<< June 2010
Monday, May 31st, 2010
Leonardslee Gardens Closing
In between starting and finishing this blog I had supper, a bath, and beer, and watched Country Queens with the family, (and only sang along a few times) and several other programs with Basil.
I have had a nice time over the weekend, and I think everyone else in the family has as well. Went out with Basil. He drove us down to a place called Black Horse in Nuthurst, which is a welcoming pub with a very good beer garden, a glamorous .landlady and a redhaired barmaid keen to learn more about red hair,
Saturday, May 29th, 2010
Shop with no drop
After finishing at the Frog and Nightgown yesterday I walked back to Faygate for the first time (I usually walk on to Littlehaven). I crossed a wheat field that had the footpath defined by the farmer spraying weedkiller along it (and it worked).
I have now watched enough Time Teams to watch the ground when walking across fields. I picked up a heavy piece of blue curved bottle glass, and a cuboid sandstone of about an inch square section, broken at one end.
In the evening I showed these to Basil and ma whilst watching telly. The glass is obviously from a hand made bottle, The stone caused discussion between me and Basil until I saw there were groves in the end. I suggested a whetstone, and ma looked at it and said it was exactly like the stone her father used to sharpen his scythe. Obviously the stone has been in the field since lost or thrown away by a man cutting wheat or hay by hand.
When Basil drives to the parents he usually does so in an ancient VW pick-up. This time he is in a Peugeot, so I could go with him and ma on the supermarket big buy. I helped it be relatively unstressful, the pair of us worked well, and neither lost the temper with mother. I also can the school vouchers to the scout group collecting them at the door, which happened to be my old one, the 1st Southgate.
I then made salad, managed chips, cooked rhubarb, opened the cava, made mother sit down, and served dinner. Nobody got stressed! Apart from mother with her let me lone! I'm alrighten!!, which I bulldozed gently.
I then went to the shops to pay their paper bill, and bought trotters. I then sawed the trotters into trotter and shank.
Watched The best of Benny Hill on ITV 3 and nearly choked. The one with the French film director being the one that drove me closest. I also discovered the source of me going Weeeeeeee!
Me and Basil then went out. We went to the Whetherspoons (County Oak) which was relatively chav free, but had no beer we could be bothered with. Then The Swan for Kissing Gate Brewery (Crawley's first for about a century). Then the Downsman for the best pints of the day (I had Courage best he had St Austell Tribute). We would have stayed for at least one more but the whole pub was hired for a stag do.
Good day with a chance to discuss lots of important stuff.
Virgin Media are shit called to apologise for my personal lack of broadband. He claimed it was just chance that I had suffered 3 separate issues over 5 days, and took another tenner off my next bill. Still not happy but at least they called. The Coop (Together you will get hurt) have not.
From looking at books I think the very small bird that nearly flew down my throat last Saturday was just out of the nest. Maybe a chiffchaff or a warbler, but by looks and size I think most likely to be a firecrest.
Friday, May 28th, 2010
The annual bluebell walk from Faygate
A day of endorphins.
Ma gave me a Pulley, sleeveless in this case. Basil has also arrived, so for a few days it will be the family square.
Did the traditional bluebell walk from Faygate, and I must have been doing them for more than a decade now. The bluebells were very late this year but even so only about one in a hundred plants were were still in flower. Lots and lots of lesser speedwell though, the most I have ever seen; and also fields full of self-heal, so still plenty of violet blue.
Got the 12.05 train to Faygate, and was the only person getting off there, as is usual. Martin at the Holmbush, greeted me with the traditional It's not that time of year again is it! and shook my hand. I had a relaxed chat and drink but was sad to hear the brilliant chainsaw woodcarver that was based next door died last year in his thirties due to long term excess consumption.
Called Tamar from Tamar's field, the traditional spot. Just the answerphone, but there is a new pond and chickens, and chickens increase the entertainment value of any field a thousandfold, especially if there is a cockerel. This one seemed especially thick. Taking so long to focus on the bit of oat bar landing under his beak that one of his brood would get it instead.
