travel advice plus callers Jonathan invited to join the show. Dorothy from Malton got slightly tongue tied when her big moment came and couldn’t remember where she had visited… but apparently it was nice! As I departed Jonathan told me that the next hour was concentrating on American cuisine. I so love the place but umm.. good luck with that one!

On other cultural fronts then I finished Season 2 of Kevin Spacey’s House Of Cards and am working my way through Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography ‘Born To Run’.

January 15, 2017

January 9th saw all the UK get back to work. As usual the holiday seemed too long with the usual grumble of why have so much time off work with the weather so miserable. Early highlights saw me lunching with the Vale of Pickering Probus Club before taking them across America in 45 minutes (see Travel blog). Probus is an organisation emerging out of Rotary for retired or semi retired Professional and Business chaps. Anyway no snoring despite getting the fateful after lunch shift and a few quid raised for the charity.

With the present Mrs Ives not working then we are ‘doing things together (“brilliant” I hear every married man sympathise). This extended to going swimming together. I am rubbish and plod wearily up the pool giving the lifeguards cause to worry about a potential drowning incident whilst Anna sped up and down the pool. The first problem was that as she swam past then I would like you to imagine the comparison between a small dinghy in a harbour whilst the cross channel ferry catches it in its wake, I was that dinghy. As I am recuperating at one end she then offers coaching advice. Two words came to mind and they weren’t ‘breast stroke’. To top a super joint activity then when I left the pool I approached a woman leaving the shower area with a towel on her head and encumbered with several bottles of shampoo and other emulsions. I had forgotten my shampoo and thinking that this woman was my wife I instructed her to hand across a shampoo. She did this in a slightly confused fashion until I discovered that she was not my wife. Well, I wasn’t wearing my specs was I!

I waste far too much time on social media. In my enthusiasm for politics and current affairs I follow a number of interesting characters not least Hull’s very own adulterous pugilist John Prescott (a former British Deputy Prime Minister).

He Tweets the usual left of centre stuff and gets lots of hammer from those who remind him of his gilded career. Imagine the bemusement when he Tweeted asking for help on repairing his grandchild’s toy train. This was a delightful and quirky post: it’s as if the political Tweets are really a game but when something important comes up then you send out something that says ‘hey, I’m a human being and can we stop the game temporarily whilst I resolve a practical problem’. Many helped with attendant images but he received lots of replies along the lines of him being a “Fat Controller’ and ‘don’t ask Southern Rail they’re on strike’!

With the weather getting a little snowy we drove, on Saturday, up to Skipton and alighted on the choo choo puffa to Appleby. This is a train ride into the north west of Yorkshire and over the county border into Cumbria (or formerly Westmorland). What staggering scenery. We eventually got off the train and mooched around Appleby where Mrs Ives bought some German brandy before the return trip (which remained unopened I have to add).

The above image is from the train window. You start to appreciate what an engineering feat the construction of the line was.

We never got a proper view of Ribblehead Viaduct – you need to be beneath it. This is an epic Victorian structure that enabled a great span to be achieved to carry the railway track between hills. I did volunteer driving up here in the Morgan when the weather was better to complete the task, this initiative was received with mixed enthusiasm by my co pilot.

The outing was topped off by a wonderful vegetarian meal at ‘The Veggie’ in Ilkley. We were passing through on the way home and after the no small task of finding parking we dined here. I am one of the people who if they experience something terrible or fabulous are quick onto Trip Advisor and I was delighted to wax lyrical about this establishment.

Next week sees me (or hears me?) on BBC Radio York again, they are having an American theme on Presidential Inauguration Day and apparently they think I know a bit about the USA as a tourist destination.  I am on with someone from ABTA.

…….also as they say then I have a face for radio.