Author: jl.boreham

What a weekend! I needed all day on Sunday to recover but gosh was it worth it.

Friday night straight after work was a quick dash to Hillsborough Park, Sheffield to see the Arctic Monkeys perform their first home town gig for five years. It was an outdoor concert in a park so in June it could have gone either way, rain or sunshine. Fortunately we are in a bit of a Yorkshire heatwave at the moment (well 29 degrees, but in Yorkshire that’s a heatwave!) so it was glorious. Just under eighty thousand people, all packed into a park to see what is definitely the best concert I have ever, ever been to; and being a bit of a music fanatic I’ve seen lots of bands, and my tastes are very varied, I’ve seen everything from Andrea Bocelli, to Whitesnake, to Paul Weller to Aida at the Verona opera house. I just love music.

I was there at their last concert five years ago because I’m a bit of a diehard fan, and that was great, but this just had everything. What must be the coolest, sharpest dresser in the whole planet singing the greatest set list in that amazing voice, which is just like melting milk chocolate it’s so smooth. A man so clearly at ease in his own skin, without being arrogant, he was clearly over the moon to be back home in Yorkshire.

I was a little disappointed with the setlist the last time I saw them as some of the old classics like ‘Brianstorm’, ‘Fluorescent Adolescent’ and ‘Mardy Bum’ were missing, but they were all there this time, including my absolute favourite from the new album, ‘Body Paint’. And they were all delivered with perfection, by a lead singer with so much stage presence and charisma. He’s one of those front men who does not say much, he doesn’t need to, but when he does it’s quite profound. He doesn’t bounce around the stage, there’s no fancy stage outfit, no swearing. He has his trademark sharp suit and shirt on, his Ray Bans and just delivers one song after another, with one foot up on the monitor speaker. He’s a lover of English Literature and a devout Ernest Hemingway fan and it shows. I just adore some of his lyrics, like “I wanna be your setting lotion, hold your hair in sweet devotion” from ‘I Wanna be Yours’, makes me smile every time, and the lyrics to ‘Body Paint’ for me are probably some of the greatest he’s written. He finished the concert with “Sheffield you’ve been absolutely amazing” but Alex Turner, so were you!

Anyway, the music was one thing but my goodness me………….there was an ice cream van inside the park! So not only did I hear some excellent music I got my Mr Whippy with chocolate flake fix all at the same time! I must have looked as excited as a small child as I got raspberry sauce and sprinkles too! It’s the way forward I’ve decided, all rock concerts should have an ice cream van.

I was meant to be very well behaved and not be led astray by my eldest this time, as I had my Barnsley Boundary Team Relay race on Saturday morning, Leg 3 at 8:30am, and then the Joe Percy 10k a couple of days after, and I needed to be in tip top condition.

Last time I went to see the Arctic Monkeys with him I was in anything but tip top condition the morning after. He had led me to the front row telling me I’d be ok in the mosh pit, subsequently lost me in there and my poor little feet took weeks to get over it.

Now I don’t think I did too badly this time. I safely avoided the mosh pit and the worst thing that happened was getting hit by a flying toilet roll and narrowly missing a flying plastic pint glass of urine (just why do they do that?!).

However I am no slave to my training plan and have absolutely no will power when it comes to sports nutrition. I doubt the pre-race night diet of a finely tuned athlete consists of the aforementioned Mr Whippy, a pint of Amstel lager and a portion of large fries on the way home at midnight because I was so hungry. However, in my defence both the lager and the fries contained pre-race carbs.

So Saturday morning I was up bright and early to meet at the start of Leg 3, my leg of the Barnsley Boundary Relay race. There are 10 legs in this 73 mile race and it is run in a team of 10 with each person running one leg. My running Club had entered 9 teams and I had been placed in the Veteran 40 Ladies Team. Now on my own I’m not that competitive and if I win a trophy (I won my first one the other week) it’s usually by accident and I have no idea I’ve won it, winning just isn’t my goal when I’m running on my own, I’m just happy to be taking part. However, I am a bit of a team player and when I’m in a team I am really competitive as I’m determined not to let the team down.

So fuelled with ice cream, lager and fries in 29 degree heat I turned myself inside out to run my leg and came in second lady, one second behind my club mate who was in the much faster younger ladies team. I made a mistake on the clothing front wearing shorts. The nettles and brambles were huge but I just tried to plough on through them and just blank the pain from my mind. This caught up with me a little bit in the end and a little medical attention and pampering was required when I got to my Mother’s afterwards for my Saturday visit. But she had bought me an appropriately named and specially chosen chocolate bar bless her, you’ve got to love her, I’m still getting spoilt (and told off in equal measure) at 52!

