Be careful what you wish for...

Pictures from our walk last Sunday - a brilliant sunny afternoon in the White Peak. It's a totally different environment to the Dark Peak, all limestone walls and pasture land rather than gritstone and heather moorland.
Stark but beautiful in its own way. The Hills in the distance below are part of the Dark Peak - Win Hill and Bamford Edge.

This is the Lafarge Quarry at Castleton. It's a classic blot on the landscape but provides work, pensions and social facilities in the middle of the High Peak so not to be sniffed at.

The view toward Castleton with Mam Tor in the background.

I have been guilty recently of wishing my life away. Wanting to get onto the next stage and not necessarily appreciating what I’m doing in the here and now. It might be something to do with the season I suppose. I know everyone is supposed to love spring and I do, I do but I’m not so keen on the phony faux-spring. Where you feel as though spring is neeeaarly here but in reality nothing has changed beyond a bank of snowdrops and cheap daffs at the corner shop. So, you spend your days yearning for warm, light evenings and sunshine but they’re still months away.


Well, I’m a bit like that in the rest of my life at the moment. We’re moving house at the end of the month and now, finally the date is set and we’ve secured the place we really wanted. This is great news but the work involved in our getting into the house is daunting to say the least. Packing up my current house will be bad enough (and we’ve only been in for 6 months!!) but Richard has been in his flat for 10 years and needs to get that emptied packed up by the end of the month as well. Yikes! So I’m fast-forwarding to the point when we’re actually in the house and can enjoy life.


But of course nothing is that simple. I still need to do a load of works to the old house so that it can go on the market in April. I had taken a week off this month to make a start but life intervened. D had drained down the system so no water or heating and didn’t respond to my queries about rebooting it. So that was that opportunity to make concrete progress stymied. So that means I’m fast-forwarding again to when I can get on with those works which will probably be at the beginning of April. Frustration and delay.


Then there’s the Three Peaks Challenge. We’re booking weekends through April, May and June in readiness for the big event in July. All of which points forward. Although this matter is much, much more pleasurable than moving house or selling a house, believe me.


And finally there’s my weight. I’ve been blithely looking ahead to the point when I will be miraculously thinner and fitter. Expecting this to somehow happen. But I haven’t really been putting in the work to make it happen. Not living in the present. So, obviously, I’ve not made any real progress. I’ve not gained or anything but have hardly lost anything either. It requires real commitment, not just dreaming about the future, Lesley!


So, I sound a bit glum don’t I? But I’m not, not really. Just a bit overwhelmed by how much I have on my plate. Yesterday I felt genuinely glum and work was very hard but I told Rich and, when I got home, had a massive hug and lovely quiet evening in with a bottle of wine and football on the telly (Bah! Blasted ref in the Barcelona-Arsenal game…!) and now I feel much stronger. And Monday night was dancing. You really have to live in the present at dance class!! We did new steps in the cha cha…quite a long, complicated sequence and it was brilliant to re-connect with the dance we started off on learning on that very first day. We’re playing golf on Sunday morning with his brother. The dogs are loving all the training walks. Work is busy but interesting. We saw friends at the weekend. There are loads of things to be grateful for and to enjoy so I just need occasionally to lower my eyes from the horizon and look at what I have in my hands.

February "mid-term" report and house hunting update

Some pics from our walk last Sunday. Just started - halfway up Win Hill "admiring the view" or possibly taking a crafty breather...
Most of the team at the top of Win Hill - Tom, Rich, me, Sarah and Minty.

Now with added canine - Shelagh and Jacob. Minty being very suspicious of Jacob....and vice versa...

Halfway up Lose Hill - very muddy and very windy.

Didn't seem to bother the girls though...

The lovely view of Win Hill from Lose Hill.

Me and Tom at the top of Lose Hill waiting for the others...tee hee...

The whole team at the top of Lose Hill.

Rich and Shelagh.

Then we forgot her while we went to admire the rainbow!!

And then the sunshine came out...

But it didn't stop me slipping over in the mud!!

The offending mud.

And our final reward - a pint and roast pork....

So, how did I get on in the eternal battle in February? Well, better than in January so that is progress although not particularly stellar progress. In January I failed to lose any and, in fact, gained 2. In February I have lost 2, maybe 3 lbs depending on where it settles at. So, downward progress which I will take but I do want to accelerate the rate of progress.


