10th August 2015

The crayfish trap I’d ordered from eBay finally turned up, and I was practically salivating at the thought of a wok brimming with succulent American interlopers. Armed with the recommended bait, cat food, no less, I set the trap in a deep pool just a few yards upriver from the little garden bridge over the Welland, tethering it to the bank in case of a flash flood.

The next morning, full of expectation, I returned only to find the trap empty. Not a single crayfish. Undeterred, I shifted it downstream to just before the road bridge, this time in shallower water. Surely this was the sweet spot! But when I checked again the following day, I discovered I’d managed to catch a small catfish instead. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the bait…

A few days later, with Lucas and Ellis in tow, I gave it another go, but once again, the trap came up empty. Their disappointment matched my own. Clearly, my choice of bait needs rethinking. Still, I’m not ready to give up just yet. My next plan is to set the trap exactly where I first spotted the crayfish. Perhaps this final attempt will be the one that pays off. Watch this space!

On the 16th of July, I had my six-monthly dentist appointment booked for 11 a.m., so I skipped my usual morning bike ride and busied myself with tidying up the garden instead. While lightly hoeing the strawberry bed, I bent down to pick up a few weeds I’d unearthed and promptly ricked my lower back, an old rugby injury making its painful presence felt again. How I wished I’d gone for the bike ride instead! A few days of paracetamol were needed before I could move freely once more, although, oddly enough, I felt no pain at all when cycling.

That Saturday, Sue and I went along to Joules for a band and BBQ evening featuring a group from Cornwall called Green and the Indigo Blue. It made for a very pleasant night’s entertainment.

The following Tuesday, Sue drove to Bradgate Park with Lucas and Ellis, where Sarah and Mia joined them for a picnic. The boys spent most of the day splashing about in the river, while I took myself off for a walk with Peter Cooper to the Wheel and Compass in Weston-by-Welland. I’d promised him lunch as thanks for looking after the greenhouse and garden while Sue and I were away in Vietnam, and this was the day he chose to cash in. We walked around 12 miles in all, but by the end, poor Peter could hardly stand thanks to a nasty blister on his heel. He ended up needing a taxi back to Lubenham.

On the way home, we stumbled across a group of cherry trees laden with fruit. The very next day, Sue, Charlotte, Lucas, Ellis, and I went back armed with bags and filled three carriers to the brim. The following evenings were spent happily munching cherries in front of the TV.

Isle of Man Trip:

A few months back, I organised a jaunt to the Isle of Man with a band of rugby chums. After an early flight out of Birmingham, we touched down at Ronaldsway Airport, hopped on the local bus into Douglas, and eventually found our way to the Trevalyn Hotel. That evening was spent in true British holiday style, fish and chips followed by a fiercely competitive game of darts in a town bar. A civilised start.

The next morning, fortified by a breakfast that could have fed a small regiment, we invested in an all-access travel ticket for the island’s various modes of transport. First stop was the electric tram to Laxey, home of the famous Great Laxey Wheel, the island’s most iconic landmark and the largest working waterwheel in the world. At over 22 metres in diameter, this Victorian marvel was designed by Robert Casement more than 170 years ago. After climbing to the top (and feeling very pleased with ourselves for doing so), we boarded a mountain railway to the summit of Snaefell. The weather was obligingly sunny, and from the trig point we could see Ireland, Scotland, and England, a hat-trick of views.

Rather than amble back down like sensible tourists, we decided to gallop to the tram stop at the ‘Bungalow’, a name that doesn’t quite do justice to its fame on the TT race course. Paul and Sean took their time and missed the train, leaving the rest of us comfortably ensconced in a pub when they eventually caught up. Timing is everything.

Back in Douglas, suitably refreshed, we scrubbed up and set off down the promenade to the Gaiety Theatre, pausing en route at a Chinese restaurant for a banquet that left us all dangerously full. We were booked in for an ABBA tribute act, and to our delight our tables were right in front of the stage. The place was heaving with ABBA devotees, almost entirely women (clearly male ABBA fans are thin on the ground in Manxland). Sharing a table with a lively bunch of care assistants from Peel, we had a fantastic night belting out the classics and pretending we were in Stockholm in the ’70s. One of the highlights of the trip, without a doubt.

