Queen Elizabeth II; Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor; 21 April 1926 – 8 September 2022

Not by any means could I be described as a royalist. In my view, the monarchy is an outdated dinosaur that should have been consigned to the refuse bin of history centuries ago. Yet, our Lilibet conducted herself throughout her reign with dignity and poise. The nickname came from her inability to pronounce “Elizabeth” correctly as a toddler, and it is to her credit and her humility that in later years she adopted this informal title when signing personal letters to her loved ones. She famously left the note “In Loving Memory, Lilibet” on the Queen Mother’s coffin.

It is gestures such as this, her sense of humour, and her steadfast determination never to lower her personal standards that explain why she will be remembered with fondness, and, dare I say it, missed.

On the same day, Charlotte tested positive for coronavirus. Like many others, she most likely picked it up on the flight back from Tenerife. Sitting in a seat adjacent to the toilet queue must carry an increased risk of transmission and is something to be avoided in future.

On Friday night (the 9th), we had visitors from France. Ruth’s parents, Jim and Leslie, had driven from Normandy to visit family and friends and were keen to meet Jamie’s parents. As both Ruth and Jamie were working, it was around 7:30 p.m. when they arrived at Willow Bank with Jamie, Ruth, and Joey. Sue and I had planned a family BBQ so they could meet the rest of the tribe, but thunderstorms, foul weather, and Charlotte catching Covid meant a change of plan: an indoor buffet, hosted just by the two of us.

As expected, we got on well, discovering plenty of shared interests and similar views. The evening flew by. Partway through the visit, our badger family made an appearance by the lounge window and proved quite entertaining. It was close to midnight before our guests left for the long drive back to Waltham on the Wolds.

What turned out to be a very busy day for the Palmers began at noon, when Jamie arrived, leaving his car on the driveway. He was promptly picked up by his friend ‘Brownie’, and the pair drove down to Luton to catch a flight to Gran Canaria, the third-largest and second-most-populous of the Canary Islands, for a ‘boys’ holiday. A week in an all-inclusive hotel should do wonders to refresh body and soul, in readiness for what I suspect may be a difficult winter ahead.

On the same day, Ruth, Joey, and her parents travelled to Telford to spend the day with the meerkats. Sue and I did this earlier in the year; it was a wonderful experience, and I hope they found it just as magical.

Meanwhile, the Newbold Verdons made their way to London to witness the day King Charles III officially acceded to the throne. They managed to be in all the right places at exactly the right times, Clarence House, St. James’s Palace, and Buckingham Palace, spotting the new King along the way. They reported that the atmosphere was electric: the pageantry, fireworks, and cannon salutes made it a truly memorable occasion. With any luck, it’s a memory little Alice will carry with her for the rest of her life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With football league matches suspended, sensibly, rugby and other sports continued as planned, giving supporters the chance to come together and show their appreciation for our late monarch, Lilibet.

At Willow Bank, a few of my rugby chums and I gathered in the garden room to watch Exeter play Tigers on the big screen. In a dramatic finish, Exeter clinched the win in the final move of the game. We raised a toast in recognition of a life well lived, a fitting tribute in our own small way.

On Sunday night (the 11th), Sue and I met Paul and Louise at the Lighthouse Theatre in Kettering to see Dreams of Fleetwood Mac, a tribute band. It was an excellent evening, featuring many familiar tracks along with a few lesser-known ones. The lead singer had a wonderfully expressive voice, backed by some very talented musicians.

The only downside was the intermission ice cream, which tasted off. When Sue raised a complaint, the vendors sheepishly admitted the batch had previously melted and been refrozen. To their credit, or perhaps shame, they brought fresh replacements to our seats in the auditorium.

Later in the week, despite taking every precaution, Suraj came down with COVID-19. Like Charlotte, it was his first experience with the virus, and he has been quite unwell, confined to bed. Charlotte is still testing positive and remains under the weather, with a chesty cough and extreme fatigue from even minor exertion.

Transporting Lucas and Ellis to school became a challenge. On the first day of Suraj’s illness, Charlotte managed the drive with everyone masked and the windows wide open. Thankfully, the school stepped in and arranged for the boys to be picked up by the school bus for the duration of their parents’ recovery.

On Monday morning, at the furthest point of my bike ride, disaster struck: the derailleur on the rear wheel mangled itself in the spokes. With no option but to push the bike home, I reflected (somewhat bitterly) on how this had happened several times over the years. The usual solution has been to take it to the bike shop and, at great expense, have a new derailleur fitted. This time, however, I was determined to fix it myself.

After a couple of hours wielding pliers, a vice, and a screwdriver, I appeared to have restored order. The gears changed smoothly while the bike was suspended, so, tentatively, I took it out for a test run along one of my more demanding routes. For several miles, all went well until the moment I decided to backpedal.

The sickening crunch as the chain, gears, and derailleur locked up made my heart sink. I was forced once again to prise the mechanism apart just to free the wheel so I could push the bike home, again. It was clearly time for a new bicycle.

