22nd July 2021

It’s become something of a summer tradition among my ex-rugby-playing comrades to convene at a handful of local beer festivals, ostensibly for the cultural experience, though the thirst-quenching aspect does tend to take centre stage. Last summer, however, our plans were thoroughly scuppered by the all-too-familiar villain, Covid-19. With the country in lockdown and social gatherings strictly off the menu, all such entertainment was, quite rightly, cancelled.

It was, therefore, with no small measure of disappointment that we learned the Langton Beer Festival, originally scheduled for the 9th to 11th of July, was to be postponed. The decision, likely made by organisers peering nervously into their crystal balls, probably stemmed from fears of a poor turnout, despite restrictions looking set to ease on the 19th. Alas, another one bites the dust.

Still, while cycling around town, I couldn’t help but notice that life seemed to be carrying on regardless. The streets were bustling, the cafés humming, and the shops full. It seems the majority had decided, somewhat optimistically, that normality had already returned, never mind the infection rates soaring into orbit.

On the 13th, Paddy and Linda Keane popped over to Willow Bank to enlist my help in applying online for new Irish and British passports. They arrived well-prepared, complete with professionally taken passport photos, presumably snapped by someone with a diploma in shadowy lighting and severe expressions. Sadly, these glossy portraits proved entirely useless for online submission. Despite my best efforts, scanning, cropping, converting them to JPEGs, and saying a small prayer to the gods of bureaucracy, both government websites gave them the digital equivalent of a stern shake of the head.

In contrast, a quick snap on my phone (taken under the sort of lighting normally reserved for interrogations) was immediately accepted. Both applications were ultimately successful. The only difference in the process? The Irish, in their usual laid-back fashion, don’t require your old passport before issuing a new one, whereas the British, ever the sticklers, do.

The following day, I met Peter’s landlady at his flat in Lubenham. Peter, still living it up in New Zealand, has decided to give up his accommodation, so we met to discuss the fate of his belongings. In a rare outbreak of good sense, we agreed not to move a muscle until Peter puts something in writing, confirming the date he intends to end his tenancy and, more importantly, stop paying rent. I’d promised to store a few small items ready for his eventual return, but made it quite clear that I draw the line at white goods. Fridges, freezers, and washing machines are not things one simply slips into a spare cupboard. He’ll need to make a decision about those himself.

Meanwhile, Sue had a rather more enjoyable outing. She set off bright and early with her U3A activity group for a day in Braunstone, taking turns to steer narrowboats and navigate canal locks. She returned at 6:30 pm, beaming with pride about her newfound skills as both helmswoman and lock-master. She’s now fully qualified to pilot a barge should the need ever arise. Aye aye, captain!

To mark the completion of the new fence between Willow Bank and our neighbours at Bridgeview, we invited Mike and Claire over on the afternoon of the 16th for a modest celebration. The original plan was a low-key toast with a single glass of plonk and perhaps a bowl of crisps. However, they arrived armed with carrier bags full of beer and cider, and the ‘brief toast’ merrily stretched on until after 8 pm. It was, quite literally, a fence worth raising a glass to.

That same morning, Jamie dropped off Nala and Rocky for us to look after while he, Ruth, and young Joey headed off for a short seaside break at a Pontins Holiday Camp in Southport. The weather couldn’t have been better for a few days by the coast, though it seems the accommodation left a bit to be desired, apparently more Colditz than coastal charm. Still, despite the somewhat spartan lodgings, they managed to have plenty of fun, proving once again that it’s not where you stay, but who you’re with (and possibly how close the nearest chippy is).

To continue the aquatic theme, Sarah and her clan met up with her friend Abbey and family and made a beeline for the nearest body of water. Much like Jamie and company, they kept their cool by testing out some shiny new paddleboards, presumably with varying degrees of grace and balance.

Freedom Day – 19th July
Boris Johnson solemnly declared: “There comes a point, after so many have been vaccinated, when further restrictions no longer prevent hospitalisations and deaths but simply delay the inevitable.” Rousing stuff. Proof of vaccination would now be required to enter a nightclub, and possibly sports matches and the pub, as the Prime Minister urged young Britons to get jabbed or risk missing out on “life’s pleasures.” That ought to get them queuing outside the nearest pharmacy.

As if to give the virus every chance of success, the UK weather witches whipped up something truly special: the Met Office issued its first-ever extreme heat warning as the country baked under sweltering skies. Timing, as ever, impeccable.

