December 6, 2019 by Mike Madden

Cabbages, Pumpkins, And The Sound Of Sally’s Cooking

Time flies when you are having fun, and the Buyanom project has been a lot of fun. The next stop after Newmarket was the Goffs sale in Ireland – so I flew to Dublin and picked up a car with a magic mileometer. The fuel gauge indicated 573 miles when I got in, and I had to return it at the same level. I drove to Goffs, which is around 30 miles away, and the gauge had gone up to 581. A return trip to my Airbnb, followed by a journey into Naas and back it was now at 585. Returning to the airport I was looking for a petrol station, but decided not to bother. The gauge was now well beyond 590, and when I dropped it off the man checking gave me a big tick and a piece of paper and off I went. The sales were very Irish and very interesting. Wonderful Guinness, as you might expect. However, the most Irish part was the Airbnb. I messaged the owner and told her my arrival time. Would she meet me, would there be a lock box, would I pick up a key from her neightbour? No – she would leave it under the mat, “God Bless” (her words, not mine!). Once inside the first thing that greeted me was this…

…very appropriate for the good Catholic boy that I am! A further glance saw a huge wooden crucifix woven around the staircase, and I avoided touching it on my way upstairs in case there were any adverse effects.

My latest stop off is at the Tattersalls sales in Newmarket. I’m getting quite comfortable here now – I know where the sales ring and the cafe’s are, I can get my bearings around the stables, and I have got to recognise some of the showmen, or auctioneers as they are known around here! I’ve become adept at putting lanyards on pens…

…and I know not to nod my head or raise my hand when a horse is going for a million guineas!

Ole has been very busy recently, and for once it didn’t involve computer games. He has been filming for Whitelight by Oxygen Films, its one in a series of films that will be available in spring 2020 on Amazon Prime. Not sure what the plot is – but they had to buy him some new Calvin Klein underwear!

Today he has been in Stoke-On-Trent filming a music video. Robbie Williams? I hear you ask. Fortunately not – some guy called Tilstone.

As ever Buyanom isn’t my only source of work – and my next destination might be Brazil. I have been working with Google on a legacy modernisation project, and at first they told me it was Rio, great, but then it became Sao Paolo, not so great. Then they said they wanted me to attend a kick off meeting in Sao Paolo – a thirty five hour round trip for one meeting! That’s not very green.

Anyway, my other role in Leeds is not exactly slowing down, and I’ve just completed another week in Kiev. This time we went to another authentic Ukrainian restaurant, where cherry vodka was the accompaniment to Borscht served in a cabbage (no you don’t eat the cabbage), all washed down with some nettle beer! It could have been worse, bull’s heart and a variety of testicles were also on the menu.

After leaving the restaurant, close to the centre of Kiev, we had trouble with Uber. Our host could not get WIFI and so could not book the Uber for us (he was heading for the metro in the opposite direction). “Can’t we just get a cab, there are loads of them about?” I asked. “No,” he replied, sternly. “I cannot let you get in a cab.” “Why not?” “Because you don’t know who you are getting in a cab with, you do not know where they will take you, and we will not be able to explain to your family how to find you.” We waited for the WIFI to resume and caught an Uber!

Autumn sees the annual pilgrimage down to Wembley for the NFL. This time we were fortunate to see the Cincinnati Bengals, who until yesterday had been winless! The score doesn’t really matter, and as ever we nearly won loads of cash. The NFL really do need to sort kick off times out though. The game started at 5pm which meant it would be touch and go getting the last train back up north. So, we drove down to Beaconsfield and got the train to Wembley from there. We were early and so went in to the tailgate zone. Not what I was expecting, but the boys seemed to enjoy it!

Inside the stadium the food seems to have become even more random. Pulled pork on naan bread with mango chutney is probably some kind of fusion. Extortionate is the word I would use. Zac managed to get his customary sausage, Ole seemed to get some nice pics of himself, and on the ride home we had time to call at MacDonalds in Derby where Ole used his student status to nab a free cheeseburger (as well as the main meal that he had also ordered).

October inevitably means Halloween, and the annual pumpkin carving. We don’t get many trick or treaters – so I can only think I carve these pumpkins to give Nellie a treat of her own!

Of course there is always the spin off of pumpkin pie, which many people think is quite unhealthy. I suppose one of the more unhealthy parts of it is the pastry – so I dispensed with that and made what can only be described as pumpkin custard. Probably slightly healthier, except that it is so easy to eat!

Sally has been busy in the kitchen, and her cooking was accompanied by a very familiar sound. The kids wanted to know what was happening, but there was no need to worry. “Mum’s cooking has set the fire alarm off,” and they carried on as though nothing had happened.

I made lentil soup, with bacon and leeks and a few herbs, and it was delicious, even though I do say so myself. Actually, Sally also said it was, especially compared to hers. She had somewhat ambitiously tried to craft a leek and potato soup. Her simple ingredients were leeks, potatoes and water. There was a bit of stock, but absolutely no other flavours. So really she made leek and potato water, and it tasted like it. This may sound familiar to regular readers – and it is. She once used the same method to make cabbage water.

Ole was home a couple of weeks ago, and he looked with dread at the home made chocolate digestives. “They are my kryptonite,” he said as he took the lid off the biscuit tin. Meanwhile, Zac was clearly concerned that everything needs to be just right for Christmas. “You need to do a trial run of your chocolate log,” he suggested. So I did. It didn’t last long.

Zac still has his favourite tea, and one night after football practice his under 16s were followed on the pitch by a veterans game. They were clearly a man short, and they asked Zac if he fancied playing for them. He thought about, then he thought about his tea. “No thanks,” he said, ” I’ve got a lobster waiting at home.”

Finally, do you ever wonder if females have a conversation in their head and just share the last part with you? Well, its true. We were driving back through the Goyt Valley, and after taking in the spectacular scenery between Buxton and Whaley Bridge Sally announced, “You could drop me off at the top and pick me up at the bottom.” I pondered for a moment, then asked, “Where do you mean? Elnor Lane?” “No,” she explained, pointing out of the window. “I’ve never been on that path before, you could drop me at the top of it and pick me up at the bottom when I’ve walked along it.” I wonder what else I’ve missed out on with not having a window into her mind!

August 16, 2019 by Mike Madden

A Dam Fine Effort

Well, I knew my village was being partially evacuated, but sat in a hotel restaurant in Kiev on Thursday night and seeing Whaley Bridge on the news brought home the extent of the situation. Before flying home the following day I asked Sally to find out if they wanted any catering. When I landed, I half expected to hear that the dam had collapsed, but no! The emergency services and armed forces would love some hot food, and Tesco in Macclesfield would be happy to provide the ingredients. Fortunately our house was just beyond the evacuation line and we could get into and out of the area, often by a circuitous route. So we got through the roadblocks and set up our “big pan” near to the command centre.

Chilli & Crusty Bread

Some of the workers had been at it none stop for many hours, and they were so grateful for a plate of chilli and some crusty bread.

The PM arrived, and he was very well received! Everyone lined up to shake his hand, and he was happy to chat to anyone and everyone. It was a real morale boost. However, Sally was not happy with any of my pictures, including the one above. So, when Boris returned from the dam she intercepted him. This was the result.

The following day we came back and made paella, and were privileged to see the Chinook land (though we were warned that we could get blown into the middle of next week from the power of the rotor blades).

Sunday it was vegetable balti, and that disappeared quicker than I could make it!

Mouths To Feed

Another 60 or so hungry mouths fed. Some of them were living on crisps and biscuits as they didn’t have time for anything else. It was so pleasing that the “big pan” not only provided sustenance but also a focal point where they could catch their breath and have a moment among the chaos. The Chinook crew literally ran across and asked for a Tupperware box of curry with some naan which they then took into the chopper! No time to stop.

Monday we returned to chilli, and as there was a noticeable reduction in numbers it took a bit longer to shift. It seemed that things were now under control, so we had a night off on Tuesday. However, Wednesday seemed busier than ever. It was a first for the big pan – chicken and potatoes in a barbeque sauce, and it literally flew off the big spoon (every big pan needs a big spoon).

The big pan had quite a following by this time, and someone asked me what its called. “Horace” I said, a spur of the moment thing, but apparently he just wanted to know what TYPE of pan it is. Anyway, Horace seems to have stuck!

