Close Encounters with Mankind

I had been eyeing it up from the kitchen window and charting its daily progress; change in size and colour. Was it ready yet? Today I squeeze it gently between my thumb and forefinger, it's perfect. I wait until tea time to pluck it from the tree, then offer to share it but no one else wants to eat this lovely, unforbidden fruit with me. So I savour the sweetness all to myself and happily so. I didn't really want to share it anyway.
More plums are swelling and ripening and I will joyfully gather them when the time is right.

Mum and Dad celebrated their 70th birthdays together and had long ago invited some family and friends to join them for a meal at a local posh place. Another excuse for me to wear my Bond girl outfit. It was lovely to see my aunts, uncles, cousins, gorgeous god-daughter, energetic nieces, and nephews altogether on such a happy occasion. After the meal, a local lad entertained us with his super singing, inviting Romeo to blast out a couple of songs. Even Dirtbag side stepped on the springy dance floor with us, looking beautiful in her new frock and my borrowed shoes. There was something so comforting about being in a room full of people of who the majority have known me since infancy and still continue to nurture and love me. My small gift was being the designated driver so I could make sure everyone got home in one piece. Sensible Susie.

Party Parents

We enjoyed an action packed week at Center Parcs in Sherwood Forest with our French famille. Mini-Me was displaying some challenging behaviour at times which was quite distressing. Do boys experience a raging hormonal surge at age ten? The planned activity for August 9th was Laser Combat. What a brilliant way to celebrate our wedding anniversary, we could pretend to kill each other for fun. Alas, we were on the same team. My gun name was Sheik and I smeared some war paint across my face to get into the spirit of things. It was really good fun but being a pacifist I felt really uncomfortable firing head shots only. Another day our bicycles took us further afield and into Sherwood Forest itself. We had to disembark and continue on foot to see the major oak tree propped up proudly in his old age (over 1,000 years). I love the story of Robin Hood and fancy myself as Maid Marian. Hugging the sculpture of Robin in the village of Edwinstowe, I cut my arm, not on Robin's arrow but his severed bow. It looked worse than it actually was, just a scratch really. Does Monty Python spring to mind here?

In front of the Major Oak Tree

I have been abandoning ship and going on some local organised walks on alternate Saturdays. They are planned in conjunction with the trains, meeting at various stations where the walks begin. They usually finish ten miles or so later at another station ensuring we can all return to our home villages/towns. Last week's walk was the perfect opportunity to test drive my new walking boots; they passed. The failure came with the train line at the end of our walk being under maintenance that day and we had to use a replacement bus service to get to the next working station. Unfortunately, our bus was a few minutes late and the train left just as the bus arrived, so then we had to wait for another bus to take us home as the next train was strangely cancelled. It was all very amusing to me but some other passengers travelling from Sheffield were not so happy. We even had to direct the bus driver as he was on standby and not from the local area. What an adventure! I selfishly enjoyed my two pieces of emergency chocolate on the first hot and sweaty bus journey.

In preparation for my new job, I decide to cycle to the still shut school and back home again. Having whizzed down the first hill I get off to avoid the long queue of vehicles at the four-way never changing traffic lights. I have a pleasant little chat with two older ladies pushing a small boy in a pram  back up the hill and smile. When I leave them and go round the corner a large dishevelled wild man with broken teeth starts shouting at me and pointing his finger towards the road. I am completely unprepared for this bizarre meeting and continue to smile while trying to make sense of his anger. He is really cross and talking complete nonsense and all I can do is stand there and say 'It's OK, I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm going back onto the road now.' I almost burst into tears because I hate confrontation of any kind and I hate being shouted at. Cycling on I confess that I do cry a little bit but then quickly re-focus on the road so I don't hit any potholes. I keep thinking positive thoughts for the wild man and feel sad to think I upset him even more than he already seemed to be. He reminded me of the subway ghost from the film Ghost (1990) who shouts ''Get off my train!'' but was even scarier.

My return route was much nicer, going up and down really steep hills but with great views. I travel alongside Victoria Tower, the castle on the hill of my bedtime horizon. Almost home and I am just descending into the woods pressing hard on the brakes. Suddenly I have to do a massive sideways skid as another male lunatic appears in front of me, sort of walk/jogging around the blind bend and there is a car passing me on my right. I honestly don't know how I didn't fly over the top of the handlebars. Undeterred by my strange encounters I aim to take my bike on the train to work and cycle home, two or three times a week. Wish me luck.