The following day the weather turned, grey skies and steady rain. Our plan to explore Peel and its castle wasn’t going to be abandoned, however. After a warming coffee in a café, Jim C and Sean decided to sample a hot mackerel bap from a harbourside stall, a decision they came to regret not long after. We circled the castle, wandered the town, and then took refuge in a pub where we’d sensibly booked a table. The meal was excellent and provided endless banter for the rest of the trip. Suitably fortified, we pressed on to the TT Museum, before a brief (and very damp) detour to Ramsey. After about eight minutes there, we admitted defeat to the weather and retreated to Douglas.

That evening was spent in the hotel bar, playing pool, watching torrents of water hurtle down the streets outside, and wondering whether we’d need a ferry rather than a plane to get home.

The following morning, after an early breakfast, we grabbed a taxi to the airport. The return flight was mercifully on time, and we landed back in a dry, though decidedly nippy, Birmingham. Paul drove us back to Harborough before immediately turning round and heading back to the airport for a flight to Milan. A true globetrotter.

Sue, meanwhile, was very pleased with the stick of rock I brought her, proof, if any were needed, that even the most seasoned traveller knows the importance of souvenirs.

On the 31st, it was Ellis’s birthday. Sarah dropped Mia off with us before heading to the Sea Life Centre in Birmingham with the Rothwells as part of Ellis’s special treat. Sue and I decided to take Mia to the pub in Lubenham for lunch. The weather was glorious, which was just as well, because we had to sit outside. On the way there, Mia had discovered what must surely have been the most revolting pile of poo in Leicestershire and rolled in it with great enthusiasm. We found a quiet table where the gentle breeze kindly wafted the worst of the aroma away from the other diners. Back home, Mia was rewarded with the most thorough shampoo bath of her life.

That night, Sarah and Mia stayed over at Willow Bank. When bedtime came, Mia flatly refused to join Sarah in her room and instead planted herself firmly on our bed. Sue valiantly carried her back to Sarah’s room, but somehow Mia managed to sneak back again, with more than a little assistance from Sarah, I strongly suspect.

The following day, Sarah, Sue, and I joined the Rothwells for Ellis’s birthday party at an activity centre in Kettering. The children threw themselves into clambering over the gym equipment and charging around in games of “find the sweet” and “hide and seek.” It was pure chaos, but the happy sort, a whirlwind of shrieks, giggles, and boundless energy. Afterwards, the grown-ups beat a dignified retreat to the Tollemache Arms in Harrington for some well-earned refreshments.

That evening, Sue and I met up with Jim and Brigitte Hankers, along with Jim and Kate Crawford, at Joules for a night of music from the rock/folk band Govannon. Unfortunately, the Crawfords hadn’t booked tickets for the BBQ, so while we tucked into the food indoors, they were banished to the outside seating. Being polite, we joined them later, but despite wrapping ourselves up in coats, the chill in the air took a bit of the sparkle out of the music. Still, the company and the laughter kept things warm enough.

On the 4th of August, Sue headed over to Rothwell to look after Lucas and Ellis, while I travelled to Countesthorpe Crematorium to say a final farewell to Maureen Meads. Maureen had been my classroom cleaner more than 30 years ago at the Meadows School in Wigston. We used to chat in the evenings while I marked books and she tidied up, and she later put her skills as a part-time seamstress to good use by making clothes for Charlotte and sweatshirts for Sue and me. Over the years, she kept in touch and occasionally visited us in Harborough.

We had last seen her at Easter, and although we knew her cancer diagnosis carried a poor prognosis, news of her passing was still a real shock. I wanted to offer my condolences to her husband and to Carl, her son, whom I had once taught. Maureen was such a kind, gentle soul, one of life’s good people.