Our final pan was the ever reliable chilli, this one especially hot, and I was asked for the recipe so it must have been good. Maybe Mmm…No2…Cookbook needs to be rushed to the press with a special section on Horace and the dam. Proceeds to the emergency services of course!

They didn’t know who we were and we didn’t know who they were, but everyone was working together for the common good. And when you are serving paella to the deserving professionals and one asks ‘do you have a restaurant business in the village?’ it makes it all worthwhile.

Feel The Forces

Total respect for the armed forces and the emergency services, including RNLI, Buxton Mountain Rescue, and so many others as well as the obvious fire, police and ambulance. We were all hoping for a safe and successful outcome, and with the endeavours of these brave and tireless people we had every confidence in what they eventually achieved.

Away from the dam, somehow it has still been a very busy time. Zac went off on his official Duke Of Edinburgh mission, but not without wardrobe adjustments. It was quite a warm weekend, but he decided to dispense with shorts in favour of leggings, so as best to avoid ticks and adders. I suppose that its even more important when you consider that for the 36 hours that he was “in the wild” he avoided any hint of a wash or a change of clothes!

End Of An Era?

The end of my cricketing career is imminent, and a recent weekend at Woodley probably accelerated that. In all the years that I have been playing I like to think that I played the game the right way. I enjoyed my three centuries without gloating, and I begrudgingly applauded the centuries scored against me. My 162 not out against Offerton 2^nd XI will inevitably be a highlight. However, that game against Woodley, where incidentally my hazy memory suggests that may have been where I played my first ever game (apart from on the street using a tennis ball and a lamp post for the wicket), was the first time that I have ever seen physical violence threatened on the field of play.

Umpires stepped in and the game continued, but really, the thought of violence should be far from a cricketer’s mind, and the statutory punishment for such an offence should be a strong deterrent. Alas, I fear that the local game has gone. Contrast this with the emotion, drama and sportsmanship of the World Cup Final the following day, and I wonder whether those encouraged to take up the game after such a wonderful sporting spectacle, will be outnumbered by those leaving with an air of disillusionment as local cricket takes on the ambience of a streetfighting football match. Plus, by the time the next season starts I will be 58. I’m too old for all this.

Fun At The Fringe

Last weekend saw us heading to Edinburgh for the Fringe, or more specifically to see Ole perform in Saturday Night And Sunday Morning. He was already there – having performed 6 of his 8 shows, so it was just Sally, Zac and myself that set off from Whaley Bridge station. Fortunately the trains had resumed, and we reached Piccadilly with a minimum of fuss. When I booked the train tickets there was no way to reserve seats to Edinburgh, and this proved to be indicative of the shambolic service provided by TransPennine Express. Of course, Sally exploited this to the full, as the overcrowded train lurched from station to station. A family tried to convince her that they had reserved the seats that we were sitting in, but they had clearly not read my blog about the time she blagged first class seats as a previous train had been cancelled. “All reservations have been cancelled,” she said, and with such confidence that the family had no option other than to walk away.

Other passengers, also squatting in supposedly reserved seats, applauded her actions. We trundled through three and a half hours to the Scottish capital on a train no better than the one that goes from Buxton to Manchester, and we were glad to get off into the Edinburgh air that had more than just a hint of wacky baccy about it. Our Uber driver was clearly not a local, but we reached our Airbnb, dropped off our bags, and headed for the bright lights.

We met Ole after his Friday show and dashed across the street to Byron’s Burgers. They were ok – I’ve had better – but the Irn Bru was on top form (when in Scotland…).

You may have seen the cows in Manchester and the Frogs in Stockport, well Edinburgh has a lot of young boys, laughing, with their legs open. I have no idea why!

The following day we again hit the Fringe after a hearty Scottish breakfast at the Southern Cross Cafe, then took in a stand up show with Daniel Audritt. He is known for writing for Mock The Week and 8 Out Of 10 Cats, and it was an entertaining hour, albeit in uncomfortable seats. A few drinks and a game of poker passed the afternoon, then it was time for Ole’s show.

The Performance

The theatre was about 2/3 full, and the audience seemed appreciative. The cast were all sad but relieved that it was all over, and we decided to celebrate at Chez Jules. Unfortunately that restaurant was on the other side of town, and it was pouring down. We eventually flagged a taxi, and huddled in to the atmospheric French eaterie. Steak was popular, but Zac took the opportunity to devour a full lobster. Now, when Zac eats, he always eats the tastiest thing on his plate first, followed by the second most, etc. This showed me just how much he enjoyed the shellfish, as he devoured it before he even looked at his chips.

Sunday was home time, and we had to endure another painful experience with Trans Pennine Express. Once again seat reservations were discarded, and the train was hideously overcrowded. I guess that no one told them that the Fringe was on!

Zac has been on form, particularly with his new found love of poker. However, he’s not very good with his poker face, or “polka face” as his mum calls it. He needs to stop the cheesy grin when he has a good hand, and he needs to fold now and again.

Bad, Bad Whisky

Of course, in Edinburgh there were a lot of new sights and sounds. “I like whisky,” he said over dinner one night. “When have you had whisky?” asked his mum. “I’ve tasted it out of that bottle in the hall,” he said. “That’s sherry,” his mum replied.

And then there was the saga of the Microsoft points. Basically, he bought some points but did not know if the transaction had gone through, so he clicked again, and again, and again. Altogether, he overspent by about £130. He contacted Microsoft but they said it was up to Activision who made the COD games that the points are used for. So, he contacted Activision to no avail. Finally, he tried his bank, but HSBC were unable to help as he had authorised the transactions. “No problem,” said Zac. “When I have kids and they want to play COD, I’ll be able to say there’s £130 of COD points to get you started.”

Despite the cooking up at the football field I have still put a few dishes together at home, and I am particularly proud of a perfect dome that emerged when I made a steamed chocolate pudding!

I finally finished a piece of writing. The Hole is a sci-fi short story that I began several years ago. Here are the first few of chapters…

The Hole

I

              Little Tom Baker was quite possibly the only person to see the unusual occurrence that night, he was certainly the only one to mention it, and given that he was an eleven-year-old boy with a fertile imagination, it was quite likely that no one would have believed him anyway. But Little Tom had reason to remember. It was August 11^th, the day before his twelfth birthday, and with the excitement of tomorrow dancing around his head, sleep was the last thing on his mind. He so hoped that he would get the Crisp Ultima scooter. His old JD Bug was ok, but the new Crisp, with its shiny purple and chrome, was the real deal.

              His knees sank into the mattress on his bed as he eased himself upwards. The cold, unforgiving surface of his windowsill pressed into his elbows as he gazed out at the Renwick Community Skatepark.  His breath landed on the window, forming a fog that he smeared with an outstretched finger. The skatepark was just a hundred and fifty metres or so beyond his bedroom, across the well-kept football field that would soon be in regular use by Renwick Town Seniors and Juniors once again.

              The skatepark was empty, though the floodlights cast their brilliant light across the ramps on the far side of the dark, grassy expanse. Strange shadows struggled to survive under this unnatural glare, but there were one or two, skulking around the edges, where barriers crossed and steep ramps still afforded a place for darkness. His bedroom was built into the extension of the last semi-detached house on Oak Tree Drive, and Oak Tree Drive was the final cul-de-sac at the far end of his housing estate, where all of the roads were named after trees or bushes of some description. His was the only window that looked out towards the skatepark, except for the kitchen below, but the view from there was of a huge hedge of maturing laurel bushes, green and impenetrable; a thick, leafy wall.

              So, on that clear August night, there was only Little Tom Baker that saw the strange light that seemed to hover above the football field directly in front of his window. The light was almost white, but not quite, and it formed a perfect circle. It was like a full moon, but there was no moon in the sky. At first he thought that it might have been a new set of floodlights, but no. This was a different light. A controlled light. This was not just the battering ram impact of the floodlights, this was focussed into that perfect circle. It was just pure light. No fuzzing around the edges, a thin disc of solid creamy whiteness. He watched intently, wondering how long it had been there before he had noticed it, and trying to figure out exactly where it was. A hundred metres away? Ten metres away? The night was clear, and looking out was like standing at one end of a long, empty room. There was nothing to obscure the view, but that far wall was just out of reach, and the strange quality of the light made it difficult to judge distances. His only reference point was the skatepark that was flooded with light, but was this closer, or further away?

