Tag Archives: wedding

Back!

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Puffins at Bempton

I’m back from Norfolk. Sorry about the various delays in comments and reading (I have not even started to catch up on reading yet).

The car started playing up on the way there and got worse on the way back. With No 2 Son, partner and Grandson on board, this was not a great scenario. I did get back and am now bracing myself for a costly quote. They typically wear out by 120,000 miles (which is what I have done) so I shouldn’t be disappointed, but as my other Passat did 247,000 miles without needing anew clutch and I have driven a host of Fords and Citroens over 120,000 on the same clutch, I do feel disappointed, whatever the website may say.

With last year’s cam belt replacement I should be able to go another ten years without major work. Famous last words . . .

Springfields

I am very sunburnt on the head and ears. This is partly because I forgot to pack a hat, partly because I tried to tough it out (Note a positive mental attitude does not defend against sunburn) and partly because our side of the family was allocated seats in the sun at the outdoor ceremony. The bride’s family had all the shade.

It is painful, made worse by it being partly self-induced, and I am feeling sorry for myself. I have also had a rejection from someone who always rejects me. This adds to the misery, but not much and not for long.

We got home last night. It is nice to be back. This morning at around 10.45 all the electrics went out. They came back on a couple of minutes later and we had to reset all sorts of stuff. This was annoying, though not as annoying as having your infrastructure demolished by the Israeli or US Air Forces, so falls into the realm of First World problems. Of course, with the way the US makes enemies these days, and the Russians nibbling away at the edges of Europe, it’s probably only a matter of time before we get bombed.

At times like this, I wonder if it was a responsible thing to do to have a family.

Poppies growing from cracks in concrete

WP seems to be making changes. My media files are being presented differently and they are giving us stickers. They are trying to involve us more, stop us leaving as they mess us about and will, I suspect, eventually be linked to a money-making scheme. I have studied this sort of thing because it fascinates me. It’s also what Number One Son used to do whe he worked in internet gambling.

2nd of the Day

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Honeysuckle

On our return home yesterday, we fell asleep. The night before had been a long one, getting everything ready, the drive hadn’t been particularly relaxing, and we are getting older. Julia went to bed for a while, I fell asleep in my chair. I woke up and went to bed around 11.00 and Julia woke up to make herself a drink. Then we slept again.

Having slept well, I rose at 6.00. At 6.48 Julia had a text from Number Two Son, who had landed at Heathrow. He will be here at around ten, with partner and The Grandson. It’s all happening.

Did you know it’s possible to have a wedding on a Tuesday and then another service and a reception on a Saturday? I didn’t. I do now.

Poppy

I just checked. In my early morning stupor I seem to have forgotten to mention that the wedding in question was that of Number One Son. Number Two is flying in to be best man at the second ceremony. These modern concepts are all a bit too new and hectic for me. It used to be so much simpler . . .

You used to get married in church. If you didn’t go to church you got married in a Registry Office. We got married in a Registry Office.  It was a simple ceremony for a simple man and it seems to have worked as we are still married.

There was a pause in my day here as we went down to pick the family up from the station and do thinsg like eat lunch, take the Grandson to see the ducks and generally chat about how tired everyone was. Flying overnight and changing time zones is nearly as tiring as being old and decrepit. It’s nice to see. For part of the afternoon Julia and I looked after the Grandson as the other went out shopping with my sister. They had things to buy you can’t get in Canada. With the soothing help of Zog (a cartoon dragon), stitching, and some crooning from Julia I soon fell asleep before she woke me to tell me I was supposed to stay awake and do grandfatherly things.

Poppy

I’m hemming a pair of trousers as the only ones I have that are deemed suitable for a smart wedding are too long for me. It comes to something when a man’s wardrobe decisions are discussed by the whole family. I can only wait with bated breath for the discussions which will surround their decision to put me in a home. The stitching is poor and erratic, and slow, and my needle threading antics are pitiful (involving a threader, cotton, needle and jeweller’s eyeglass) but I thought I should make the effort, both sartorially, and to save Julia a job as she is already racing round organising lots of other stuff.

You would never guess from my efforts that the Gregson side of my family were haberdashers and dressmakers.

I think it’s a cranesbill geranium

And Again . . .

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I do have an excuse for missing yesterday’s post, I was at a wedding. This seemingly uncomplicated statement , when unravelled, turns into a more complicated tale. It involved leaving the house by 9.00, which should have been quite simple, but by the time I had persuaded my joints to move, got my trousers on etc, we were close to that. Then one of us, and I am not one to utter public criticism of anyone, had to sort the contents of her handbag, as she does. I mention no names . . .

Yellow flowers in need of identification

Then, I noticed the satnav was forecasting a journey time of nearly three hours, where my original estimate had been a little over two. Suddenly my plan of two hours plus an hour for all eventualities started to look a bit thin. This was particularly noticeable, as the estimated time of arrival showed a tendency to become a minute of two later every time I checked. I stopped checking, but that didn’t stop the advance of time.

Progress was impeded by a number of slow lorries and by intermittent rain. It was further made to seem slower  by the flat and not particularly pleasant countryside. Don’t get me wrong, I used to live in the Fens and can appreciate a piece of scenery that stays flat all the way to eternity, particularly when dotted with the occasional tree and derelict building, but there’s something about the Norfolk side of Peterborough that has always failed to thrill me.

