Deb’s Digest

Perhaps it’s something in the water, but first our daughter and then the elder son and his family spent their summer holidays in Berlin. Oscar thoroughly enjoyed the experience

and insisted on trying out ALL available treats

Meanwhile, we had a few days closer to home and lapped up a bit of luxury in Harrogate. Rudding Park Hotel went right to the top of my list when I saw, in the library, the settee I have hankered after since I first saw it in a trendy magazine.

It is so ME that I was quite put out whenever I spotted another guest sitting on it.

Just back from Stratford where we saw the RSC’s production of “The Winter’s Tale” . Greg Hicks – who I last saw when he was covered in blood as Coriolanus – took the part of Leontes and was just brilliant.

The play lasted for just over three hours and I found that my knees had become sort of hinged in a very uncomfortable position – I even found myself worrying about DVT (I hope that’s not rude).

We saw some of the meteorite shower on the way back to the hotel after the performance but although I really wanted to stay out and see more, I’d looked up for so long that I’d developed a crick in my neck – is this what getting old is all about – hinged knees, dvt and a cricked neck?

This morning at breakfast I was just about to place a slice of bread on the hotel’s toasting contraption, using the tongs provided when a girl of about 11 raced up, manhandled the white cloths covering the loaves and started grabbing pieces of bread – desperate to get her slices onto the toaster before I could get mine on. I told her mother that there were tongs available if she’d care to wait for a split second. “Oh we don’t bother about that, it’s only us who’ll be eating it,” she barked. Judging by the number of slices that the girl had her hands all over – I doubt that – but who knows.

We’d just sat down to enjoy our  first-past-the-post toast when a father, dressed in shorts and flip flops (Stratford in the rain) stood up, bent over his table so that his face was two inches from his son’s (son about seven) and started berating him for some crime to humanity in an exceptionally loud and booming voice. “We had all this in London, why won’t you listen, it shows that you have no fidelity, no thoughtfulness, no sincerity….” etc…etc….etc for ten full minutes. I looked at the family – the little wife was shrinking in her seat, the white-faced son wanted the floor to swallow him up and the man’s mother didn’t know where to look. It was like something from The Fast Show, except it was extremely unfunny. Just when we felt it was safe to get stuck into the now cold toast, he started again: “YOU DO UNDERSTAND WHY I’VE TAKEN THIS ACTION AND SPOKEN LIKE THIS,”  he bellowed. For pity’s sake leave the poor child alone and give us all a break I wanted to shout. I had chronic indigestion all morning. Hinged knees, dvt, cricked neck and indigestion – are these holidays worth it?

We’ve lived with a fireplace we didn’t like ever since we moved in 30 years ago and last month we finally did something about it. So for weeks now the house has been upside down, with workmen here, there and everywhere because a new fireplace meant new wallpaper and a new carpet. Yesterday the carpet (lounge, diningroom, hall, stairs and landing) was removed so last night the only available space to sit in was a two-square yard space in the conservatory, wedged between furniture from all the other rooms. In a funny old way it was quite nice not having to check the television listings to see how the BBC was going to entertain us. We read the papers, drank coffee and watched the sun sink in the West. Now we await our new bouncy underlay and carpet and after it’s fitted shoes will be left in the porch and coffee consumed in the kitchen only.

It was really lovely at the weekend. We had an entire family gathering and the artist son set up his tripod and camera and we all smiled for 20 shots. Here’s one of them….

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Oscar has been to his first gig – “In the Night Garden” in Sefton Park, followed by a party where he swept one young lady off her feet after showing her his moves on the dance floor.

But when it was time to go home, Bernard was his companion of choice.

Anybody out there? It’s been so long since I added a post to this blog that I’d forgotten my user details. It’s not really that nothing’s been happening, more that it’s all been pretty run-of-the-mill stuff.

There have been a couple of personal highlights – a letter in the Times followed by my piece being used in that paper’s “You the Editor” column, although their description of me as “retired journalist” made me sound older than I feel (I didn’t say look).