I have definitely re-established a good pattern of exercise which I am finding easier and easier as the nights get lighter and the weather (marginally) warmer. I had never stopped exercising but the frequency had fallen off in the dark winter days. Now I’m back to a steady and consistent 5, usually 6 lots of exercise per week and am upping the intensity of that exercise. Last week, for example, I managed: personal training on Thursday; rest day Friday; hilly (and cold and wet) run on Saturday morning; long, hilly walk on Sunday; dancing on Monday; run on Tuesday evening; gym Wednesday and back to personal training today. Not bad....


It’s been good in that I’m varying what I do quite a lot – hill-walking, dancing, gym, personal training, running and maybe swimming will come back eventually. I’m also doing some of this with Richard which means it’s more sustainable. Yesterday, for example, I was pushing him to go to the gym in the evening but last week it was the other way around. I don’t mind going when he’s with me but it’s a lot harder to go when you want to have supper together and not waste your rare spare evening in in different places. for the record we went and did an hour but his heart really wasn't in it...still, we went!


My food intake is better too. I’m managing to eat my sensible muesli breakfast and low-cal sushi lunch more often than I could manage in December/January and having fewer treats.


So, what is stopping me from dropping more weight? It’s pretty simple – big nights out! I’m having too many of these and they are tending to be pretty big. So where I might previously have had a big night out involving unlimited booze and/or food once a month, if that, recently it has been nearly every week. So all the good work of the previous week is undone by a session on the beer/cider/wine followed by some heinous food crime like a kebab, fish and chips, burger and chips or something equally sinful. I’m making all that effort and ultimately just treading water.


I suppose the point is that Rich and I are having a lot of fun. Going out with friends, going out with each other, going to away games..… It’s great but the excess is derailing me. I need to remember that I don’t need to go all the way every time and can still have a decent night without throwing all restraint out of the window. At least I used to be able to. I really don’t need the end-of-evening kebab/burger just because I can. I could cut out a few of the beers and swap to shorts and diet mixers or wine and soda. I could be more organised to make sure we eat sensible stuff before we go out so I don’t fall for the fast food trap.


Treading water would all be fine and dandy if I were happy with my figure as it is but I’m not really. I do want to actually lose a stone at least and know that it would help my health, fitness, the Three Peaks Challenge, golf and make me happier in the summer when I want to wear shorts and skirts so it is worth putting the effort in now.


So that’s me told!


Anyway, back to house news. I'm very excited as the house which I was beginning to think was going to evade us looks like it will come through after all. It's a good-sized 3 bed Victorian semi with a decent size garden. It is also in the village we'd prefer to live in, where we are now, Bradwell so we will not have to change pubs or dog walkers, again!


It's much more spacious than our current cottage and on a quieter, wider street. Where now we're crammed into a maze of higgledy-piggledy cottages on a steep hill with little lanes and snickets everywhere and everyone squeezing their cars in wherever they can, this street is entirely more genteel. Most house have driveways and garages (we don't, well, we do but the landlord has let the neighbour have OUR garage!) so, although we still have to park on the street, it is a much wider street and there shouldn't be the same pressure for space. The rooms are in a nice proportion (the Victorian were good for that in general) and it's just been totally overhauled so we'll have brand new carpets, newly plastered and painted walls, new bathroom, kitchen and heating. Yay!


The best thing for us though is the basement room - a giant downstairs utility kitchen which will be perfect for muddy dogs, boots and coats, golf clubs, mountain bikes and storage. It opens out onto the back yard which I think we will be able to secure so the dogs will have a run in the daytime. The upstairs kitchen, which opens straight out onto the dining room can be kept clear of all the doggie mess and washing stuff and will be a general living room leaving the front room as more of an evening parlour...a bit old-fashioned perhaps but a nice way to live. I'm looking forward to having enough space to have people round and to stay, in other words, not living like a student/young professional any more and getting back to being a grown up again! Rich might not know what has hit him!!