Lucas and Ellis wrapped up the school year in style, both finishing top of their respective year groups, an impressive achievement and a glowing tribute to Charlotte and Suraj’s parenting… with a respectful nod, of course, to the firm academic foundation laid by the grandparents!

On one of the more sweat-inducing days of the summer, the Rothwells took to the water with gusto, though poor Ellis had to don his finest gear and endure his school prom in full regalia. Nothing says “rite of passage” quite like polyester formalwear on the hottest day of the year.

 

Feeling the stirrings of Freedom, Sue and I threw caution to the (very warm) wind and booked our car into the long-stay cruise car park in Liverpool, along with an overnight stay in a nearby hotel, all in preparation for our August adventure to Iceland. Now that, I’d say, is optimism, booking a summer holiday to a land of glaciers during a heatwave, while hoping the boat sets sail and the country remains open. What could possibly go wrong?

Early that evening, Sue drove up to Newbold Verdon to help look after young Alice. Her usual childminder was isolating after her sister tested positive for Covid-19, and so the childcare baton was being passed around like a hot potato. Lee’s mother, Diane, held the fort until Sue arrived to take over the reins on Wednesday evening. Thursday is Sarah’s day off, and Diane will be back on duty by Friday.

Although both Sarah and Lee have mostly worked from home since the start of the pandemic, a one-year-old doesn’t quite respect the concept of conference calls or quiet working hours. Alice is quick on her feet, full of cheeky mischief, and requires a level of vigilance normally reserved for bomb disposal units. Sue returned home a couple of days later, not too tired after her spell of Nanny McPhee-ing. As a mother and former nursery teacher, she was simply brushing up on old skills, though perhaps with a bit more tea required these days.

Earlier in the day, Jamie arrived at Willow Bank with Joey and the dogs before heading off for a physiotherapy session at St. Luke’s Hospital. I dropped him off and, while we waited for his return, Joey and I took the dogs for a good leg-stretch. Jamie reported afterwards that the exercises were quite painful, but, as ever with physio, it’s a case of “no pain, no gain.” Hopefully, the long-term benefits will outweigh the short-term wincing.

Jamie is expecting to return to work next Thursday. In the meantime, I took him, Joey, and the dogs to the White Horse in Stoke Albany for what was a pleasant, if grossly overpriced, lunch, before ferrying them back to Jamie’s place in Desborough. I saw them again later that afternoon when they popped over to borrow my mower and take the dogs for a walk around Marston Trussell. The mower, at least, didn’t complain.

On my way home from lunch, I called in to see Roger Woolnough. Sadly, I learned that his father had passed away in March at the grand age of 96. Curiously, Roger had failed to mention this during any of the several phone calls we’d had over the last five months. When I asked how things were otherwise, he sighed and explained that his two-year-old, top-of-the-range television had lost its picture, but not the sound, and had been like that for two weeks. Rather than do anything drastic like attempt a repair, he had, in classic Roger fashion, simply put up with it.

On inspection, it turned out the backlight had failed. You could just about make out the picture if you squinted from the right angle and tilted your head, but certainly not enough to locate the settings. I contacted a local engineer who confirmed it was a common problem with that make and promised to pop round later in the week to assess the damage. Roger also mentioned he’d booked a taxi to visit his sister in Bristol at the beginning of August, their first meeting since the start of lockdown. Normally, he would have driven or taken the train, so I was a little surprised by the choice of transport, particularly as the return fare would easily cover the cost of a brand new television. Still, I suppose family comes first, followed, distantly, by the news headlines and the Antiques Roadshow.

On Thursday (22nd), Jamie, Ruth, Joey, and the dogs booked an overnight stay at a rather intriguing local venue: The Sleepy Explorer’s Globe, a treehouse nestled within a two-acre wood just outside the village of Hallaton. They kindly invited Sue and me to join them for breakfast the following morning, and we duly obliged.

I couldn’t help but admire the ingenuity. What a brilliant way to make a bit of money during a pandemic if you happen to own a patch of woodland. Far more lucrative (and considerably more environmentally friendly) than some of the fates met by other forests.

After a very tasty full English breakfast, served al fresco with just a hint of tree sap, we took a stroll with the dogs and discovered that they were sharing the wood with a family of badgers, living just a few metres away. Fortunately, it seems the badgers were not the territorial type.

Meanwhile, Sue stayed behind to play cards with Ruth and Joey until it was time to leave them to their rustic idyll and head back to Willow Bank. All in all, not a bad way to start the day, though I do draw the line at composting toilets before my second cup of tea.