              A trick of the light, he thought, a phrase that he had heard before without actually knowing what it meant. As he pondered and squinted, somehow believing that narrowed eyes might improve his understanding, the light answered his unspoken questions by falling to the ground. Only it did not quite fall, it floated, and then it bounced like a ball unhindered by gravity. It bounced back up to its original height, and then it repeated, two, three, four times.

              What could it be? Little Tom wanted to go outside and investigate, but he knew that his mother would not allow it, so he knelt at his window, occasionally shifting his elbows as they numbed, transfixed by the light that now resumed its hover an unknown distance away from him, and an unknown height above the ground.

              The light struck the ground again, quivered for maybe a second, before rising slowly back into the night air. It then repeated the process, moving across the field in a random pattern. Its playing one of those Whack-A-Mole games, thought Tom. Where would it land next? Eventually it settled and did not move for some time. It did not separate itself from the ground; the sphere was flattening at the bottom, and then expanding again. It reminded Tom of school exercises, bending your knees before straightening up. Repeat until you are bored or the end of lesson bell goes, he thought, smiling. As he watched, he noticed that with each flattening of the sphere it grew smaller. No, that was not right, it was still the same size, but it was sinking, sinking into the earth. It became a perfect semi-circle. Half of it was gone, but it continued. Smaller and smaller, like a penny dropping into a money box, but there was no rattle as the penny hit the pile of other coins. When the final sliver of this light disappeared, it did so in silence.

              Little Tom Baker sat for a few moments longer, mystified at what he had just witnessed. Was it a balloon? Or maybe one of those Swiss balls like the one that his dad bought that sits unused in the garage? Was it someone in the field with a torch? As he dismissed each of these thoughts, a sense of urgency replaced them. He climbed off his bed and rushed downstairs. 

              “Mum, mum. There’s a light in the field. It was there and now its gone. Like a football, only bigger, and, and..”

              As the words poured out Little Tom struggled to make sense of them, and his father looked over at him with a knowing, contented smile.

              “Now, now, Tom,” his father was friendly but stern. “Back to bed, close your curtains and off to sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow.” He folded his newspaper and placed it on the side of his armchair, always a sign that his intentions were not to be questioned.

              “But I saw it,” Tom said, “it could be a UFO.”

              “Well if it is, I am sure we will hear about it on the news, now off to bed.”

              “But dad…mum, can you just have a look?”

              Mrs Baker edged to the window and drew back the net curtains. “Nothing there,” she said. “Now do as your dad says and off to bed.”

              Tom’s shoulders slumped and he turned to the door. He glanced back at his parents, but he knew that the fight was lost. “Night,” he said, and climbed the stairs. The light was gone, but it was there. He knew it. He saw it. It was a long time before he drifted off into a dream-filled sleep. Dreams of family parties, school lessons, strange lights, and broken toys.

II

              It was August 12^th when he next opened his eyes. The Glorious Twelfth his dad called it, which Tom thought was great until he discovered that this particular phrase was borrowed from the grouse shooting season that just happened to start on the same day. Twelve years old. Almost a teenager. Almost, but not quite, a master of his scooter. He threw on his dressing gown and raced down the stairs. His mum and dad were already there to greet him. A plate of toast and a large glass of orange juice waited for him, and he slowly opened the door to the lounge, taking care not to disturb the Happy Birthday banner that was strewn across it.

              Balloons danced across the floor on the breeze created by the opening door, and the centre of the room was filled with objects disguised in blue wrapping paper decorated with footballs. He knelt before the pile of presents, his gaze darting between the assortment of blue shapes that sat on the pale red carpet. There was a football, and some kind of a racquet, maybe tennis or badminton. Their shapes were obvious, but these were incidental. At the centre of the display, rising majestically above the other gifts, was the shape of a scooter. It had to be the Crisp Ultima. His parents would not know any other model, unless it was just another JD Bug.

              His hands tore at the paper. No sense of neatness or care; this gift wrap would not be reused. And there, gleaming, was a new Crisp Ultima. It seemed even more magnificent than the pictures in the catalogues and online shops. Even more cool than the one that his friend Johnny had received just one month earlier.

              He was speechless and breathless at the same time. His face shimmered, looking back at him from the chrome, and he turned to thank his mum and dad. Their expressions reflected his own joy, the shared pleasure of pre-teen birthdays.

              The remaining presents were opened with haste and politeness, but as his dad left to go to work, Little Tom Baker was already dressed and ready to ride the Crisp Ultima. He sometimes envied the kids that had their birthdays during school time. They got the adulation of all of their schoolfriends, and usually a mention from the teacher. Not today, though. Nothing could diminish his pride in his new scooter, and he could ride it all day.

III

              Tom placed his right foot on the plate of the scooter and pushed off with his left. The wheels were like marbles gliding soundlessly across a carpet. No noise, no friction, just smooth motion. He pushed again and turned towards the path that led into the park from Oak Tree Drive, where Christopher Johnson was balancing on his BMX bike.

              “Hey, you got it,” Chris said as Tom approached.

              “Yes,” said Tom. “Its everything I thought it would be. Come on, race you to the skate park.”

              “Ha, see you there,” said Chris.

              The scooter was great on paths and smooth surfaces, but the bike had the advantage. It could travel on any terrain, and Chris raced across the grassy football field towards the skatepark. That would prove to be fatal.

              Tom traced the tarmac around the perimeter of the field as Chris cut a direct line towards the skatepark. He realised that Chris would win easily, but even that could not dampen his spirits. He laughed, but then he glanced over to Chris who seemed to hit an invisible object and fall to the ground, leaving his bike at a grotesque angle with the front wheel spinning.

              Chris sat up and brushed his clothes with his hands. “Hey, look at this,” he beckoned Tom to join him on the grass.

              Tom stopped and began to wheel his scooter across the dewy field to where his friend sat. As he drew nearer, he saw that the uninterrupted green carpet was not as perfect as it first seemed. Chris got to his feet and stood about five metres away. Between the two of them there was a brown circle of grass about two metres across. Chris was standing on the edge of the circle and Tom stopped. He stared at it. It was perfectly round, and the colour of milk chocolate. Not scorched, just coloured. He felt nervous, though he was not sure why, and he certainly did not want to get any closer.

              “What is it?” he asked.

              “Dunno,” said Chris. He reached over the circle with his left foot, balancing unsteadily on his right. “Must be slippy or something, brought me off my bike.” His foot came down on the discoloured grass, and he fell backwards.

              “Woah! Must be some power line somewhere. I can feel it humming. Come and have a look.”

              “No – I’m staying away. Don’t want to get my new jeans dirty on their first day.” He laughed, but really he was glad of the excuse. There was something not quite right about this patch of ground sitting in sharp contrast to the otherwise flawless emerald blanket.

              A loud thud interrupted them. It was a dead sound, one that started and ended quickly, with no echo, like a foot kicking a ball. Within the brown circle it was obvious where the sound had come from. A large pigeon had fallen from the sky and lay on the discoloured grass, quite dead.

              Tom instinctively looked up, but other than wispy clouds meandering across the clear blue sky he saw nothing. Christopher raised himself onto his hands and feet and edged backwards, like an ungainly crab evading a seagull.

Let me know if you enjoyed it – and I will add more chapters in the next edition.

Speaking of writing, I will eventually turn my attention back to Clickbait. In the meantime, the presence of Clickbait on Facebook shows no signs of abating. This is the latest offer designed to get you to like and share and generally give up your details to a fake advertisement!

Regulars to Whaley Bridge will know that Cloud Wine has closed. Zac was quite disappointed at this, as it was a regular stopping off point for snacks and other stuff. Anyway, mum asked what he thought it should be, and he answered without hesitation. “A strip club.” I’m not sure the residents of Horwich End would approve!

Finally, I have some very exciting news about Ole, but I am reluctant to share it until it gets Tweeted! Stay tuned!

November 21, 2018 by Mike Madden

Findmyiphone? Findmypast!

Sometimes its Zac that causes me the most consternation, sometimes its Ole. Sometimes its both of them. Throw in a healthy dollop of Gabi and Sally and, well, life can certainly get complicated.

This week it was definitely Ole!

I was a bit under the weather after a long week in Leeds and the onset of a cold, so I looked forward to a relaxing Saturday morning. I woke up at around 8.30, and my bleary eyes showed a message on the lock screen of my phone. It was Ole.

