The Hundred and Jimmy Anderson

 

Max spotted us in the crown on TV and
managed to grab a screen shot

Arthur is getting quite interested in cricket. Margaret has wondered about taking him to a T20, but Sam beat us to it and booked tickets for The Hundred at the Oval.

So, Arthur was with us a couple of weeks ago and watched the daily highlights of the England v India test. He enjoyed the highlights, but he kept asking who had won. I told him the match lasted five days and no-one had won yet. He couldn’t understand that play could go on all day and no-one had won. Test cricket can be quite hard to fathom and it requires pain, age and experience to appreciate properly.

The Hundred is supposed to address those issues and make cricket accessible to younger, less knowledgeable viewers.

The match was against Manchester and there’s a women’s match followed by the men. Each team faces 100 balls and there are fielding restrictions for the first 25 balls in order to encourage the batsmen to hit over the protective ring for a more spectacular show. It started at 11am and both matches were done by 4.30pm.

The format has had its critics, but I enjoyed it and so did Arthur and Saoirse. Arthur won’t remember, but he did get to see the great Jimmy Anderson, the finest test bowler England has produced and taker of more than 700 test wickets. He came out to bat 11 for Manchester and got a massive reception. He didn’t take a wicket and got knocked around by some lucky shots and poor fielding. I saw him on his Test debut against Zimbabwe at Lord’s with Margaret and Max and he took five wickets (his first five) so great to see him one more time.

Alice persuades me that Queensgate is a fun place

Alice and Paddington Bear in Queensgate.
What a magical place!

Alice slept over last night because Max and Inna wanted to celebrate their anniversary. It meant there was no early start, although she was awake at the crack of dawn, so no early drive but no lie-in either.

We were going shoe-shopping with her to buy new shoes for starting school and we’d booked a fitting slot at Clarks in Queensgate. This is a big moment … your first school shoes, but also the end of individualism and the start of conformity. All Alice’s shoes are colourful or glittery, these were black with the smallest bow, also black; and a pair of pumps (also black).

We did buy a pair of pink trainers as well and she was delighted with those until she saw multicoloured shoes with flashing lights in the soles in Skechers.

I’ve decided that Queensgate is in decline and has no shops worth visiting, but Alice saw things very differently. It has multi-storey car parks and you can drive right to the top, there’s a lift that takes you down to the shops at the touch of a button and, when the lift doors open, you’re presented with a bright, shiny play space that makes you want to run.

After looking down on the buses, she charged forward and when we passed Lush, she couldn’t believe it. “Look at all the soap grandad, it smells amazing!”

Clarks was a more serious business, but very interesting, then there was a long escalator and electric cars that you could drive in the main square. She loved St John’s Church, she loved Wildwood and, I have to say, I left Peterborough with a much more positive view than I’ve had for a long time. Shopping was never so much fun.

Why do I keep falling asleep?

 It is 5.20pm on Friday and we’re going across to the Rose & Crown in an hour for dinner with our friends Pauline and Chris Coakley. I’ve just woken up after a two-hour sleep. I only woke up because Mabel, our Springer Spaniel, realised it was dinner time and leapt from my bed where she’d also been sleeping.

I have been sleeping a lot just lately, I can fall asleep just about anywhere and any time from 10am through to 5pm. I also get about five or six hours at night. Last Saturday, we took Arthur and Saoirse to the Luxe Cinema in Wisbech to watch Bad Guys II and I fell asleep during the film for about 45 minutes.

I’m not sure if this is a natural progression in my life; like an old dog, I’ll sleep more and more until eventually I don’t wake up (not a bad way to go) or whether it’s a sign of a more serious health concern. Perhaps I should Google “falling asleep during the day” and find 20 things that could be the end of me?

Well, apart from sleeping, what’s been happening in my life? We are coming to the end of our Monday Alice duty, which has been a fixture of our lives for almost four years. Alice starts school in just over three weeks and we will get an extra day during the week to do things (or to fall asleep). I’ll miss looking after her. Of all our grandchildren, I’ve had the chance to watch her grow through two car seats (backward-facing to forward-with-seatbelt) and develop from a baby, through toddler to a proper little girl. She’s given us endless pleasure and we’ll both miss Mondays, although not the 7am start in winter. I think we’ll still see quite a lot of her during school holidays, so that will be something to look forward to. We’ve already booked one of the beach cabins at the Le Strange Arms in Old Hunstanton for the autumn half-term.

Alice is more than ready for school. She enjoys nursery/pre-school where she’s spent three days a week from the age of around nine months. She’s confident, mixes well and I think she’s popular with the other children. We meet one or two of them when we’re out and about with her on Mondays and they’re always delighted to see her. Like all our grandchildren, she’s super smart and also has a good vocabulary, although it has been delivered in a stronger and stronger Leicestershire accent. Tom asked me what a Leicestershire accent sounded like and I struggled to describe it; it’s not northern, but some of the vowel sounds are similar.

High-tech ice-cream

I’ve just had an old person’s run-in with technology. Margaret and I were in Cambridge to look after Julia, Aureliano and Florencia while Lucia received her doctorate. Carlos and Nidia had come across from Ecuador to see the ceremony. 

We met up outside King’s College first thing and we hired a punt on the river to amuse the children while the ceremony took place. 

They very much enjoyed the experience. We were punted by a chap called Ben, a student at Edinburgh and a former King’s, Ely student. 

He gave us lots of interesting history about the colleges and the children listened politely, but definitely became more alert when there seemed the risk of running down a duck or Ben bumping his head on the low bridges. 

Afterwards, they were all dining in King’s College (including the children) so Margaret and I were able to look around the shops and have some lunch. 

It was a scorching day and also my birthday, so I thought I’d treat myself to an ice-cream from this posh ice-cream shop. 

We went in, there were four people behind the counter and no-one was making eye contact. 

We spent a minute looking at the different flavours on display and talking about what I’d have and still no-one made eye contact or asked if they could help. 

Eventually I said: can anyone get me an ice-cream? 

The answer was that you have to order it on the screen. “Can’t I just tell you what I want?” 

“No.” 

“OK forget it.” 

“No, no sir, I’ll help you.” And the chap came around from behind the counter. “Press the screen to start, now select the ice-cream you like.” 

“I just want a cornet”. 

“OK, there are three sizes, which would you like?” The middle one was a ridiculous £7.45, but it was my birthday so I thought I’d push the boat out. 

“Now select the four flavours you'd like.” 

“I only want a cherry cornet! OK, this is ridiculous. I just want an ice-cream and you can’t just make one for me.” 

Point made, I left the shop ice-creamless. I’m all for technology, but only when it serves a useful purpose. This seems like a solution looking for a problem that doesn’t exist. 

We used the park-and-ride to get to Cambridge and we’ll probably do it again, now we’ve discovered it. Trumpington park-and-ride is just off the M11, it’s free to park and the buses run into the city centre every 15 minutes. They cost £3.50 return.

Playing with Alice

Alice has very imaginative play. She can create a world in her imagination and interact with it. I’ve not known any of my other grandchildren do it like her. 

Alice takes ideas from film, TV and books and she loves having someone to play with. She sometimes wants to be in charge but will often take new ideas and spin them into the backdrop. I’ve successfully introduced Scary Cat, pirates and dinosaurs into games. Elsa, from Frozen is a popular character (always played by Alice) and she’s handy person to be because if the game’s getting a bit dull, you can always start freezing the other players.