Passed a small field of sheep and I bahhed at them. They all came running up to the fence to check, though my offer of long grass provoked little interest.
All of the fields on the walk seemed to have had work done, and new stiles are installed, which did cause my hip joints to protest.
The Frog and Nightgown was open. Ex-Halifax bomber pilot Jim is alive and well and Janet is still as sharp as knives, and was sat outside with friends. They probably guessed I was coming from the fact I cheered loudly when I saw it was open, and again when I saw the new sign (given to them by locals to mark 25 years at the pub).
Janet remembered me. Her friend and neighbour Coral (who runs the Owl Castle b&b) was impressed with that and my pulllover. She asked me to write her a poem, which is something I rarely do, but her name attracted me, Some names, like Beverley for instance, I find hard to rhyme with. Coral sparked verse. It was nothing to do with her being young and good looking, or the fact she kept going Aaaaaw! and Oooooh! when I was telling her about myself.
Coral
The wash and seas of foaming waves
The thrusting life to reach the light
The atoll's eye that loving craves
Makes coral's beauty a joy to sight
Thursday, May 27th, 2010
The pain of shyness
To the Halifax in the morning with mother to sort accounts; then H&M for new slippers for her; then her first visit to 'poundworld', where she only asked how much something cost 3 or 4 times; then Post Office.
After lunch I went to London to see John about a Curry & Kipling.
On the way there I got talking to (forced my conversation on) a vision of a buying consultant, who told me about buying pigs bristles for dye testing, and much more that I found fascinating; in exchange for my tales of J.B.Priestley's tales of wool and fiber, and maybe one or two others, including the joy of origami.
Then up Charing Cross Road, where I got a George Burrow book (With the Bible in Spain) for more than double what I would pay on the internet, but he was a good man who knew his stuff. Then got a Kipling biography, but failed to find anything about Sydney Smith.
Then in the Duke of Chandos for the meeting, which went really well.
Then to the Harp, where I met Graham from "North Hampshire" (probably Slough) and a sales rep from Timothy Taylors called Giles. Giles promised us a pint of Golden Best if we came to his promotion at the Porcupine. Guess where we went.
Talked to loads of folk in the Porcupine, and not just to tell them to drink Golden Best. Liz the sound landlady; at least two blokes from Australia, and three from Canada; and a really pretty youth from Minnesota; as well as a limited company from Norway, whose name I could not pronounce, let alone spell.
Wednesday, May 26th, 2010
I am injured in an explosion
I went with ma to the hospital for an appointment with a gut specialist. She was referred mainly because of her supposed weight loss. I assume the GP has weighed her and thinks it significant, because her own testimony is confused. At worst it is 5kg in 5 months.
The specialist did nothing except decide she was fit enough for a colonoscopy (which is not the one ending with a bag, but the one involving looking inside the big end). It takes a full day at hospital).
The specialist was a nice man, but all he did was decide that ma was fit enough to have the colonoscopy. Linda the cleaner, who was here when I arrived yesterday, said that that was going to have one! And the GP is surely better placed to decide on her fitness.
On the other hand the specialist did ask the woman in charge of appointments to ring me to discuss the date, so I can be with her. I have also talked to ma about managing father; with his complete inability to inject himself with insulin, on that day. A nurse may be involved. It should be a relatively painless way of testing what happens if she is not here.
Later on a bottle of beer exploded in my basket at the Coop and gave me a shock and a small cut on the hand. The manger did not ask of my welfare, let alone offer recompense. I photoed the bottle and the statement I wrote for him.
Tuesday, May 25th, 2010
Reasons to hate Virgin
I did want to tell you such a lot about the last few days: about the exciting and fulfilling Sunday; about finding a bullet buried in the abandoned garden, identifying it as Czech S&B 6.5x57 and unfired, and taking to the police station where the young WPC said "I have no idea what that is."; about learning lots and teaching more.
