13th July 2015

Summer truly announced itself on the 1st of July when the country baked under clear blue skies and a scorching 37 degrees. The day before had been warm enough, prompting Jamie and a gaggle of his mates to descend on the pool for a splash and a cool-down. But as the real heatwave kicked in, Sue and I made a tactical retreat to the cinema in Kettering for the 11 am showing of ‘American Sniper’, a book I’d devoured on a previous holiday.

While the outside world simmered, we luxuriated in glorious air-con, sank into plush seats, sucked sweets, and watched a film that, surprisingly, wasn’t half-bad. Three blissful hours later, we stepped out into a humid wall of heat so thick it could have slapped us. It was like returning to the Far East, stepping off a plane and braving the sauna-like air while hunting for the hotel transfer.

On the way home, we popped in to see Roger Woolnough and found him alone in his little gym, hammering away at the weights. Turns out Fran had called time on their five-year relationship. She’d wanted to take things to the next level, but Roger, true to form, said no. A friend of his once described him as “one of life’s takers, not one of its givers,” so I suppose he’s nothing if not consistent. Still, I suspect this is one decision he might come to regret; Fran and Roger did seem perfectly matched. He looked gaunt and a bit miserable, truth be told. Sad.

We left with the air-con blasting away in the car, and headed home, only to be greeted not long after by Charlotte, the boys, and a friend who brought her kids along for the fun. The pool became a hive of splashing and laughter as they played and cooled off, eventually heading home in the late afternoon.

But peace was short-lived, as Jamie and his crew showed up shortly after to claim their turn in the water. As for me? My chance to cool off didn’t come until much later in the evening, typical! It’s hard work being the host, especially when there’s a pool involved on a hot day.

One morning, as we tucked into breakfast, we were treated to the sight of two Muntjac deer basking in the sunshine on the lawn across the river, an idyllic start to the day.

The following day, I plotted a walk from Welford into my GPS, and Sue and I set off on a delightful three-hour ramble through the Leicestershire countryside. The sun was shining, but unlike the sweltering heat of the previous day, a gentle breeze kept the humidity at bay, making it all the more enjoyable.

We finished our walk at the Wharf House Inn, where we met Charlotte, who’d driven to join us for lunch. The place was bustling with life, canal boaters, a lively rambling group, and a fair few locals who’d decided that making lunch was just too much effort. Despite the crowds, the service was prompt, the portions generous, and the prices refreshingly reasonable. Needless to say, it’s been added to our “must return” list!

Unfortunately, the following days turned cooler and wetter, great news for the plants and veg in the allotments and garden, if not quite so brilliant for us. The rain worked its magic, though, as evidenced by the bucketloads of fruit we’ve been picking daily.

On 3rd July, I ventured out and returned with a carrier bag brimming with elderflowers. The afternoon was pleasantly spent transforming them into six litres of elderflower cordial, a wonderfully refreshing drink when the hot days do decide to make a comeback!

Early on Saturday morning, we were jolted awake by a tremendous thunderstorm, its booming theatrics lighting up the skies. I managed to capture a photo of it at its peak over Market Harborough, a dramatic reminder of nature’s power.

On American Independence Day, Sue and I travelled to North Wales for my cousin Jeff’s 60th birthday celebration in Cefn-y-Bedd. Before the party, we stopped in Caergwrle to visit Nan’s bench. After sitting for a while, we noticed the flowers we had placed there in June were now sitting in a nearby waste bin. Later, we discovered that Cerys had removed them only the day before and put them there, remarkable that they’d stayed untouched for so long.

We climbed the steep slopes to the castle mound and checked on the honeysuckle we’d planted. Happily, it was still thriving, so we gave it a good watering before settling down for a picnic in the castle grounds. To our surprise, we were joined by a very friendly cat, who seemed quite content to bask in the sunshine beside us, close to one of the rocks where we had scattered Nan’s ashes. A coincidence? Perhaps. But I can’t help but wonder…

Before checking into a B&B Jeff had recommended, we stopped by to visit Aunty Josie and cousin David in Brymbo, a lovely chance to catch up.