Often, I’m quite glad to be frozen like a statue so I can have a bit of a rest. We been doing a fairy story in Spanish in Spanish Plus the other week – los tres cerditos (three little pigs) and I thought I’d talk about the Big Bad Wolf (our game needed a baddie). Alice said she didn’t like the Big Bad Wolf because he was scary. I told her the story of the Three Little Pigs with the emphasis on the incompetent wolf and then I asked if she knew the story of Red Riding Hood. 

She did, she had a book and we rummaged though her library to find it so I could read it to her. She enjoyed it and then wanted to play Little Red Riding Hood. In this version, she was Elsa, I was the wolf and RRH was an invisible figment of our imagination. When she came walking through the woods, the plan was that Elsa would freeze her and then the BBW could catch and eat her. 

Today, we were playing with Lego/Duplo, little pots and water. The Duplo dog got stuck in the pot and, joking, I said “we need to call for Paw Patrol.” She seized on the idea. She was Sky, I was Ryder … Oh no, the dog (it’s Rubble, decides Alice) is stuck in the pot. We need Paw Patrol, let’s yelp for help. Pups to the Look-out. Sky, Rubble is stuck in the pot, use your winch to get him out. There’s some singing of the Paw Patrol anthem (with some variation because I can’t remember it) to set the scene, then Sky (Alice) arrives to pull out Rubble and everyone is safe. “Again,” says Alice and we repeat half a dozen times until there’s a game change. 

 Now, the Lego horse is stuck on the table and his mummy can’t get to him. We need Paw Patrol, let’s yelp for help. Pups to the Look-out. Sky, we need you winch to lift the baby horse off the table and return him to his mother. Repeat six times, with no lapse of enthusiasm. The Paw Patrol song must be sung and Ryder has to go to the Look-out to brief the dogs… The loop is finally severed when it’s time to head for Thurmaston shopping centre.

Feeding Red Kites in the garden

Red Kite in the conifer

Margaret has been feeding red kites from the garden.

We’ve seen red kites become more and more common in the past few years and they seem to have usurped buzzards as the top carrion bird in the area.

They’re lovely to see – huge birds with forked tails, riding thermals around the village or patrolling low over houses in the hope of spotting something tasty. I’ve never seen them land anywhere near houses, although one has been sitting in a large conifer at the corner of Arkady’s property (the windmill). It’s been there several times and will sit for hours, probably digesting its latest meal.

On Sunday, June 29, Sam and Lucy staged a birthday party for Julia and she brought back some cake (a rather large slab). I did my best to eat it, but after a week, Margaret put it on the lawn for the birds.

She was staggered to see a kite swoop down and grab the cake and fly off. I honestly thought our garden would be too small for a bird of this size to dive in, grab and have enough room to fly up and away. They look so big close too and with their wings fully outstretched, it seems they could touch either side of the lawn. I certainly underestimated their flying abilities!

Since the cake grab, Margaret has put more food on the lawn and they’ve been back and taken it. She now buys them chicken wings and we’ve heard them crying (possibly saying “feed me”).

So, we’ve heard a call, and a kite is sitting in the conifer at the side of Maggie’s garden. Margaret has left a chicken wing and by the time she’s back in the house, it has swooped down and taken it.

Sometimes she goes out in the garden and hears them call. She does an imitation of their cry in response and goes to get a chicken wing. It does sound a bit bonkers, but it does work, and they’ve been fed almost every day for the past three weeks.

I have tried to video them, but they don’t play ball. However, I did manage to take this through the lounge window.

Auntie Pam died

Some sad, but not unexpected, news this week. My Aunt Pam, the youngest of my dad’s sisters has died, aged 91. Aunt Pam was certainly my favourite aunt when I was growing up. I always liked to spend time with her, and she seemed to be the member of the Rayner family that my mum was closest to. My dad was the eldest, followed by Joan and then, some years later, by Pam. The two sisters were lovely people and helped enormously after my mum died. Aunt Joan and her husband (Uncle Don) were the noisier couple by a long way, always kind to me, always great fun, but could be a little overwhelming. Aunt Pam and her husband Ken were both quiet, but no less fun. I also enjoying playing with their daughter Carole when I was smaller. Aunt Pam always had a dog, at least one cat and various other animals – rabbits, guinea pigs and, for a few years, a sparrow called Gavin, which was a rescued fledgling and lived in the house (a proper house sparrow). She was the last of that generation, which is sad and a little bit chilling because I am the generation closest to the end of the conveyor belt of life!

Spending time with grandchildren

 We have been spending lots of time with our grandchildren this week. It can be very hard work, but is joyful.

Every Monday, we look after Alice in Sileby. She goes to nursery on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays and her other grandparents (Mikhael and Maryna) look after her on Fridays. We have developed a regular routine. We go to Thurmaston Shopping Centre around 10am and we go into Poundland, Marks & Spencer Foodhall and then Dunelm for lunch. Sometimes, we ring the changes with an additional visit to Next, Boots or Hobbycraft. In the afternoon, sometimes we go to Dobies garden centre and have an hour in the soft play area, see if we can find a robin and kill another couple of hours. It used to be handy when I had the Nissan Leaf because often it would need a charge to get me home, but the new Ariya has a much better range and so it’s not vital that we go.

Alice in Dunelm cafe

Before we go, Alice and I will often play a game. She has a very creative imagination and the games can get quite complex. Just lately, they have developed a Frozen theme (it’s her favourite film). If we’re lucky, we can often watch a film in the afternoon, which gives me chance to have a snooze.

This week, the morning game involved finding “the lizard” which I think was the fire spirit from Frozen II. It was loose in her bedroom and we had to find it. She doesn’t have a lizard, so I improvised with a little fluffy sun that we bought at the Space Museum and that worked quite well for a while. He started imaginary fires and she (playing the part of Elsa) put them out with magic icy blasts. I had to build her an ice palace by the bedroom door from cushions and seat pads. A few weeks ago, we were joined by “scary cat”. I’m not sure what role he was supposed to be playing (he was invisible to everyone except Alice’s imagination) and I was running out of things for him to do, so I said: “Oh no! Scary cat has done a poo on the carpet.” This was a huge success, he did about 10 poos and Alice and I took turns cleaning up the imaginary poo with imaginary spray and cloths. Since then, poos have become a regular feature in games.

“Oh no!” she cries. “Fire lizard has done a poo.” We have to change fire lizard’s pants and clean its bottom. Alice is well into her potty training now, but accidents aren’t unknown, so I consider this good role play. “Fire lizard must tell Grandy if it needs another poo …”

I find these games quite tiring mentally. It’s a bit like being a children’s entertainer without a script. One wrong move and you’ve lost your audience.

We did the usual Thurmaston run this morning and Alice was very happy with some new Nike trainers that Margaret had been given by a neighbour, Trish Winwright. In the afternoon, I’d hoped that we could watch Frozen II, but Alice wasn’t in the mood for television, she wanted to play. She had changed into her “Elsa dress” (a frilly party dress that Uncle Tom had bought for her birthday) and was back in Elsa mode.

She likes to play in her bedroom. Margaret carried her upstairs and then left us to it. I thought we’d pick up with Fire Lizard but, she decided the little sun toy wasn’t Fire Lizard, it was her toy pigeon. Soon, pigeon had done a poo and needed its bum cleaning, then I had to fashion a nappy for it from a tissue. This game wasn’t going well, but then pigeon found “some treasure”. The treasure was a plastic medallion from a race (possibly one of Max’s) but I thought “bingo!” … let’s see if we can find any more treasure. The bedroom was scoured for anything remotely resembling treasure. Pigeon was sidelined (still wearing its tissue nappy) and we found about five more pieces of treasure. Oh, oh! Game over?

