Spending an evening in the newly renovated town hall in the company of my favourite local band and the Northern Orchestra. Typically, I left my camera at home so the picture is courtesy of someone else's.
Listening to author and local lass Sarah Dunnakey talk about her book and the writing process. She's also a question setter for programmes including Mastermind, Pointless, University Challenge and Eggheads so, of course, a literary quiz followed. I didn't win. I wasn't even close (in my defence, the winners worked as a team). Shame, really, as the prize was a collection of books and a stack of chocolate, both of which I can always find room for.
Making a first visit (no excuse as they've been living there since the late 1970s) to the town's dinosaurs at Teesaurus Park. This was once a heavily industrialised area and the park, established in an industrial estate and on what had been a slag heap, is a surprising oasis of nature and calm. Like so much of the green space here, the council made moves to sell the land a couple of years ago but, following an unexpected change of heart, these dinosaurs were saved from extinction.
Eating the worst vegan afternoon tea. Imagine dry as a bone sandwiches (no butter substitute, just lettuce leaves and slices of tomato atop tastes of sawdust gluten free bread), a dish of dairy-free ice cream, a bunch of grapes, slices of banana draped in melted chocolate, a jar of raspberry puree, two strawberries and a slice of way past its best frangipane tart. Can't think why the chef needed several days notice to put such a sorry offering together. At least my cousin and the alpacas the other side of the window appeared to be much happier with theirs.
Introducing the littlest to the Transporter (we used to be rather good at building bridges here). Not sure what he was expecting to see but he asked repeatedly, 'Where's the bridge?' and then was sidetracked by the strawberries calling his name from an old stone planter outside the operator's cabin. Ah, well. Still a working bridge, ferrying cars, bikes and pedestrians from one side of the river to the other, the Transporter was out of action to the pubic the day we visited but there was a practice run and we watched as the empty gondola, suspended over the water, made its way across. Not that the littlest was impressed. He was too busy throwing sticks and gravel through the railings and enjoying the plops and splashes as they landed.
Remembering, with a slight feeling of nausea, the day the Boy jumped off the top.
Bemoaning my still restricted mobility but using the time reluctantly spent indoors to work on a blanket for Boo (he's been a good boy), read from the book mountain (Lullaby and If We Were Villains are both recommended), bake and devour spicy buns and watch the latest episode of season 2 of The Handmaid's Tale. Intense, compelling, chilling, wrenching. It's excellent, it really is, but I'd say definitely not one for binge watching. Blessed be the fruit loops.
Admiring the roses in the garden and reckoning they've never put on such a good show. (Can't be as a result of anything I've done.) Some have been picked and brought into the house. One, an Abraham Darby, I think, has continued to grow in the vase and is now the size of my head. Well, maybe the size of a saucer.
Wondering (both sofas face windows and there's been an excess of sofa sitting lately) why I never manage to achieve streak free windows (the insides; Nathan, our window cleaner throughout the 26 years we've lived in this house, never leaves streaky outsides). I use water with a dash of washing up liquid and a splash of vinegar, a fake chamois/shammy and kitchen roll paper to polish. Where am I going wrong?