Things have been lax on the literary front of late. A break away at the weekend, along with my writing mojo taking a hiatus, limiting my time at the typewriter.
I have no idea where the mojo ventured, however as it brought me back a box of shortbread biscuits I’m guessing Scotland. A little further north than my venture to the village of Frosterly, County Durham.
My odyssey taken with my buxom beau, Sarah, and her family; a five bedroomed cottage our base for three nights. This cabal of scallywags made up of Sarah, her daughter’s Kayleigh/Katelan, partners Liam/Simon, grandkids Rory/Gracie, her mum Judith. GJ Strachan taking the party number to nine.
Judith, raised in the hard-fisted Leeds district of Armley, attended our odyssey as family muscle and chief enforcer. Well, that’s what I’m guessing her role was in the proceedings, it certainly wasn’t helping with the cooking!… The lazy so and so!
Seriously, though, one reason Sarah’s mum attended was to partake in early celebrations for her upcoming special birthday. I am too much of a gentleman to reveal her age on that birthday. However, when stating I’d wager she was a bit of a looker before electricity, you maybe able to guess.
With spring having sprung, signalling an emergence from winter’s grim cocoon, we hoped slightly warmer climes would have accompanied our trip. Sadly, strong winds prevailed, resulting in chillier temperatures than desired.
Did the chilly weather spoil our break, though? … Not at all… That accolade went to Simon, the boring b*st*rd!
Only kidding, Simon is the salt of the earth. Soil and fields he roams daily in agriculture vehicles; machines he maintains for his employment. Farmland feeding our nation, nurturing crops fortifying the populace, which earn the Huddersfield lad a crust.
Simon and Katelan provided three splendid, cooked breakfasts during the familial jaunt. Feasts of sausages, bacon, tomatoes, scrambled eggs, mushrooms and beans a morning smorgasbord thoroughly appreciated by the group… Well, they would’ve been if their fellow travellers had not been vegans.
Evening meals saw a Friday pizza night, Liam’s homemade curry on Saturday, along with a mix of antipasti meats/cheeses during Sunday evening.
My effort of placing meats and cheeses from plastic packaging onto plates for our final evening meal, as with Sarah throwing five ready-made pizzas into the oven on Friday, culinary expertise of the highest order.
Clearly, Sarah and my efforts in the kitchen were never going to achieve us Michelin star status. We did, though, buy a Michelin tyre after suffering a puncture on the outbound journey.
My beau and yours truly’s easy options when selecting evening meals not mirrored by Kayleigh’s husband, Liam, who created wonderfully flavoursome Asian cuisine for the bunch on Saturday evening.
Fodder of such splendour, upon consuming the dish, Katelan’s partner Simon was moved to ‘compliment’ the Morley fella with “That meal was nowhere near as shite as I thought it would be!” An accolade moving Liam to such an extent it triggered a spontaneous choking episode; an incident during which he coughed up a fur ball.
When highlighting Liam as the brains of our holidaying outfit, please bear in mind Judith’s handbag was the second brightest present. A fact some may say diminishes the accolade’s shine.
Seriously, though, Liam is a very clever guy who holds a doctorate in some science or other. A degree accrediting him skills to undertake an autopsy as and when he so desires… Well, with the express caveat the subject is dead, and the victim’s family are ok with it… Oh, and his reassurances, prior to supper, the body is removed from the kitchen table.
Among the attractions we visited during our trinity of days in Durham was a farm tarry. The kids in particular loving the sheep racing and petting of baby livestock. Although delighted to see the little ‘uns glee, adult brio levels were tarnished by strong Weardale winds. Simon and yours truly especially concerned the gusts would speed up the process of diminishing our hair follicles.
The sheep race was contested by four ovine speedsters bearing names such as Lady Baa-Baa, Shawn the Sheep, and two other monikers I have forgotten. My disappointment at backing the trailing sheep eased later in the afternoon upon hearing of ‘I Am Maximus’ prevailing in the Grand National at Aintree, winning me £30.
Anyhow, seeing tractors and sheep at the attraction making the visit a busman’s holiday for Simon. The only difference from his normal working day was upon arrival their tractors were in working order, and mysteriously weren’t when he left site.
I am unsure why several vehicle engines ceased working. However, Simon leaving the farm with a variety of agriculture machinery parts may have had something to do with the farmers bewildered head scratching.
Saturday evening, post-curry, we entertained ourselves by partaking in TV quiz shows by proxy; endeavouring to answer questions on the likes of ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire’, ‘The Chase’ and ‘The 1% Club’.
Somewhat surprisingly, the group’s general knowledge seeing us answer a good number of the enquiries correctly. Simon doing particularly well, leading to him asking me if he’d shocked me by answering so many questions… I responded I was stunned me he could read the bloody questions!
Despite similar gusty conditions on Sunday daytime, we ventured out again, this time to a nearby village park. Here we played football, the kids partook in slide and roundabout activities and Katelan kept everyone engrossed with her favourite horse anecdotes… Yarns like the day she took her horse on the number 36 bus to Rothwell after her horse box broke down on the way to a show… Although, I think I might have just imagined that!
It was quite a weekend!