I would have written about all that, but my Virgin media is shit broadband connection has been down every day in the last five; with two more broken days in the previous 5. Breaks have ranged from 2 to 14 hours.
Another trip to the parents. Took the 07.20 Megabus coach/train combination. A good time and trip. Lots of yellow rape fields in full bloom, especially around Nottingham (the rape flowers seemed to be falling further south).
Watched a lorry at the power station at East Midlands Parkway being loaded with stuff from the inside of a cooling tower. It looked like massive, black corrugated cardboard, and by the way it bounced it seemed to be made of rubber.
Had a lovely chat with a couple from Beeston, Notts, on their way to see their daughter being made a member of the Royal College of Physicians.
Called in the Betjeman.
Things at the parents are like one of those two view plastic pictures from the 60's, the kind where you move your head and the picture changes. In my case things look either fine or ominous, depending on where my head is. When I discovered their Virgin media is shit broadband connection was down it was a stressed head; but that was fixed, I have drawn breath, and things look better, though no different.
Meant to go and see Hayseed Dixie in Brighton or a gig with iain Burnside in London. I felt far too tired to do either. I am wondering if I should paint a Don't mind me, it's me menopause t-shirt.
Saturday, May 22nd, 2010
Joy Division
So much to say, so few fingers to say it with
Walked from Roberts Park in Saltaire's grand re-opening day (where I watched Bev's Rainbow Morris troupe dance) to Baildon Woodbottom Cricket Club (where I watched Gargrave give Haworth Road Meths (the 'home' team) a right spanking. I left before the end, but the home team were chasing 230 odd for a win, and had scored 89 with 18 overs left. Thwaites Nutty Black mild was £1.50 and I got talking to an old bloke who not only agreed with me that the fielding team clapping the bowler every time the batsman does not score is stupid, but was also a much better judge of the strokes the batsmen offered.
On the walk by the River Aire I saw my second greater spotted woodpecker this last fortnight (I can't be bothered checking when I saw the last one, it was in Elland Park Wood, and I banged a stone on a tree) but also got a bird (I think a goldcrest, but will check) so demented with my imitation of its whistle it came almost within touching distance. There was a bird of the same kind tweeting and fluttering its wings, I guessed a female, but the one I provoked followed me issuing Come on if you think you're hard noises; whilst staring straight at me. Whatever else I might look like, I do not look like a bird of less than 10cms.
It was lovely to be at Roberts Park. Having the reason of seeing the dancing made it even better. Talked to loads of people, from Pheobe who is just ..., and was as excited as me when I pointed out the blue balloon that was just a speck in the sky; to people who have had a bus pass for decades.
I think I have had 3, or maybe 2, pints short of a gallon today; but that was spread over 12 hours, and the three at the cricket, and the one in Shipley's Wetherspoons, were mild...
I said 'hello' to friends in the City Vaults. ate from the Oasis kebab house, and impressed the Iranian who works there with my knowledge of his history (both of Iran and the kebab house); and he seemed to get excited by the fact it might be the oldest kebab house in Bradford.
I then went to the Polish Parish Club. Talked to Micheal from Wyszkow, who does 12 hour shifts.
BBC Radio 2 have just played Joy Division's Love will tear us apart. I had to turn it up full. I have a vivid memory of hearing the news that the singer Ian Curtis had slashed his wrist in a bath. I was walking somewhere to the east of Crawley, by an abandoned garage. The image has never left me, but it stopped being something to aim for long since.
It turns out that was 30 years ago last Tuesday, I guess 4 months before I started supporting Bradford City. The date of Curtis' death and the Bradford fire. less than a week apart.
Thursday, May 20th, 2010
Virgin - bad
Man full of beer warning!
Very good days, despite thieving pikey cant scratter bastards, probably driving an oranged striped, Shepa looking, pick up, nicking two fecling inches of lead pipe off the pipe that fed the cistern of one of the redundant outside toilets.
Yorkshire Water are parasitic scum, tossers, bastards and indifferent to need; which for water suggests drinking the blood of babies to stay alive is not far away.
