Tag Archives: africas gift

Mud, Muck and Dead Things

So this weekend was finally the dawning of Mr F’s big challenge. As you may know in his wisdom he had decided that he wanted to raise money for a charity he is involved with. Mr F thought that cycling the length of the Leeds to Liverpool canal and back in two days would be a good way to do this. Of course this meant that being the selfless kind of partner I am, I jumped at the chance to drive the support van. Apparently I’d find lots of lovely café stops along the way, have loads of time to enjoy reading in the sunshine and generally find it a thoroughly relaxing couple of days for me. Well Mr F talks utter nonsense. 

After months of planning and training (Obviously Mr F concentrated on the cycling side of things, my contribution was to make sure I had enough books packed to keep me entertained) things started well. 4.30am the sun was almost shining, the van was full of energy drinks and sandwiches and I had a pre-programmed satnav telling me where to go. Skipton was the first stop for me and an early morning Costa Coffee plus the magic toilet key from the Canal Trust meant it was a nice leisurely start in the sun with a new book (Death in the Dales in case you are interested)20160630_185455

If I now tell you that 4 days later I am reading that same book and some of its pages are still damp, you might guess that it wasn’t the leisurely couple of days I was hoping for.  The weather was horrendous, rain was heavier than I’ve seen it for ages, there was thick mud everywhere, journeys took much longer than they should have done, there were mechanical failures, a crash and at no point were feet dry.  I don’t think Mr F had much fun either!

muppetsThe first day was definitely the worst. The weather meant that everything was running behind. Even when the sun came out there was so much mud that it was dangerous to ride it. Two hours I stood with Mr F Sr. on a bridge waiting for the cyclist to appear, we looked like we were auditioning for the parts of Statler and Waldorf. At least on this stretch Mr F did learn that sometimes it’s best to go round puddles not through them, and flying over the handlebars headfirst into them is definitely not a good plan.

Some of the parts I visited were very pretty, there were some lovely canal moorings and if you managed to see through all the rain it was probably very beautiful. There were some lovely people we met on the way and the fried egg sandwich that Janet and her baps provided on the Friday morning was possibly the best one I’ve had for years. However all in all this was quite possibly one of the most stupid ideas that Mr F has ever had. It does just prove how stubborn he is though as he did the whole 255 mile journey and finally got back to Leeds very wet, very cold, very muddy, but having raised over £2500 for Africa’s Gift which made it all worth while (probably!)

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Alone

Well I’ve been abandoned for two whole weeks whilst Mr F goes on holiday. Whilst he’s off planting trees, or fixing schools, or some other worthwhile activity (He’s actually gone to Lesotho with a charity called Africa’s Gift  find out more here) I’m left behind all alone cleaning up cat sick and sorting out the recycling bins.

Now clearly I would not admit this to Mr F as the truth sometimes gets in the way of a good sulk over my abandonment (where he is there is limited internet access and electricity so I can get away with this admission) However there is a small part of me that is actually looking forward to a couple of weeks on my own.

Whilst of course I love him to bits, I do find men have a habit of getting in the way sometimes. I am someone who quite likes just pottering. I can potter in the garden planting seeds, watching birds, pruning something that I don’t really know what it is. I can potter in the house tidying things up (which actually just means putting anything I find in a big box as if you can’t see things then they don’t exist) or sorting things out. I can even potter round town looking in bookshops, or wondering round the market. However it’s hard to potter properly when there are two of you, as one is always wanting to do something.

I have a theory that the only reason sport was invented is to give people time on their own to potter. If I said to Mr F one Saturday morning, today I’m going to spend sorting out my bookshelves and reading my latest book he’d huff and puff a bit and come up with a list of activities he wanted to do. Clearly none of those would involve anything to do with books. That’s where football comes in. Never in a million years did I ever think I would religiously plot in my diary when the football was going to be on. Yet there I am with each match marked down knowing that no matter what else is going on in the world the football will keep him entertained for a while.

Being on my own for two weeks also means I can eat what I want without having to consult anyone. At the risk of sounding about 90 the first thing I bought after dropping Mr F off at the train station was courgettes. Although he’s not a fussy eater he does have some strange vegetable aversions including courgettes which are one of my favourite vegetables. I have tried to encourage him to eat them, I once made a three course courgette themed meal starting with courgette fritters, then courgette pasta finished with courgette and chocolate cake, yet he’s still not keen.

As well as all the time I’ll get to read books and potter round whilst eating courgettes, I finally get full control of the tv remote. The timing couldn’t be more perfect with the new series of criminal minds back on the television, and Masterchef having started again.

Also in terms of good timing, his departure has coincided with one of the most exciting things of the year. The release of the programme for the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Writing Festival. This is a thing that takes time to digest properly. It has to be read through a couple of times, before lists are created of which authors I’ve already read, and which I need to start reading. The sessions have to be planned to see if there are any we could stand to miss to give a bit of breathing and reading space during the weekend. All of this takes time, and I’ll have lots of it on my hands.

Of course saying all that I am obviously going to miss Mr F loads, and am very proud of him, but somehow I think the time is going to fly by and I’ll no doubt wonder where it all went once he’s home.

 

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