My kitchen table

Talking of age....
my kitchen table is creaking and the joints are softening up. The matching chair are cushioned and the pads are faded and washed out of shape. I love the elderly furniture; the table rim is notched with life events. This breakfast area has witnessed lives come and go. It has held more hot dinners and celebrated with so much party food than Buckingham Palace has had garden parties!
We are a family who have always eaten together; the children have been brought up to know when we are sitting eating we sit at the table; get down and you have to leave the room- your meal is finished; if you fancy apple crumble for pud then stay where you are!




The hawthorn is bursting into Spring

(Having said that there were treat times when we sat on the picnic rug on the floor in the family room or lounge- watching childrens' weekend programmes on television like 'Dr Who'or 'Box of Delighrs' and we had crisps in summer with sandwiches or mugs of soup and crumpets in winter- simple souls with simple pleasures!)

At holiday times the six seats proliferate and are swollen by piano stools, African drums and high chairs. The table has witnessed games, homework, arguments, political discussions, weddings, christenings, birthdays, baking, cake icing, breakfasts, lunches, tea, supper, parties, chat, catchups, conversations......



Violets form a carpet behind the hawthorn

natter natter natter


A hellebore from K a walking friend

Where has this 'kitchen table' drama come from? We were at two smashing parties last night- a Hollywood 40th birthday red carpet do in the evening sunlight over a bowling cum croquet lawn- and a 60th  disco where we danced the night away..... the daughter of our senior citizen host said she still had the knives I gave her and her husband for their marriage- and she added 'We do what you suggested when we use the cutlery- we all sit down at the table to eat together'. I hugged her!

Departures

Three funerals in a week and a move. The generation above us are off to J.M. Barrie's greatest adventure yet. But it is sad for those they leave behind.
I have just heard from a great friend that she is moving South -ie has to go for some good reasons- but I am selfishly sad; I will miss her- and that is the third gone- L west to Penrith; M south to Gainford and now A to Kent; and try as we might we are unable to meet up.
I have been hopping in and out of the RVI to see my good friend M. and found my ballet teacher in the bed opposite.

The wheels of life are turning, season by season.....
The babyboomers born at the end of World War II 1948 ish  are now in their 60s and the generation above them are in their 80s and  starting to die off.. The babyboomers' offspring are in their 30s and due to pursuit of careers have delayed having their children ; but now babies are bursting onto the life scene. I am looking at 4 generations and my age group are caring for the second time around ie helping with childcare as their children go out to work.
Do they need to? Is it life expectations which cause them to go back to the workplace? Do they need to 'keep up with the Jones's'? Do they need the next bit of technology ? Is it the recession? We started off with nothing much but we have  been a very lucky generation haven't we?

Now we are going to wave our Dutch friends off down the Tyne and across the North Sea to home.
Another departure.....

She flies through the air with the greatest of ease.....

Eeh! I had to laugh!
Cycling as the 'security guard' to D3 while she is running means I temporarily leave urban environs and move through suburban countryside.
Over the flush of green hawthorn hedge I can see fine tilth of recently ploughed and refined soils. In the fields I sometimes glimpse deer; in distant floodwater ponds I spot swans, white dots near the Nature Reserve we fought so hard to retain. Left of my nongloved hand (mistake but it was a warm evening) I see orange tiles and know the hubbub is of  busy roads between teatimed homes.

The day before yesterday 'pastoral' views went haywire. Manoeuvring between a 5 bar gate and verge I went head over heels. I managed to thrust my bike left while I acrobated right headfirst over the handlebars. My head and hands met the nettles and my knee met the track and skinned- I have never had such knees since I was a bairn playing skippy or chasey in the street.I was stung hands and face (I told you the gloves would come back into the tale) but at least my eyes did not get speared by hawthorn branches!
Later I went to a Save the Children meal and interesting talk on 'Coffee Johnny' (he of the Blaydon Races - our local anthem) and - as a reward for being a brave girl?- I won a raffle prize of a beautiful blue hydrangea; it is a houseplant eco grown and which can go out in the garden later; this is just as well as I think I have overpruned one of my lace-edged hydrangea and will need to replace it; but I am waiting patiently to see if I have killed it off or will it show signs of life.

Everyone walking at Bellingham was talking of how their spuds have not chut (M decided that had to be the past tense of chit- rather than chitted- either way farmers do not chit their potatoes before planting) so we have all just stuck them in- better late than never. We also got stuck in to the cheese scones and wadges of cake- get yourself up to the Heritage Centre and climb aboard the train coaches for afternoon tea or at least a slice of something.

Hurrah hurrah it is the first of May, at last Spring is on its way- or so says H.
Certainly H1 is still graphing our PVs' sunlight electricity production by the hour. Considering I pushed for alternative energy for 28 years, it is his life which seems enriched and excited by the monitoring of electricity made/used and sent back to the Grid. We have our Dutch friends arriving soon to stay over as they cycle the Reivers Route again from coast to coast. B hopes to discuss PVCs- and I am sure H1 will oblige!
H1 is OK with nuclear power but I am not. It is not something I want to leave for future generations. The Government has just given permission (after 25years refusing to allow the building of more nuclear power stations) for 12+ nuclear power stations- do we want one up here? NO! I know of beautiful coastal bays which have been geologically 'measured up' for a nuclear plant- and I know of shelved plans to dump nuclear waste in the Cheviots- I do not want those plans revived.

Who killed Danny?

is what everyone is asking each other. Monday night is the last episode and everyone (even Ant and Dec) has a theory. I can not wait for Broadchurch to reveal.

Sleeping Beauty

I am sitting here wanting to write and my mind is blank- like the thick grey, cottonwool-like clouds outside my window.

