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Sayings

Yorkshire between the rain storms…..

Talking to a fellow Yorkshire Citizen this morning and as he tried to navigate his possessed General Waste Wheelie Bin passed his brand new electric car. Very Carefully passed as the Wheelie Bin looked like it would win in any head to head contest. I asked him how is new car was and the reply was

“Sound as a Pound”….

Instantly I was taken back to my old Dad, that was one of his favourite sayings. Sadly since Brexit, even Dad would have to concede that there are way more financially stable currencies than ours.

But it did make me think about all those old sayings that were such a part of the cut and thrust of Yorkshire life back then. Most are now probably not best said before the children are safely in bed. But a few just about ok for polite conversation. I have also tried to write these in English rather than in Yorkshire. Trust me people in deepest Yorkshire don’t speak like those folk in that quite famous Yorkshire posh house, Downton Abbey.

“Where there’s muck there is brass”

As an Accountant I can confirm that is true.

“Back in my day”

Hawklad will confirm that I’m saying that one more and more along with the Danny DeVito line ‘Getting Old Sucks, don’t let anybody tell you any different’.

“Eat your crusts as it will make your hair curl”

Dad would say that one even after he had gone bald and now I’m getting to that stage where I would happily settle for curls, settle for any hair really.

As we continue the food health advice…

“Eat your carrots, you never see a rabbit with glasses”

That’s very true but unfortunately I’ve eating a shed load of carrots over my many centuries and it has done nowt for my Lazy Eye.

“I’m off to see a man about a dog”

That one is easy, Dad would say that when he was off to the pub for a drink.

“There’s no accounting for taste”

Our old headmaster would always say that to any child with a new haircut. Plus as I became an Accountant then clearly there is no accounting for taste…

“As fit as a butchers dog”

I’ve never seen a butchers dog so can’t confirm and deny that one.

“You would make a better door than window …”

Basically get out the way I’m trying to watch the TV.

“You don’t get owt for nowt…”

Never trust anything that is given to you for free. Strangely although Dad would say this one, I also never saw him turn down anything for free.

The best one I can remember was a favourite one Dad would say down his allotment. You can explain this one to me…..

“Never trust a man who doesn’t know his Leeks from his Scallions”

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Carpet

That’s a proper carpet.

This is one of our favourite walks, just so very peaceful. It’s a great place to find that stillness we all need sometimes.

Mostly peaceful.

A family meet-up here a few years back. A beautiful family get together, all apart from a wasp sting, one twisted ankle and my only case of fleas….. A friendly squirrel interested in being hand fed some carrots and grapes. We shared our food, he shared his fleas…..

Most Hallowe’ens we have a night trip here, it’s a great place to tell slightly lame scary tales. Completely pitch black, silence punctuated by the occasional owl hooting and unseen creatures moving in the undergrowth, probably covered in fleas. Torch Beams crossing paths with the ornate wood sculptures definitely give seriously good jump scares.

At night these sculptures genuinely do seem alive, almost like they move, expressions change.

Would you come for a torch lit walk here…..

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Time

Someone asked why do we go to so many concerts…

The obvious answer is that we both like music. I seem to have inflicted my musical tastes on Hawklad so it’s also easy to agree on which bands to see.

Maybe part of it is also to try and create as many memories as possible. It’s not always easy for Hawklad to feel relatively as ease in the wider world. But we have found a way to make concerts work for him. They are definitely something we can plan and do, minimising some of the risk factors for him. Concerts in that sense are easier to setup, much less problematic, more controllable than say going on holiday. Since our world changed we have been able to make happen quite a lot of concerts without encountering too many things going wrong. Over those nine plus years we haven’t managed yet to go on holiday. Still just feels a step too far for him yet. You can’t micromanage every factor that could happen, but at least with concerts there is a level of predictability that makes them safer bets for Hawkkad.

But we are still trying to find a way to make a holiday happen.

So we found ourselves at the new state of the art arena in Manchester, to see ELO on their last tour. This time life’s unpredictability happened to the band. Poor Jeff Lynne broke his hand in a taxi accident just before the short final tour started. He was also struggling with a systemic infection which was getting worse. The concert was really good but you could see Jeff was starting to struggle. He managed to finish the set but needed to sit for the final few songs and was quickly helped off stage at the end. Subsequently he had to cancel the final two concerts so currently we saw the last ELO concert. Maybe they can still do something down the road when he is properly healed.

