From the moment I got my first record player, along with a big box of singles, I loved listening to music. Often I would sit at the piano in the front room, where all the silver cups Dad had won at bird shows were displayed, and pick out a tune or two, rather badly by ear. We listened to the radio a lot when I was small too and the songs of the sixties evoke many memories. Mother and I would waltz around the bedroom singing along to Englebert Humperdink’s Last Waltz and Mother would often make me sing Those Were The Days or Sing a Rainbow to her. In the summer of 1972, though, a pop song captured a moment in time for me like no other had before. Continue reading Memories of the 1970’s School’s Out
2 September 2018
Like most of Henry VIII’s castles, Southsea is a short squat affair. Even as I got closer, it didn’t look any more like my idea of a castle but, of course, today was by no means my first visit. Probably, with a little more warning of today’s walk, I’d have done some research and found something different to look at in Southsea. F.G.O. Stuart took several photographs of the place I could have recreated if I’d had copies on my phone. Still, the castle was there and I had time on my hands. Besides, even familiar places can hide surprises.
Continue reading The changing fortunes of Southsea Castle
14 September 2017
This morning began with a trip to the dentist. Nice as everyone is there, it really isn’t my favourite place in the world so I thought I’d cheer myself up with a little detour on the way home. Usually I turn left when I leave the dentist and head west towards the river. This time I turned right and then immediately right again onto Upper New Road, not entirely sure where it would lead me but happy just to walk and find out. How lost could I get? Continue reading Not finding things in Telegraph Woods
While Commando was running the Manchester Marathon, I’d been enjoying a spectacularly beautiful walk around the hidden gems of Manchester with my friend Yas. All morning there’d been a little nagging worry in the back of my mind. Race days are always a little like this. I go off for a walk but, no matter how lovely the setting, I can’t quite stop worrying about Commando and how he’s doing. There are so many things that can go wrong. I’ve seen the runners collapsed at the side of the road being treated by paramedics, or limping along with injuries. Then there’s the worry about time. Commando always sets off with a target time, if he doesn’t make it he’s not a happy bunny. With a marathon the possibilities for disaster are magnified. These are the trails and tribulations of a marathon runner’s wife. Continue reading The trials and tribulations of a marathon runner’s wife – first published 6 April 2014
19 June 2016
Yesterday morning I slept in and didn’t go to parkrun. Commando rang me at about ten o’clock to say he was going straight into town because he felt like some retail therapy.
“I’ll walk over to meet you if you like,” I suggested, thinking there might be a coffee in it for me.
As it happened there was no coffee involved whatsoever. When I rang him to say I was walking through the parks Commando said he was in Ed’s Diner on the top floor of WestQuay having a milkshake.
“They are amazing,” he said, “like heaven in a glass. If you hurry I’ll get you one.” Continue reading A steep learning curve and a big change
11 June 2016
Late on Thursday night when I tried to proofread the blog post that was due to be published the next day I couldn’t get onto the blog. There was a just a weird message I didn’t understand. Straight away I checked the LCN site to make sure it wasn’t an issue with their servers or whatnot. It wasn’t. Then I tired to view the blog throug an old Facebook link. The same message came up. Going through Google brought the same results. A shard of ice stabbed at my heart and one word screamed in my head, HACKERS! Continue reading Hackers and other disasters
27 March 2016
Typically, as soon as building work stopped for the Easter break the weather took a turn for the wet and windy. The first chance I got to go out walking was Easter Sunday and it was blustery with the odd spot of rain. Still, it was now or never. There was somewhere I’d been meaning to visit for a while and our Thursday afternoon arch shopping trip told me time was running out. By coincidence, it is a building site of sorts and I was half reluctant to go there. Continue reading Last chance to see…
My mid August New Forest walk was turning into a nightmare. Not only was I hot, hungry and thirsty, now I was worried about Commando. He’d sounded so down when he called me and knowing he was almost out of water and lost too made it worse. In truth, neither of us were far from civilisation and would be unlikely to die of hunger and thirst but it did go to show how easy it is to get into trouble out in the forest when you’re not properly prepared. Continue reading Cows, or are they Bulls? – first published 18 August 2013
While Commando was running his eighteen miles to train for his first marathon I’d walked across White Moor, skirted Matley Woods, negotiated a muddy field and was heading for the shelter of the trees. As usual, I was lost and there were two choices of path. Why does that always happen? Continue reading hungry, thirsty, lost and worried- first published 18 August 2013
Finally the day had come for me to go to school. There were special clothes, a grey skirt, white shirt and bottle green cardigan Mother had knitted, along with white ankle socks. Everything felt scratchy and new, not at all like the cotton dresses I’d been wearing. With the help of Tiny Dyer, a giant policeman wearing his tall black helmet to make him seem even bigger, we crossed the Main Road a little way down from our house along with a stream of other children I didn’t know. Amongst them was Libby, the girl with the curly blonde hair who lived on the corner at the top of The Crescent, tantalisingly close but too far away to play with. Everyone was wearing the same green jumpers and grey skirts or trousers. Continue reading Memories of the 1960’s – school days