I also discovered freezer issues, which might explain some of the time when I have not had full control of my own actions.
I do need a new fridge/freezer. Trouble is all the new ones I have found are either much taller than mine (so I lose somewhere to put fruit and new needles for my insulin pens), or I have a bigger fridge (no use to me) and a tiny freezer (I'll have no bread).
However: I did an instinctive fix by repacking, and it has flipping well worked.
Today I chased dreams, until my virgin (virgin are shit) broadband connection gave out at 11.00, for the third day running. Then I phoned people.
I wrote a full description of the last few days for my restart interview, but I am chemically incapable of cutting and pasting; so if I need to know what I have done since the last post I will have to check my 'sent' files.
The Restart was the best I have ever had. I cannot remember his name, but he was good.
Then spent time catching up on my drinking at Salts, The Love Apple and the Delius (a.k.a The Thirsty Scholar). Talked at the barmaid in the Apple, and wrote a description of where the bluebells are, coz she said she loved them, and lived near Elland: then a few folk in the Delius, including a student from Cornwall, who said he was a Man U fan (So you're a home fan then, being from Cornwall! Made his black Cockney mate laugh, a lot). I tell you what, once he got passionate his accent flowered (obviously the one he got whilst waiting for the bus to school, 3 times a year, or whilst getting cider drunk at 16 in the pub nearest his Emmet parents).
I got home to find my broadband connection was still unconnected, and called virgin (shite) media. I had called in the morning when it first went down, and put the phone down on her foreign accent, whereas when I called tonight, Alex and his even more foreign Scottish accent did what he should do, and well.
For the first time I saw a bird (magpie) drinking and washing from my 'done nothing to, for, or with it' pond. I always assumed it were cats that lowered the water level, before today.
I might go and sit and bat watch, and drink more, now. Or drink more, or not drink any more and go to bed, or not watch bats and watch drinks. Or just drink, or not. It's nice to have friends that will listen.
That would have been my final word, but my virgin (virgin are shit) connection is down again.
If I am off-line for more than 4 days, I am either ill, busy, drunk, not bothered, or changing from virgin (virgin are shit) media to a provider that provides.
Monday, May 17th, 2010
Garden and folly
I have done no work today, I just did gardening, cooking and a bit of cleaning. I was stood in the garden when I heard the dole home visit officer pull up in his diesel (I found out they are given a choice of either a Ford Focus or a Vauxhall Astra, both diesels; and his Focus suffers from the same turbo lag problems as Roger's Volkswagen. It's the first bad thing I have heard about the new Focus, especially as it is a works car that is fully serviced).
The interview took less than 5 minutes, not including car talk time, and was just to confirm my basic details. I have no objection, but it has just made things complicated. I might have been able to get to London to talk about a Kipling show this week if I had not had to be here for it. Still, it has been good to be in my own house, and it is not as if I have been finding it hard to find pleasant things to do.
I dug up some horseradish and grated it with some ginger and stir fried both with sliced onions and yesterday's braised beef. It was lovely but nowhere near as hot as I thought it would be.
Ilkley Literature Festival's decision not to interview me was what I expected. I probably will do some kind of Ilkley Uncut Fringe, the trouble is that while I had some good support from the town, especially in terms of venues, I have nobody to help with the organizing, and it needs more organizing than I can manage to do it bigger tahn last year.
A little moth like butterfly we saw yesterday, which I did not know, was actually a Wood Tiger Moth, which, I guess, is where de Havilland got the name for the aeroplane Amy Johnstone flew to Australia in. The big, black flies in a cloud wanting to mate (such groups are called leks) were probably Large Ichneumans.
Sunday, May 16th, 2010
Week ends and beginnings
It has been such a good weekend (apart from knock backs from the dodgy Keighley hidden history thing, and Ilkley Lit Fest) that I am struggling to remember it all.
I thought I idd a laundry on Friday, but having my own blog I discovered I did that on Wednesday. I know I entertained in the evening (bacon steaks on a bed of potatoes. shredded cabbage, onion and caraway seeds), and did another private P.G.Wodehouse reading; but what I did in the day is a blank at the moment.