However it was all worthwhile as the Veteran 40 Ladies team were victorious in lifting the trophy in the evening!!!! HERE COME THE GIRLS!!! The second trophy in a month. So very proud of every one of our efforts, we all took one for the team because it was hot out there. So any competitive athletes out there, forget the lettuce, you need a pre race-day late night, beer, fries and ice cream.

After all that excitement, Sunday was a much needed day of rest and calm at home. A day of snoozing, books, birds, streams and pretty summer foxgloves…………

………..Oh, and a dressing up box. Child number one has now moved on to his summer placement just outside London and has sent some of his possessions home for his personal assistant (me) to store until his Uni return. I spied a student dressing up box on clearing his room! Being in his third year (that’s lots of booze fuelled fancy dress parties) he’s now accumulated quite a little collection. Being a bit bored, and in touch with my inner child, I just could not resist a rummage through the box, a few donning of outfits, and a few photographs for him of his one and only mother in disguise, clearing his room. There were hats, a pair of angel wings, a halo (very me), and a fab beard and sunglasses combo! I had a very enjoyable afternoon, until I was reminded by him that I was meant to be just putting his stuff in the loft, not rummaging through it……ooooops!

I love coffee! It’s the one small addiction that I have. I don’t drink lots of it, if I do I can feel my heart racing, I start to feel a bit on-edge and I definitely can’t get to sleep if I have one after teatime.

But I just can’t start the day without it.

I know it’s not that great for you, but neither is anything if you have too much of it so, although I’ve cut down on my intake from what I used to drink, for me it is one of life’s pleasures and I have no intention of giving it up.

Now I have a little secret. I can tell the difference between a good cup and a bad cup. I’m not a complete coffee snob. My morning coffee goes down so quickly it does not touch the sides so I just purchase a big bag of perfectly acceptable supermarket Italian espresso beans – £8 for 1kg. There is however one major coffee chain that I will not drink at, as in my humble opinion you might as well drink dirty dishwater. You can hardly taste the coffee it is so weak and transparent. It has no taste or flavour.

However, I will own up to owning a secret tin (possibly not so secret now I’ve announced it on here). It is an Italian Gianduiotto tin (a type of gorgeous hazelnut chocolate from Piedmont Italy, and another of my weaknesses!). Inside the tin however are no Gianduiotti, they went long ago, so yummy in my tummy. Inside the tin are my ‘top secret’ coffee beans. They are from a speciality coffee roaster called Darkwoods, who are based in Slaithwaite, in mighty fine Yorkshire of course.

I first came across them when I was in my favourite Italian Deli and I ordered a flat white coffee. It was one of those WOW moments. Quite simply the best coffee I have ever tasted, and it still is, and I’ve drunk a lot of coffee.

I thought, “I just have to have a bag of these beans for my machine at home!” You know, for those moments when I sit in the garden or reading my book and I have time to enjoy my coffee properly. So I asked where they were from and if I could buy a bag. They were from Darkwoods. The slight catch is that the amazing taste comes with a price; a price of £29.85 for a 1kg bag, so a massive 273% mark up on the supermarket bag. I did however, treat myself as they were just so good. Hence why , when I buy them, they are in my secret tin disguised as chocolate. My boys only drink the odd cup of coffee, usually only after an heavy night on the beer, and they don’t know a good cup from a bad one so I’m sorry, they are not having my beans! Mess with my beans and you are in trouble. Likewise, get offered a cup of coffee using my beans and you know you are very dear to me.

I have however, always wondered what makes them taste so good and why they cost so much. I’ve never really known much about how the coffee gets from the farm to my coffee machine. So when Darkwoods sent me a mailer about an ‘Evening with Sebastian Ramirez’ they were holding last Monday night, my interest was piqued and I thought I would find it really interesting, as you already know I like to know everything about everything. I’m like a sponge, I soak up knowledge and like to learn new things. So I booked my ticket and off I went. It promised an evening with a producer, talking and sampling all things coffee!

I thought I would learn a little bit about coffee production and what makes some coffees taste so good and command such a high price. I certainly did learn that, along with having a good old nosey around Darkwoods and meeting the very charming Sebastian Ramirez, who was so very obviously obsessed about all things coffee!

Darkwoods are based in an old mill in the former textile producing area of Yorkshire, alongside the river and the canal, and it was a glorious summer evening. They have been established over 10 years now by coffee fanatic who brought over an old dilapidated Probat UG22 coffee roaster from Croatia. The machine was brought back to life and Darkwoods was born. The business took off and they are now operating with much larger and more modern Probat G45 in addition to the old machine. They are the proud owners of over 70 ‘Great Taste’ awards for their coffees.

Their mission is to use only speciality grade coffees, all traceable to skilled farmers and their farms across the world. They buy the ‘green’ coffee beans from the farms and then they roast them in the mill at Slaithwaite. Sebastian Ramirez is one of those farmers who was visiting his clients in the UK and agreed to talk to Darkwoods clients about all things coffee.

