Two weeks in spring

I can’t believe it’s only been a few weeks since I last posted - there seems to have been a lot happening since then. Or maybe it’s just because I’ve got so many photos to share here.

Either way, we’ve been busy. Kind of.

We went to the 1940s weekend in Haworth last month and it was absolutely heaving with people. I’ve never seen it that crowded before; it was so busy that we gave up on queuing in the sweet shop (Joe was disappointed but we went elsewhere), and we couldn’t get to the top of Main Street and away fast enough.

It was impressive, though - fly pasts with old planes, people dressed in ‘40s outfits (and not just the usual ageing blokes posing as glamorous GIs who actually look more Dad’s Army), fabulous shop window displays, vintage cars, bunting everywhere, live music in the park bandstand, marquees…

But we scuttled back into the woods as soon as we could.

Still stopping to admire the allotments en route. I can’t resist an allotment. And, of course, they were integral to the war effort too.

In the trees, we spotted an exotic-looking bird, no doubt an escapee from a fancy garden somewhere. I managed to stop a passing collie from pouncing on it; given how unfazed it was by passers-by (and hindered by a seeming lack of flying prowess) I didn’t hold out much hope for it surviving too long.

(‘It’ turns out to be a ‘he’ - a male silver pheasant, according to a quick Google search).

Not too long after that trip, Joe got Covid.

He’d tested negative but was full of a cold, so was off school on the Monday and then back in on Tuesday. After school he seemed quite listless (extremely out of character - he’s usually a ball of energy), so I kept him off again the next day. Another test that afternoon was positive, so that was it for the week. No Jubilee celebrations for him.

After we’d bought his 1980s get-up for the fancy dress, obviously.

I tested positive next.

To be honest, the first few days were rough (shivers, headaches, cough, sinuses etc) but I didn’t get it anywhere near as bad as Jay did a few months back. Joe’s cough was loudly seal-like but again, after a few days he was back to his usual Tigger-ish self.

But the whole thing meant me being off work to take care of him, a cancelled half-term trip to the grandparents, us trying to find things to do that didn’t involve being close to other people - and the worst of all: him not getting his barber’s appointment. He desperately needs a haircut.

Seriously. I really wanted him to go to the barber.

Entertaining him when I should have been resting up was a bit of a challenge too, but that’s parenting for you. It’s relentless.

On the ‘good news’ side of things, Jay got a new job working here. He’s extremely pleased. So am I. It’s closer to home and he’s a bit of a craft beer connoisseur (and closet hipster), and he deserves it. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who actually enjoys job interviews. This makes no sense at all as he’s also the most unassuming person I know.

The ‘potentially good news’ category contains the following: we should get the keys to the new house by the end of the week. Its been an absolute nightmare of a purchase, seriously. I’ve recently taken to typing out bossy emails to the solicitor as it’s getting beyond a joke at this point. She sends back short, passive-aggressive replies.

We’d agreed a completion date of 25th May (after I sent a particular spiky email) and were looking forward to heading up there and getting started. Then we were notified that she’d made an ‘oversight’ - basically, she’d failed to notice a discrepancy in the paperwork which she’d received back in March (!)

Apparently it could be rectified online within a few hours.

A week later, long bank holiday on the horizon, and still nothing. The estate agent’s angry, The seller’s annoyed. We’re fuming.

I won’t go into more boring detail, but we’ve been told Tuesday. We’ll see.

So, what else?

I’m still reading A Carnival of Snackery (David Sedaris). I just love him so much. And he’s recently brought out a new book, Happy-Go-Lucky, which I’m desperate to get my hands on. I might request it at the library.

Of course, we’ve been watching the new Stranger Things. Joe doesn’t want to watch it. Unusually for a kid, he doesn’t enjoy being scared. He does love scandal, and is a keen curtain-twitcher, but anything that might give him nightmares is firmly refused. Which is fine.

I’ve also discovered Hart of Dixie (insert hands-over-eyes emoji). It’s cheesy and predictable to the point of making Gilmore Girls look hard-hitting, but you know me and these American ‘light-hearted drama’ shows. Small town, formulaic, cosy, comforting.

Also comforting: Marcus Wareing’s Tales from a Kitchen Garden. I watch it and get allotment (well, farm) envy. He seems to live in a perpetual summer where the sun constantly shines and the flowers are always in full bloom. He’s much more likeable than that aggressive, ridiculous, root vegetable-faced Gordon Ramsay.

We had a little drive near Ripponden last week and took a walk across Baitings Dam.

Not entirely picturesque (unless you’re a fan of pylons and vast concrete structures) but it was a manageable stroll for we Covid-ridden. The drop down to one side was horribly steep; I’m terrified of heights and just looking over the wall made my legs feel funny.

So I stopped looking.

We’ve walked closer to home, too. Midgley, Booth, along the canal towards Sowerby Bridge.

The weather’s been changeable; some days hot and sunny, others chilly and overcast with the odd heavy rain shower thrown in. It’s a constant carousel of clothing choices: kaftan, sandals, jumper, boots. Add a layer, discard it again.

I’m getting a bit obsessive about my squashes. The pumpkins and gourds are still looking sickly but the squashes are much more promising. I keep checking up on them, willing them to keep living and swelling. Poking them and stroking them. I’m determined to become an expert grower of these things and picture a garden filled with colourful delights: Turk’s Turbans, bottle gourds, Patty pan and Crookneck squash, blue-grey Crown Prince, Harlequin, Acorn: all scrambling up wigwams made from old branches, lighting up our future plot, adorning mantels and windowsills.

The sweet peas Joe and I planted far too late a week or so ago are up and running, the sunflowers are getting bigger and my nasturtiums are filling out their pots.

The picture underneath, by the way, shows what’s known locally as ‘The Lightning Tree’. It’s just around the corner from our house. I might try and photograph it through the year. I’ll call that a micro-project.

Yesterday, in the interests of impressing my new pedometer, I walked along the canal to the little Co op. I wore a jumper and regretted it. The sun was on my back all the way home and I felt like I was melting in the heat.

This is the problem with British weather. The week before last I went to work in a thin top without a coat or umbrella because the forecast suggested they wouldn’t be needed. Then as soon as I set off walking it started to rain and I spent the day shivering and praying for it to stop before I had to trot the 10 minutes back to the car.

I need to remember to keep a waterproof and a brolly in the boot for this very reason. I always did it living on Skye. West Yorkshire’s hardly arid.

It’s been a long catch-up.

I’m busy putting together the bones of a magazine ready for my first ever issue. It’s a huge undertaking - there’s so much to plan, consider, research and produce. I need to learn new skills, quickly. Soon we’ll be renovating a house. The summer holidays are approaching - as is my deadline.

It’s exciting and daunting and scary, but I’m ready for it. Thank you for your words of encouragement. They mean a lot and they’ve helped me sketch out what I think Frond & Feather magazine should be.

So now we’re Covid free and life returns to normal. Joe’s school doesn’t reopen until Tuesday but Jay’s off with him tomorrow while I’m in work.

I have a new gin to try, and a new gin glass to drink it from. So cheers - here’s to a great week ahead and, fingers crossed, the keys to our new home.