Meadow flowers at East Leake

Then we got onto the network of small roads in Norfolk. Reasonably picturesque, but bereft of place where public toilets are to be found. That led to to a tricky few miles, particularly with the clock ticking on. Eventually we arrived with about ten minutes to spare, and parked in the staff car park, despite the notice about it not being for visitors. There was an “accessible” (the new term for disabled spaces) space and we decided that a man with two sticks (I had bought new sticks for the wedding) should be able to park there anyway. So we did. You could tell it was “accessible” because it had a sign saying so and so yellow lines. Apart from that, it was an odd shape, in a tricky corner and not particularly easy to use. It was, however,  conveniently situated by the back door of the Registry Office and we arrived in time.

The journey back was quicker, though the traffic was heavier and the weather took a turn for the worse towards the end of the journey. When we were about ten minutes from home someone decided to pull out in front of us. An emergency stop in the rain seems a good place to stop the account of the day.

More will follow.

Wild flowers

 

Trousers, rats and vole-au-vents

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Yesterday comprised mainly of paperwork, a meeting and fighting my way through traffic. The latter was caused by having to pick up some alterations Julia was having done. We’re going to a wedding reception on Saturday night and she wanted her new trousers to fit. I’m have new trousers too, but I have lower personal standards in matters of appearance so mine will be going on straight out of the bag.

I haven’t actually bought new trousers for the reception, it’s just that time of year. Two pairs of black, two pairs of dark green and I’m set for weddings, funerals, interviews, casual wear and anything else the world may throw at me in the next 12 months. Last year’s trousers now become working garments and don’t ask me about the year before because I’m hard on trousers and after two years you can almost sense them sighing with relief as they split, tear or simply wear through.

Being a modern couple, Julia’s niece and husband got married abroad and are holding the reception in Nottingham because that’s where they live. Suits me. In the old days we’d have had to trek down to Suffolk, where the bride’s parents live, and I’d have felt duty-bound to complain all the way down.

I suppose that isn’t a bad trade off – an hour in traffic set off against a trip to Suffolk and back.

While I was parked behind a building waiting for Julia I was treated to the sight of a young rat cavorting in an overgrown margin. It seemed full of the joys of spring and looked very well fed, but you would do if you have access to an endless supply of discarded take-away food.

I used to shout at rats and throw things at them, but they don’t understand me and I always miss. I now take a more laid back approach and merely think bad things about them. I don’t like them but I’m not going to raise my blood pressure over them when it achieves nothing.

I have an inventive solution to the rat problem, which I wrote about a year ago but was never able to find a reason to use it. I have a reason now. It also addresses another modern problem.

They say you’re never more than six feet away from a rat (or two metres for my younger readers) and estimates vary from one rat per person to two rats per person, according to something I was reading recently.

These rats are free range and at six foot the food miles are not great.

Ah, the “food miles” bit rather gives it away. Think about it, rats are seen as a legitimate foodstuff in some parts of the world and they are certainly more traditional than tofu and micro-veg.

Free range local food. If you applied that label to chicken people would pay a premium for it.

I was almost saddened to see that both figures are probably wrong, with only one rat to share between six of us and a distance of 50 metres. However, it’s still a practical proposition, and with the new super rat there will be more meat to go around. Incidentally, that last link also says there will be three times as many rats as people, which is a good example of why it’s a bad idea to believe anything you read on the net.

If you don’t fancy a rat, how about starting with something smaller and cuter – the vole-au-vent. A cute rodent garnished with something tasty in a puff pastry shell. I’m wondering if I could send out a press release and get anyone to believe that. Or to see if I could get Heston Blumenthal interested in the recipe.

 

 

Rainy Monday

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I knew there had to be a song lyric in there somewhere and sure enough the Carpenters obliged with Rainy Days and Mondays – Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

It would have been good, but I’m not unhappy about the rain. The other choice is from Shiny Toy Guns but I’m too old to even consider clicking on the lyrics of a band that is younger than the contents of my wardrobe.

I’ll have to write my own song. Rainy Monday, it wasn’t too bad. We got some stuff done and had a laugh when the willow water exploded on the desk. It’s a start…

Now we just need someone who can do blues guitar.

The willow water experiment has started. I’ve set two pairs of mint cuttings going – one in tap water and one in willow water and will see how the roots develop.

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Warning: if you make your willow water in a plastic bottle, keep the top screwed on and leave it for five days you might get a fermented foamy sort of moment when you first open it. It didn’t actually explode, but I thought the song lyric demanded more excitement than “fizzed up surprisingly and nearly caught me out” which was actually what happened.

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It fizzed up  a lot more than this but I didn’t get it all on camera

Later, Jamie and Bea from Shipshape Arts showed us their wedding photos – amazing do featuring, as you may have suspected, statuary, pyrotechnics and a home-made pinata.

Amongst all the mint tea I slipped in a cup of lemon balm tea for the Wild Food section – still not keen on the sort of lemony metallic taste I get from it. So far I drink mint tea for pleasure, nettle because it’s doing me good and lemon balm because I need something to write about in the Wild Food section – though it may take a day or two before it’s ready as Julia is trying to make me do proper work.