Sebastin Ramirez is Columbian. He lives on a farm called Finca El Placer and is the fourth generation of his family to farm there. El Placer is in Calarca, Quindio in the heart of the Columbian coffee belt. He exports 80% of his coffee beans outside Columbia, 10% to a Columbian roaster and the other 10% which he calls his ‘second grade’ beans is roasted and drunk locally. He speaks only in his mother tongue, and I realised my Spanish is really not as good as I thought it was. But fortunately he had a translator who also stumbled from time to time so I can only assume Sebastian was speaking in some local dialect. A bit like I do after a few too many glasses of wine when I get my Spanish and Italian muddled up and speak in a whole new language I’ve developed called Spatalian. But it’s ok as my friend also learns both languages and we can actually understand each other and converse for hours in Spatalian without realising.

Sebastian explained everything about the process from the start, right to when the bean gets to Darkwoods. I learnt that the key to a good tasting coffee is not what happens at Darkwoods, but is all about what happens to the green bean before it gets to the UK. It was fascinating. Before it gets to the UK the bean undergoes various processing at source before it is stabilised and ready to ship.

He is also a sustainability champion and invests so much back into his local community. He has built a large new dry mill for processing the coffee beans which around 5 of the local family run farms use in addition to his own. By using this one processing plant for the green been they can guarantee the same conditions and quality by creating a stable environment with the same temperature and humidity. To ensure the beans do not get too hot or too cold, and to maintain a stable temperature, the facility has a charcoal underfloor which absorbs the heat of the day and then slowly releases it overnight. By setting up this facility he is also creating local employment and trying to encourage young people to stay in the area, rather than move away to the cities. He trains many young people in the whole process from the planting and horticulture side, from the scientific side of the processing, the engineering side of the plant and equipment and the business side of marketing, finding international buyers and exporting. In addition to having a well looked after happy workforce he is extremely committed to sustainability and the environment.

Sebastian is a little bit like a scientist, he is always experimenting with different beans and different processes as his end aim, in his words, is an “outstanding sensory experience for the consumer”. He harvests and processes coffee to order, it is fresh, he refuses to process, store and stabilize it for months before shipping it. He uses varietals of the arabica bean, which is known for its chocolate, caramel and citrus taste. However, he wants his coffee to be different and better than everyone else’s for taste, hence his experiments with his processing. He says he can undertake up to 5 experiments a week and every now and then he hits the jackpot with an amazing sensory taste discovery. He likes to take the basic Arabica varietals like Geisha Red, Pink and Yellow Bourbon and Wush Wush but then do something radical in the processing so that the taste is transformed into something quite extraordinary and different. He says he wants to “add extra value to ordinary varietals”.

His desire to create something different came about due to an economic crash in Columbia which impacted all the coffee farmers who in his words were “stuck in their ways”. He knew he had to do something different to survive, but the coffee still had to be tasty, drinkable and deliver that wow factor. When asked what the locals thought to this shift and his experimentation he laughed and said they just thought he was ‘weird’ and it all tasted like ‘vinegar’ but when they saw the price his beans were commanding they soon came around to his way of thinking.

He went on the explain how he operates as environmentally friendly and sustainably as possible and the impact that climate change is having on his farming. Just like us they are not having marked seasons any more. They are getting more dense rains and less sun and all of this presents a challenge.

So what does he do. He subjects different beans to different processes and techniques to create an extraordinary taste. He does not give too many secrets away. He uses extremely long (by industry standards) carbonic fermentation techniques and adds coffee ‘must’ from fruit such as cherries to aid flavour development through the long fermentation period. After fermentation the beans are then dried on patios and raised tables. Over the years he has worked closely with a local laboratory to help him understand more about the local flora, yeasts and bacteria and effectively uses selected micro-organisms as ingredients, extracted from the leached juices of the cherries.

By this time I’m starting to understand why not all coffee tastes the same, and am also starting to understand the price differential between my two bags of beans. I can’t explain the different processes to you, like the difference between anaerobic or carbonic maceration as I’m not a scientist but it was so interesting. Our first tasting was of El Placer Session IPA. He produces this using a basic Pink Bourbon Arabica bean. But he ferments it for 200 hours, compared to a ‘normal’ fermentation period of around 70 hours, using an anaerobic honey process and the addition of local yeast and hops. It was outstanding.

Next tasting was the El Placer Wush Wush Extended. This uses the Wush Wush variety which has undergone a 280 hour carbonic maceration in cherries. The beans are submerged in the cherry must (juice) during fermentation and the beans are then slowly dried. I liked this lots. You can actually taste the cherries. It’s not sweet, it’s coffee. And it’s not like a cherry flavour coffee. There is just a really subtle aroma and taste of cherries and chocolate, but it still tastes like coffee. I can’t really explain what I mean but it hit the jackpot for me.