That night’s accommodation, Dove Cottage, was a delightful surprise. Tucked away down a quiet little lane, it was surrounded by a picturesque cottage garden alive with birds and squirrels. Several plaques by the door boasted of its consistent 5-star ratings from the North Wales Tourist Board over the past four years, and it didn’t take long to see why. Stepping inside, we were immediately impressed by the charm and quality; it felt like a real hidden gem!

That evening, we strolled about a mile from the B&B to the party venue. With around 200 guests in attendance, the bar was doing a roaring trade. We settled at a table with David, Beryl, and Doreen, enjoying the lively atmosphere. Jeff’s wife, fittingly, served up sausages and chips, a nod to Jeff’s fame as a local butcher renowned for his award-winning sausages. It was a clever and delicious touch!

Later in the evening, I took a slightly wobbly Aunty Doreen onto the dance floor for a few spins. At 84, she proved surprisingly nimble, though we sat down when a smoochy number started playing; neither of us fancied that! I must have worn her out, as she left shortly afterwards. Sue and I returned to Dove Cottage just after midnight, still buzzing from the evening.

The following morning, after a lovely breakfast featuring two more of Jeff’s famous sausages, we set the GPS for Knutsford Market. Our destination was Sue’s nephew, Simon, who had recently swapped his management role at Waitrose for running his own business. He supports local artists by selling their work at markets, giving them a percentage of the profits, enough that some receive cheques of around £1,000 each month!

We found him just after he’d finished setting up his stall and spent a pleasant half-hour chatting in between his sales. After paying for some artwork Sarah had ordered, we wandered around the rest of the market. Knutsford is a charming town, close to Tatton Park, a venue often featured on one of Sue’s favourite shows, ‘Antiques Roadshow’. That day, there was an added treat: a stunning display of vintage American cars, which made for a perfect end to our visit.

The journey to our hotel for the night, a DeVere near Crewe, was nothing short of a nightmare. The heavens opened, and relentless spray reduced visibility to just a few metres for the entire drive; it was like navigating through a car wash set to maximum!

Once checked in, we holed up in our room for most of the afternoon. A wander around the hotel’s impressive grounds and golf course had been on the agenda, but the persistent downpour had other ideas.

Thankfully, early in the evening, the sun finally made an appearance, and we managed a brief exploration of the grounds before heading back to dress smartly for dinner. The three-course meal was excellent, definitely worth the soggy journey! Afterwards, we rounded off the evening with a visit to the bar for a couple of refreshments before retiring for the night.

After a hearty breakfast, we set off towards Manchester under heavy, leaden skies. Our destination was Uncle Stan’s house in Little Hulton. As we pulled up outside, the rain made its unwelcome return, perfectly in sync with the gloom of the day.

Uncle Stan, at an impressive 96 years of age, is nothing short of remarkable. Despite being partially deaf and blind, his sharp mind is as lively as ever. He keeps up with current affairs and politics and has, let’s say, very strong opinions on most topics. We spent just over four hours chatting, or rather, listening, while the rain hammered down, sadly preventing us from visiting his beloved garden, of which he’s understandably proud. As we said our goodbyes, he handed Sue a key to his front door, whispering ominously, “In case you need to let yourself in.”

That night, we checked into the Country House Hotel in Didsbury, navigating through what can only be described as classic Manchester weather. Once again, the rain kept us confined to our room, where I spent the time watching Wimbledon on TV while Sue worked on her tapestry.

Dinner was in the hotel restaurant, after which we braved the elements for a cinema outing. The SatNav, however, decided to play a game of “Find the Cinema”, a game we spectacularly lost. Despite the cinema being just 4km away, we managed to clock up 16km before the device finally got its act together. We watched ‘Amy’, a biography of Amy Winehouse. I hadn’t been expecting to enjoy it, so I wasn’t exactly disappointed, but I did find it well-made and interesting. For a miserable, rainy night, it beat sitting in our hotel room. A nightcap in the hotel bar rounded off the evening.

On the way back to Market Harborough, we stopped by Jodrell Bank and spent a couple of showery hours exploring the exhibits. The mix of science and rain felt fitting before we continued our journey homeward.