The message was sent via Facebook Messenger, which is not unusual, but the message was surprisingly eloquent.

Hi dad, I went out with the flat tonight and left my phone stupidly in an Uber and I’m trying to get it back, I’ve called all the help lines but they’re all offline so can you contact me through Facebook – I’m trying to retrieve it asap. Sorry.

Ok – so I might have corrected some punctuation, and its not the most grammatically correct that it could be, but it was sent at 4.56am which probably also explains why the help lines were offline. No plea for help – I suspect that the very presence of the message was meant to trigger my assistance. I switched on FINDMYIPHONE, a very useful app that located Sally’s lost phone at Drinkwater’s back in the day. It showed that the phone was quite low on battery, but not moving, and it was somewhere just off Kingsway. I then accessed Ole’s email and saw his Uber receipt – driver’s name Javaid.

I sat down with a cup of coffee and pondered what to do next. I could wait until Ole got up, but that would be mid afternoon by which time the phone might have moved. I could ring him, but he has no phone! Sally suggested ringing two of his mates. Ethan answered somewhat tiredly, but it was still only 8.45! He wasn’t with Ole – but he knew he had lost his phone. Bruce didn’t answer. I checked the app again and the phone had still not moved. So, I decided to go and find it myself. The streets were deserted, except for parents taking their children to sporting, dance and other recreational activities, and it looked like a nice day for it. My satnav took me all the way along Kingsway towards Levenshulme, and where the road splits it is quite a nice area. I saw an Uber parked in a driveway, and sure enough FINDMYIPHONE was pointing right at it. I peered through the window, wondering what the twitching curtains of the neighbours would make of my approach, but there was no sign of the phone. Probably under a seat, I thought. The badge in the Uber was of Javaid, so that was a relief – no one else had picked the phone up, but it was only 9.30, Javaid had probably been in bed just a couple of hours, and would not want waking. I knocked gently on the front door. No answer. I sat back in my car and pondered some more. A lady walked past, veered towards Javaid’s house, then veered away again. I penned a note, leaving my number, and posted it through the letterbox. Minutes later I was on my way home.

That afternoon Ole connected through Facetime. It was around 2pm. I told him that I had found his phone and he needed to pick it up. He told me that Uber had a process that had to be followed for lost property. The chat ended and then the messages began.

Ole: Whats your number?

I gave him the number thinking he would call on someone else’s phone, but no.

Ole: I’ve given them your number.

Me: Who?

Ole: Uber

Me: What for?

At this point I got a call from a number that I did not recognise, so I cancelled it

Ole: So they can call you

Me: I think they just did

Ole: Well call them back

Me: I can’t – its blocked from incoming calls.

I then explained that there was no point Uber calling me as they would probably want the person whose phone it was – so it would be best giving them the number of someone in the house so Ole could be there too.

Ole: No one is up

I did not respond to that

Ole: Hang on – I’ll see.

Messages stopped but then resumed again when he had given Uber Sinead’s number, but they had not called her.

I went in to the garden to brush up leaves, a very soothing process after communicating with Ole!

A short time later my phone rang – it was Javaid. What a nice man. He confirmed that he had the phone and Ole could pick it up any time before 4.

I contacted Ole.

Ole: How am I going to get there?

Me: Errr – public transport?

Ole: That will take ages.

Me: An Uber?

Ole: It says 35 minutes – that will cost a fortune

Me: A lift?

Ole: I’ll message Tristan, but he might not answer. We don’t communicate on here normally. Hang on – he will take me but not now.

Me: And…?

Ole: He can take me after midnight.

Me: What about tomorrow?

Ole: Yes – he can do it tomorrow.

I confirmed the arrangements with Javaid and all was well that ended well.

Big plus to Javaid and the wonders of FINDMYIPHONE, but for Ole – hmmm! You decide!

I reckon the FINDMY… generic group of apps could be a winner, for instance FINDMYWAYHOME where your house emits a homing beam that your phone can pick up and guide you home, or FINDMYSANITY where you can pinpoint the exact point that you descended in to madness and which of your children finally pushed you over the edge (probably all three!)

Anyway, I taunted Ole with a picture of a freshly steamed chocolate pudding that he was missing out on!

And while on the subject of all things culinary – Sally visited Albert and Jane Harris last week – these two sprightly pensioners were brewing up, and Sally thought she would help. Albert’s brew was an Oxo cube in a mug of hot water, which Sally mistook for coffee. Albert was less than impressed when she poured milk in it.

I have three sisters. One has three boys, one has two boys, and one has one boy. That is six cousins for Ole, Zac and Gabi. A couple of weeks ago, the six cousins and Ole went out in Essex. Ole was constantly reminded by just about everyone that his mum had asked them to look after him. “Don’t worry about me – I’ll drink them all under the table,” he complained. The previous night Gabi went out with friends and got hideously drunk. So by Saturday night I was messaging Ole to ask “are you drunk yet?”, and Gabi to find out “are you sober yet?”.

I think I have brought them up well!

Halloween was a bit of a damp squib! I know it rained a bit, but we had chocolate skulls, pumpkin carvings, scary glow stick eyes in the hedge, mini skeletons climbing up the walls, and a projector with scary videos and soundtrack. Not a single Halloween visitor. Not one. Maybe it was too scary! Maybe I’ll just keep it all up until Christmas! Maybe next year I’ll make sure its visible all over Whaley.

A shoutout to Zac’s football team. Whaley Bridge Under 15s are performing well and perhaps not getting the results that their effort deserves (except for a huge win over local rivals Chinley). So, hats off to Dranny, John and Ros (never underestimate the value of admin) – and here’s hoping the second half of the season brings many more points.

When Ole is away we make all the same food – just in a way that suits us. When he is back, we generally revert to what he likes. And there are certain foods that he definitely does NOT like.

He turned up unannounced a couple of weeks ago and his favourite chilli dish was quite wrong. “All of a sudden its ok to put mushrooms in chilli – the worlds gone mad,” he complained.

That wasn’t the end of his problems that weekend. On his return journey he boarded the train at Whaley Bridge for Salford. He got asked for a ticket somewhere near Stockport, and said that when he got on at Davenport there was no ticket machine! Davenport? More of that later. He offered to buy a ticket with his railcard, but the collector smelt a rat. He said he would have to pay full fare from Davenport to Salford, and he should consider this as a warning. Next time it would be £100 fine. Ole was outraged. I always get a ticket from Davenport and never had a problem. Much swearing and cussing followed, until I pointed out that the cost of a railcard reduced single from Whaley Bridge to Salford was still more than a full fare from Davenport to Salford, so he had still conned the railways and was in profit. He didn’t quite want to see the logic in that.

A blast from the past from Whatsapp the other day, as one of my first mentors, Bernice, sent me this trip down memory lane.

Anyone who has read The History Of (My) Coding will know that I played a lot of cricket, wrote a lot of match reports, and created a lot of stats in the 11 years or so that I was at the brewery – if you have not read it you can find it here.

The History Of (My) Coding

The end of the season at York Races came and went – with Sally finishing the final meeting with no less than THREE badges. There was her members badge, an owner’s badge, and a restaurant badge. I wonder if she can go one better next season?

Zac is a bit of a whizz at badminton, but this term for PE he has chosen basketball. He’s not too happy with it and wants to change. His choices are hockey or table tennis. He’s not bad at table tennis – many hours playing in the garden with Ole have honed his skills. However, he is likely to choose hockey. The reason, “there are only gay guys and girls that play table tennis,” he said. Now, this is not some form of homophobia or sexism, he genuinely believes that those two groups would not match his own talents around a ping pong table.

More bad news for Zac – Sally got stuck in Buxton waiting for her car to be fixed when Zac came out of school. He didn’t have a key. He called mum who went in to a panic. She called Helen who picked her up and they abandoned the Range Rover at the garage. As they pulled into the driveway, Zac was sat on the step with a face like thunder. He greeted them with his trademark upward nod of the head (think Caribbean!) Helen point blank refused to go inside the house. “You’ll have to make him sausages,” she said, ushering Sally out of the car. Later that night he was at football training, and the final indignity was having to get a lift in Ole’s car. It was a bad day!