That afternoon, after such a sombre morning, Sue and I took Lucas and Ellis to Harborough at the Seaside. Watching them run about on the sand and shriek with delight at the seaside amusements was a welcome antidote, a simple reminder of the joy and brightness of everyday life.

The day after, Sue and I went to the Silver Cinema to see A Little Chaos, a period drama about the creation of the gardens at Versailles. We were slightly miffed to discover that the usual free coffee and biscuits had been suspended for the summer holidays, but the film more than made up for it. Sue, however, wasn’t prepared to let such an injustice slide. After a polite but firm word with the staff at the refreshments counter, she emerged triumphant with a free cup of tea. Perks of being stubborn pensioners, I suppose!

On the way back to Harborough, we stopped in to see Roger Woolnough. He told us, to our surprise, that his mother had been in Kettering Hospital for the past three weeks. She and her husband had been visiting, and just before Roger was due to take her back to Bristol, she fell ill and was rushed in by ambulance. Roger’s father had since returned to Bristol, with Roger’s sister making weekend trips back and forth to help. His mother was awaiting a scan, and Roger was hopeful she might soon be transferred back to Bristol for further care.

The following morning, I rose early and drove over to Seaton to meet John Lee for one of our walks. We hadn’t seen each other in over a month, so there was plenty of family news to exchange, as well as the usual business of setting the world to rights. The 8.5-mile route was a delight, and our lunch stop at the George and Dragon proved equally memorable. The starter of black pudding and Stilton sounded like it could have gone either way, but it turned out to be an inspired combination. The steak pie that followed was equally excellent. I’ve promised myself I’ll take Sue there soon, though we’ll cheat and drive rather than attempt the full march!

That Sunday, we had lunch at Charlotte’s. They had recently bought a new three-piece suite, and the delivery men had attempted, and failed, to manoeuvre it up the stairs to their second-floor lounge. The defeated sofa now sits awkwardly in the first-floor bedroom, looking very much like it doesn’t belong. The only solution seems to be dismantling the bannister, so while we ate, I mentally sketched out the plan of attack. On Tuesday, I’ll be back with saws and chisels in hand to remove the offending woodwork, and then we’ll attempt the siege once more.

News Snippets:

• Charlotte’s hens are waging a losing battle against a particularly vicious outbreak of red mites. Despite all her efforts with cleaning and chemicals, nothing seems to help. I offered to spray with my pool chemical (sodium hypochlorite), which kills everything in sight and leaves it dazzlingly white, but she politely, and wisely, declined.
• Charlotte also took the boys to Rutland Reservoir for a makeshift ‘beach’ day, proving that a bit of sand and water is all children really need to feel they’re on holiday.

Jamie headed up to Liverpool last weekend for a free open-air concert in one of the parks. As he put it, “nothing says I’m living my best life like free music and a bit of fresh air.” He’s also been making regular appearances at Santa Pod, happily revving his engine with the best of them, and hasn’t missed a single Car Cruising weekend. The other night, he dropped by with Harley to raid my fishing gear before heading off with a mate to “try their luck.” Personally, I suspect the real catch of the evening was a pint down the pub rather than anything on the end of a line.

Sarah has been turning into quite the gardener of late, planting flowers, herbs, and even knocking together some rather unconventional bird feeders, though I’m not entirely convinced the local sparrows will know what to make of them. She’s also rightly chuffed with herself for finally completing her seat-building project, fashioned entirely from wooden pallets. Months of hard graft, but a proper DIY triumph in the end!

Amidst all that, she and Lee still found time for a trip to the Stanford Fireworks Display at the start of August, while Sue and I enjoyed looking after Mia. They also whisked Mia off to the seaside for her very first taste of the beach, literally, as it turns out. Who knew sand could be such a delicacy?

And, as if her summer wasn’t lively enough, Sarah has now discovered several baby crocodiles in her back garden. You couldn’t make it up. Perhaps they’ll be the stars of her next DIY project, pallet-wood swamp, anyone?