Driving back from the concert I realised just how many of the bands I grew up with, bands I love and now Hawklad loves, are getting older. Time is moving on. More and more we are seeing bands on their last Tours. Some stars are sadly passing on. Hawklad never got to see Ozzy, we tried twice but the concerts were cancelled on health grounds. Wasn’t to be. I saw him once in the eighties, never imagining that would be the only time.

Time moves on….

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Magical trees

The local Arboretum has over 7000 trees from around the world spread over 120 acres. That’s a lot of wonderful trees….

But we love one part of the wood fest in particular. The trees here have real character. They look like characters from Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Almost magical.

And if you look really closely, they also have hats…. Bird House Hats.

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If only

Our modest village bungalow….. need to clean the brickwork…..

If only…..

Actually a pleasant walk around Castle Howard.

April 1st….

April Fools Day….

What’s it called when you think you have spotted an April Fools Joke and it turns out to be reality, no joke.

I had been out for a run this morning, which given the tight leggings I was wearing, probably counts as some form of joke….. Running back through the village and the Postman shouted over to me.

“There’s a horse in your garden chomping on your front grass.”

Yeh right…… not falling for that one…..

Two minutes later, I’m stood looking at our front garden and thinking…. Why is there a horse there eating grass.

Thankfully eating grass as just a few inches away was our daffodils and I think I remember that stuff is bad for them. Clearly somehow that horse had escaped from the farmers field behind us. I’m not really a horse person so was a bit unsure on how to encourage it back to where it should be. The kneeling down in front of it and shouting ‘here boy’ might work with dogs but not with this horse. Gently trying to push it in the general direction of the field gate (like I do with our pudding of a boy cat), was a tad unsuccessful. Ok back to dog tactics, wave a treat in front of it. A clump of grass didn’t work, a carrot didn’t work…. But unbelievably a Rich T biscuit caught its attention. Before one biscuit was consumed, the beast had shifted about 2 yards. Sadly about another 60 to go. I only have 2 biscuits left….

Thankfully the farmer then arrived having been alerted by the Postman. A few seconds later the horse was back home in his field. All it took was a few quiet words, a handful of seed and the horse followed the farmer.

Clearly I’m no horse whisperer and now I’m double checking some of the news items that I assumed were practical jokes. Trump as President and the Golf of America apparently aren’t practical jokes…..

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What were they thinking of…

The Roman Empire covered a fair chunk of the known world. Often hot, sunny places, well they did like a glass of wine and the occasional olive. But for some reason they headed over here as well, to the British Isles. A land not really known for its vineyards and Sun. But they persevered and probably started to invent things like scarfs, fleece tops, thermal underwear, woolly hats and Gortex jackets . At one stage our local city became the unofficial capital of the Empire as Constantine was proclaimed Emperor here. But as they edged further north the penny must have started to drop. What were we thinking of. Eventually they hit Northumberland and decided sod this for a lark. A giant wall was built across the country to mark the official northern boundary of the empire. The rest of Northern England and Scotland deemed too cold, too wet, with too many hooligans and way too many bagpipes to bother with.

Ok my O-Level History might be a tad rusty and unreliable these days….

A few days back we headed towards the edge of the old empire. To the nearly 2000 year old ruins of a huge Roman fort and town.

Then on to Hadrians Wall.

Once 6m tall and heavily defended. With the remoteness, the grim weather, you can see why it was the inspiration for The Wall in The Game of Thrones.

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Ice

Cold cold cold….

You know it’s cold when you can step across ice and not hear a single crack or ice groan. Even having gingerly tottered halfway and inevitably hitting the ice with the force of a giant meteor about to wipe out the dinosaurs…. not the slightest ice indent.

Now filled with unbounded hope and belief in that ice, I visioned the perfect opportunity to excel in life once more….. I can do this. Sprint like a cheetah, build up vast amounts of momentum, jump on the snow sledge and majestically sail across the mighty ice lake. The first human ever to successfully sledge from East to West on this huge swath of lake ice (sounds way better than a big pond)… A cold Yorkshire hill, the theatre of dreams…..The beauty and grace of Swan Lake seamlessly combined with the power and agility of an elite sporting superhero.

Once again reality rips asunder unfounded hope….

A few moments later I’m stranded halfway, now face down in the ice and with the sledge riding on top of me. Going nowhere, unable to even get any purchase on my limbs to get up.