I lost my business banking secure key – so had to get a new one. I then had to get my credentials reset. HSBC reckon that is dead easy! Here is what their website says!

We need to reset your security details because you’ve forgotten more than one of your credentials. Resetting your details is quick and easy – simply answer the questions on the following screen and then print and fax the form to us.

Alternatively the form may be taken to your local branch.

Its Thanksgiving weekend, which means Black Friday and Cyber Monday. To celebrate, I’ve made four of my books free on Kindle – click the links below from 8am Thursday morning. If you download one – I would really, really, really appreciate an Amazon review.

October 3, 2018 by Mike Madden

Broccoli, Brett And A Bot

Well let’s start this month with Zac’s money making scheme. His first purchase has been a bot that runs on his laptop to automatically buy expensive Supreme stuff that he hopes to sell at a profit. The bot cost around £60 – and he left it running on his computer while he went off to school, leaving me with strict instructions  on what I should and should not do. As it turned out it found the correct product, but failed to buy it because of incorrect credit card details. The following week it failed to buy because of a mis-spelling. Then, just to confirm it worked, Zac bought a keychain for £17. Yes, £17. It came with some labels too – and a shiny white plastic bag. But £17! I remain sceptical.

September 12, 2018 by Mike Madden

Lady M Strikes Again

I should probably have known better. Lady M came in for some criticism recently for not lifting a finger in the kitchen, but suddenly, without warning, she announced that she was going to make a hearty stew followed by apple pie. I came home to the results of her handiwork, and it was baffling. I must have had a puzzled look on my face as she uttered the immortal warning, “If you want to eat any of this you better keep your mouth shut.” A somewhat bizzare statement, but ultimately good advice. The stew was supposed to be slow cooked lamb, but the lamb had been cooked separately. The stew itself was a medley of root vegetables. Rather chunky root vegetables, and there was a separate pot of gravy. However, this was a culinary masterpiece compared to the apple pie. I commented, without so much as a smirk, that it was rather red. “I put raspberries and blueberries in,” was the lady’s rather terse reply, so I decided not to mention the unhealthy excess of pastry that appeared to have been piled up around the sides. Now, I like apple pie to be, well, “appley”, with discernible chunks of the quintessentially English fruit. I was out of luck! I can only assume that the apples had been stewed for a considerable period of time as the filling had the consistency of a kind of fruity passata.

A few days later I was giving Ole a lift home, and I asked him if he had sampled the apple pie. “That was apple pie?” he questioned. “I thought it was jam and pastry.” He was on a roll so he continued his assault on mum’s culinary expertise. “Why was there no meat in the stew?” I had no response other than to suggest that mum had deliberately cooked the lamb separately, but that was not enough. “She seemed to have just chopped carrots in half and thrown the whole lot in, like she couldn’t be bothered.” He seemed quite relieved that he was heading back to uni later that day.

The junior football season is back, and Zac needs new goalkeeper gloves. After much searching he settled on a pair of blue Adidas Fingersave Replique, and I ordered them from the Sports Direct website. To use the phrase “they arrived” would be misleading, as I will explain. The parcel seemed a little flimsy, and as I opened it I could see that the item inside was not the blue as ordered, but instead it was a rather insipid “aqua energy”. I also noticed that they were not “Fingersave”, in that there were no spines to protect fragile fingers. When I discovered that they had sent size 9 rather than size 8, I thought to myself what else could go wrong? And of course something else could, as they had only actually sent one glove! I contacted them via Twitter and through their website and I am awaiting a response. Their policy seems to suggest that I should pay for the returns! I will keep you posted.

 

The gloves were the wrong size, colour and type…

…and there was only one of them!

Back to the kitchen and I switched half of the flour in my quick brownies for ground almonds. A bit more protein! And Zac has not noticed the difference.

He wouldn’t touch the Beef Enchiladas – but that’s probably just as well as they disappeared very quickly. I will definitely be trying those again, maybe with chicken next time.

London is always an interesting trip, and a couple of weeks ago we caught the train from Macclesfield to London Euston. A tube ride saw us reach Putney where we had booked a very nice Airbnb at a fraction of the cost of a hotel. As we passed row upon row of very expensive terraced houses Zac made an interesting observation. “Everywhere in London is very narrow. Basically, you can’t live in London if you are morbidly obese.” Buyer beware! And speaking of buyers, Zac’s sneaker reselling business has still not got off the ground. However, one of his friends had an appointment at the Supreme store in Manchester, and Zac was very excited about this exclusive opportunity. He asked his pal if he could get certain things, and offered to pay a £20 premium. We thought that, as they were friends, surely there would be no need for such a surcharge, but businessman Zac disagreed. “I would charge him,” he announced. We walked out over Putney Bridge across the Thames, and caught the river bus into the city centre. Zac was fascinated by the different architecture, whilst Ole wanted to know the history. Having landed at Embankment all they wanted was a trip to Hamley’s toy shop, so we walked through crowded streets, made even more so by some insane joggers who didn’t seems to mind gulping in the polluted air. Sally and Zac were very impressed when Ole summoned us an Uber, though the driver was probably glad when he dropped us off after almost half an hour of intense questioning from Lady M.

The following morning a Wetherspoons breakfast overlooking the river was a very cheap £17 for four of us, then we caught the tube to Tottenham Court Road. From there we walked to PC World to get Zac a mouse, then to the Palace Theatre for the marathon performance of Harry Potter And The Cursed Child. This was an excellent production, thankfully in two parts as it lasts over five hours. In between parts we headed to Covent Garden where we found TGI Fridays. Ole’s Warrior Burger was impressive, as was the rest of the food at this long standing American themed chain. However, our curiosity was tweaked by a huge queue outside a small ice cream parlour called Milk Train just across the road. The queue was around the block, and it didn’t seem to die down at any point. Our waitress explained that social media was largely the reason behind its popularity, and it was in Time Out and other magazines as one of the top ten things to do in Covent Garden. The novelty? The ice cream was surrounded by candy floss, an idea that has not yet caught on north of Watford. Look forward to seeing it on the menu at Cafe 110 very soon!

Back at the theatre Sally got involved in relocating some audience members who couldn’t quite fit in the front row seats. The performance continued and although it was a brilliant experience we were glad to get in another Uber afterwards.

Seats were close together at the Palace Theatre

Our final day saw us get another tube to central London, followed by a lengthy walk back to Euston. We managed around 12 miles in less than 48 hours, although Zac was complaining towards the end. He now wants to know when Uber will reach Whaley Bridge.

We discussed our next family trip, and Sally suggested the Highland Games in Scotland. Zac was not in favour. “They all wear kilts, so every now and then you get a view of someone’s privates because they don’t wear anything underneath.”

Sally and I had a lovely family day out yesterday at Chester Zoo, with my mum and her great grandaughter Nixie. Inevitably the only one who wasn’t tired at the end of it all was the two year old, and a bit like kids playing with the boxes rather than the toys at Christmas, she seemed to like the statues much more than the real animals!

Ere Be Dragons!

I have been doing a lot of writing recently, and some old publicity has finally landed in the form of the August High Peak Review. Here is the original article from back in the spring!

The History Of Zombies

And there is another poem published in The Pangolin Review

Pangolin Review

I have also been providing lots of stuff for book walls at various schools across the country. This includes copies of Ole And Zac And The Port Of Tumbattle and The History Of Zombies, as well as postcards, poems and various other bits. If your school could use any of this just get in touch through the contact form on my website.

Finally, I have been working on another article for Leek Blues & Americana. This time the subject is the Norsk Americana Forum. Very intriguing set of musicians, and I look forward to meeting them at the festival in October.

August 4, 2018 by Michael Madden

Football, Festivals And The Advantage Of Two Badges

Well, the World Cup came and went, and not without incident. Ole described the night it kicked off in the White Hart, but he still went back for more at the semi final stage!

Cricket was the bad guy, as the quarter final fell on Saturday afternoon. Efforts to get our game started early were quickly thwarted, but at least Hazel Grove had the good grace to collapse for a paltry 75. This allowed us to claim a ten wicket win and get to the pub for the second half.

At home I had a much more sophisticated solution to the “where shall we watch the game?” problem. Regular readers will know that I bought a portable aerial, and we recently bought some garden furniture perfect for lounging in. The television has an anti glare screen, so with all of the good weather it was a no brainer to put the TV opposite the furniture and we could pretend we were in Spain!