Back home, Sue and I threw ourselves into the never-ending cycle of picking fruit and tackling the mountain of garden tasks that had built up in our absence. It was a week of busy but satisfying work.

Midweek, Jamie invited us for an evening meal. Harley was supposed to be helping him with the preparations, but true to form, she arrived just before we did, perfect timing for maximum style and minimum effort!

Sue and I were blown away by what Jamie had managed to pull together. The meal was nothing short of spectacular, a true labour of love and an absolute treat. It was a wonderful evening, filled with delicious food and great company.

On 9th July, we drove over to Harbury to visit cousin Andrew and his wife for lunch. Andrew, an artist, was currently showcasing some of his artwork for sale, and as luck would have it, he managed to sell a couple of paintings on the very day we were there, a nice bonus!

After a delicious lunch on the patio, we relaxed under an ancient grapevine that offered much-needed shade, a perfect setting for a summer afternoon. Following our meal, Andrew took us on a little tour around the village to visit a couple of other local artists. Harbury was hosting a two-week exhibition featuring the works of eleven artists who lived in the village, and we were keen to see what they had to offer.

Without any bias, I have to say, of all the pieces we saw, Andrew’s work stood out as the best. He is quite the talent!

We had to leave by 3 pm to meet Sarah, Lee, and Mia back in Harborough at 4.30 pm. They were heading off to Scarborough for a few days with Lee’s parents, and we were taking delivery of Mia for the duration. They arrived a little late, stayed just long enough for a quick drink, and then vanished, leaving Mia blissfully unaware of their departure.

After an excited walk through the fields, I left Mia with Sue and popped out to play pool at the Catholic Club. When I returned late that evening, I found both of them in bed, with Mia comfortably pinning Sue’s legs to the mattress. I eased myself in beside them and slept well… until 3 am when a wet nose appeared in front of my face. Thinking someone needed the loo, I got up and took the tired, listless dog for a stroll around the garden, both of us wondering what on earth I was doing at 3 am. We returned to bed, and finally, we both got some solid sleep until 7 am. Safe to say, I won’t be making that mistake again!

The following day was largely spent walking and playing with Mia. In the afternoon, Jim and Brigitte popped by for drinks and a chat. Brigitte’s been going through a tough patch after losing her job and is busy applying for new positions. Later that evening, we all met up again at Joules for a meal and to listen to a fantastic folk/rock band called Govannen. When we got back home, we found Mia fast asleep in her cage. I took her for a very tired walk before all three of us finally hit the pillow, utterly wiped out.

The following day, the rain made sure we knew it was there. At 9 am, I set off with Mia for our morning loo walk, and despite the downpour, we didn’t return until after 1 pm, both of us absolutely drenched and covered in mud. Along the way, I made an interesting discovery: in our river, there are crayfish. I spotted a large one scuttling along the bottom of a shallow section. Hmm, very intriguing! Naturally, I ordered a crayfish trap off the internet that night (watch this space for future developments).

After a much-needed bath for both of us, we looked and smelled considerably better.  After lunch, with the rain having eased off, Mia and I went for another walk. Soon after returning, while sipping a warming coffee, I noticed one of my sandals placed carefully in front of me, with Mia sitting patiently beside it, watching me intently. What else could I do but put it on and take her for another walk?

As we passed down the alleyway alongside the house, which led onto open fields, I stopped for a chat with our neighbours, the Burninghams. They were hosting a garden party to celebrate Zak’s 18th birthday. I taught Zak in Year 4, so it was lovely to catch up with him.

After a couple more hours of walking, with hopefully a very weary dog in tow, I made a quick detour via the garage shop to pick up a bottle of cider. I took it along to the Burninghams and gave it to Zak as a little birthday treat. We had another long chat, with Mia snoozing peacefully at my feet. During the conversation, I learned that all is not well at Farndon Fields School. Most of the staff, along with a good number of the ancillary workers, have left, unhappy with the new head’s regime. The atmosphere sounds pretty grim, and I must admit, I’m glad I jumped ship when I did. I believe the paperwork is now quite suffocating.

Today, on the 13th of July, Mia is due to be taken back to Leicester. I shall miss the little bundle of joy, and, well, the little bundles of poo less so!