27th August 2023

Some more photos and a video of Jamie and Ruth’s Dubai engagement:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Over the past couple of weeks, the country has been enthusiastically rallying behind the England women’s football team in their bid to win the World Cup in Australia. It’s fair to say that they’ve enjoyed a touch of good fortune along the way, but then, good teams often create their own luck, and you can’t argue with that.

With so much grim news currently dominating the headlines, wildfires, floods, migrant tragedies, Trump’s vile machinations, and Putin’s appalling war, it’s a welcome relief to be distracted by something that brings a smile to the face and causes no harm.

On 13th August, our former neighbour Doreen kindly invited Sue and me to join her and her family in celebrating her 90th birthday with a Sunday lunch at The George in Great Oxendon. Her two sons, Tom and John, generously treated all sixteen of her guests to the meal. Although we’ve driven past the pub many times, it had been several years since Sue and I last ate there, and we were impressed. It enjoys a strong reputation for its menu, and we could see why it has become so popular.

We spent a couple of pleasant hours chatting with her close family, many of whom we knew from when they lived next door. Some had travelled from as far afield as Sweden to be there. Doreen looked fit as a fiddle, her mind as sharp as ever, and she was determined to reach 100. I rather think she will.

That evening, Jamie and Ruth flew back into the UK, choosing to head straight home rather than collect their animals from our tender care. It wasn’t until late the following morning that Jamie drove to Willow Bank to bring them home.

Later that day, we learned that Sarah had been admitted to the hospital after feeling extremely unwell with a painful hernia. Fortunately, Charlotte had decided to visit her sister that morning and was on hand to look after Mia and the children while Sarah went to see her local doctor, who promptly referred her to Leicester General Hospital.

By coincidence, Lee was already at Nottingham Hospital, having taken his mother to have her plaster removed following a recent foot operation. Upon returning home, he was driven by Charlotte to visit Sarah and to collect her car from the hospital car park, before Charlotte headed back to Rothwell.

Sarah underwent surgery at 4 p.m. and spent the night in the hospital. Remarkably, she was discharged the following day looking none the worse for her painful ordeal. Full marks to the NHS for their swift and efficient care.

On the day Sarah began her recuperation at home, Lucas came to help me strip the invasive ivy from the garage wall and take it, across five carloads, to the recycling centre. He arrived with Charlotte shortly after 8 a.m., and we had completed the rather dusty task by 12:30 p.m., when I dropped him home in time to catch a film at the local Odeon with Suraj and Ellis. I then cycled into Harborough to have my hair cut.

On 16th August, the England women’s football team reached the semi-finals of the World Cup and beat host nation Australia 3–1 in a thrilling match. The Lionesses dominated much of the game and secured their place in the final against Spain.

The following day, Sue took Sarah, Alice, and Archie out for the day. A wood burner was being installed over two days at their home in Newbold Verdon, and with Sarah’s convalescence meaning she couldn’t exert herself, Lee had taken the first day off work to manage the children, while Sue covered the second day.

Their first stop was a rainy Bradgate Park for a walk. Sarah remained in the car, watching a film on her mobile while she waited for the others to return. Fortunately, the afternoon was much drier, and they spent it at a local play centre.

On Friday (18th), Sean, Jim, and I caught a series of early trains that eventually took us to Coventry. We were heading there for lunch at The Old Windmill, a medieval pub on Spon Street, recently voted the best pub in the country for 2023. We arrived at Coventry Station at 10 a.m. amid a downpour and found an Italian café in the city centre for breakfast.

The rain had eased slightly by the time we were replete, and we set off to explore the Cathedral Quarter. Perhaps due to the forecasted downpours, we had the cathedral almost entirely to ourselves, with only a lone organist practising his repertoire, an unexpected treat that provided a beautiful backdrop to our visit.

We then moved on to the nearby Museum and Art Gallery, where Sean caught up with one of his cousins, a researcher working in the museum section. He recommended we visit St Mary’s Guildhall, although I had already been on a previous trip with Sue, and so that’s exactly what we did.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the building had been significantly improved, with many interactive activities and numerous guides on hand, eager to explain the history and features of each room as we meandered through the complex.

By the time we exited, the rain clouds had cleared, and we began our walk to The Old Windmill. It was around 1 p.m. when we selected our preferred beers, ordered a ploughman’s lunch each, and settled into one of the cosy, wood-panelled rooms, which offered a splendid view down Spon Street.

After several more ales and a superb rustic lunch, we made our way back to the station to catch the 4 p.m. train to Harborough.