A relative has just had a big birthday and I was stumped when it came to thinking of a gift. However,  I saw that Christies was going to be holding the Althorp Attic Sale at the beginning of July – perfect timing and the birthday girl LOVES anything to do with Diana’s family. As soon as I saw the Telegraph supplement about the sale in May I registered to bid online (a lengthy procedure during which I was asked if I would be bidding more than £30k – I hardly dared admit what my upper limit was.). I bought the catalogue, listed 50 possibilities and on July 7th I was in front of my laptop at 9.30am ready for the sale to start at 10. A webcam picture showed me the auctioneer’s podium and lots of to-ing and fro-ing around it. Ten o’clock came and went and I shouted to my husband, who was in the loft: “You’d think they’d start on time wouldn’t you” at that point my laptop went black with lots of warnings on the screen – it was dead. Nightmare and Absolute Panic! I ran round the house – my husband’s laptop is only used to coping with instructions from an elderly silver surfer and gave up the ghost at the first attempt. My ancient computer was in a huff - after all, I’d deserted it months ago for a second-hand laptop. I had to go back to the warning notices and the black screen. I know not how but by as if my magic I got the auction room back and they were onto lot 16. YES, the very item I knew my relative would adore was just about to be shown. The bidding went up and then stopped – still shaking from the “on-off” episode, I pressed “bid now” . “an online bid from Southport” the auctioneer shouted (how exciting!). A rotter in the stalls outbid me and the auctioneer was on his “for the third time” when the devil got into me and I pressed the button again. The rotter knew he was beaten and I GOT IT. I don’t often run round and round the house (except when my laptop freezes) but I did then – round and round and round and round. I rang everyone I could think of, I even dialled the number of the relative it was for, until I remembered. I just couldn’t believe that I had won this exquisite item. When I calmed down, three days later it struck me that the item was at Christies and I was in Southport. I enquired about transport – £100 and a courier with a van would be used.  I have a wealth of experience of couriers with vans. There was nothing else for it, I had to go and get it. I felt like a secret agent on the day I whizzed down to London and back on the train. I was totally amazed when I had the item in my hand – so sure was I that something had to go wrong. I left Liverpool at 10am and I was back on Lime Street station at 3.30.  So the gift has now been given and the story told.

Back from the cruise, and full of hayfever – we went to see Simon Callow last night in his touring one-man-show “The Man from Stratford”. He was absolutely fantastic. He took the stage for two hours wearing a pair of old grey trousers and a crumpled white shirt and transported us back to Shakespeare’s time, with priceless cameos from many of the plays, illustrating a life that starts and ends in Stratford but has so much in between. I just hope that students studying plays for A level (do they still do that?)  get the chance to see this touring play.

While we were away Oscar was busy bouncing on his new trampoline,  decorating his wendy house and sliding down his slide.

But one of the things he likes doing best is telling  the little spiders (ants) that he’s going to have some “juice”. He can just about say “pider” but at times it sounds like “murder” and the other day when his dad was tidying up after a chicken dinner he said to Oscar “should we put mummy’s bones in the bin?”  “murder” shouted Oscar – who we all hope had just spotted one of his eight-legged friends.

Oscar’s soccer-oblivious dad was hoping that he could keep his son in a football-free zone – not a chance! Aunty Lala (not the name we chose for her, but the one Oscar prefers) came home with a mini England kit this week.

and the pair of them were busy trying to secure a multi-million pound deal with Fabio Capello at the weekend.  So, between that and his football-mad uncle, I’d say that Oscar’s dad had better start swotting up on the off-side rule.

We went to the beach in the pouring rain on Friday to see a vintage plane fly-past. Oscar took a cursory glance at the sky but gave the impression that the planes were disturbing his artistic attempts at drawing mama and dada in the mud.

I can put my marching shoes away. Cameron is at number 10 and justice has been done. To celebrate we sent up a Chinese lantern – the only trouble is it might have given neighbours the impression that we were BNP supporters.

Thank goodness but what am I going to watch on television now?

You nasty, unprincipled, scheming  toad.

If  the two parties which the electorate voted second and third get their ugly heads together and take power, I’m marching to Downing Street.

Forget foul-mouthed Ricky Gervais and bigoted (oh yes) Jimmy Carr. Peter Kay is THE man. We saw him yesterday on the second night of his tour and he was completely fantastic. New material, hardly any “blue for the dads” and so funny that a group of teenage boys in front of us were literally crying with laughter. He got a long standing ovation and boy, did he deserve it. We’ve booked to see his show again in November 2011 and I’m counting the days.

I think Oscar’s dad is turning into Fagin and sending his 18-month-old son out looking for cash. We walked down to the village the other day and Oscar spotted a ten pence piece on the pavement. It went straight into a deep trouser pocket with the words “dada”. Another two shiney coins were discovered during the same walk and went the way of the first. The next day I asked Oscar to put my change into my purse for me. The minute I handed it over he ran off like the wind shouting “dada” . I’ll have to look into this….

“aaaah, there’s a coin, in the grounds of the bank”

Back with his spoils – we can look but we can’t touch

Oscar has been sightseeing in Edinburgh with his mum and dad. The bit of the holiday he enjoyed best however was the bowl of ice cream after the evening meal – during which he perfected the two-spoon trick.

all gone