“It must be pirate treasure,” I said. “They’ve left it here.” There was immediate excitement and tension. “I hope they don’t come back.”

Alice’s imagination has put her on a desert island with treasure and the threat of pirates.

“What will they do?”

“They’ll make us walk the plank. Oh no, I can hear the pirates coming.“

Alice hid at the side of her wardrobe and I kneeled down with my head under a cushion. “Be very quiet or they will hear us.” I mimed a sneeze and then supressed it and the pirates had gone. Phew! Alice had looked quite frightened when the pirates came into the room and I didn’t want to be the one to give her pirate nightmares, so I  thought we should change the game, but then Alice heard the pirates coming back again. We had to hide (same place, same routine but without the sneeze – that was too scary). This time, when the pirates had gone, I decided enough was enough and we’d go downstairs and show the treasure to Nana.

There was a bit of dancing with Nana and a quick play with something called Bouncy Butter (a pit like uncontrollable PlayDoh that bounces) and then Max was down from the office and it was 4.30pm, time to go.

That’s a typical Monday. We leave at 7am and get back at 6pm and it’s pretty full on during the day. I guess we will keep the routine going until Alice starts school in about 18 months’ time. Heaven knows what games we will be playing then. She does have an amazing imagination. I don’t remember playing such detailed games with any of the others. Arthur would do similar things but, in his games, he was in charge and you had to do exactly what you were told, there was no input allowed. Maybe Alice will be a writer or some kind of storyteller when she’s older?

Saoirse in class

On Tuesday, we were in Ely at Saoirse’s school for Grandparents’ Day (yes it’s a thing, apparently). We got to Ely about 1pm and parked in Barton Road, so we could have a drink in the Prince Albert and then walk to her school which is called Acremont and is in Egremont Street (confusing?). It’s part of King’s School, Ely (a private, fee-paying school). Various grandparents waited outside to be let in and then we went into the classroom. There were two classrooms with about a dozen children in each one and Saoirse was sat at a table making a vase as a gift for us. It was done, apart from the glueing of some sparkly gems onto the side, which we were to help with. Saoirse was a little self-conscious at first (it must be strange to have all these old folk wander into your classroom) but she soon relaxed. They had been learning about different animals and how they are adapted to their environment. Saoirse had drawn a rhino, cut it out of black paper and glued it onto a background of a sunset in the savannah. She’d had some help from the teacher, but it was very effective. I guess with a teacher, plus classroom assistant and around 12 children, you’d expect high standards. There would be up to 30 children in a state school reception class.

After 20 minutes or so, we were ushered out of the back of the building where we could see the children’s playground and then through to their dining hall. The playground has grass, lots of play equipment and little shelters – it’s wonderful.

The dining room had tables set out with names reserving them for the right number of grandparents. We got a table at the front where there was going to be a performance. The children came in wearing animal masks (Saoirse was an elephant) and then did some poems in turns and finished with a song. They are well drilled for five-year-olds and very well behaved. After the performance, Saoirse came to sit with us and we were served tea, coffee and cakes by staff.

It was a very nice afternoon, we enjoyed seeing her school and Saoirse was so proud and excited. We walked her back to Barton Road, skipping a good section of the way and met Lucy there who was picking Arthur up from his school. King’s seems to have buildings all over the city and Arthur is now in the middle school, so a different site. It’s a well-trodden path for Saoirse who finishes a little earlier than Arthur and sometimes takes her scooter. Athur came out very happy and a gang of children had 10 minutes play on the grass before parents gradually took them off home. We were lucky to have a beautiful spring day to enjoy Ely and two of the grandchildren. Arthur and Saoirse have a really nice environment.

I went to bed when we arrived home. I was exhausted. We’ve both had rotten colds (possibly courtesy of Saoirse) and I’d run out of energy.

The arrangement for Wednesday is that Tom picks up Julia, Aureliano and Florencia from school at Sandon at 3-3.15pm, brings them back to Thorney and then looks after the three of them on Thursday and then taken them back to Baldock for around 6pm on Thursday evening.

Julia working on her wordpuzzle

They are going to school three days per week, Tom has them on Thursdays and Lucy has them on Fridays. This week, we had a call from Lucy to say that Julia wasn’t well and could Tom pick her up from Baldock and look after her. Tom was out, so I got ready to pick her up. I had a couple of jobs to do first. Getting some paperwork and cash from Thorney Ex-Servicemen’s Club (I’m the hon-treasurer) and I was just setting off for Baldock when Tom phoned. He’d got the message and said he’d go instead.

Julia arrived just before lunch and she seemed quite perky (they’ve all been a bit poorly in the past week), so she had some lunch and then spent the afternoon with Margaret. I said I’d drive to Sandon to pick up the other two and Tom wanted to come as well because he hasn’t seen the school (I’d done a pick-up the previous week).

It’s around 60 miles and a hour and 20 minutes to Sandon, a tiny hamlet on the edge of the tail of the Chiltern Hills where they taper down into Hertfordshire. The school has only 45 pupils and they are in mixed-age classes. Julia seems to like it and the school seems quite friendly. Aure is positive too and Encha a little less forthcoming.

When we got home, I made sausage and mash for tea, which is a favourite. Florencia hadn’t eaten her lunch at lunchtime, but ate almost all of it in the car on the way home and so was not hungry. Thankfully, everyone else was. In the morning, I made pancakes for breakfast. They went down OK, although Julia just wanted Hoops (a breakfast cereal). The children love Tom’s Nintendo Switch and like to play either Mario Kart or Minecraft. There’s only one machine and so they are rationed to an hour each. In the morning, Julia and I went to the park to fly a kite. It was a windy day, so the kite worked well and Julia enjoyed flying it. She was terrified she would let go or the string would snap and we’d lose the kite. She also had a go on the play equipment and we spent over an hour and a half in there.

Margaret had taken Florencia to Mo’s in the buggy and when we go back she’d made lunch with Aureliano’s help. Margaret and Julia had been playing word games the previous afternoon and Julia wanted to make a wordsearch puzzle. I’d done a grid on Excel and she worked so hard on the puzzle. Her letters were really neat and she’d colour-coded them in diagonal lines. It was really clever, just a shame the hidden words included poo, fart and bum! They went back Thursday after their tea and I guess this will be the regular weekly routine during term-time.

This weekend is Easter and tomorrow is Easter Sunday. All the children and grandchildren are coming, so it will be the first time we’ve been together in over a year.

I'm 70 and climbing the north ridge of Tryfan

The north ridge of Tryfan

I am 70. I reached my 70^th birthday on July 18, 2023, so I am a little late with this blog. Being 70 is weird. I have started to have a few mobility issues, mainly being less flexible (nothing serious) but I don’t feel any different in my head than I did 50 years ago. Then I look in the mirror and see the grey hair and flabby neck skin …

Being 70 in 2023 is quite different to what it was when my grandparents reached that age. I don’t remember any celebration for grandad or grandma when they were 70, but I do remember my Sunday School teacher Miss Pickering hitting 70. She was a very small woman, quite bent, used a walking stick with a big rubber bung on the end and she always wore black (ever since her fiancé had been killed in the First World War).