“The coverage in Mike Madden’s garden is tremendous,” said Gary Neville

Whilst this was going on I struck up a friendship with a French blues singer Sofai Martins. She asked me to write an article to promote her new album Free Loving Human, which I did. We then chatted about football, and being French she was over the moon with their victory. She was just disappointed that they did not get to thrash England in the final.

The article is available on the Articles Page of my new website! Speaking of which, I hope you are enjoying the new site. It is fresher, cleaner and greatly simplified compared to the old one that has been consigned to history. I am just ironing out a few teething troubles, so if you spot anything that isn’t working please get in touch.

One of the tasks I set myself was to ensure that all of my blog content was successfully copied across. This worked except for a couple of videos. How difficult can it be to extract a video from Blogger? Well, its dead easy according to some sites. Just use Video Grabber (didn’t work), and if that fails use Video Converter (didn’t work). As a last resort you could use the Firefox browser with the Greasemonkey plug in (didn’t work). Actually, the solution was simple. I did eventually use Firefox, but with the Video Download Helper extension. I guess the clue is in the name!

My blog that details my forty year career in IT is now finished – for those of a curious disposition you can read it all here…

The History Of (My) Coding – Part 1 Cards And Catastrophes

Meanwhile, its been a very busy time in the kitchen, both physical and metaphorical. At one point I rewarded myself with homemade Bakewell Tart and custard!

Elsewhere, my kitchen has extended to the Drum & Monkey and the Shepherds, where chilli, paella and red Thai chicken curry have all featured in various Big Pan events. Of course, Ole is still at home, so we are getting through copious amounts of chicken, and the arrival of granddaughter Nixie meant that brownies were in order (which she helped me to make, of course). No such problems with Zac, he still eats carbs and sausages, with the occasional apple begrudgingly thrown in.

Sometimes its difficult to come up with a bit of variety, but chopping half a chorizo sausage into chicken fajitas seemed to be a very popular move, except with Sally who thought they were too spicy.

Nellie’s food bags seem to be getting bigger every day, though Zac is fighting against the tide. “Sod Nellie,” he said as he threw an apple core into the bin rather than her bag. The lovable Nellie is now the star of several videos. The ones below are the same, with different music. I will let you decide which one you prefer.

We had a bit of a hiccup on Ex Pat Radio this morning as the station lost all communications. That was quite disappointing as my special guest was Carole Lieberman who has been on every show and in every newspaper under the sun. Her chosen subject was how to teach terrorism to children (dealing with it rather than causing it!) Hopefully we can reschedule for September. Last week saw a return for the delightful Caroline England whose My Husband’s Lies is riding high in the Kindle chart, whilst David Darling’s maths protegee and co-writer Agnijo Banerjee has just won the Maths Olympiad!

In the next few weeks I am hoping to be able to record some of the shows to include on the Radio Page of my website.

I really cannot make head nor tail of what is going on in the US. The problem is that Democrats contradict everything Republicans say, and vice versa. President Trump is pretty much a standing joke globally, or is that propaganda? Who knows? Yesterday he demanded, via Twitter, that the Mueller investigation be halted by the Attorney General who recused himself from that investigation. This morning he has praised Fox News over CNN (for the millionth time), and he has also praised Greg Jarrett for writing a book that claims the whole Russia thing is a hoax designed to clear Hillary Clinton and frame Donald Trump. Personally, I didn’t think that the President could promote a private enterprise such as this, and I have no idea who is telling the truth, but it sure beats Coronation Street!

My second contribution to The Pangolin Review is now live, with a third on the way.

The Pangolin Review – Time

This one is called Time and it is an example of Triolet (as is the whole edition).

I am quite inspired by The Pangolin Review and have decided to publish my own collection entitled The River.

I may even include a couple of guest poems – if you are interested please let me know.

I am also looking for an inspirational cover shot. Sally has one of the river at Chatsworth but it looks a bit calm. However, we are heading to Croatia in a couple of weeks, where there are rivers and waterfalls in abundance. Can’t wait. It seems like ages since I’ve been on holiday. Two days in Palma for a wedding don’t count!

And its not just us that are going on holiday. Nancy (you know, the Christmas Present) will also be going away to an eventing school. She will have lots of fun, and she will be kept active by a variety of riders. But of course, as Lady M confirmed, she will only be ridden by professionals!

Another thing I am very much looking forward to is Halloween. Not just for the normal fun and games, because this year I have planted pumpkins. Will they grow in time? Will they grow at all? Will the pumpkins be big enough?

Here is the latest pic…

Although the internet is full of supposedly viral messages and videos, its actually quite difficult to get something to actually go viral. Well, none other than Clive Ashton achieved it with the recreation of Vindaloo by the citizens of Leek, headed by Clive himself. At one point he called me from the Palace Hotel in Buxton, he was holed up there to get away from the incessant demands of the press!

Might have to have a trip to see Clive and the rest of Leek in the near future.

https://www.facebook.com/Leektowntv/videos/1330183007113535/

Zac is currently obsessed with expensive limited edition trainers. The latest are Nike Presto off white in white, whatever that means! Previous attempts have failed because he either lost out in a raffle or he overslept and missed the trainers going online. Anyway, there is another opportunity tomorrow – I’ll let you know how he gets on.

Work is beginning to tail off in time for holidays, which is a good thing. However I was down in Leamington Spa last week. Usual crap traffic on the M1 and a small office that was still warm despite doors and windows ajar. Anyway, I got to the respite of the hotel with the temperatures still touching 90, and discovered that the hotel had no air-conditioning! Phew what a scorcher! as The Sun would say.

Anyway, I don’t think it will be quiet for long, particularly if this new Y2K type issue materialises…

Japan’s new millenium bug

Zac was counting down the days to the end of the school term, clearly ignoring subjects that he would not be taking as part of his GCSE courses, and which he considered to be a waste of time. This was reflected in his end of term report. One of the subjects began with…

“Zac is not exactly disruptive and it’s not that he doesn’t try…”

You just know there’s a “but” coming!

So, the holidays are here, and now he seems to be counting down the days until he returns to school, but not in a good way! He brought some lady friends round to our house, mainly to swank about the new garden furniture and watching tv outdoors, but as he walked through the front door he issued a cautionary note!

“Hey guys, is anyone naked, I’ve got guests?”

Sometimes those guests can overstay their welcome, and on a separate occasion Sally called out to him, “Come on Zac we have to go out,” precipitating the departure of his friends. Sally and him were not going out, but he was very relieved as he had not been on his X-Box for some considerable time, and I can see him using this nefarious partnership in the future.

Sally had her cousins round to visit, and she planned to use my coffee maker. I pointed out that it needed descaling, so I put a descaling tablet in the water reservoir. I then went off to cricket. Sally forgot all about this, and made the coffee complete with descaler. To be fair, her cousins should be well aware of her culinary skills by now.

Nixie has become quite the chatterbox, and she is learning all the time. “How many legs has Dolly got?” “Two”. “How many legs has Bobby got?” she had to be helped out with that one, “Four”. How many legs has Nixie got?” She looked down, pointed at them each in turn and said, “this one and that one”.

Its been a busy time for Ole, starting with his birthday for which we went to Bailey’s Burger Night. A great experience, but unfortunately burger nights are no more. They are looking to introduce another theme in the near future.

The following day he was off to Benicassim, a Spanish music festival between Valencia and Barcelona. I gave him a checklist, which he ignored. One item on it was “book transfer to / from festival”. He decided to do this the day before travel, and guess what? There were none available. So they had to pay a premium and book a private one. It was amusing to watch him and Bruce try to figure out what could be left out of their big bag to keep the weight down, then they set off for the bus. Twenty SECONDS later I had to chase after them, taking their charging packs that they had bought specifically for the festival. They got there late, and it was hot. Very hot. Ole couldn’t sleep, then he felt ill. They went to the beach which afforded some respite, but it was still hot. And he was hungover. After a day of water he seemed fine again. Funny that! They made regular trips to the beach for food, and Lidl for alcohol, generally having a whale of a time. Then it was time to go home. One of their friends had booked a hostel in Barcelona for the last two days of their week long stay. I suggested a hotel in Reus, close to their departure airport. It would have cost about the same, but they would have had bigger rooms and use of a pool. As it turned out the train station was so busy that they abandoned the idea and got an apartment in Benicassim. They then booked another transfer to the airport and arrived home later that day. It was an experience, and one that they will all learn from, especially Ole who likes his home comforts. So, I suspect a hotel or apartment with a pool and as little time spent under canvas as possible.

