19th September 2019

With the arrival of September, summer’s end is well and truly approaching. Yet, whether through careful planning or sheer good fortune, the Rothwells have managed to mark the season’s waning with a string of celebrations. The 2nd is Charlotte’s birthday, the 3rd is their wedding anniversary, and the 4th is Suraj’s birthday. Combining these three occasions makes perfect sense, especially for the rest of the family, who can streamline their efforts with shared cards and presents (how considerate of them!).

For decades now, much to the irritation of my family, I have done my best to ignore my own birthday. So I was rather amused when Charlotte confided this year that she, too, would prefer to skip an annual reminder of her age. It comes to us all eventually; my epiphany arrived at the ripe old age of 30!

Fittingly, this time of year also sees many Leicestershire villages hosting their annual Scarecrow Festivals. The family usually visits the one in Lubenham, but this year, Sarah and Lee opted for a festival in Desford.

Late on the 9th, while driving through Harborough, Jamie witnessed a fire breaking out at the Roebuck, a well-known pub on the east side of town. It’s a favourite of his, offering good food at reasonable prices, and it was just a few hundred metres from his old apartment.

On the 12th, Sue and I visited the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire, the UK’s centre of Remembrance, a spiritually uplifting place that honours the fallen, recognises service and sacrifice, and fosters pride in our country. Philippa visited a few years ago, and several friends have also recommended it. Sue booked us both onto a charitable bus trip from Harborough. As you might expect, most of our fellow passengers were getting on in years, and quite a few (myself included, at present) had mobility issues, making boarding and disembarking a slow process.

The Arboretum covers a vast area, and even a young, fit visitor would need a full day to do it justice. Our group, however, was only ever going to manage the highlights. Thankfully, we were free to explore at our own pace. I dislike having to snake around in a large group, staying together for the sake of organisation, unable to linger where I wish or skip what doesn’t interest me.

We opted to take the land train first, ensuring we saw the key exhibits. By luck, we boarded just as it was about to leave, and with only a few other passengers, we had plenty of space. At a leisurely pace, we motored along the narrow tarmac roads connecting the larger memorials, passing smaller sites scattered across open grassy areas or tucked away in the surrounding woodland. The taped commentary was excellent, guiding our attention to what was around us and ensuring we didn’t miss anything of significance.

After our fifty-minute train ride, we headed to the indoor museum and took our time exploring the exhibits. Satisfied that we had done them justice, we enjoyed our packed lunch at tables outside the café, basking in the lovely warm sunshine.

Now, on foot, we first made our way to the central memorial, set high on a mound, with its golden-topped obelisk visible from most parts of the site. We paused to read some of the names engraved on the arc-shaped walls. Though the names were grouped by year, they weren’t arranged alphabetically, making the task of finding a particular individual quite a challenge.

Our wandering took us through several wooded areas, each containing yet more memorials, some elaborate, others more understated. It seems that every conceivable organisation within the UK has a plot here. While some seemed less obviously relevant, this is a place for all, and I can’t fairly judge without a better understanding.

We continued to the banks of the River Tame, following a trail upstream to where a railway line crossed via a bridge. Beyond that, we reached a small park, complete with a pond and numerous dipping platforms for school groups.

As the afternoon wore on, we used the gold-topped obelisk as our guide, slowly making our way back to the centre. Several benches along the way provided welcome opportunities to rest our feet and take in the views. We left at 3:30 pm without any delays for missing passengers (surely a first!), which was fortunate, as the return journey took an extra half-hour due to traffic. It was a good day, Sue has ticked it off her list, and I found plenty to interest me.

The following Sunday, Jamie invited me over to help him rebuild the path outside his front door. It took us most of the day to complete, laying down hardcore and sand beneath the new paving slabs he had bought.

According to the garage, Jamie’s Peugeot was beyond economical repair, so he bought himself a Vauxhall runaround, which can be seen in the photo.

Medical updates: Mia is having drops for an ear infection and cream for an infected cut on her tummy. Harry has a sore nose from a nasty bite courtesy of another dog. Jamie is struggling to speak properly due to a massive ulcer on the side of his tongue.

On the 17th, I had arranged to lay some more slabs for Jamie next to his garage with Peter, but Charlotte was working in Harborough that day and asked if I could have Harry instead. Sue was on a U3A history group trip to the National Gas Museum in Leicester, so I changed plans and decided to test out my knee and foot with a walk to Foxton Locks with Harry and Peter.

The day started well, sunny but not too warm. Harry behaved well off the lead, which encouraged me to let him have his freedom for most of the day. We picked up Peter in Lubenham on the way; his knee was troubling him, but he was keen to come along. We took a direct route through stubbled, freshly harvested fields, passing Gartree Prison on our way to the canal, which winds through Foxton Village.