She came to Sunday School and told us there was some important news. She had reached the age of 70, the age decreed in the Bible that was the lifespan of man. I think she saw it as an endorsement from God that she’d done her bit. Miss Pickering wasn’t a lot of fun (we didn’t have birthday cakes), she was serious, pious, wrinkly and I’d always thought she looked ancient. I guess she was a good person in a Victorian sort of way.

Things are a little different these days. Miss Pickering would have the appearance of a 90-something. I was looking for something to mark my 70^th and I’d been chatting with Max about a year before, who thought we could do a section of the Cuillin Ridge on Skye and climb the Inaccessible Pinnacle (the famous In Pin). Max said it was a fairly easy climb with a bit of exposure, but he’d get me up there and I said yes.

Taking a breather. Windy but no rain - yet!

By the time my birthday appeared on the horizon, we’d done nothing about it and Max now has a busy job making sure Dunelm meets its environmental obligations. We agreed the Cuillin Ridge was a bridge too far and he suggested instead that we climb Tryfan, a mountain in Snowdonia which has a famous grade 1 scramble up its north ridge. Max and I had set off to do it some years back, but I’d chickened out of the last section, unsure of the way and uncomfortable with my vertigo.

It was unfinished business – often best left unfinished when it comes to mountains!

Anyway, I agreed, so we set off the night before to stay at Tyn-y-Coed just beyond Betws-y-Coed on the A5. Max’s friend Will Garton had asked to come along and I was happy with that. Will, Max and I had done a weekend in the Lake District some years back and had climbed Sharp Edge on Blencathra.

We had a meal in the hotel (Will had set up his camper van in the car park) and the weather forecast hadn’t looked too good for the next day – rain and win. We discussed a less-testing and lower alternative and agreed to wait until morning.

After breakfast, it looked quite good, so we went with plan A and drove to the layby on the A5 at the foot of Tryfan. This is one of those mountains where there’s no long walk in – you park up and start climbing the north ridge. I’m not as fit as I was, but with a few rest stops on the way up, I thought I was doing all right.

The wind and rain did arrive and I found my waterproof pants flapping in the breeze a bit (I’ll have to get a new pair) but we kept going to the place where I’d turned back last time. Today, the weather was much worse, but there was no question of going down. The north ridge is a steep climb from the start, but near the top it’s a proper climb/scramble and definitely don’t look down if you lack a head for heights.

Will, Max and I at the summit

Max and Will had done it before (several times) so knew where they were going and guided me pretty well. If I’d been on my own, or not known the route, I would have bailed. At the summit, there are two vertical rocks, nicknamed Adam and Eve, and the challenge is to stand on one and jump to the other. With wind and rain sheeting across, there was no way we were going to attempt such heroics. We took a few photos, a windy video and headed down. Our route was to follow the south ridge for a spell and then “escaping” off the east face and circling back north to pick up a track back to the road. I found the descent much, much harder. Rocks were slippery, my left knee wouldn’t take any weight and my right was wobbly. It took a lot longer than I’d anticipated and I can’t say I enjoyed that section. It seemed to take ages before the gradient eased and the rocks became fewer. I have to say that the last half mile back to the car seemed like walking on air!

I did feel pretty chuffed with myself and pleased to have shared the experience with Max and Will. They would have been up and down in a third of the time, but they proved expert wayfinders and patient companions. They wondered if this would be my last mountain. It might be and, if it was, then I’d be pretty happy to go out on a high; although I might have another one in me before the end!

Trace of our route up and down.

I didn't die!

I realised that the last entry I wrote in my diary was about two years ago (January 2022) and was entitled “I have Covid”. I’d just like to put on the record that I did not die – it does sound a little like a “last words” post.

“My country, how I leave my country.” William Pitt the Younger

“Kiss me Hardy.” Lord Nelson

“Tomorrow, at sunrise, I shall no longer be here.” Nostrodamus

As last words go, “I have Covid” might be quite apt, but it was not as bad as that. I had a funny feeling in my nose, some anxiety and a fluctuating temperature, but was soon OK. I think the later you caught the disease, the better it was; the virus became less harmful and we’d all had a couple of vaccinations.

I may have had Covid a second time, but no-one seems to bother to take a test any more (including me) and isolation and face masks are things of the past for the British (if not for other countries). There’s still lots of Covid about all across the world and here, in the UK, I know a lot of people who have had it over Christmas, including our friends Pauline and Chris, their children and grandchildren!

For the government, Covid was a disaster. They were inept, incompetent and dishonest. The shambles of multiple too-late lockdowns, a lack of scientific understanding and rank hypocrisy in sticking to their own rules has hit their popularity and cost Prime Minister Boris Johnson his job and his career as a politician.

He was hosting parties at Downing Street in contravention to the rules, but the fact he denied it and lied to Parliament ultimately cost him his career. There’s currently a Covid Inquiry being staged to try to find out what went wrong and what lessons could be learned. It’s not very helpful – everyone is blaming everyone else. Hat wen wrong? Everything. What lessons will be learned? None!

I have Covid

I have Covid, so has Margaret. It’s got us at last, although we may have had a different variant earlier in the pandemic and not realised … who knows?

There’s no doubt this time. I take a lateral-flow test each week before my Spanish classes just to make sure I’m not infective and the test showed I was positive almost immediately. Margaret tested herself and was also positive.

I didn’t feel ill (still don’t, touch wood) but I thought it strange that I couldn’t smell the hyacinths I’d grown and which are now in full flower. When I got my nose to them, I could just detect a scent, but I knew this wasn’t right.

We now have to isolate at home for five days. If I pass a lateral-flow test on day 6 and day 7 (Saturday and Sunday) I can come out of isolation, otherwise I have to do a full 10 days.

Of course, we’re sticking to the rules; unlike our Prime Minister who is now being investigated by police for staging a number of rule-breaking social events during the lock-down he imposed. He is, without doubt, the worse PM I have ever seen (and that’s something after the fiasco that was Theresa May).

Personally, I hope he’s forced out of office and the Conservative Party implodes, but then I am a little biased in these matters.

The lockdown eases, but new variant runs rampant

Yesterday, the Covid-19 restrictions were eased a little. We are now, officially, able to go into other people’s houses and can mix in groups of six or three families. We can also go inside a pub or restaurant (table service only), we can hug each other, and we can go on holiday to a select number of destinations – basically Malta, Portugal and the Falkland Islands! Also, our government says we can visit New Zealand, Australia and Singapore, but their governments won’t allow us in!

I didn’t dash off to the Falklands (or even the pub) and while we welcome the easing of lockdown (it means I can visit Max without breaking any laws) we are now unlikely to make any major changes very quickly.

There is a new Covid variant in the UK, which seems to have a significantly higher transmission rate than previous variants (including the so-called Kent variant). This one has come from India where it has ravaged the country with up to 4,000 victims per day dying and grim scenes on the television news of people desperately trying to get hold of oxygen for sick relatives.

The scenes from India were frightening, but the government didn’t put it on the red list (which would require people to quarantine), so people were still travelling to and from India and just had to say they would quarantine at home for 11 days. Pakistan and Bangladesh were placed in the red list, despite not having as high an infection rate as India. So why was that? The suspicion is that Boris Johnson wanted to do a quick trade deal with India and wasn’t keen to upset the Indian prime minister Narendra Modi. That’s plausible, but it could also be because the government is a shower of incompetent idiots who have got pretty much every decision wrong or delayed during the whole history of this pandemic.