Spreadeagled on ice….. That’s probably a video title from the very top row section of Blockbusters….

It took me 5 minutes to find dry land again. It’s incredibly emasculating to be basically pushed by your sniggering son, helplessly across the ice like a curling stone….

Bring on summer……

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Panto

Oh yes it’s a trip to the Panto…

On no it’s not…

Oh YES it is…

That might make no sense to anyone not used to Panto World. A big Christmas tradition in the UK. Outlandish costumes, songs, dances, bad jokes, family jokes, some not so family jokes, getting as many children in the audience to shout out and get involved as possible. So much more, most which are beyond rational explanation.

The Panto at the old York Theatre Royal is always brilliant entertainment. The hard work that must go into this to be this good.

One established Panto Law is that if you are a Dad, don’t sit anywhere near the stage and never ever on the front row. As you can see from the photo I was safely hidden in the roof…..

At every performance, one poor soul is going to have the longest couple of hours of his life. Picked on during the Panto to be a part of the show. A friend of mine was asked to pretend to be a Lion from his front row seat and I once was subjected to a custard pie in the face by the Panto Villain. At the show we went to last year, one Dad was picked on and at random times had to shout out ‘words of affection’ to the Panto Dame on stage. Panto Dame is probably unexplainable, just look it up….. Looking at that Dad’s increasingly red face, he was so hoping the torture would stop way before the 3 hour show’s big finale.

He got off lucky…..

This year a poor Dad from the front row was picked out. Oh boy was he picked out. Initially it started off like last year, with the Dad having to shout out a few embarrassing things from his front row seat. But then….. He was donned with a costume, brought on stage, given a sheet of written lines and tried as best as he could to act. Not exactly Oscar level acting unsurprisingly. Very funny but the other Dads in the audience also sharing in his discomfort, that could have been me….

When he returned to his seat, he clearly slumped thinking the torture was over….I was reminded of that Simpsons scene where Bart says he’s having his worst moment of his life and Homer chips in ‘SO FAR…’.

After the intermission that Dad had to endure a few more thankfully for him, briefer moments of embarrassment. Then the Big Show Finale. The Cast are leading the crowd in singing some famous songs and suddenly they announce they need to change costume for the ending, so the poor Dad was pulled on stage and left by himself to lead the audience in singing ‘I’m Gonne Be (500 miles)’. Stood all alone on stage in front of the sell out 750 audience, with the cast stood in the wings looking on. Poor poor man. I have a weaponised voice but not quite as out of tune as this Dad. He gamely tried some moves as well but you could almost see this man’s soul leaving his body as the song went on. Finally the torture was over for him, hugs from the Panto Cast and a standing ovation.

I bet he never ever sits on the front row of a Panto again. I will look out for him in the roof next year….. Where the coward Dad’s sit.

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Christmas Trees

I’ve finished putting up the Christmas Trees. A small one just in front of our front door.

And another tree in our small entrance hall.

Hopefully not too pretentious this year…..

In my dreams.

Maybe in reality we went to see how Castle Howard does Christmas…..

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Peaceful morning

Seconds from one of THOSE moments….

Walking along the peaceful Yorkshire roads. No cars, no people, just the sound of birds and a happy dog excitedly bouncing through a carpet of dry leaves. One of those times when the World seems still, peaceful. I try to capture the moment.

Then a dog does what a dog needs to do.

With Pop Bag in hand I bend over to deal with the smelly doggie gift. My mobile slips gracefully out of my jacket chest pocket and tumbles almost in slow motion to the ground.

Some things in life are INEVITABLE, Thanos was right about that.

Like a precision tool, my mobile scores a direct hit onto the newly produced Doggie Gift. Think of the sound welly boots make when squelching through inches of mud….

I am no physicist but there must be some universal laws at play here, but how does both sides of mobile get covered…. How does it get inside the protective case. How does it fill the speaker holes. For the first time my mobile has full coverage in Rural Yorkshire.

Then that realisation. No hankies, no tissues, nothing to begin to wipe it clean. A poop bag is absolutely no use here, it just spreads and smears. Dry leaves help a bit but they can only do so much. It’s a long winding two mile walk home with the smelliest mobile in the world and I’ve used my last poop bag

Do I just carry it at arms length like I’m holding some biological weapon….

Do I lose all self respect and just put it in my pocket……

Such decisions for a peaceful Yorkshire morning .