It was a very disappointing weekend for many English sports supporters. On Saturday, England faced an in-form Ireland side in Dublin in a Rugby World Cup warm-up match and were comprehensively outclassed, losing 29–10. I fear they may fail to reach the knock-out stage of the competition for the first time. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the England women’s team lost 1–0 to a slick Spanish side on Sunday. The scoreline fairly reflected the play, and few could argue with the result. Nevertheless, it was deeply disappointing for the Lionesses and the country.

Reaching a certain age often brings with it an annual reminder, many of us dread that which forces us to confront our longevity. On Wednesday (23rd), Sue marked such an occasion. I have found that, at such milestones, a change of scenery helps with coming to terms with the ageing process, so I made sure we were somewhere unfamiliar on the day.

That morning, we delayed our departure out of self-consciousness to entertain Sarah, Alice, and Archie, who dropped by en route to visiting a friend, bringing the usual card and presents. It wasn’t until late morning that we set off for Sketchley Grange Hotel and Spa, located on the borders of Leicestershire and Warwickshire near the market town of Hinckley. The drive was an easy 40 minutes on a pleasantly sunny day. Although it was too early to check in, we booked a table for our evening meal before pulling on our hiking boots and setting off on a planned three-and-a-half-mile ramble.

The walk didn’t start well. After just a quarter of a mile, a section of the path alongside an industrial estate was completely blocked by a thick tangle of briars. A worker from one of the units, observing our confusion, explained that we were far from the first to be stopped by the overgrown, barbed vegetation, and that the Council appeared to take little interest in maintaining the local paths.

The rest of our route certainly confirmed his remarks, as we navigated broken stiles, jungle-like undergrowth, and diversions caused by electric fencing (installed to contain horses) and landowners blocking access with strings of vicious barbed wire. Aside from figuring out how to circumvent each obstacle, the only point of interest on this hike was locating a Geocache in the small and otherwise unremarkable village of Burton Hastings.

We had hoped to catch a glimpse of the deserted medieval village of Stretton Bakerville, with its fascinating history and reputation as a regular hideout for the notorious highwayman Dick Turpin. Unfortunately, the fields now covering the site were just as neglected as the paths, and there was no visible sign of the remains.

By the time we returned to the hotel, my GPS had logged five miles.

Check-in was not without its hiccups. As I gave my name to the receptionist, I noticed a look of confusion cross her face as she checked the computer. Eventually, we were told that our room had been mistakenly given to someone with the same name. We were offered a voucher for a couple of drinks at the bar and asked to wait while the issue was resolved.

We chose to sit on the patio, enjoying our drinks in the sunshine, and after a short while, we were informed that we had been upgraded to an Executive Suite. Very plush indeed, a most gracious way to rectify the mistake.

We relaxed and polished off a complimentary bottle of Prosecco while watching TV in our spacious lounge before heading down for the evening meal. As expected, the food was excellent, and we returned to our suite fully sated and smiling.

Breakfast the following morning was equally sumptuous. As we didn’t have to check out until much later than usual, Sue chose to visit the spa while I continued to relax in the suite. Before returning to Harborough, we decided to explore Hinckley town centre. Although I had played and refereed rugby there many times, I had never ventured beyond the Rugby Club.

We parked near the Leisure Centre and made our way a short distance to the pedestrianised Castle Street, where we browsed many of the retail outlets. In one shop, I came across a bar made from the front of a Tuk-tuk, ideal for the garden room, but sadly discovered a year too late! What a shame.

As we wandered the streets of Hinckley, we received several messages from Charlotte. It was exam results day across British schools, and the family were eager to hear how Lucas had fared in his GCSEs. The news was excellent: six A’s, one A*, and two double A*s. He had worked hard and truly earned the results he deserved. Well done, Lucas; we are all very proud of him.

After a couple of hours meandering the sunny streets of Hinckley, we set off for home.

On the same day, Sarah and Lee acquired a new vehicle, a Space Tourer, more suited to their growing family. Later that evening, we once again took charge of Rocky and Nala. Jamie and Ruth had gone out for lunch in Ramsgate, flying to the restaurant by helicopter as a late Christmas present from Jamie to Ruth.

While Jamie and Ruth enjoyed their rather lavish meal, I, along with a group of friends, watched a dismal performance by England in the garden room, as they suffered a humiliating defeat to Fiji in their final World Cup warm-up match. Pessimistically, I had suspected they would lose and chose to wear my Fijian rugby top, bought several years ago in Suva, for just such an occasion. I predict England will fail to progress to the knock-out stages of the World Cup, losing to Argentina and Samoa, struggling against Japan, and only managing a win against Chile. I hope I am wrong.