The locks were fairly busy with boats and day-trippers, but we had no trouble finding a seat in Bridge 61, our regular lunch spot. As usual, we had sausages, mashed potatoes and mushy peas, all held inside a large Yorkshire pudding and smothered in onion gravy, heavenly food. It was washed down with a pint of Old Rosie. Harry, however, wasn’t as lucky as Mia had been in the past; the staff didn’t slip him any spare sausages!

We got chatting with a couple of fellow diners, and it soon became clear that we were all looking forward to the upcoming Rugby World Cup. One of the gentlemen had played rugby for Leicestershire Fire Service in his younger days, and when I mentioned that I had played for Stoneygate RUFC, he asked if I knew his brother, Wayne Pick, who had also played for Stoneygate. What a surprise, I knew him well! I used to give him a lift to away matches, as we both lived in Harborough. He and his family emigrated to Ballarat in Australia many years ago, and for the first few visits back to the UK, we would meet up.

It was sad to hear that a year ago, he had been in a motorbike accident and had lost a leg. Afterwards, he had struggled mentally, but encouragingly, he now seemed to be coming out of that dark place. I couldn’t help but reflect that my own knee and foot pain weren’t quite as limiting as I had recently thought.

I had to return Harry to Harborough at 3 pm. A year ago, our walk to the Locks would have taken an hour; today, it took us two. As we both limped our way up the hill towards the village, it became clear that unless Charlotte offered us a lift, we wouldn’t make it back. Peter’s knee was particularly painful, and my foot had decided to come out in sympathy. Fortunately, the Black Horse pub provided further refreshments and some much-needed comfy seats while I phoned Charlotte and we waited for her to pick us up. I’m not sure whether she just wanted her dog back or if she had some sympathy for a couple of lame crocks!

A slightly tipsy Harry had somehow managed to lose his collar somewhere along our walk to Foxton. Fortunately, an observant and kind dog walker had spotted it, hung it on a hedge, and contacted Charlotte using the phone number on the tag. Early the following morning, I cycled back along our route from the previous day, and, with the aid of a map sent to my phone by Charlotte (provided by the finder), I was able to retrieve it. How clever technology is, and how reassuring that honesty still prevails.

Afterwards, at exactly 8:36 am, I had my flu and pneumonia jabs at the surgery, with Sue having hers later that morning. How astute our NHS is, and how kind society still can be. However, as is often the case with preventative measures, the aftermath was almost as bad as the illnesses themselves. For a couple of days, we both felt particularly rough, even taking to our beds one afternoon to nurse aches and chills.

On that same “day of needles,” I picked up a very rickety Peter at 9:00 am en route to Jamie’s place in Desborough to lay slabs. I was reluctant to take him, as he was clearly still suffering from the previous day’s walk, but he was insistent, so I relented. Meanwhile, Sue spent the day at the cinema, watching Aladdin in the morning, followed by a packed lunch in her little Suzuki, before settling in for Rocketman in the afternoon. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t alone in binge-watching two films in a day, spotting several others doing the same.

Peter mostly took on a supervisory role, doing a bit of sweeping, hopefully without causing any further damage to his already battered limbs. We broke for lunch just after midday, enjoying a fine and very generous two-course meal at The George in the centre of Desborough. Afterwards, we returned to the slabs and worked until 4:30 pm.

Jamie made a brief appearance at 3:00 pm to change out of his work clothes; he had an appointment at the Life Stream Floatation and Wellness Centre in Leicester. From what I understand, the facility invites you to relax by floating inside a large, egg-shaped pod filled with warm water in total darkness. He has been working very hard recently, and with the added stress of breaking up with Ashton, I think it’s taken its toll. Hopefully, a bit of floating will do him good.

Though we’ve completed the slabbing, there’s still more work to be done, building a small wall and step, which will have to wait for another time, as Sue and I are taking a short break in the Malvern Hills.

The garden and allotments continue to produce in abundance. The vines are heavy with rapidly ripening grapes, the sweetcorn is ready, and we’re doing our best to freeze and devour as much as we can. I’m considering selling the surplus, much as I did with last year’s bumper crop of pumpkins. Carrots are also being frozen, while beetroot is being pickled and jarred in preparation for winter. After skipping last year, I’ll be making pickled onions again once we’re back from Malvern.

Today marked the eagerly awaited start of the Rugby World Cup, with hosts Japan securing a less-than-convincing victory over Russia. Fingers crossed that England put on a strong performance for once! This will be the first time since their 2003 triumph that I’ve been in the country for the tournament rather than watching from abroad. Surely, that must be a good omen… right?