7th June 2012

Sarah spent the week back in Sheffield, fulfilling her duties as Social Secretary of the Scuba Diving Club by organising their end-of-year dinner/party/booze-up (delete as appropriate). She also had her final course meeting and the small matter of packing up her worldly goods from the Pinnacles.

On Friday, we hosted the Rothwells for a curry. The plan had been to stroll down to the pub in Lubenham afterwards, but as the weather had turned damp and dismal, we decided against it. A soggy walk and a pint didn’t appeal.

Come Saturday morning, I drove up to Sheffield to collect Sarah. Once the car was loaded, I made myself comfortable in the lounge and pretended to watch “Time Team” while she blitzed her apartment. I would have helped, of course, but the sight of Sarah wielding a duster was too much of a novelty to interrupt. With a bit of practice, she could even become proficient at it. After a last-minute inspection, she handed over the keys, and we set off south, only to be delayed by a crash on the M1. An extra hour in traffic, just what you need after a morning of packing.

That evening, Sue whisked Sarah off to stay with Charlotte, who was volunteering with Sure Start. She was doing face-painting to raise money for children’s equipment, and judging from their Facebook rehearsal, the sisters had already transformed each other into surprisingly unconvincing tigers.

Meanwhile, Sue and I had arranged to collect my mother from the airport before visiting Uncle Stanley. We booked into the Last Drop Inn Village Hotel near Bolton (which sounds more like a pub crawl than a Mercure). On Monday, we arrived at Stanley’s around noon. He flatly refused to come out for lunch, but we enjoyed coffee and conversation instead. His eyesight has sadly worsened, so we gently suggested that it might be time to consider moving somewhere with a bit more support. His independence and garden are dear to him, so I wasn’t sure how well it would go down, but the seed has at least been planted.

From there, we checked into the hotel, then explored a nearby garden centre (for sustenance rather than begonias). Later, we stretched our legs with a walk around Entwistle Reservoir, pausing for a pint at a pub with spectacular views. While admiring some piglets in the next field, Sue was accused of stealing a local’s newspaper. I gallantly offered to duel for it, but as she’d already finished reading, it was returned peacefully.

On the way back, we stopped at Turton Tower, a 600-year-old Tudor manor house with Victorian additions, still buzzing after a Jubilee rock concert the night before. Back at the hotel, which is fashioned from converted farm buildings and feels like a little village, we discovered they’d be lighting a Jubilee beacon at 10:15 pm. After a hearty dinner, we braved the cold to join the crowd for the flames and fireworks before retreating inside for a nightcap.

The next morning, we ventured over the moors again, this time through a quarry and past Turton Golf Club. Rain threatened but never materialised. With hours to spare before Nan’s flight, we stopped in a Manchester suburb for a drink. Big mistake. The pub was up for sale, the landlord was hobbling after a run-in with some heavies, and a drug dealer was doing brisk trade at the bar. We made a swift exit before appearing in the next episode of Crimewatch.

Nan’s flight was delayed, but we passed the time chatting to cousin Andrew in the arrivals hall, who was there to ferry Josie home. Once reunited with Nan and her sister, we all went our separate ways. We stopped at the pub in Whiston for a meal before reaching Thurcroft. Nan retired early to be along with Sue, while I stayed up to watch Scotland miraculously beat Australia at rugby.

Wednesday brought Nan’s hair appointment. I chauffeured her there and filled the time with a spot of weeding before picking her up. We lunched at the Royal Elephant in Dinnington before heading home to Harborough, where we found Sarah back from Charlotte’s with the boys in tow. Suraj, meanwhile, was out of action thanks to a bouncy-castle-related back injury, a truly heroic war wound. Later in the week, he admitted he still wasn’t up to playing golf.

Despite the relentless rain of the last few days, I managed to fix a leaky pump and clean the pool. Meanwhile, Harborough Council have offered an apartment at Huntingdon Gardens that Nan might fancy. Jamie, Sue and I went to view it, and it ticked all the boxes. I showed Nan some photos after her return from Spain, and she’s keen to see it in person next week. Fingers crossed.