Hang on. I went to Keighley to talk business with Roger, then called in at Mike Harrion's in Frizinghall. That's taken a weight of my mind.
Saturday did heavy shops at both Morrisons and Lidl. Also did guerilla gardening at the top of my street, and showed the widow's children how to plant bulbs. Whilst I was working a woman turned up with a big smile. She set my looney alarm off even before she started telling a story of assault. She seemed non-violent, and friendly, and I am not proud that she heard or saw me giving an opinion that prompted her to come back and demand to know if I thought she was mad. The trouble is that she had been standing at the end of the ginnel for minutes, watching and listening, for her to know that is what I thought.
Today. Set off with Bev to repeat the bluebell walk of a few days ago, a trip into the unknown for her. We saw many butterflies by the River Calder, just above Brighouse; more species than I can remember seeing in one place, and possible more than Bev had ever knowingly seen (or had pointed out to her by someone that knew). Peacock; orange tip; brimstone; a small white (maybe a wooded); and at least two more I could not guess at.
We then met a bloke with a dog. The dog looked very resigned once the bloke got talking. I did manage to force my recommendation of Elland Wood on him; but did do the walk he recommended, and we did discover a secrete bluebell wood below the railway between Elland Junction and Brighouse. We had to leap across a raging torrent, or rather hop across a sluggish stream; and then had to retrace our steps when the pond met the railway, but we, or rather I, nmade discoveries in the shade.
Then the Barge & Barrel (best quote:I arranged to meet her outside her house, and she never showed up!) and the Malt Shovel (Man's voice That's why I've grown a beard, to keep lasses off. Woman's voice Well it's not working love! I'm puckering up. The same man said he walked to Brighouse because: Nobody says owt to yer; but if you walk on't canal every bugger smiles at yer an says 'Ave a nice day.'... Feck off!'
It were a shared adventure and a lovely day.
Thursday, May 13th, 2010
This year's bluebell rendezvous
A grand day out.
Walked from Brighouse to Halifax via Elland Wood. Best ever carpet of bluebells. Pictures were taken, but no painting done. I felt overwhelmed by them, and for the first time ever I felt intoxicated by the scent of wild flowers.
I also spent time taking photos of a mud patch where a steam crossed the path. People had thrown down planks, I guess for a cycling event (supposed from other evidence). This had caused the steam to run across the path and sink into it. Sometime today, however, somebody else had spent 47 minutes carving a new, straight, channel with a pointed branch, and rearranged the planks, and added stones and sticks, and walked away a happier man; as I would have done if I had done it.
Not a single butterfly in the wood, but thousands of hoverflies (my favourite). If my camera had a quicker shutter I would have a photo of 6 of them on the same sun lit leaf, but got a photo of a blank leaf by the time it had shutted.
I also got a greater spotted woodpecker close enough to spot by banging a stone on a tree, though it took longer than it did when I saw it done on the One Show.
Had some beer in Halifax, including a first visit to the Cross Keys (Siddel, I think). I resolved a while ago not to walk past an open pub, as long as I had time and money enough. It might not be open much longer. Good pub but no handpulled. After that the usual Shears, Pump Room, Three Pigeons (in that order because the Pigeons has moved its opening from 3 to 4 o'clock).
Then home for 9 minutes before going to a Parish Council meeting, at which I made useful contributions, and got asked advice by a Muslim bloke, who's name I have forgot, about getting pure honey. Unfortunately I know all of my brother's monastery produce was sold last year.
Then The Delius Centre for an Open Floor (the mic was not working, so I made the title up) evening. The first there. Name check for young songwriter Johnny and his guitar, and Bruce Barnes, and Tina, and Joe O; who all performed.
Wednesday, May 12th, 2010
Endless cycles of rinse and spin
I was set to go for a walk through the bluebell woods high above Elland today. I had some watercolours, a map, and two pairs of socks on. At the last moment I gave it up for laundry.