We have a very busy month of March ahead of us. Rich has to sort his flat out and get ready to move and I will have to do likewise with the cottage. We also have 5 home games at Hillsborough to fit in, 3 on a Tuesday evening and 2 Saturday afternoons. Then there's the training walks, my sister-in-law and nephew visiting the weekend after next and God knows what else. Time - we need more time!! And less booze/food.....

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Training Walk

Well, we’ve made a decent start on the training now but it has demonstrated how far we have to go. My aching legs and sore feet attest to that! We had a lovely weekend though.



Friday evening we looked at a house to rent (and had a couple of glasses of red wine in the local). It’s pretty good but probably not the one we’d prefer given a free choice. We might have to go for it though as we’re running out of time for the luxury of choices! It’s a spacious 3 bed house which was refurbished to a high standard by the owner….some time ago. So, although it was all very nice a few years ago, the upstairs is definitely rather tired now. All 3 bedrooms would need painting and probably new carpets as well in order to be a pleasant place to be. Having said that, the downstairs is great, lovely big kitchen, wooden floors in living room (great for dogs) and nice conservatory and there’s a heated swimming pool in the back garden which I would like a lot this summer!! I think it’d be interesting to see how many of our friends with children would find reasons to visit en famille once the nice weather comes…



We still have a couple of other irons in the fire but I’m going to have to push the landlords to make a decision on these soon or we risk not having anywhere to live come the end of March!!



Saturday was chores and another house viewing. This place was really nice but probably out of our budget unless the landlord is willing to drop the rent…which they might do, you never know.



An afternoon trip to a Model Railway exhibition (?!). (Rich revealed an interest, which he had hitherto kept very quiet, in model railways! Said it was something he’d always wanted to set up when he has sufficient time and space….hmm….might have to ensure that he doesn’t find sufficient time and space for a while yet!! Let’s just say that the model railway brigade were a tad on the nerdy side and leave it at that…)



Then Tom, the friend who roped us into the Three Peaks Challenge, arrived and we set off into Sheffield by train for a big night out. Not something we do that often but it was really good to be out and about on a Saturday night. Dressed up and drinking, going from pub to pub and ending up in a cheesy nightclub having a dance (not that sort of dancing before you ask – cheesy bopping would be a more accurate description). So a shameful kebab and cab home followed by a spell of racing around the Valley successfully retrieving Tom’s mobile phone which he’d left in the taxi and eventually to bed at 4am!



Possibly not the optimum preparation for a training hike??



We’d decided to up the level of our usual weekend walk from one big hill to 2 so we trekked from Bradwell to Hope and first tackled the steep climb up Win Hill. The weather was extremely changeable and we experienced cold, slicing wind, mist, drizzle, rain, grey skies and sunshine, several times each in rotation. Straight down Win Hill and straight back up Lose Hill. The 2 hills face each other over the valley leading from Hope to Edale and local legend has it that they are named for the winning and losing sides of an ancient Pictish battle.



Lose Hill was hard – just as the ascent was steepest, a driving wind hit us head-on and the terrain was very wet and slippery underfoot so your feet couldn’t get a decent purchase. Still, all good practise. We eventually made it to the top and were rewarded with some lovely sunshine and a stunning rainbow.



Then we slipped and slid our way down the hill into Hope to a pub for a “Sunday Roast”. Tom had been getting excited about his “Sunday Roast” all weekend but I was just fretting about finding a pub which was still serving and would allow us in with the dogs. So, I was very pleased to find that The Old Hall in Hope was accommodating. I was covered in mud from a slip coming down the hill and the others were not much cleaner. The dogs were just balls of mud, excited and desperate to get onto the banquette seating in the pub, and chow down on the roast pork…bit of a nightmare. Eventually we all settled down and could enjoy a roast dinner not cooked by me. I’m not being big-headed when I say that my roast dinner is better but this had the advantage in that it arrived in about 5 minutes flat, I had not had to cook it and someone else would be doing the washing up – bliss!!



I love that feeling once you’ve finished a big walk in rainy weather – all tired and full of fresh air. When a hot shower is the greatest thing in the world. I managed to prise myself from the sofa and go to the pub quiz match in the evening though despite briefly toying with backing out. We had a handy win and I had a nice chat with a friend I haven’t seen for a while who has just had baby. So, all in all, a busy, varied and fun weekend.