His return coincided with his debut in an official film, as he played a rapist in a short video about consent made by The Television Workshop in Salford. He had the lead role, and he had to be in Manchester for two whole days. However, being the star he got his own changing area, and he got paid £60 whilst the others had to settle for £30. Not yet seen a star go up on his bedroom door, but it can only be a matter of time!

And then there’s his job! Saturday morning saw him back at Cafe 110, and although the work is easy enough, he had to spend a considerable amount of time catching up with Donna’s gossip, and vice versa!

There was another trip to York Races last week, for their musical showcase event starring Tom Jones. Now, Sir Tom has been ill recently, so there was some doubt as to his participation, but York announced he would definitely be appearing so we looked forward to it. We parked at our usual hotel, the wonderful Middlethorpe Hall, and Sally got the day off to a fine start with a large gin & tonic. We headed for the course, and although it was still early there was a queue of around fifty people at our entrance. However, the owners, trainers and jockeys entrance was empty, so Lady M hatched a cunning plan. Entry to racecourses is done by badge. We had badges for the Parade Ring restaurant, but we also had our members badges. She marched up to the entrance and looked with disdain at the larger queue. She turned to the man on the gate and said, “We have two badges, surely we don’t have to queue up with them?” The man on the gate smiled and waved us through! The Parade Ring restaurant is a new experience for us at York, but definitely one that will be repeated. We sat overlooking the parade ring, sipping a welcoming drink of locally distilled potato vodka and tonic. Sally then started on a bottle of champagne, and by the time the lady came round to take bets for the first race she was in a bit of a tizzy!

Anyway, we persevered, and the waiters and waitresses were very attentive serving a very nice meal. My only criticism would be that I can make a Bakewell tart better than their “almond tart”! One waitress, however, blotted her copybook with Lady M. “Were you here last year?” she asked, to which Lady  M replied, “not in this part, but you may have seen me elsewhere.” “Oh no,” said the waitress, “I only do this restaurant. I just thought you looked familiar.” There can be no greater insult. The last thing Lady M wants to look is “familiar”!

Around the start of the first race there was a thunderstorm. It was so bad that they dispensed with the starting stalls, and then it poured down. One particular lady who begged the question “has she dispensed with knickers or is her thong riding up?” got happily soaked, but the racing continued without further interruption. Unfortunately, about ten minutes before the last race, York announced that Sir Tom would not be performing as he could not get to the course due to the electrical storms. There was uproar, outrage, amusement, indignation, and refunds! We received 25% off our restaurant package, as well as £80 cashback for being members. However, others had booked cheap tickets with the sole intention of seeing Sir Tom, and their 50% would in some cases have amounted to a tenner!

Back at the hotel the storm had caused a power cut. We sat in the drawing room amid flickering lights powered by a flimsy back up generator, and rather than serve hot chocolate and sandwiches, the head waiter told ghost stories. Anyway, our next trip there will be in August for Ladies Day. Lady M is planning an outfit to commemorate the 100 year anniversary of the end of the Great War. Of course, pictures will be mandatory.

Finally, some news that may be expanded upon in the next edition. Ole has received a call for an audition for a significant part in a big production. Originally he was called to London but they allowed him to do a self tape. That will be assessed, and if it is good enough he will get a “Call Back”, again in London. Sally is very excited, and spent at least three hours Googling the first series of the show in question. She is, of course, helping with the self tape, and it would come as no great surprise if she actually appeared in it!

August 2, 2018 by Mike Madden

Whaley Bridge Rose Queen Carnival

This article first appeared in the High Peak Review.

We are rapidly approaching Carnival season, when shops, pubs and even lampposts dress up for the occasion, bunting lines the streets, and then there are the parades and processions. But spare a thought for the huge amount of work that goes on behind the scenes to ensure that everything runs smoothly, not only on the day, but during the weeks before and afterwards.

The Annual Whaley Bridge Rose Queen Festival is in its 35^th year, but there is evidence that similar events took place over 100 years ago.

The planning for the Whaley Bridge event starts in December when the design of the floats and the flowers is completed. This is hugely important, as the floats will also be used at many other carnivals, such as Buxton, Bamford, Hazel Grove, Chapel-en-le-Frith and New Mills.

 

In January, work commences on the programme. This involves commissioning articles for the interior pages, as well as the key task of contacting local traders to place advertisements. The programme has to be at the printers by the end of March, so that it can be proof read, printed and distributed in plenty of time for the big event in June. Programmes are given to local youth groups, such as after school clubs, guides, brownies and junior sports clubs, and all proceeds from the sale of these programmes are retained by the groups themselves.

The focal part of the Rose Queen festival is the Royalty, and the committee are finding it increasingly difficult to get families to allow their children to participate, as it is a time consuming commitment, and there are so many other distractions that the children also want to take part in.

 

The run up to carnival day involves a logistical exercise that must be executed with military precision. The police, Derbyshire Council and St John’s Ambulance must all be engaged, letters need to be written to the Mayor and the Chair of the Council, and then there is the selection of judges. Some of these must be from outside Whaley Bridge, whilst others must be residents of the village. The Royalty travel from Buxworth to Whaley Bridge on the Judith Mary canal boat, so this has to be arranged too. Prizes are a big part of the event, and organisations such as The Caverns, Lyme Park and Heights Of Abraham need to be contacted to try to procure complimentary tickets.

With the cost of living inevitably rising, the committee have launched several initiatives that will be subsidised or even free in 2011. These include circus skills and face painting, as well as a stall to encourage the children to make bunting that will be recycled for use in future years.

The Rose Queen procession led to Whaley Bridge Bowling Club in 2010, a tradition that the committee are keen to continue. There is plenty of room for the marquee that is used for the Queen’s Arena, and alongside the marquee there is another large area that needs to be organised in terms of the stallholders and the fairground. All of the organisers and participants, as well as the spectators, will obviously be hungry and thirsty, so catering arrangements are high of the list of priorities. Finally, well deserved refreshments must be provided at the end of the day for the Whaley Bridge Royalty, local dignitaries, judges, and the Rose Queen Festival Committee.

A typical Rose Queen Festival Day starts at 7am for many members of the Committee, and runs right through to 9pm, including the onerous task of tidying up. Whilst all of this is going on there is also the planning of the Sunday Car Boot Sale, so the following day is usually an early start at the canal basin. Whaley Bridge Band perform in the marquee at the Bowling Club later on Sunday, and the following Wednesday it plays host to an assortment of cats, dogs, snails, ferrets, etc, in the annual Pet Show.

The committee have some long standing members, with three of them having served for over 30 years, but they are always looking for new blood. If you would like to get involved please contact Chairperson Ann Bell whose details can be found in the Rose Queen Festival programme.

by Mike Madden

The Judith Mary

This article first appeared in the High Peak Review.

There is something quintessentially English about the sight of a narrowboat meandering down a country waterway, and when the captain of the narrowboat is the distinguished figure of Allen Kelsall it certainly reinforces the image.

Allen has been involved with the Judith Mary narrowboat since 1983, including in 1988 when a second Judith Mary was built by Anglo Welsh in Whaley Bridge. He is a trained chef, and as he had a catering company it seemed to be a natural move for him to supply the restaurant boat with high quality food.

In 1991 he bought both Judith Mary vessels, although the original initially moved to Chester, and then further afield. “The first Judith Mary now operates around Stalybridge under the name Staley Rose,” explained Allen.

The route that the present day Judith Mary sails is along the Upper Peak Forest canal which, at 518 feet, was the highest navigable canal in England until recently when the Huddersfield canal was rebuilt.

For twenty two years the regular journey used to be a return trip to New Mills, until 2005 when the long awaited opening of the Buxworth canal basin resulted in a much more picturesque cruise.

Allen undertakes around 250 trips per year, each lasting for around two and a half hours, giving him over six hundred hours afloat annually. Every cruise caters for up to 38 passengers, serving a selection of good food as well as drinks from the licensed bar. It is a daunting prospect to keep the Judith Mary operational for this packed schedule, and he uses a local man to look after the engines to ensure that the boat passes its stringent annual inspection in water, as well as in dry dock at Kerridge.