A 4 machine wash (praise to the Zanussi of Jenny), and all of it ironed, plus the ironing left over from previous washes.
I also did clearing, with the aim of turning the small room back to a walk-in wardrobe. I discovered/recovered my safety helmet; two pairs of trousers that still fit; 2 white shirts; and a programme wot I wrote for probably the last thing I did at the Priestley/Bradford Playhouse.
Yesterday morning I did a 100 word application for a 'storytelling' 'job' on a project known to the press as something like Keighley's hidden history. 100 words was the limit, obviously to avoid drudgery wading through ten pages of answers. I felt a narrative in poetic form welling up, and sent the below. You need to know Keighley to get it all.
Keighley Hidden History
From Keighley to cougars.
From cyclists to cricketers.
From brown cows to black sheep.
From volunteers to their worth.
From cooks to crooks.
From making of bolt's to the making of steam.
From spinning a yarn to cutting your cloth.
From Timmy Taylors to Tinglary Tommy.
From men that sold matches to keep alive,
women singing for pennies to live on,
and the boy who lay down to sleep on Old Year's end between the gargoyles and river,
who died frozen by New Year's dawn.
From sun on the hills to ice on the waters.
Your hidden history is here.
Tuesday, May 11th, 2010
Bradford Fire thoughts
Second blog written in 11th May, written 7 or so hours after the one before.
On the afternoon of 11th May 1985 I was stood, singing, on the Bradford End, at Valley Parade, watching Bradford City Vs Lincoln City. City had won promotion to the 'old' Second Division away at Cambridge Utd and won the Third Division Title at Bolton Wanderers. I had been at both games.
At 3:42 we saw a few wisps of smoke in the main stand. 4 minutes later the whole stand was blazing.
The year before the fire and the few months after would probably count as the worst time in my life, event if the fire had not happened.
None of the 57 victims were people I even knew, let along loved, so time has largely healed my scars. There was a big media fuss about the 20th anniversary, which I did not like; why the 20th when there was nothing for the 19th? And that gave some distance; but today's anniversary was almost exactly half my present lifetime ago; I almost did not remember; and that was a shock; a very real shock.
I probably would have gone out for a walk, as I did in the years before the 20th. As it was I realised what date it was in early afternoon, cancelled a business meeting; and stood in my garden in the rain.
Almost by chance I looked at the time on my mobile at 3.42 and then again at 3.46. The Four Minutes From Hell seemed, for a moment, to be as real as they seemed in the waking nightmares of the time that followed the fire
The moment passed, as all moments do.
If all the victims had survived the oldest would be 109 years old, and the 3 youngest would be in their 36th year.
Tuesday, May 11th, 2010
25 years since the Bradford Fire
Those of us left to remember
Should always remember
Those who are not here
To share the wealth
we have gained
Written about the 11th May 1985. I was on the Bradford End.
Monday, May 10th, 2010
Tree Gone
The big sycamore in next door's garden is gone. I was up early to finish work on a new CV and an application for the Ilkley Literary Festival Poet in Residence and they started soon after. By the time we left the house for Ilkley it was standing gaunt and almost leafless, and by the time I came home it was a stump. It should never have been allowed to grow there, and it was a threat to all the surrounding houses, including mine, but I have to confess I will miss the view a little.
Went to see the new film Four Lions with Bev yesterday. It is a comedy about an Islamic terrorist group in Sheffield. I read the reviews today, and can understand the very harsh criticism of it not being a good film; but we both enjoyed it. There are very, very funny scenes; and we were both engaged for almost all of it; but the more I think about it the more details just won't stand up to inspection. It is a Three Stooges like film in places, but people really do die. I would still recommend it though. It actually made us both think.
On Saturday Joe filmed me doing poems for a DVD to add to the Ilkley application. He has produced a very good DVD, apart from my performance. I went thinking I would be doing a CD and just did not prepare myself to be filmed, and the camera showed it. Not usable this time but a very valuable lesson.