I read Fiona Malkin's blog regularly and I feel my blog is lacking by comparison. I use my blog as a kind of garden diary though not a daily record; I know I use my blog as a kind of travel guide for visitors to our northern kingdom: or to encourage folk to visit these realms; however Fiona's way with words makes me realise my creative writing skills are disappearing down the plug hole. But I am kind of embarrassed by waxing lyrical and using fancy vocabulary or rhetoric; also I do not like giving too much information away on the internet- after what has happened to me in my life I trust no one. Sad though that be, I really don't trust anyone, no matter how close they appear to be in times of your life, and how much you do for them- to stick with you through all times/thick and thin. You just have to take folk on face value at a specific time knowing they may turn on you for no reason you understand. Relationships turn sour. That's life, I have discovered and such departures do not seem to bother the people who turn away and who are hard and never look back so I suggest you get over it and do not fash. Only people with a conscience and emotional development are bothered by the fractures. No matter what efforts you may make, people do not recognise them and you risk losing the relationships with others who think you are even daft for trying! My advice is  to just go with the flow and you will find you have lots of friends you didn't realise valued you so much.

I have also just realised fash (or is it fesh?) is a word I use frequently and do not know how to spell!

I guess the long time it takes to learn life's lessons remind me that I went to see Matthew Bourne's 'Sleeping Beauty' at the Theatre Royal the other night. I still think inspite of its many and expensive revamps, the Theatre Royal is an awful theatre for viewing. In the most recent overhaul, the powers that be STILL did not stagger the seats so clients are left sitting exactly behind the person in front; if, like me, you are a typical northerner (small and squat) then you just can not see the stage. D3 and I asked for booster cushions- D3 talked to the woman behind and reluctantly said she would not have her cushion- thus was forced to move around all night to see past the person in front- and through brass bars put on the front bottom of the stairs. Even on my booster I could not see a quarter of the stage.

HOWEVER the ballet, which is not a ballet in my book, but a modern dance/theatre experience- was fantastic. Gothic and a fairy story embroidered beyond the original childhood story we all know.... Aurora was so tiny, a beautiful dancer of the ballerina ilk, and tossed around like flotsam in a storm; Caradoc was handsome, sinister and a great dancer as were the fairies, especially Count Lilac, but it was the baby who stole the show! The settings eg travellators, moon, silhouettes etc employed, show Matthew Bourne definitely thinks outside the box.

The spring flowers are daring to show their faces but at a cost. This morning I picked up a tulip from the path, whipped into snapping by the tumultuous winds which, for the last 24 hours, have lashed at the windows to be in.

Yesterday we walked almost 7 miles around Devil's Water and circling Hollybush nursery, sawmill and tearoom; we were all delighted by the bobbing daffodils, early blossom and flush of green on the hedges. Dare we think we might see Spring?

Woodhorn

If you have heard of 'Pitmen Painters' which is a brilliant play about miners from Ashington early in the twentieth century painting then you may know about Woodhorn Colliery; it is now a museum where, among other things, you can see their paintings.

We paid £2? to park the car, had soup accompanied by live folk music in 'The Cutter' then went to an exhibition which is on till June. If I could be bothered to trundle downstairs I could be more accurate on the date.

Dressing the Stars holds a special collection of outfits from various couturiers and wardrobe designers for films.

It didn't need Johnny Depp to illustrate how good the Captain Jack Swallow costume was.

I may not think Keira Knightley is a good actress but I thought she was a walking coat hanger in 'The Duchess' as Georgiana.

I did think Emma Thompson was great in most films she performed in.

and Colin Firth/Helena Bonham Carter in 'The King's Speech' is, I think, the only film I have been to see twice.

Someone must have worked like a Trojan to make Brad's suit of armour

and Orlando Bloom had two costumes there

Needless to say Sir Laurence Olivier's Henry Vth was at the forefront of such a demonstration of British skills

Elizabethan England via 'Shakespeare in Love' and 'Elizabeth' graced the rear of the display

and I thought I was  fantastic making an Easter bonnet.....

Will he grow out of it?

H1 has declared he might camp out in the garage..... only golf has disrupted the hourly viewing and reporting on the PVC monitor; oh! and bridge.... even Newcastle United was abandoned temporarily.

Seriously though- H1 is delighted with our electricity made over the daylight hours which we have used so as not to draw power from the National Grid.

Overnight I read 'Thursdays in the Park' by Hilary Boyd -recognise life for over 60's couples anyone?

The potatoes have not chitted well in the garage but they are planted out regardless.

Blue skies have painted April sunnier but not warmer so while 'Bridal Crown' has bloomed in the porch

the rest of the daffodils in the garden are still not yet out.

Nevertheless Easter is now behind us. I am about to pick my Easter bonnet to bits.




Bonnets and egg jarping

  There were more bonnets this year

and fewer pace eggs.



A Welsh dragon beating English St George!!



We have spent the week eating egg and tomato sandwiches

and hot cross buns (homemade of course).

When you got to go you got to go...... H1 is waiting to watch 'Broadchurch'- I have been out with the Ladies today for a catch up- and tonight for a pizza with another friend- replete I shall probably fall asleep before we get to the clue of who dunnit.

However you will be proud of me! In what little spare time I have I am really trying to relax and be less busy..... so I am going back to what seems to be resurrecting in popularity perhaps caused by the recession..... knitting.

and you really do see ducks!

I have curried parsnip soup bubbling on the stove so I'd better rescue it...... On Sunday I went off to the Fulham match and when I came home I discovered a BLACK pan on the hob- I had forgotten to switch off the new recipe parsley soup- much brillo pad scrubbing followed!