They did put India on the red list, eventually, but gave five days’ notice so everyone who was able to grab a flight got on a plane to the UK.

Two weeks later, we have 400,000 confirmed cases of the India variant, which is raging through Asian communities in Bolton, Blackburn and Bedford, where vaccination rates have been relatively low.

So the lockdown easing continued, despite this new variant, and we now risk a third wave … a third wave that could have easily been avoided. Scientists are saying it’s crazy that we’re able to go on holiday abroad, that we’re opening pubs and restaurants and the government’s response is to put the onus of responsibility back to people saying: just because you can go to the pub, it doesn’t mean you should do so. What a shower of fuckwits!

In other news, the weather has been excessively cold at nights with frosts and easterly or northern winds throughout April. May has started with milder weather, but lots of rain. This has been playing havoc with my gardening. I’ve lost lots of bedding plants – salvias, coleus and begonias, while others have been knocked back. It’s been a frustrating spring.

I do have my base ready for the new greenhouse and the garden is actually looking quite good, so it’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve also been helping Max and Sam in their gardens. We repaired Max’s fence and tidied up his raised planters, two of which are now planted with bedding dahlias, salvias, geraniums and also a few echeveria and hibiscus. I’m waiting for some begonias to become big enough to transplant, perhaps another couple of weeks, to complete the final bed.

Sam had his lawn relaid and it’s now ready to be mowed. He did one cut about a week ago and I went on Friday to give it a second with my mower. It had grown substantially, and I had to empty the grassbox about 20 times. I’ve almost filled one of his compost bins with just one cut! The lawn does look good. We have also fixed some rain barrels, set some flags and some general tidying. Oh! We also put up a rope swing in the garden for Arthur which has been a huge success.

Tom has been getting a little more work – one or two days per week – but it is still less than he needs. He says he may go back to Ecuador to be with his family and try again later in the year. The problem with that is that he may lose what momentum he has, but also he would have to spent the best part of £2,000 in a quarantine hotel because Ecuador is on the red list. The pandemic has caused a lot more trouble for some people than others. I’m missing seeing Lucy and my grandchildren; it must be ten times worse for Tom.

Will things ever be the same? I’m beginning to think that they won’t!

Sam's new lawn 

Alice entertains new visitors

Well, summer didn’t last very long. Yesterday, the wind came round from the north-east and the temperature went down by about 14 degrees. It’s the same today, so sitting out with family (and sticking to Covid rules) will require coats and hats.

Yesterday, Margaret and I went over to Max’s. It was the first time Margaret has been able to see Alice. She has stuck to Covid rules more strictly than I have and yesterday was the earliest they have been able to meet in their garden. Of course, it was too cold to sit in the garden, so we were all inside, except for a two-hour walk around Syston with the dogs and sleeping baby.

It was nice for Margaret to finally meet her new grand-daughter and Alice was suitably charming. She was also able to catch up with Max and Inna, who she hasn’t seen for more than six months.

We stayed for four hours, including the long walk, and then Sam, Lucy and family arrived for a visit. They had been to see Sam’s university friend Dave Miodrag (I’ve probably spelled that wrong) who lives in Leicester and has two children of a similar age. They popped into Syston on their way back. There’s a lovely picture of Saoirse and Alice sitting looking at each other. Saoirse hadn’t seen a small baby before, and she was fascinated.

On Wednesday night, I watched a film called Contagion. It was made in 2011 and is about a deadly pandemic virus that starts in China and sweeps across the world – does that sound familiar? The similarities with Covid are staggering, the film could almost have been a news report on Covid. It even started with a bat in China, spread via air travel, droplets and touching surfaces; there was social distancing, food shortages, a battle to find a vaccine, delays with vaccine production – even a social media blogger who rubbished vaccines and promoted various conspiracy theories.

The only things lacking were UK government incompetence (which is an ongoing) and a US president who thought injecting the population with bleach would be a good idea. The film-makers also anticipated that the WHO (World Health Organisation) would play a heroic role. In reality, they have been side-lined due to national interests and rubbished by some leaders to play to popularist galleries in their own countries.

Aiice rolls over

The weather has been lovely – more like June than March, with daytime temperatures of 22 degrees C. Monday was a big day in the battle against Covid-19 as more restrictions were lifted. There was an increase in positive cases as schools went back, but these has dropped slightly, so the next stage of unlocking was approved on Monday.

It meant people could play golf and tennis and up to six people (or two households) could meet outdoors. Margaret celebrated by having Joyce and my sister round for tea and scones; although this easing of lockdown only means that people are now openly doing what they’ve been doing for months already.

I’m already some steps ahead of the government in my easing of lockdown. Some of the rules are so stupid that I think common sense is a better guide. For example, the dog groomer in Thorney is open, but the hairdresser isn’t; you can get your windows cleaned, but the cash-wash is shut … I could go on.

Yesterday, I went over to Max’s to finish painting the fence and weeding his raised beds. I think last week’s work must have inspired him because he’d made a start by taking down fences we’d put up to stop his dogs jumping on the beds and by painting a couple of them. We got the rest of the jobs outside finished and can now crack on with painting his lounge (next job on his list). The outside looks much better and once we’ve got some more pots and baskets it should look lively in the summer – a nice spot to sit and for Alice to play.

I got there a little later than planned (because I’d forgotten to put the car on charge) so Alice was awake when I arrived. On Tuesday, she rolled over onto her back for the first time (CLICK for video) and I can see that her core strength and head control is getting much better. She’s also looking at things more intently and is starting to grab. She sat on my knee very happily for half an hour while I had tea and biscuits and Inna had a cheese scone (leftovers from the end-of-lockdown party).

Yesterday morning Tom and I drove across to Spalding to scout out some locations for a story he is shooting about tulips. The desk jockey at AP had seen a colourised photo from the 1950s of a massive windmill and a field of tulips in front. It would have been a good shot to get. The windmill was Moulton mill, the tallest surviving windmill in the country (and it is a big one) however, the field in front of it is now fenced off ready for a new housing development (Mill View or Mill Fields, no doubt). There were no tulips in bloom anywhere yet and the main crop (apart from some daffodils) was cauliflowers. They were everywhere and most of them looked past their best.

Working in my garden ... and Max's ... and Sam's

So Bulb say they have switched me back to dual-rate tariff and will give me £30 compensation in return. I haven’t responded yet. I think £30 is a bit mean. I still feel grumpy with them and I’m minded to move supplier. I’ll have to compare prices carefully.

I could set myself up as a garden handyman. This week, I have been to Max’s on Wednesday and Sam’s yesterday doing jobs.

Max’s neighbour loves gardening but has a very small garden. Nevertheless, she has planted six silver birches and has a border with soil mounded against the fence between hers and his. This has rotted the bottom board and when she waters the border, water and soil run into his garden, across his path.

We have replaced the bottom board and I’ve treated the whole fence with wood preserver. It hadn’t been done for a while, so soaked up the preserver. I’ve got another third of the fence to do and also to tidy up his raised beds. That’s a job for next Wednesday. I also went for a long walk with Max, Alice and Ollie around Syston. Alice had not slept the night before and both Inna and Max were a little frazzled. Inna was out wheeling her around town when I arrived and then she fed her and handed over to Max and I for another walk and (hopefully) sleep. She did nod off after about 20 minutes, so we kept walking and then, when we got back, she stayed asleep in the pram.