As an aside on the baby – she is a week old today but still no name. Is this a record?! A name was announced on Friday (Sissy Florence - eeek) but when I somewhat insincerely congratulated Sammy on this name yesterday he said that both names had been retracted, as has Amber. So she’s currently known as Baby Number 2. (“I am not a Numbeeer!!!”)

Relief

Last night I had dinner with a friend. I haven’t seen her since last summer but she sent me a lovely email shortly after I split up with D to say that she knew there was more to the story than Valley gossip was letting on and that I was not to doubt her continued support and friendship. We haven’t seen each other mainly because she’s had family troubles so she had more important matters to deal with.



Despite the fact of her email and that I’ve always liked her, I was nervous. She is someone who I have only known as part of a couple, me and D, her and her partner, X and Y, A and B…. So to rebuild a friendship on a different level is a bit scary. I also have to take into account the gossip that has been circulating and wonder what she’s heard and what she thinks about it. We’d been meant to meet with another friend who kept on cancelling so in the end decided to meet up anyway and I’m so pleased we did.



She didn’t let me settle into the normal bland platitudes about how it’s sad but at least we can move on, blah blah blah but challenged me to open up a bit. Told me about her relationship before her current one – how it had amounted to mental bullying but how it took her a long time to extract herself. How she couldn’t imagine that someone as strong minded and feisty as her could have become so browbeaten and subjugated. It was such a relief to know that someone in my circle of friends REALLY understands what I was going through. We spoke about it. It was pretty balanced and not at all a slagging match but I could be honest because I knew she knew what I was talking about and didn’t judge me or think that I was making it up to justify myself.



She might not have known it at the time but after I left she had put 2 and 2 together and guessed what had been happening.



We only spoke about it for a little while and rest of the evening chatted about all the normal stuff but I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. This morning I found myself crying in the shower and had to wake Rich up for a cuddle. He was understandably bewildered – he’s used to comforting me when required but it’s not normally needed at 6.25am!! I explained that it was the relief of knowing that, other than him, at least one other person “knows”.



It makes me ashamed about the times I may have taken the surface picture at face value and not offered the true hand of friendship to someone in need because now I know how much that hand matters.

Lessons learned from Major Pettigrew and Mrs Ali

Me at the top of Bradwell Edge. Slightly sweaty and tired out. You can't see my feet because my not-so-able assistant cut them off but, if you could, you would just see giant balls of mud.

Eagle-eyed readers will note that I've put the photos up in the wrong order so we start at the top and work our way down...this did not happen!

Mud!
The muddy steep path up Bradwell Edge, oh and Rich....with feet...

The misty view of Bradwell from Bradwell Edge.


I don't know if anyone has read this but I've just finished "The Last Stand of Major Pettigrew" and really enjoyed it. Nicely written but also jolly, thought provoking, humourous, even action packed at the end (slightly incongruously I thought).

I was chuckling away empathising happily with the old duffer of a retired Major and his love interest, the widow, Mrs Ali from the village shop when I realised I was being hypocritical. I was reading about and approving their old-fashioned values yet not applying them in my own life.

So, in my last post I bemoaned my lot in the family and the fact that my father is not quicker to accept my marriage break up. I was being a bit of a demanding spoilt brat to be fair; just expecting my 79 year old father to agree whole-heartedly with everything I do and support me 100% without having a viewpoint of his own.

This isn't fair. He has been very supportive and loving and was shocked and saddened when I told him the true state of my marriage and some of the horrid things which D has done since we split up. But as to my leaping in so quickly into a new relationship, it is right for me but I shouldn't condemn him for having different, more cautious sensitivities. It must seem very quick to him and also be difficult to accept the bald fact which I've thrown at him that I was having an affair while still married.

To a man who has been married and faithful to my mother for nearly 60 years, that can't be easy to swallow.

I've been miffed that he still entertains the thought of meeting with Diarmuid, feeling that it is somehow disloyal to me. But then, when I think again, through the prism of Major Pettigrew, would I prefer my Dad to be so dogmatic and cold-hearted, one-sidedly unreasonable that he could just dismiss the son-in-law who he knew and loved for over 20 years? No I wouldn't. I love the fact that, although he doesn't approve of some of the things D has done, he is still happy to meet him and say goodbye sometime. It seems more civilised somehow. More rounded.

