I'm still enjoying cycling in the early autumn days and afternoons. Last week I grabbed five juicy blackberries from a bush to sustain me on my way home. I smile hearing the train pulling into the station as I am cycling/walking up the Eiger equivalent through the woods half a mile from home. The flat train journey only takes 11 minutes compared to my 45 minutes of uphill and down dale pedalling.
Romeo was invited on a golf tour in Scarborough but the only room available in the 'hotel' was a family one, so guess who joined him? Sorting out the sleeping arrangements Dirtbag declared,
'This isn't a hotel, it's someone's house.' Yikes, luxury desert dwelling has spoilt her.
We had to pretend we weren't really there so as not to cramp the lads weekend away. I feigned surprise to see them all tucking into their full English platefuls at breakfast. Meanwhile, Mini-Me overheard a table full of older bikers behind them and remarked, 'Mum, I think they are French.'
Brilliant! Another excuse to speak this foreign language that I love. All I needed to do was to attract some attention. What mature, French, leather clad monsieur would want to parler avec moi? The one with the twinkly gleam in his eyes passed by and we made contact. Obviously, I was using this opportunity to encourage Mini-Me to develop the art of conversation and amuse myself at the same time, while mute Romeo and Dirtbag stuffed themselves with the full monty. Les hommes were on a biking tour and were here for the Steve Henshaw International Gold Cup Road Races, which were also celebrating 70 years of Oliver's Mount. The non-stop zip zip zipping of motorcycle tyres on tarmac could be heard all weekend across this seaside resort. Or was it the sound of gear changes and engines? Being a pedal pusher I have absolutely no idea whatsoever.
Despite the temptation to experience this high octane sport I already had a date with the kids and some other lovely Dukhan friends who have recently returned, like us, to the homeland. It was so great to see each other again; sharing transition news over a meal, laughing on the top deck of the open topped bus and frittering a few pence away in the amusement arcades.
The following day, as Romeo was whacking his balls about on another course, I treated Mini-Me and Dirtbag to a dive at the Sealife sanctuary. This is the nearest I will get to underwater diving anyway; peering through the tanks eyeballing the beautiful fish, rays, penguins, sharks and sea turtles. Dirtbag was so relaxed and calm, loving the eeriness of the alien-like jellyfish swirling around in different tanks of coloured light. It was quite an expensive treat because I hadn't any vouchers but worth it as it is also a hospital for locally rescued seals.
I have enjoyed a couple of great nights out lately, one being the Shepley Cricket Club Ball where everyone was dressed up and looking gorgeous in their finery; at least the women were. My past often comes back to haunt me here at home which can be so amusing yet sometimes embarrassing as I discovered in the boiling hot toilets at the ball. I was with two glamorous older women at the sinks who knew each other somehow and both knew me. It went something like this:
Woman 1 to Woman 2: So how do you know Suzanne then?
Woman 2: I could have been her mum-in-law.
Susie laughing hysterically but also fearing the next statement directed towards her.
Woman 2: You broke up with him and he failed his A levels because of you.
Susie mortified and clutching at straws here but bravely being honest:
Aggggh, did he? Oh, I'm so sorry, but I didn't truly love him.
Woman 2 hugging me: It's OK love, you were both so young.
''Escape is on your mind again, escape to a far away land.''
I hurriedly retreat back to the safety of the dancefloor laughing my head off. Yet upon reflection, I feel slightly guilty about the consequences for my ex. Gulp! Is it any wonder that I am a regular church goer? How many other male lives have I ruined? Although I have had my fair share of heartbreak, losses and longings too. All of us wildlings have this in common, don't we?
A staff night out at Playworld sounded like great fun, especially when it turned out to be a retro roller disco. Woohoo! Suddenly I was Dirtbag's age again, whizzing round and round singing to all the 80's, 90's and 00's tunes. Still sporting some streaks of lime green in my hair (from our Macmillan cancer coffee morning at school) and wearing my lucky top, I can happily report that I only fell over once without sustaining any injury.
The most recent event to record is my attempt at modelling seven different outfits for a fundraising fashion show which I absolutely loved. Not knowing many people in the audience helped but it was great to see mum and Dirtbag clapping and smiling at me strutting my stuff down the school hall catwalk. Afterwards, as I said goodnight to Dirtbag through her private, beware of the teenager bedchamber door she replied, 'Night mum and well done.' I smiled throughout my sleep that night.
''When he reached her, she pulled him gently inside the flat and closed the door. He leaned her against the wall. He bunched her bright curls in his hand. Now he wanted to tell her everything that he was feeling, but he felt the words float away. He put his mouth on hers. Her breath was sweet as caramel.''
From The Road Home by Rose Tremain.
With Love xx
Reading: First Love a poem by Derek Mahon
Singing: How Will You Go, by Crowded House from their album Woodface (1991) and Light Up My Room, by Barenaked Ladies from their album Stunt (1998) with the staff choir (currently a trio).