I didn’t really get to see her as she was still asleep at 5pm when I left for home. I wasn’t going to risk waking her just to have a look!

Yesterday (Friday) I went to Sam’s in Soham to help him put a section of fence and a screen at the end of his garden. We got the job done and made nice work of it, too. It’s a small section right at the end of their garden just in one corner. The chain-link fence at the top of their wall is broken down and it looks as if people have been coming in.

A neighbour told Sam that someone had come through the garden and broken into houses at the side of his house. Apparently, this was when the previous owners had been there and they’d piled up old conifers in the corner. Sam has had those removed (we dug a lot of compost out to fill in the pond) so the corner is now accessible again.

We put in new fence posts, pulled up the old mesh fence that had been trodden down and added new wire above it, also bamboo screen so it’s harder to see in. I completed the security screen by adding a small holly seedling I found in the border. I suggested they add a new laurel, so the line of laurels goes all the way down the garden. We finished off by digging out some old, rotten compost bins and then making three new ones from some old pallets. Sam burned a load of old wood on a bonfire, so the bottom is much more tidy.

It’s a big garden and will take them a lot of time to look after. Sam has had three large yew trees removed, which makes the side of the house much lighter, and also the lime trees along the road pollarded. The laurels really need a good trim and Sam is having the lawn re-laid with turf in the next month. The old lawn was badly damaged by leaves being left lying on it and also by moss.

Saoirse, me and Arthur having dinner after working in the garden.

Arthur and Saoirse came home at about 5pm. They were very exited to see me and also the bonfire (probably the bonfire more than me). I had a little play with them and sat while they had dinner. It’s a long day at school/nursery for them both.

Arthur was very keen to show me his new bedroom. He’s obsessed with the army and soldiers at the moment and his bedroom has a camouflage theme. Saoirse is campaigning to have the same in hers.

It was quite a stormy day and we were lucky to get so much done between heavy rain showers. Driving home, Ely cathedral looked wonderful against the stormy sky and there were some wonderful cloud formations across the flat fens around Chatteris, Manea and March.

Bending the lockdown rules

 

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so grumpy. The man from British Gas (or rather a third-party plumbing company contracted by British Gas arrived and duly put in a new ballcock. Problem solved. Also, I managed to call Bulb to complain about the electric bill and I managed to get through after only about 10 minutes. The person in the call-centre seemed mildly interested in what I was saying and said she’d refer it to “the team”.

I don’t hold out much hope. I did have it confirmed that they’d switched my account to single rate, rather than a cheaper night rate, so I’m not happy. They have also put prices up this week!

Lockdown continues with a small easing of restrictions at the beginning of this month to allow children to go back to school and allow you to meet two people outdoors. I have been bending the rules (past breaking point) by going to see Max and Inna and taking Alice for a walk. Margaret won’t go with me.

People are breaking the rules right, left and centre, but I don’t think they’re all being reckless. I know only two or three of my friends who are sticking rigidly to the rules. Even Margaret (a stickler for rules) has bent them a little. It is hard. We’ve had massive restrictions placed on what we can do, who we can see and where we can go and people are a bit fed up with it. As more and more people are vaccinated (we had our first dose on February 10 of the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine) they feel safer and more inclined to break the rules.

Well, it’s been nice to see Max and Inna and to meet Alice for the first time. I’ve seen all my other grandchildren within a few days, sometimes within hours, so this was very odd. It has been bad enough for us in lockdown, but for new parents it’s been an extra challenge in a challenging time. Alice seems quite a good baby and, although sleep deprivation has been an issue (of course) they are managing quite well. Max has about eight months work left on his PhD and Inna is due to go back to work in June.

Marina (Inna’s mum) will have Alice two days a week and Max will have her another two. I think Margaret and I will be able to help out too, but we’ll have to sort something nearer the time.

Arthur and Saoirse are staying with us this weekend. Lucy dropped them off after school/nursery last night. Arthur has thrived at school. He’s changed a lot and has learned lots since he started in September. Saoirse is a real charmer. She’s a very happy child, confident and talkative. She loves to jump off things. They woke up at 6am this morning. I’ll take them back to Soham on Sunday night.

A grumpy start to the year

It’s March and I’m feeling grumpy. The ball-cock in my cold-water header tank has failed and was pouring out last night. I’ve had to turn off the water and I’m waiting for a British Gas engineer (they run our plumbing cover).

On top of that, my electric bill jumped from £70 per month to £240 month in February (which was a milder month than December or January). I had a new smart-meter installed last year because I thought my old one was over-reading. My bills had gone down, but now this. Trying to get any sense out of a call-handler at Bulb will be next to impossible.

It’s surprising how a couple of relatively minor setbacks can make you feel miserable. I need to get things in perspective.

So what have I been up to this year? Due to Covid, a family Christmas was cancelled. We were not able to see Max, Inna and our new granddaughter Alice; or see Sam, Lucy, Arthur and Saoirse. Tom, of course, was in Ecuador. We did manage a Zoom meeting with Sam and Max and, later on, another with Tom, although the connection in Ambato wasn’t too good. It’s not the same as seeing everyone – obviously.

My sister came round for Christmas lunch, which was possible under the stricter regulations, so that was our Christmas. She had been hoping to see Alex and their plans for a weekend at one of the flats at Sutton Hoo was also scuppered. What wrecked Christmas? Was it the new Covid-19 variant that has proved far more virulent or was it more government incompetence in opening schools and universities with no management plan? Probably a combination of both and we now have three variants to worry about – Kent, South African and Brazilian. There are more, of course, and more will be spawned while infection rates remain so high.

I cannot believe how badly this has been handled by government and yet how unaccountable they remain. More than 125,000 people have died (within 28 days of contracting Covid) and yet the polls suggest people would still vote for them.

Tom arrived back in the UK on January 2, flying via Madrid on a packed plane. I went to pick him up. His return meant that we all had to self-isolate for 10 days, but within a couple of days, we heard that Carlos, Lucy’s dad, had tested positive for Covid and they’d all been together at Christmas. Tom had a Covid test and proved positive. Margaret and I had tests, which were negative, and we felt sort-of-all-right, although it’s hard to say you feel great when there’s a Covid case in the house. Tom was confined to his room and we faced an extended quarantine. Luckily, Tom had relatively mild symptoms. Carlos also recovered well. It had been a worry because his sister died from Covid last year.

Tom had come back to the UK and left Lucy, Julia, Aureliano and Florencia in Ecuador in order to try to get his business back up and running. It was a tough ask with lockdown rules tightening. He has managed to get a little work, including a couple of commercial jobs – filming “how-to” videos for fitting motorcycle accessories, also filming a local farmer’s cattle for an advert selling the beasts.

Books I Have Read in 2020

 

This has been a very strange year. We have spent many months in lockdown, unable to travel, sometimes unable to leave our homes, due to the Covid-19 pandemic. One thing it has done is allow me more time to read. I have read more books this past year than I have in the previous decade!

This is what I have been reading.

Un Hombre Fascinante – Juan Fernandez

Here’s one from my Spanish classes with Peterborough U3A. We did this one with the intermediate class.

Juan Fernandez is a Spanish teacher in London and his books are pretty good. Quite repetitive, which is helpful for students, but there’s always a decent narrative and he does cover some adult themes – they’re not for kids.

Hola Lola – Juan Fernandez

Another Spanish language book by Juan Fernandez. We did this with the U3A Basic Spanish class and it’s a good starter book with simple language, very repetitive but with some characterisation and a sensible narrative.