Victoria Tower, taken in 2010

We are really happy to be meeting up with lots of friends and neighbours we have not seen for over a year and although I am now thinking of my far-flung friends back in the Middle East, I am so glad I don't have to fly back there this time.
Happy to report that I have had over 10,000 page views to date. So thank you, my faithful, friendly followers.

'Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.'

by Kahlil Gibran.

With Love xx

Still reading and enjoying: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Listening to: BBC Radio 6 Music and loving: Big Cat by Wild Beasts, Furnaces by Ed Harcourt and Wake Up To This by King Creosote
Singing & Dancing to: Thunderbridge at the Shepley Beer Festival this weekend
Watched: Finding Dory at the cinema with Mini-Me

The castle on the hill of my bedtime horizon

Writing Room with a new view

Was it all a dream? I think it could have been because we have only been home for one month but it feels like forever; this is such a good feeling. I am in my newly established writing room which was the former nursery for both Dirtbag and Mini-Me. The purple blooming buddleia is blowing in the evening breeze over our garden path and attracting a few butterflies. Our terraced row of three is collectively named Holly View but I cannot see any from here. My second-hand antique oak writing desk is an old friend I have yet to spend more time with but it was love at first sight, for me anyway. Behind me, above an old battered bookcase is the stained glass window which ignites when the sun catches it and makes me feel like I am the queen of my castle. Ascending into our loft bedroom I look out of the Velux every night at the changing skies with its clouds and vivid colours scudding by, seeing the real castle on the hill of my horizon.

We are swiftly gathering pieces of furniture and putting up some desert pictures and photos to remind us of our dream-like adventures. In the country kitchen, we have reinstated the disco ball above the table as we all know that the best parties end up in there. Let's get planning a house warming party soon because it's really chilly, especially up at the cricket club.
Talking of parties, we recently attended a Bond themed one in sunny Sunderland which was lovely. It was also a mini Dukhan reunion with some desert found friends and bridged the gap between continents which reminded me that it wasn't all just a wonderful dream.

The funniest thing I have heard so far this summer comes from the mouth of Mini-Me:
'Mum, please can you wash my jockstrap?'

My pink Swatch watch strap suddenly snapped but I don't need to worry about time as the church bells automatically chime every quarter, half past and on the hour. It's such a lovely sound to my ears and carries across the fields as I'm walking with swallows swooping and gliding. It encourages me in my uphill speed walk to the Sunday service, waving and saying 'Hi' to the other villagers passing by. I am trying to readjust to having four seasons in every day again but delighted to have seen three rainbows already to brighten my northern skies.

The cup of redbush tea was made and I was settling down for the evening when a spontaneous Dirtbag declared she was off into the woods to try and capture the stunning sunset with her camera. I went along just in case a big bad wolf decided to jump out from behind a tree and startle her. We were running down the road just as the 9.36 pm trains were arriving at their respective platforms.
'Hurry up or we're going to miss it!' she shouts at me, half a mile ahead of course. Brilliant! I have not seen her this animated for weeks now. To anyone else hearing her they would have assumed we were going for one of the trains. Where would we be going at this time of night, though? For a pint or two of pale ale in the Head of Steam at Huddersfield station or a couple of Mojitos in a trendy bar in Sheffield? Maybe in a few years time.
So we continue running down the hill, over the bridge, along the bumpy track, through the kissing gate, and into the field.
'We've missed it. It's your fault for being so slow,' she says matter of factly but still takes some good photos anyway.

My rooibos was just the right temperature to comfort me when we returned.

Ringing the bluebells

Underneath the Stars Festival was fabulous and all I could ever have dreamed of, especially being practically on my doorstep. My friend and I had such a special day together and the weather was delightful. We went into a mobile planetarium, browsed and shopped at the various stalls there, ate our picnic, had some Yummy Yorkshire ice cream and of course listened to some fantastic live folk music. Kate Rusby and her band were so brilliant, I was completely spellbound by their performance for an hour on the Planets Stage in the big blue tent. Trying to reclaim a little of the Arab within I asked the lovely henna artist if she could paint a bracelet of stars on my right wrist, which of course she did, for a fiver.

After much deliberation, I have decided not to create a brand new blog but just change the name of this one. Hope you like it and if you have some spare time please continue to read me and share in my local adventures.

With Love xx

Reading: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Listening to: The Folk Show with Mark Radcliffe on BBC Radio 2,
Wednesday nights 7-8 pm
Singing: Green Fields and Ghost by Kate Rusby
Walking and cycling here, there and everywhere despite the hayfever attacks
Watched: Spy (2015), Zoolander 2 on the plane home laughing my head off and The BFG at the local Odeon Cinema, both released this year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrJZJtY6u7o