Dancing to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CiVF7LjKU8
Watching: Game of Thrones Season 6, at last. Brilliant.
 |
| Harvest |
Romeo was invited on a golf tour in Scarborough but the only room available in the 'hotel' was a family one, so guess who joined him? Sorting out the sleeping arrangements Dirtbag declared,
'This isn't a hotel, it's someone's house.' Yikes, luxury desert dwelling has spoilt her.
We had to pretend we weren't really there so as not to cramp the lads weekend away. I feigned surprise to see them all tucking into their full English platefuls at breakfast. Meanwhile, Mini-Me overheard a table full of older bikers behind them and remarked, 'Mum, I think they are French.'
Brilliant! Another excuse to speak this foreign language that I love. All I needed to do was to attract some attention. What mature, French, leather clad monsieur would want to parler avec moi? The one with the twinkly gleam in his eyes passed by and we made contact. Obviously, I was using this opportunity to encourage Mini-Me to develop the art of conversation and amuse myself at the same time, while mute Romeo and Dirtbag stuffed themselves with the full monty. Les hommes were on a biking tour and were here for the Steve Henshaw International Gold Cup Road Races, which were also celebrating 70 years of Oliver's Mount. The non-stop zip zip zipping of motorcycle tyres on tarmac could be heard all weekend across this seaside resort. Or was it the sound of gear changes and engines? Being a pedal pusher I have absolutely no idea whatsoever.
Despite the temptation to experience this high octane sport I already had a date with the kids and some other lovely Dukhan friends who have recently returned, like us, to the homeland. It was so great to see each other again; sharing transition news over a meal, laughing on the top deck of the open topped bus and frittering a few pence away in the amusement arcades.
The following day, as Romeo was whacking his balls about on another course, I treated Mini-Me and Dirtbag to a dive at the Sealife sanctuary. This is the nearest I will get to underwater diving anyway; peering through the tanks eyeballing the beautiful fish, rays, penguins, sharks and sea turtles. Dirtbag was so relaxed and calm, loving the eeriness of the alien-like jellyfish swirling around in different tanks of coloured light. It was quite an expensive treat because I hadn't any vouchers but worth it as it is also a hospital for locally rescued seals.
 |
| Ellie's jellies |
I have enjoyed a couple of great nights out lately, one being the Shepley Cricket Club Ball where everyone was dressed up and looking gorgeous in their finery; at least the women were. My past often comes back to haunt me here at home which can be so amusing yet sometimes embarrassing as I discovered in the boiling hot toilets at the ball. I was with two glamorous older women at the sinks who knew each other somehow and both knew me. It went something like this:
Woman 1 to Woman 2: So how do you know Suzanne then?
Woman 2: I could have been her mum-in-law.
Susie laughing hysterically but also fearing the next statement directed towards her.
Woman 2: You broke up with him and he failed his A levels because of you.
Susie mortified and clutching at straws here but bravely being honest:
Aggggh, did he? Oh, I'm so sorry, but I didn't truly love him.
Woman 2 hugging me: It's OK love, you were both so young.
''Escape is on your mind again, escape to a far away land.''
I hurriedly retreat back to the safety of the dancefloor laughing my head off. Yet upon reflection, I feel slightly guilty about the consequences for my ex. Gulp! Is it any wonder that I am a regular church goer? How many other male lives have I ruined? Although I have had my fair share of heartbreak, losses and longings too. All of us wildlings have this in common, don't we?
A staff night out at Playworld sounded like great fun, especially when it turned out to be a retro roller disco. Woohoo! Suddenly I was Dirtbag's age again, whizzing round and round singing to all the 80's, 90's and 00's tunes. Still sporting some streaks of lime green in my hair (from our Macmillan cancer coffee morning at school) and wearing my lucky top, I can happily report that I only fell over once without sustaining any injury.
The most recent event to record is my attempt at modelling seven different outfits for a fundraising fashion show which I absolutely loved. Not knowing many people in the audience helped but it was great to see mum and Dirtbag clapping and smiling at me strutting my stuff down the school hall catwalk. Afterwards, as I said goodnight to Dirtbag through her private, beware of the teenager bedchamber door she replied, 'Night mum and well done.' I smiled throughout my sleep that night.
''When he reached her, she pulled him gently inside the flat and closed the door. He leaned her against the wall. He bunched her bright curls in his hand. Now he wanted to tell her everything that he was feeling, but he felt the words float away. He put his mouth on hers. Her breath was sweet as caramel.''
From The Road Home by Rose Tremain.
With Love xx
 |
| Mini-Me and me by the sea |
Reading: First Love a poem by Derek Mahon
Singing: How Will You Go, by Crowded House from their album Woodface (1991) and Light Up My Room, by Barenaked Ladies from their album Stunt (1998) with the staff choir (currently a trio).
Dancing to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CiVF7LjKU8
Watching: Game of Thrones Season 6, at last. Brilliant.
You always make me smile����
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