The Big Show – Pierre Clostermann

I have read quite a few books on the Second World War this year. I discovered a podcast by Al Murray and James Holland called We Have Ways of Making You Talk. It’s all about WW2 and it’s very interesting, entertaining and easy listening – ideal for lockdown.

This is one book which was referred to in the podcast. Pierre Clostermann was a French pilot who volunteered to fight in the RAF and this is his story of the war.

It’s grim reading at times (he lost lots of good friends and his nerves were shot by the late stages of the war) but his experiences are gripping. I particularly liked it because he seems to have a very good mechanical understanding of aircraft and aero engines, which comes through in his writing.

He starts out flying Spitfires, then moves onto the Typhoon in a ground-attack role and, finally, the Hawker Tempest (a beast of an aircraft which sounded terrifying to fly).

The Places In Between – Rory Stewart

Rory Stewart may have been the last decent Tory politician. He was against Brexit, but pragmatic enough to agree that the Leave campaign had won the referendum and that we should leave the EU.

He stood for the leadership of the party after the resignation of Theresa May and we’d surely be in a much better place now had he won.

His career has included the military, diplomatic roles, working with NGOs and charity organisations. He probably also had some kind of role in intelligence. He was a Tory MP (briefly) and was planning to run for London mayor as an independent, but Covid caused the election to be postponed and he has dropped out.

The Places In Between is an account of a journey across Afghanistan in 2002 just as the US were getting involved. Stewart had already trekked across Turkey and Iran and wanted to walk across northern Afghanistan following a mountain route taken by the Mogul emperor Babur The Great.

Travel books and modern history are my two books of choice and Stewart is a great travel writer. The journey, however, is unremittingly grim. The weather is cold, the people are poor, distrustful and sometimes unwelcoming and the country has been absolutely wrecked by warlords, religious fanatics and interfering outside powers – from Tamburlain and Babur, through to the British, Russians, Taliban and Americans – have basically wrecked the country. No-one properly understands Afghanistan, but everyone seems to think they can sort it out. Read Rory’s book and leave the place well alone.

Big Week – James Holland

I read three books by James Holland and this was my first. Big Week refers to one week in 1944 when the USAF and the RAF undertook a massive bombing campaign against Germany in the Second World War. The aim was to destroy the Luftwaffe by targeting aircraft factories, ball-bearing factories, oil plants and (by the employment of long-range fighters such as the Mustang and Thunderbolt) shooting them out of the sky.

Both American and British bomber forces suffered massive losses, unsustainable losses at various points, but the Germans were suffering equally. Big Week didn’t destroy German resistance, but it was a step towards gaining air supremacy and paving the way for the invasion and liberation of France.

Big Week follows (I now realise) the James Holland formula of choosing a battle or campaign, looking for some established opinions he can knock down and also using lots of eyewitness accounts to add colour and drama. It does make for easy-to-consume history, very readable and a serious study in spite of its popularist target.

The Fens - Francis Prior

Francis Prior is the only author that I’ve met among the collection of books read this year. I met him a couple of times when I was working on newspapers in Peterborough and he was excavating the Flag Fen prehistoric site.

This book covers his life’s work as an archaeologist in the Cambridgeshire Fens and it is amazing what a rich history this part of the world has had. You’d think the Fens were waterlogged bog until the drainage campaigns from the 17^th Century onwards, but not so. Neolithic farmers would have enjoyed firm ground under their feet across much of the land even as sea levels started to rise and, as the land began to suffer flooding, amazing structures like the log causeway across the fen from Peterborough to Whittlesey were built.

It’s staggering what lies under our feet.

And No Birds Sang – Farley Mowat

Farley Mowat was a Canadian who volunteered to fight in the Second World War. This is his account of his wartime experiences.

He signed up for his father’s old outfit, the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment (known as the Hasty Ps) and found himself entering the war at the invasion of Sicily. The book covers his experiences during the conquest of Sicily and, later, in Italy.

Two things make this personal account of the Second World War stand out. There are many such books, and all offer a personal insight, but few are written as well as this and few have such astonishing feats in battle.

One section includes an assault on a German strongpoint in Sicily which is sited in an old Norman castle which has never been captured in all its history. The Hasty Ps climb a cliff in darkness carrying all their kit and take the garrison by surprise. They manage to capture the place and hold it until advancing, supporting troops arrive.

During the battle, Mowat witnesses a German sniper shooting a donkey. Sadistically shooting the animal in each leg for no good reason, the animal is then left to die a slow death until one of the Canadians puts it out of its misery. The incident clearly horrified Mowat and, in Normandy, my dad seemed more horrified (or more able to talk about his horror) when seeing hundreds of dead horses and cattle. He never talked about dead bodies.

One Man’s Window – Denis Barnham

This book was also published under the title Malta Spitfire Pilot. The author, Denis Barnham was an artist pre-war, who found himself in the RAF flying Spitfires. This book is an account of the time he spent in Malta as a part of one of the first Spitfire squadrons to be sent to the besieged island. Malta, which had great strategic importance to both Axis and Allied powers, was being attacked by Italian and German aircraft and was the most bombed piece of land anywhere during the Second World War.

It was defended by outclassed Hurricanes, which couldn’t climb quickly enough to be above bombers and fighters and so were ineffective in defence and suffering undue losses. Finally, Spitfires were sent – taken to the Mediterranean by aircraft carrier and then flown hundreds of miles across the sea to reach Malta.

Barnham is a sensitive man (he really only wants to be back with his new, and very pretty, wife and to paint and draw), he’s a self-confessed lousy shot, but a brave and tenacious pilot. Apart from bombs, bullets and no letters from his wife, the worse thing about his experience is the “Malta dog” … dysentery – which everyone suffers from.

This isn’t a glorious tale of tough battle and eventual triumph; it’s a carefully observed window in amazing detail of a horrific battle that went on and on. Barnham is eventually invalided out, which probably saves his life. He’s wracked by dysentery and his nerve has gone. If you think flying Spitfires would have been a glamorous thing, this book will set the record straight. Barnham doesn’t complain about his lot, he gets on with it and he tells it like it was.

The Good Shepherd – C S Forester

This is fiction, not fact, but Forester’s book might be better classed as a docu-drama in today’s media-speak. It has also recently been made into a film, starring Tom Hanks (who else?) as the captain of a US destroyer escorting an Atlantic convoy.

I read the book before I watched the film and the book, in my opinion, is much better. It captures the massive tension of being on a ship hunted by an invisible enemy and suffering from intense fatigue. And the book is set at a time of the war when the Allies had the benefit of improved radar and sonar to help alert them of the presence of submarines and to become the hunters.

It must have been absolute hell in the early days of the war, when escort ships were held back to guard against a possible invasion and when technology hadn’t swung against the submarines.

Quartered Safe out Here – George MacDonald Fraser

George MacDonald Fraser is a well-known author, famous for writing the Flashman books (Flashman being the bully from Tom Brown’s Schooldays, re-imagined in adult life as a cad and cowardly army officer). He also wrote the screenplay for the James Bond film Octopussy.

Quartered Safe Out Here is a different kettle of fish, it’s MacDonald Fraser’s account of his time in Burma fighting with the Border Regiment, a group of Cumbrians from the Carlisle area.

They are an experienced group of men and George is the new man. He joins the war when the tide has turned against the Japanese in Burma and, perhaps, his war experience is not as terrible as those of his comrades.