So, thanks Major Pettigrew for giving me a pause and making me step out of my "selfish child" world view and put myself into my Dad's shoes for a while. I'm not saying that Dad (or my sister) is right or that it's not hurtful sometime, but at least I should respect his views and have patience that he'll come round.

Training (and Family Matters!!)

Training is proceeding apace despite far too much social life. This latter also explains the tardy posting of blog entries….I’m struggling with a backlog!



Last week, we were intending to go to the gym on Wednesday evening but Rich had a nasty, streaming cold and wasn’t up to it. I was determined that I wouldn’t be derailed but also didn’t want to spend too much of one of our few evenings at home together out at the gym. As a compromise I decided to go for a run. It would be shorter, 40 minutes instead of an hour and not require driving to and from the gym so saving 20 minutes or so there. It’s always hard leaving a nice cosy house with your other half looking all warm and happy in front of the telly to head out into the cold but I did it and felt pretty positive about it too!! Jogged down the hill, stopped to do my stretches and then started along the long straight to Brough. Got about 10 minutes out and felt a sharp pain in the middle of my right calf! I stopped short – must have looked as though I had been shot to the passing car – no, there was no way I could carry on running – had to limp home. Bah!



Luckily the pulled whatever it is (muscle, ligament…?) has not proved too problematic and is getting better already. I went to personal training on Thursday morning fully intending to nurse it but Huw found several inventive means to continue his weekly torture unabated. In fact, I think I may have worked harder than usual without taxing the calf. Bah!



I went over to my parents’ place on Thursday night as it was my father’s birthday on the Friday. I took the newly shorn dogs who look gorgeous after their haircuts and seem to have turned into lithe puppies as well as losing a sheep-sized fleece of fur each. I had been intending to go for a nice flat run in Lincolnshire but this was out so just managed a brisk walk instead.



It’s good to spend time with my father. It is difficult for him now as he is caring for my mother who has Alzheimers. She is not too bad, being calm and happy for the most part and she is still able to dress and feed herself etc. It’s just the lack of company now. Her short term memory has gone so she can’t really hold a conversation and just repeats questions and comments over and over again. He is not the most patient man although I’m seeing a more caring side to him now as the reality of the situation sets in. I do my daughterly duty re cooking and sorting out her clothes and spending hours going through paperwork with him to assure him that I will be up to the job of being his executor (what a happy afternoon THAT was!!).



I only feel marginally resentful that I seem to draw the crappy end of the stick – my sister (who hardly ever visits due to her large family) was due to arrive that evening after I left with her brood and would no doubt only do fun things – lunch out, walks, going to the pub. As is right, my dad dotes on her and her family (as he does with my brother and his family) and has consistently helped them out financially and with savings funds for the grandkids. As I’ve never needed financial help (or not since I was a student anyway) this has never bothered me) but now, in the midst of an expensive divorce, I do wonder if an offer at least might have been welcome….I’m certain it would have been made to my siblings…



Within the dynamic of our family it seems to be accepted that I will do the work – the boring, nothing happening visits where I cut mum’s toenails and make sure that the house is being cleaned properly, rotating the freezer contents and book things on the internet for him. My sister, of course, with her big family, is far too busy to be bothered with these mundane chores and my brother lives in Canada.



This used to be compensated for by my closeness with my father and how much I love him and enjoy his company. It still is but there has been an “edge” recently, since I split up with Diarmuid. Now, instead of appreciating my visits, the fact that they are not more frequent is deplored. If I leave a bit early or don’t stay an extra day because I’m going to a football match for example this is seen as frivolous. There have been comments about the fact that he hasn’t seen me as often since I’ve been with Richard. He doesn’t seem to recognise the fact that they have not been to visit me once since I split up with D. That they have made no effort to meet Rich and do not often mention his name. Perhaps if they met Rich we would see more of each other??



It is, now that I write it all down, very hurtful. Counselled by my sister and aunt, I try to be understanding of my Dad’s age; the fact that it must be hard for him to accept that I have broken up my marriage (which I never allowed him to see was flawed); that he loved D; that he has been told a pack of lies about Rich by D; that it will take time. But it is bloody hurtful while I wait.