On Friday I cooked steamed pheasant with bread and apple sauce. It was well received. As were my readings from P.G.Wodehouse's Eggs, beans and Crumpets.
Thursday, May 6th, 2010
Polls
So I have worked for 15 hours as a Poll Clerk at today's elections. The best one yet. A lot of that was due to Mohammed and Phil, the people I worked with. This is the first Parliamentary election I have worked, and the turn-out (around 60 percent, by my pencil calculations) was about double what I have had at previous elections I have worked. The thing is, apart from the first hour (because us two Poll Clerks had had no training, so saving Bradford Council the £20 we would have got as a fee) we coped much better.
Afterwards I went to the Brown Cow (Wendy from Durban) and relaxed my self. I do not go in often, but when I mentioned the tale of the lass who confessed to supplying the council estate with lumps of ice shaped like 2 shilling pieces (as told to me, and reported in this blog long since) folk had heard the story.
Tomorrow I have a 'Re-Star(hi)t' interview (I should have signed on today) which I think is my yearly one, when I am still on the 9 month one. I will have my dole stopped, and then be liable for Poll tax. Who needs adventure when you can be a self employed poet, writer and showman, who wants to help the wheels of democracy turning?
Monday, May 3rd, 2010
Lovely being liked
Blessed days.
Yesterday I did a straight line walk of my own creation. I drew a line from the abandoned Old Red Lion on Little Horton Lane, to the Bulls Head in Baildon; and walked between the two, as close to the line as I could, and that was remarkably close.
I walked through many phases of my past life. The path to MacRory's, past the parking bay of the professor of the University course I was thrown off (where I used to be violently ill, early of some mornings, by some strange coincidence) into the Rose and Crown, White Abbey Road, at 11.05 (they open of a Sunday) for my first drink since my last full day in Crawley.
I then walked up Lumb Lane and by Valley Parade to Midland Road. Then down Hillam Road to have a splendid bacon and black pudding teacake at Jimmy's in Bradford Mothercycles' car park.
Then on to Bolton Woods, which I knew very well when my, then good, friends Alister Macilroy and (deep sigh) Louise Hooker lived there. The New Victoria, in Bolton Woods, have a new couple wanting to make it work, and reintroduce hand pumps. I will be going again.
From there I walked through Owlet, stopped in the Travellers Rest (no handpulled), then to the Junction; where I met the metal detectors who have chocolate labradors.
Then up Baildon Road, via the glen/park to keep to the line. Then up the Bedlam Steps in Baildon, to the Bulls Head, where Bev came to meet me.
The rest of the weekend was really chilled (and chilly for a while, until my moaning about duvets with the tog rating of a paper towel resulted in extra being got). Great night in the Malt Shovel. Good people watching, of a kind I could not do on my own.
Today I got closer to cats, stamped cans flat to clear a path, and did a little gardening. Then a lovely shared walk to Fanny's. A very relaxed stop there and Shipley.
Saturday, May 1st, 2010
Brawn
I had a mind to go and see Bradford City's last home game of the season today, a thought reinforced by getting an invite to Mike Harrison and Emily's wedding this morning; going to the match would allow me to accept in person.
There is usually a discount voucher scheme for City tickets, and getting one would allow beer with mates and the match. There was no voucher though; so I could have used the money I had to talk to blokes in a pub, or go to the match. I ended up doing neither. (City beat play-off hopefuls Northampton 2-0, leaving them in 15th).
I did a third day working in gardens. My vine has budded and the dwarf pear is in blossom. I have also planted some bulbs from a mixed box of yellow plants (by chance nearly all my summer flowers are purple/mauve).
I also made brawn with a ham hock. It is over 20 years since I last made this combination of small bits of ultra cheap pig bits boiled and left to set in its own jelly. The last time was with half a pigs head. I thought this one was just short of brilliant. I t tastes great, and I turned it out on a plate, like a jelly, but it proved hard to cut in slices. After a few more hours in the fridge though, and a different knife, it is cutting fine.
I had the brawn with a hot potato salad, one of my better ones.
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