Soon after returning home, Harry arrived for a short doggy holiday with us, while Charlotte and family set off for Cleethorpes to join Sarah and her brood for a weekend of traditional British seaside fun. They were staying in a caravan owned by Sarah’s friend Abbey, always a gamble, but it seems the weather held fair.

Despite the sun, they weren’t overly taken with the beach itself. Cleethorpes, after all, is famous for its vast, muddy stretch where the sea often feels like it’s receding faster than your hairline. Unfortunately, the trip took an early detour to A&E after little Alice caught a ball to the face during a game. Thankfully, she bounced back with admirable resilience, and the rest of the weekend passed more peacefully.

Back at Willow Bank, Saturday (24th) brought a gathering of rugby-minded comrades for the British and Irish Lions’ clash with the world champions, South Africa. I fired up the barbecue before the match, and we feasted like true sportsmen, albeit with fewer training regimes and slightly more beer. A tense and tightly fought encounter followed, ending in a narrow but satisfying Lions victory. We toasted the ‘boys in red’ with a well-earned glass of champagne, naturally, all in the name of patriotism, of course.

The following week turned out to be the quintessential British affair, with rapidly changing weather fronts and the eternal dilemma of whether to wear shorts or not. One moment it felt like summer, the next like autumn had barged in uninvited.

On Wednesday (28th), while Sue was out rambling with the U3A, I took Ellis to the Virtual Flight Experience Centre in Wolvey, Warwickshire, as his birthday gift from Sue and me. He’d been there before, and it had sparked his imagination, so we thought it would be a great treat. Watching him confidently take control of the Boeing 737, flying from Bristol to Jersey through a thunderstorm, left me thinking that perhaps the skies are in his future. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he’s piloting us through a storm, just hopefully not one quite as dramatic as the virtual one we experienced.

Before heading home, we treated ourselves to an excellent Italian meal at the nearby and bustling Pesto at the Axe and Compass. After watching Ellis successfully pilot a plane, we were in the mood for some indulgence.

Later that evening, Jamie sold his quad bike. The silver lining? It’s made parking the cars in our garage much easier, though I suspect he might miss it. But then, we could all use a little more space for the essentials, like the now-wider pathway to the bins.

The following day, we took Ellis and Lucas to Bottesford to visit Jamie and Joey. We broke the day up with a lovely walk in the woods and gardens surrounding Belvoir Castle, giving the dogs a good run around. Ruth has a friend who lives in the old dairy within the estate, so we took full advantage of being able to access the grounds for free. The 11th Duke and Duchess of Rutland (the Manners family) have done a marvellous job turning the castle into a popular visitor destination.

Belvoir’s land was a gift from William the Conqueror to Robert de Todeni, his Standard Bearer at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Robert started building the first castle there in 1067. I can only imagine what he’d think of it all today, though I suspect it would be a mix of pride and bewilderment at the crowds of tourists and the odd dog leaping into algae-covered waterways.

After our wander through the estate, we headed to The Dirty Duck at nearby Woolsthorpe Wharf for lunch. A charming inn, and the meal was excellent, much needed after all that rambling. To work off a few calories, we strolled along the canal, where Nala decided to cool off with a swim in the decidedly green, algae-coated waterway. Not the cleanest of swims, but it did the job.

We rounded off our ‘day out’ with coffee and ice cream at Ruth’s home in Bottesford, feeling pleasantly full and just a little bit more connected to the land of the Normans.

The following day, after a rather rainy night, I had arranged to discuss the renovation of the swimming pool with a local installer. Since the start of COVID-19, it’s been empty and in desperate need of some extreme TLC. I’d planned to spend much of the day pruning the grapevines, but an unexpected development concerning our Iceland adventure soon shifted both mine and Sue’s focus to more pressing matters.

Booking excursions had turned out to be a monumental hassle. Changing government advice and an unresponsive website that eventually went offline led to a series of phone calls and, of course, the usual soul-destroying queuing system that seems to be the norm these days. To make matters worse, we’re now required to produce two negative Rapid Flow Tests per week leading up to our departure. With kits already in hand courtesy of Suraj, we dutifully tested ourselves and, as expected, returned a negative result (long may that continue!). The results needed to be entered into our NHS records via the App, which seemed simple enough.

Well, entering mine was no problem at all, but Sue’s App had other ideas. Despite working perfectly only a couple of days prior to printing out our vaccination certificates, it flatly refused to cooperate. After several maddening hours of trying, we finally managed to enter Sue’s result correctly, but not before using a laptop and feeling like we were attempting to break into Fort Knox. All this for a test that was supposed to make travel easier!

