Unfolding, unfurling
It seems like five minutes ago that school was finishing for the Easter holidays and here we are, a few days left then it’s back to the usual routine.
I’ve still been at work; Jay and I managed to arrange things so Joe was looked after between us, and then this second week he’s been with his grandparents. He’s back now - his grandad tested positive for Covid this morning though so we’re having to take a lot of precautions. I’m having a (small) operation on Tuesday but it requires a general anaesthetic and the day in hospital so I don’t want to catch anything and find myself back on the waiting list.
We’ll keep testing Joe (and me) and hope he’s escaped getting infected.
Complicated, complicated…
Last week we did a bit of this and that; he and I took a drive across to Haworth and did our customary walk through the woods in Oxenhope. It was nice and quiet, and we saw lots of spring-y things like lambs, toads, celandines and wood anemones.
I had a peep over the wall at that lovely courtyard garden that goes with that lovely house. I always do.
I suppose at this time of year there’s always the ‘what to wear?’ minefield. We wrapped up warm and of course the weather was hot. It felt like June.
We had a mooch around Haworth and bought indulgent things to eat from the bakery, then found a bench near the Bronte parsonage and had our lunch. And then on to the sweet shop for Joe - he chose lemon bonbons, a sophisticated departure from the usual wine gums.
We also met a friendly chicken with a penchant for cream cakes. Well, the choux pastry bits anyway.
We went to Whitby on Saturday. I’ve only ever been to Staithes, when I learnt basic printmaking back in 2017. The rest of the Yorkshire coast is unchartered territory for us.
The drive there (we set off early) took about two hours, but was very scenic despite the high Roadkill Bingo scores. We arrived early too, so parking wasn’t a problem. I called in at an antiques shop and managed to pick up an old printer’s tray for £25 - Jay was hissing at me to haggle, and it worked. So that was a good start.
I’m actually planning to write a post on Whitby for the ‘Yorkshire’ section of the site as I have a ton of photos to share, so here’s a quick rundown of our day:
Bought antique printer’s tray
Wandered around to get bearings
Ate packed lunch by the harbour (including Easter chocolate)
Bought Joe a bucket for rockpooling - he’d brought his own net
Walked to the beach via the quieter, winding side streets
Took numerous photos
Felt smug we’d worn layers and woolly hats because the wind was brrrrracing
Sauntered along the shore whilst Joe explored the rockpools
Sat on the beach for a bit
Tempted Joe away eventually with the promise of an ice cream
Felt a desperate urge to run in the opposite direction when we saw just how many people had descended by mid afternoon
Queued for and bought expensive ice creams - I had roughly a third of mine before a thuggish seagull swooped down, swiped mine out of my face and promptly dropped it into the sea
Fumed for a bit but the bargain printer’s tray made me feel better
Decided to avoid the beach on a bank holiday in future.
Although we do want to try Robin Hood’s Bay for fossiling at some point. Maybe in autumn or winter.
It was the Wednesday just gone before I had a child- and work-free day to myself. I still had lots to do, but I got up early (rather than having a lie-in with Joe being away). Lie-ins just don’t happen in this house. It’s a bungalow with noisy laminate floors, doors that don’t close properly, and the rooms are all basically arranged around a corridor. It’s noisy and everything echoes and… well, there’s no chance of sleeping in.
But I resisted the temptation to snuggle back down and luxuriate in peace and was glad I did because I got things done.
I’m the ultimate night owl. I get a mid-afternoon slump where I’m barely awake, then by 8pm I’m raring to go again. Nothing to do with caffeine (that stops by 2pm). I read until late, in dim light and turning the pages quietly. Early mornings are not my favourite time. I have little recollection of what happens between 7am and 11am during the week, except that Joe somehow ends up fed, dressed and delivered to school and I find myself either at work or home again juggling chores and life admin.
Reading wellbeing tips (‘life hacks’) about getting up an hour earlier, or those people who appear in magazines or on Instagram saying they’re up at 5.30 and are so productive… there’s always a lot of eye-rolling on my part when it comes to all that self-congratulatory stuff. But getting up early is actually quite smug-making. I really do want to tip the scales a bit in favour of Early Bird-ism.
Problem is living in this house, if I get up with the lark, Joe hears me, leaps out of bed at lightning speed and is by my side before you can say... Well, I’ll let you fill in the blanks.
We need to move. The agent is chasing for it to be all done and dusted by the end of April. That’s very optimistic but it would be great if that actually happened. My Pinterest board for the new place is getting unmanageably big. I’m sending off for colour cards from fancy paint places like Little Greene. And conveniently putting aside thoughts of wallpaper stripping, garden clearing, dust and dirt, planning permission, builder’s costs, plumbers, electricians…
Jay’s focused on all that stuff. He’s the realist. Let’s say I ‘have vision’.
Yesterday I was up early again and wandering into Hebden Bridge along the canal towpath, a spring in my step, savouring the peace and quiet before the crowds arrived. It’s no longer busy here just on the weekends, but I suppose this still being Easter many people are on holiday from work. A sunny day in Hebden Bridge usually means lots of visitors, and me being an introverted type I hide away from all that stuff. I scurry away, looking for a dark corner to hide in, like a rat vampire spider.
So: mornings are nice.
I took my time, had a good look around the charity shops - I’m trying to rebuild my No 1 Ladies Detective Agency book collection after giving most of it away to charity shops in the first place. (I know, me neither).
I picked up a few nice things: a full skirt (with pockets!!!) which I suspect is brand new, a cheesecloth folk-embroidered blouse (M&S), a few poetry books.
I regularly have these virtuous but vague notions of buying nothing brand new for a whole year. With the exception of underwear and shoes etc, obviously. Shoes only because my feet are awkwardly-shaped. I don’t indulge in Fast Fashion, so I suppose that’s a start. Plus I love finding things secondhand - there’s an element of the treasure hunt about it.
Along with my pre-loved clothes and books I have a new (old) set of chunky ceramic bowls from my colleague.
I have quite a bit of this kind of thing, and cannot wait to unpack the boxes we still haven’t opened since moving from Skye. It’ll be like Christmas - at this point we can’t quite remember what we have but being reunited with our belongings will be lovely.
So: it’s Friday. We’d planned to have my brother over for a barbecue at the weekend but I’m cautious now because of the Covid thing. It’s thrown a bit of a spanner in the works really.
Still, we’re having a run of hot, sunny weather and being home isn’t a problem. I’m growing gourds, pumpkins and squash, and the parrot tulips are in full bloom. My seedlings have all taken too. I like the daily rituals of putting the pumpkins outdoors, watering things, observing.
We’ll make the most of this last bit of holiday before summer term starts. That seems to have come around quickly; it feels like winter was just five minutes ago and now I’m contemplating putting my jumpers away in the blanket box. No doubt as soon as I do, the frosts will return…