He also engages the services of renowned Paint Master Andy Russell to keep the external appearance looking shipshape, with details such as lettering and floral details needing regular attention.

Of course, things do not run smoothly all of the time, and last year Mr Kelsall had a potential disaster on his hands when an engine fault prevented him from his regular engagement of transporting the Whaley Bridge Carnival royalty from Buxworth to Whaley Bridge. Fortunately, a Buxworth boat stepped into the breach, and Allen was able to use a variety of day boats to effectively tug the Judith Mary for the remainder of the week until the engine could be repaired.

The Carnival Royalty are not the only VIPs that Allen has entertained, as his other passengers have included Princess Diana, Barbara Castle and Edwina Currie as well as presenter Bob Greaves and footballer Gary Owen. Despite being a fan, he did not immediately recognise ex Manchester City player Owen. “I told him ‘you look just like Gary Owen’, and it was rather embarrassing when he replied ‘I am’,” admitted Allen.

Most of the Judith Mary bookings are for parties, including hosting the infamous Whaley Bridge Cricket Club Trip on more than one occasion, but there are also public sailings as well as the opportunity to charter the boat. For more information please visit www.judithmary.co.uk.

 

May 15, 2018 by Michael Madden

Things That Go ‘Bump’ In Ashbourne

Well, the Christmas Present (from 2016) is proving to be a dangerous business. Regular readers will remember the ‘going for a scan’ incident, well now we have had the ‘broken bridge’ incident in Ashbourne. Sally was on an all day lesson involving dressage, show jumping and cross country. At the end of the day there was an obstacle known as the broken bridge, a jump that had a lower landing than take off area. Nancy, the horse, jumped it magnificently. Sally, the rider, didn’t! She clung on as Louise filmed. Unfortunately, as Louise realised that Sally was about to hit the deck, she shrieked and the camera pointed at the sky, missing the £250 moment!

Louise managed to get her back to Buxton, and Ole, Zac and myself drove up to fetch her. Zac wanted to know how many people saw the incident, as he wanted to gauge the level of embarrassment. Ole drove my car back as I drove Sally and hers. The following day the medical staff at Stepping Hill gave the good news that nothing was broken, it was simply bruising and soft tissue damage. A liberal supply of painkillers was advised, and Sally went to the physio for ongoing treatment. This involved ultrasound and a series of exercises, but after a few days things were not improving. The second physio session, ten days after the original accident, gave cause for concern, and the physio sent her to Buxton Cottage hospital. Having been there myself for a dislocated shoulder, I was surprised that anyone would consider the Cottage for first line medical support, but to their credit they took several x-rays and diagnosed a broken shoulder blade.

No driving for two weeks, no horse riding for who knows how long, and an appointment at the fracture clinic, back at Stepping Hill. Their second attempt at diagnosis confirmed the break, and they gave her an improved collar and cuff. So, several trips to the farm and dozens of pain killers and anti-inflammatory pills later, I have discovered that the boxes of pills at Tesco do not register on the self checkouts, and Nellie the pig loves potatoes.

Speaking of Nellie – here she is – rushing to get her nose in my bag of goodies!

Next up is a film review. I have often wondered where Sky manage to get all of their movies from. That quantity must inevitably lead to a lack of quality, and that is what I encountered with The Hurricane Heist. If you want to watch a hurricane movie, I recommend Twister, This disaster started in a very similar way, but then somehow introduced the robbery of millions of dollars in used notes. The special effects at the end were hammed up in a poor imitation of The Mummy, and the whole thing was a preposterous mess. I guess casting someone from The Office in the role of evil bad guy was always going to be a bit of a stretch!

Ole had another of his “fuming” moments last week, not as dramatic as the middle of the night pizza delivery guy episode, but certainly more costly. He had taken out a student Spotify subscription at £4.99 rather than the usual £9.99. In November he received an email asking him to tick a box to verify he still wanted the student subscription. He didn’t tick the box so his subscription went up to £9.99, and he didn’t realise until April! He had absolutely no idea what to do, so after I pointed him in the direction of the website he ended up on Live Chat. The stress of this was horrendous, so he called me to act as his interpreter to the Live Chat guy. It worked, he got refunded his latest fiver overpayment, and they gave him some months free. He was about £15 down on the deal, but maybe that will teach him to check his emails a bit more carefully!

There was more drama from the direction of Salford University when Ole realised that he needed to pick his options for next year. Once again it involved a phone call to me, with Ole on the other end trying to navigate a website that I could not see. “Oh maybe its three I need to choose – no, wait – its five. This is ridiculous – oh – its given me four.” There was much huffing and puffing in a “the world is against me” kind of way. I think he will play the role of drama queen to perfection.

The struggle with Zac’s food choices goes on. He has agreed to try lobster, and maybe steak in gravy as he once had a chip (singular) in gravy and he quite liked it. “What about a pie?” I asked, pointing out that they have gravy in. “I can’t see me eating a pie,” he replied. “Why not?” “Because its a pie.” So that’s another crossed off the list.

Zac also had an interesting conundrum whilst watching the Champions League semi final. As a player went down injured the commentator said that the other players were right to play on unless it is a head injury.
Zac, so you only have to stop play if its a head injury?
Me, yes
Zac, what if its a heart attack?
Over to Mark Clattenburg.

You may recall that Ole had his driving test cancelled at short notice. That was back in January. The powers that be have finally refunded him £48 to compensate for two hours of additional lessons that he had to pay for to cover the revised test. However, they would not pay for his transport to get back from Salford to take his revised test, as they only pay travel expenses for those incurred on the day of the original test, and he had none of these as he was already at home. I have no idea how their logic works!

Zac has developed quite bad eczema on his hands, so I managed to get him some black silk gloves to protect them. One of his hands is worse than the other, so he often wears just one of these gloves. I  think he must have been watching Michael Jackson on Youtube.

Sally decided to cook beef braised with onions in a red wine sauce last week. However, after about two hours it had dried up. She inspected it, and asked, ‘Do you want me to put pastry on it as its got a bit of a burnt taste.’ I had no idea that pastry could conceal the acrid black taste that meat takes on when it has been allowed to dry out in a red hot pan, but I wasn’t prepared to take the chance. Its the first time that I have ever had fish finger butties for Sunday dinner!

Our friends the ducks are back.

Now, they may not be the same ones as these, but they are just as friendly!

So, how is Sally acclimatising to her predicament after a couple of weeks without driving? She is a real ‘Woman of the people.’ ‘I have turned down two alcoholic beverages, I have walked all the way up the hill to the church, and I have taken a ride on a bus,’ she declared.

Finally, local cricket appears to be suffering a long, slow death, though maybe not so slow if recent events are anything to go by. The games are too long for the youth of today, and the situation will only get worse. Whaley Bridge failed to field a second team for a league match for the first time in living memory last week – and that might not be the last occasion this happens this season.

Turning from Old to New Horwich Road
The footsteps slow
The breath deepens
The incline takes its toll
Onwards and upwards
To the place where the tarmac ends
And a choice awaits
To the left, who knows?
To the right, a track
That does not deserve the name of any thoroughfare
A simple, small, often concealed sign
Marks the way to WBCC
Beware of dogs, horses, ramblers
And take extra care if your car has a low exhaust
Passing places stretch the term
As side by side two vehicles dance
And rock and almost kiss
As the overgrown verge conceals discarded rock
From dry stone walls
Upwards and onwards once more
A gate, a wall
A wall, a gate
Turn to the right
And rest
And breathe
Breathe in that cleanest of air
And gaze across the landscape
Boats rest on placid water
Clouds smile above a green tapestry
Criss-crossed with grey lines
And patchwork made good
With brown remnants
This is the picture from a jigsaw puzzle box
This is Blake’s England
This is Blake’s green and pleasant land
Below, the land is closer
A green baize
Where twenty two protagonists do battle
For nought but glory of the day
They chat
They play
They chat
Then play some more
Telling tales
Ever taller the more often told
Tall tales
That have lasted beyond a generation
Creating those that will last
A generation more
Ebbing and flowing
The game progresses
And starts and stops
Ah yes
It must be time for tea

Cherish and support your cricket club before it is too late!

April 20, 2018 by Michael Madden

Blogs, Hogs And My Drama Exam