The arrival of a letter notifying us of the government’s required second-day PCR test on our return threw yet another spanner into the already spluttering machine that is our travel planning. Fortunately, the cruise line will book the tests for us, at a modest £99 each (BUPA). After researching various options, it seems this cost is unavoidable, so we’ve decided to let them handle the arrangements. Honestly, life’s too short to keep looking for a cheaper alternative!

It seems there’s no shortage of companies offering this service, with all of them charging around the same amount. The test itself is the same one I’ve had several times for free in Harborough, and though the government mandates a test, it’s only available through private companies. I get the logic of requiring the test, but what I can’t wrap my head around is why we can’t just turn up at the Harborough centre to take it ourselves. Instead, we’ll receive a test kit by post and return it the same way. The big question is, how will they know it was me who took the test? For obvious reasons, I don’t think they’ll take my word for it… so here we are, posting our swabs back and hoping the system doesn’t break down any further!

Over the weekend, we had Harry staying with us again while the rest of his family went off to Alton Towers and its water-park for a fun-filled day. Meanwhile, I hosted another BBQ for the Lions v South Africa match. Unfortunately, the game didn’t live up to the occasion. The Lions stuck with their usual game plan, but it clearly wasn’t working, and they just couldn’t seem to change things up. It ended in a heavy defeat, so no champagne celebration this time!

On the same day, Jamie and his crew checked out Towcester Greyhound Track, while Sarah and Lee spent the afternoon decorating their patio with lights. They definitely made it a productive day, even if the match didn’t go quite as planned!

The week was as unpredictable as ever, with rain showers making gardening a bit of a challenge. But in between, I managed to dig up three sacks of early potatoes, pick the last of the black currants, and prune the grapes. With tomatoes, cucumbers, and plums coming into season, we’re busy using them in all sorts of ways (well, Sue’s been handling that!). There’s something special about this time of year when everything from fresh salads to hearty soups bursts with the flavour of homegrown produce.

Despite still recovering from his knee surgery, Jamie managed to get back to work and even completed an HGV training course with a perfect score, talk about determination!

A rainy weekend brought some unfortunate illness to Sarah and her family, with only Mia escaping the nasty stomach bug that had everyone else stuck in their rooms. On a brighter note, Jamie and Ruth were treated to a stunning aerial fireworks display at Belvoir Castle, which they enjoyed from the garden of a friend who lives on the grounds. The videos they shared were amazing, and best of all, they were free!

I hosted the last of the Lions v South Africa rugby matches at Willow Bank. It wasn’t BBQ weather, so pizza it was. Even though the Lions narrowly lost, it was great having a couple of old friends, Jeremy and Frank, join us to watch the game. It was a nice reunion, especially since I used to coach with them years ago.

On Monday (9th Aug), Sue took Lucas and Ellis to Wistow Maze, where they managed to navigate the maze, which was cleverly designed in the shape of a Phoenix rising from the flames. They also tackled the Quiz Trail, which had a mythical creatures theme. Luckily, they managed to dodge the showers that were soaking my vegetable patch back in Harborough, which delayed my leek planting as I kept having to take refuge in the shed. After their maze adventure, Sue treated the boys to McDonald’s, complete with burgers and McFlurries, before taking them back home.

Over the next couple of days, Sue went rambling with the U3A, but also found time to join her New Experience Group to learn how to make sausages. We had the “turkey bangers” she made for tea that evening, and I can confirm they were VERY tasty!

On the 11th, Charlotte and her family drove to London for a jam-packed day of sightseeing. She posted on Messenger about some of the places they visited: Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, China Town, Leicester Square, M&M World, Hamleys, Highgate Cemetery, the Graffiti Tunnel, Little Venice, Camden Market, House of Minilama, and a few other spots and shops, though she said she couldn’t quite remember them all because they were so exhausted! What a busy day indeed!

The 12th of August was spent getting ready for our trip to Iceland. Borders and vegetables were watered, lawns were mowed, batteries replaced in the alarm system sensors, suitcases packed, and all the documentation was double-checked. Jim dropped by on his way home from the gym to make sure the greenhouse watering was set up correctly; he’s kindly taking care of that for me. He also wanted to check that the hose was properly connected to the outside tap. Usually, I feel a bit of excitement the night before an adventure, but this time, it’s been replaced with a sense of trepidation. Have we done all the paperwork correctly? Will we both test negative before boarding the ship? Will my laptop, tablet, and phone all work as they should when logging into the necessary sites for entry into Iceland and again upon our return to the UK? Strange times, but we’re trying to stay as normal as possible!