And bloody hurtful to see my sister and brother soaking up all the plaudits while sitting back doing sod all. Maybe all childless siblings feel this basic unfairness. More is expected of me and less appreciation given because I don’t have a family. It’s “easy” for me to drive 2 hours to Lincoln than for them. Well, yes it is and I don’t mind doing it but surely Hilary (being a GP) could research into carers over the internet just as easily as I can; or book his airline flights; or buy his washing machine…etc



Hmmmm. I’d better stop now. I seem to have opened a floodgate of pent-up resentment which I wasn’t entirely aware existed. Perhaps time to talk to my sister and brother and my father too.



The Richard thing must be resolved before too long or this unspoken resentment/suspicion/fear will harden and Rich too will understandably pick up on it. I do not want to be in the middle between a partner who (rightly) feels that he is not accepted and a family which has taken against him without even bothering to meet him. These relationships (both romantic and familial) are just too important to me for that.



I do wonder too whether my people-pleasing instinct which was so fatal in my marriage arises from my relationship with my father. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl and have loved to please him. I think this was part of why I let D rule the roost and put me down; I fell into the trap of wanting to please him too. Seeking approval all the time. Well, maybe now it’s time to make my needs known and not turn into the resentful Cinderella sister.



I had intended to chat about our trip to the FA Cup game at Birmingham City on Saturday; our muddy, hilly training walk on Sunday and our lovely dancing class last night (new steps in the tango!); what a lovely weekend I’ve spent with Rich who I just seem to be more and more in love with but now don’t have time for that. Ach well, what’s a blog for if not for exploring your innermost feelings and trying to put them in context and work out what you’re going to do next?? Thanks for listening……if you got this far through the whining that is...!!

Dancing...

I’m just loving the dancing at the moment. We had a ropey couple of weeks at the beginning of January where we hadn’t been since mid-December, the teacher Tony was on holiday and we weren’t greatly enthused by his stand-in. It just felt a little flat, revising old steps over and over again and learning new dances we didn’t particularly like. But the last 3 weeks have been great.



Last week, right at the end of the class, Tony decided to teach us the basic rudiments of the jive but we were a bit too tired to take much in. Well this week we spent 40 minutes learning a whole lot more. It was great. Rich and I took to it straight away and I know we’re going to love it. I’ve always loved seeing people dance like that at parties and weddings over the years. Rock and roll, jive, ceroc - it all looks great. But, although I’ve tried occasionally in a drunken fashion to get the turns and rhythm, I’ve never been any good at it. Well, now I know how the dance is put together, the beat on which to turn and the neat timing of it. It’s brilliant.



I realise to anyone over 60 that you were probably brought up doing this stuff so can’t see what all the fuss is about but I think it’s fab. Because we were just learning the steps and it was quite a long new sequence, once we’d been through it as a class, Tony left us in our pairs practising for quite a long time while he went round making sure that everyone had got it. So we were getting on with it, going faster and faster and just grinning like a pair of loons at each other. Then I noticed a few couples who were struggling with it watching us and murmuring stuff like – “you turn to the left there” or “see, rock back”….felt like a proper teacher’s pet.



And then the illusion of skill was shattered when he turned the music on! The sneaky git picked a really fast beat and we all fell apart!! Still, once he’d given us a slower song to dance to, we could really feel what it’s all about. We’ve "got" the jive, I know we have and we really enjoyed it.



After the jive, a rest with the rumba. Now, you may not know this but it is The Law that All Men Hate The Rumba. It would seem to be a slur on their very masculinity to admit that dancing to a slow, sensual beat and wiggling one’s hips suggestively could in any way be enjoyable to them…. But I suspect this is not the whole picture. While he whinges about not being able to “get the rhythm” and it being “stupid”, I detect a certain pride and pleasure as he lifts his arm up to let me execute a slow turn before arriving neatly back in his arms …I won’t tell him that I’ve seen through him though…because... All Men Hate The Rumba…..



After so long on the jive and rumba we had no time for much else so a quick march round the room doing the tango (which we had apparently totally forgotten…it’s a very strange dance anyway…) and a romantic twirl of a waltz for Valentines Day.



As you can probably tell from my gushing, we well and truly have our dancing mojo back. Yay!!