That afternoon, I toured the bike shops of Market Harborough and browsed options online from Corby, Kettering, and beyond. I made a shortlist of potential replacements and decided to sleep on it.

The next morning, over breakfast, Sue suggested we try the Argos warehouse in Corby. We went together that afternoon and were pleasantly surprised to find several long racks of bikes, and, to my delight, they had four in stock of a model I’d already shortlisted. Even better, it was priced at just £139, compared to the £495 full retail price I had been prepared to pay. Unsurprisingly, I bought one on the spot.

While browsing the rest of the stock, we also discovered an electric bike reduced from £599 to £299. Sue, never one to miss a bargain, decided to treat herself too. We both came away feeling very pleased with ourselves.

Despite the town’s Covid infection rate still well over 5,000, Sue and I continue to avoid it. Sue remains busy attending her many U3A groups, and my (usually solo) work in the garden and on the fruit and vegetable plots makes transmission unlikely, unless it turns out the virus can be spread by snails, butterflies, dahlias, or beetroot!

On Thursday (15th), I managed an 11.7-mile walk with Sean to The Bull’s Head in Arthingworth. It was a coolish sort of day, ideal walking weather. The route was gentle, with few inclines, and the hedgerows were still full of blackberries and apples, making for a pleasant journey.

Our lunch of fish and chips washed down with a pint of local beer, was very acceptable. Afterwards, Sean was keen to visit the 12th-century St Andrew’s Church across the road. I’ve been there many times over the years, and it has always been open to visitors. But not today, this time it was firmly shut.

On closer inspection, we found a notice pinned to the door:
“If you are thinking of climbing onto the roof, don’t bother—the lead has already been stolen.”

That gave us a chuckle. Wandering around the cemetery behind the church, we came across a gravestone that further amused us: SEE PHOTO.

The next day, Sue and I travelled up to Newbold Verdon to walk with Sarah, Alice, and Mia around the picturesque Thornton Reservoir, nestled in the nearby National Forest. Once again, it was a coolish day for a ramble; there was a chill to the wind that kept us moving, even little Alice, who for most of the route ignored the pushchair brought by her mum.

With the schools now back, we only encountered a few runners and dog walkers on our circuit. The ducks and geese, however, were still there in their hundreds, periodically raising a flurry of splashes, honks, and quacks at some unseen disturbance on the water. As we passed a small hillock, we spotted a large flock of Canada Geese resting in the grass, less energetic spectators to the chaos below.

By the time we returned to the car, Alice was fast asleep. She remained that way throughout the short drive to the Bricklayers Arms in the nearby village of Thornton and slept right through our lunch. In fact, she didn’t wake until we were back at their house, enjoying coffee in the garden with Lee.

Before heading back to Harborough, we stopped in at the shoe warehouse in the village, where I bought a pair of sandals, optimistically, in readiness for an as-yet unplanned foreign holiday.

Whilst Jamie was enjoying himself in Gran Canaria, a less welcome surprise arrived back home in the UK: a speeding ticket from the French authorities. It seems he must have breached the speed limit during his recent jaunt with Ruth and Joey to Monte Carlo and the French Grand Prix. Fortunately for him, the fine doesn’t come with any UK driving licence points; he’s got away relatively lightly.

Meanwhile, over at the Rothwell household, Covid wasn’t their only challenge this week. They suffered a further bout of bad luck when the electrical wiring fused, cutting power to the entire downstairs circuit. As a result, they lost a fair amount of food from the fridge. Thankfully, their house insurance will cover both the electrician’s costs and the damage caused during the repairs, a small relief in an otherwise trying week.

Jamie and his friend flew back to the UK early on Sunday morning (18th), taking his car from our driveway at 4 a.m. without waking either Sue or me, then drove home to Waltham on the Wolds. Just 24 hours later, he was back on the road, this time to London, to lay a bunch of flowers at Buckingham Palace on behalf of the Palmer family, in remembrance of Queen Elizabeth II, whose funeral it was that day. Cannily, he had booked lunch at the Langham Hotel in central London, which conveniently provided him with a parking spot.

Despite the news reports warning of heavy traffic in the capital, Jamie found the roads surprisingly quiet and had no difficulty reaching his destination. While the funeral took place at Westminster Abbey, attended by numerous world leaders, he made his way to the Palace. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to lay the flowers himself, but one of the policemen on duty kindly offered to do it for him.

From there, Jamie walked to Marble Arch and joined several hundred others watching the funeral ceremony on a giant screen. Later, he returned to the Langham for lunch before driving back to Leicestershire. Job done!

Throughout the day, like much of the country, the rest of the family watched the funeral on television, staying in touch with Jamie via Messenger. The country gave ‘Lilibet’ the send-off she so thoroughly deserved: British pomp, pageantry, and above all, deep respect. She reigned for 70 years, and perhaps Paddington summed it up best: “And thank you, Ma’am… for everything.”