There is a battle narrative to the book, but the most interesting aspect is the relationships between the different soldiers (an odd mix) and how they get along. Sometimes they don’t and this leads to some extremely sad and angry recollections, even tragedy. MacDonald Fraser is different from the others, he’s middle class, and is promoted to corporal (a job he does well) and eventually lifted out of the war for officer training.

Burma and the Far East campaign was essentially a colonial battle. Britain had colonised India, Burma and Malaya and the Japanese wanted to run them instead. The people of those countries being fought over were perhaps the real victims of this conflict (and they are mentioned with sympathy). Having fought to keep our colonies and won, the UK had to grant them all independence within a few years.

In Burma’s case it was 1948. Various elements of the population, divided by ethnicity and religion, fought for the British and Japanese, so it was no surprise that, after the war, factional fighting and assassination preceded independence. This year (2021) there has been yet another military coup and that after a decade of “ethnic cleansing” carried out against Muslim Rohingya people. It’s yet another post-colonial mess we’ve left behind.

By Tank D to VE Day – Ken Tout

Once lockdown is over and if we ever get on top of Covid-19, I want to properly research the wartime experiences of my mother and father, also Margaret’s dad. Both fathers were involved in the Battle for Normandy and fought in France, Belgium, Holland and Germany. I can’t undertake any research right now, so I’ve been reading quite a lot of history around the latter phases of the Second World War in order to gain a better understanding of what it was like and also to put other people’s experiences against place names and battles.

Ken Tout, as the name of his wartime memoir suggests, fought in a tank regiment – the Northamptonshire Yeomanry as a gunner. His job was to aim, fire and maintain the main gun. The Northamptonshire Yeomanry, as the name suggests, were a territorial group and called into the army as soon as war was declared. Like several other similar regiments (notably the Sherwood Rangers) they were converted to tanks and Tout fought (mainly in Shermans) from D-Day to October 1944 when he was invalided home due to bursitis in his left knee, possibly caused by repetitive-strain injury from stamping on the gun’s firing mechanism.

Tout was unlucky, but also lucky, as his injury took him out from the war and back to the UK. His book continues in his absence, chronicling the Yeomanry’s war until VE Day. It has a detailed account of the Rhine crossing using Buffalo amphibious tank and infantry carriers. My dad’s Rhine crossing was in a Buffalo. He told me about it when I was making an Airfix model of one. Like many other war memories from dad – bren carriers, 25lb field guns, Churchill and Sherman tanks - they were prompted by Airfix modelling. When (and if) I ever get around to writing an account of Eric Rayner’s war, I’ll certainly draw on the account of the Rhine crossing by Ken Tout’s former comrades.

Burma ’44 – James Holland

After reading Quartered Safe Out Here by George MacDonald Fraser, I was tempted to read a little more about the war in the Arakan and James Holland wrote this book about the Japanese offensive of 1944 and the Allied response. It takes a broad view of the Burma campaign to date and enters the battle at a time when the Allies were planning to go on the offensive. The Japanese have the same idea and launch their attack just before ours. It prompts a number of strategically important desperate stands by Allied army units, but also marks the turning point of the war in Burma and India.

Holland’s book centres on the Battle of the Admin Box in February 1944, just before the desperate battles of Imphal and Kohima when the Japanese were turned back just within India. It was significant as the first time the Japanese army had been defeated and also helped develop and test new tactics involving supply by air and holding ground rather than retreating to avoid being cut off.

The defence of the Admin Box, admin centre of the Indian Army’s 7^th Division, was desperate and close-run. The Japanese successfully infiltrated the area on a number of occasions, including one where the hospital was captured and doctors and patients murdered. This war crime stiffened the resolve of the defenders, and the Japanese, who had gambled on a quick victory, began to run out of food and ammunition.

Critical to the successful defence of the position were a number of Lee tanks and the use of Spitfires, which were able to gain air superiority over the area and allow the defenders to be resupplied by air-drops. I’ve enjoyed a number of James Holland books this year. This was a hard read due to my lack of background knowledge, also a string of hard-to-pronounce names such as the Ngakyedauk Pass. The temptation is to “bleep over” them all, but then you soon lose track of what’s what.

Serenade to the Big Bird – Bert Stiles

Bert Stiles flew Flying Fortress bombers from English air-bases during the great bombing offensive on Germany during 1943 and 1944.

They suffered horrendous losses in the early stages before long-ranger fighter escorts could be provided. The book gives an insight into the physical difficulties of flying one of these large bombers in close formation (something Stiles found very taxing), but also the massive psychological strain of mission after mission when the losses were so high. Perhaps some people could adopt an if-it-happens-it-happens attitude, but most would have taken off in the knowledge that, statistically, there was a chance that they would not be returning.

Stiles completed his tour but chose to convert to fighters and was killed later in the war.

Stalin’s Nose – Rory MacLean

I do like a good travel book. This one was a little left field in its construct. The author has a great aunt of semi-aristocratic Austrian descent, who lived with her husband (a Soviet espionage officer) in East Berlin. The Berlin Wall former part of the boundary to their garden and when it was pulled down, all their livestock escaped.

The aunt is widowed and persuades her nephew to take her with him on a journey into eastern Europe (only recently freed from Soviet control). Travelling in a two-stroke Trabant and taking his aunt’s pet pig with them, they journey across Austria, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, Poland and Russia. They meet people scarred by the Second World War and by Soviet rule.

One wouldn’t have wanted to be caught between Stalin and Hitler but, of course, millions were. MacLean finds small cameos of lives destroyed, people surviving, scars still healing … It would be a very hard read, except for the comedy elements of the pig and his aunt, but it’s clear that, in eastern Europe, there are a lot of historical issues to resolve.

The Ship – C S Forester

After reading the Good Shepherd, about a destroyer escorting an Atlantic convoy, I decided to read The Ship, which is about a cruiser escorting a Malta convoy.

The Good Shepherd’s charges are threatened by U-boats, but in the Mediterranean, the threat comes from Italian aircraft and surface vessels.

The Royal Navy was an exceptionally well-trained and professional outfit during the Second World War. Sure, they had their setbacks and cock-ups, but compared to the Army, they were streets ahead. There might still have been an old-boys network thwarting promotion purely on merit, but at least the navy’s “old boys” had been trained and blooded.

Forester paints a propaganda-like image of the skill and daring, but it’s entirely believable and quite gripping.

The escort cruisers and destroyers have just beaten off an Italian air-raid, but now face the threat of attack by more powerful Italian battleships planning to intercept the convoy. Their defensive strategy and battle tactics are fascinating. It’s a great read and, in spite of its glowing admiration for the Royal Navy, it’s certainly highly accurate.

Normandy 44 - James Holland

This was the modern history book I most wanted to read in the context of understanding my father’s war.

Like other books by James Holland, it is a mixture of historical facts, a re-examination of events and commonly held views, with a large number of personal stories (from both sides).

It has added massively to my knowledge of the Battle of Normandy and has increased my desire to properly research the wartime experiences of my father and father-in-law. I just need life to return to some normality.

Crimen en Barcleona – Paco Ardit

I’m some way short of being able to call myself a polyglot, but I have read a number of Spanish-language books.

This is the latest – a B1-level novel about murder, investigation and family intrigue, set within an airline business in Barcelona.

The language is fairly simple (being lower intermediate level), but the story and plot twists are quite complex and adult.