The final tasting was El Placer Caturra ‘Submarine’. Called this because it has had a 200 hour carbonic maceration in cherries, but has then been submerged under fresh water for a closed tank fermentation. Another fabulous coffee.

So what is the difference from a supermarket bean. For a start, my bag of supermarket beans will probably be a mix of varietals from different farms and will not have a single origin. It will have been fermented for a short processing time, without the use of other natural ingredients and experimentation to enhance it’s taste. By the time it gets to the roasters it could be over a year old, having been stored and stabilized and will have a woody taste. It could have been harvested and processed by cheap labour, working in not the greatest of conditions, otherwise how would they be able to produce it for £8 a bag, and still no doubt make a hefty profit for the supermarket.

So it was an excellent evening. I now know all about how my coffee gets from farm to cup. All about the extraordinary process it goes through to create such an amazing taste. I understand why it costs £29.85 per kg, and now I know what it goes to support and fund I’m happy to pay it every once in while to fill my ‘secret tin’. And I could not help thinking what a fantastic thing, to live in such a beautiful place and almost do something that is your hobby as your job because this man was clearly devoted to his farm, his family, his people and his coffee and was so proud to be spreading the story of El Placer, his country Columbia, it’s culture and it’s coffee.

So…….School holiday for one week = escape to somewhere other than the UK for some relaxation and sunshine! This week was a trip to pretty Parga, Greece.

Here I am on the beach, with no makeup, no filter, salty sea hair, with my three tyres. I have one more than a bicycle and one less than a car! And do you know what, I no longer have an issue with my tyres, I actually quite like them!

I used to be in the swimsuit brigade, all body conscious, but another thing that happens as you get older is that you just stop worrying about that. I embrace it and let it hang out of my bikini, literally. My tyres tell the story that I have given birth to two great human beings, my proudest achievement. My tummy has all little lines on it like a road map, and each little line tells a story, my story. My tyres are also testament to the fact that I have spent far more money in the bakery than I have on gym subscriptions. They also come in really handy as a table for balancing your cocktail too!

So embrace your curves, and you do you. Because no matter what shape or size you are, your body is the most amazing thing.

So, on to Parga. Only 3 hours from Manchester. Would I go back……..Oh yes!! It was one of those WOW places. So very pretty. A small Greek fishing town with pretty multi-coloured houses all tumbling down the hillside to the bay. So very, very green. No man made high-rise hotels or blots on the landscape, so unpretentious but still so luxurious and elegant.

I like seaside cities like Barcelona, Dubrovnik etc. which have history and culture, but I’m not a fan of ‘resorts’. I went to a resort that shall remain nameless in Mallorca and hated it…..but I love Mallorca. I just know what I like. I like pretty, green, nature, history, culture, traditional buildings not piles of hotels that make a place look like a man made modern city centre plonked on a beach, all out of place. I hate pretentious and rudeness too and don’t want to spend a week with people who are. I want to feel relaxed and happy on my holiday.

I do, however, spend quite a lot of my hard earned money on travelling. I go to work and work hard so I can travel and explore. I’m not a saver or lover of material things. I’m all about life’s experiences. There is no surprise that some who know me refer to me as Judith Chalmers. If you don’t know her, she hosted a holiday TV program in the UK in the 1980s and 1990s and basically spent all her time travelling. I do the same in the school holidays, and now someone has bought me a subscription to National Geographic Traveller for my birthday, I’m at that stage where I cannot possibly live long enough to complete the bucket list so I’m having to prioritise.

Sometimes I like to be looked after on my holiday, and Parga was one of those holidays, as I needed to relax and rest after a busy half term. I stayed at Lichnos Beach and was looked after so well. There is only one hotel there, low rise and pristine white buildings spread out amongst the olive groves on the most beautiful small bay with turquoise blue sea.

The staff were really attentive. Gorgeous food, sunbed service, but nothing pretentious about it. 5 star yes, but it felt so relaxed and did not attract the usual ostentatious, pretentious set that some 5 star resort hotels can attract……those where nothing is good enough and they seem to make a living out of being unkind and rude to staff to make themselves feel better. So if you fancy a relaxed, chilled week in a gorgeous location, being well and truly spoiled without the pretentiousness, I’d recommend it.

So, on to Parga itself. I clicked the ‘book now’ button, thinking I was going to a Greek island, I did history not geography at school! It’s not, it’s on the mainland opposite Corfu, not too far from the Albanian and Macedonian borders. It’s in the Epirus region near Preveza. Due to its proximity to the border, it has a history of being fought over. It’s been part of the Venetian and Ottoman empires and has been part of Turkey, Albania and Western Macedonia before Greece. So there is so much history and no shortage of pretty castles.

So, that’s the history bit. I’m also impartial to a holiday cocktail. If you like beer, the Mythos is good and cheaper than the water (tastes better than water too!). If you like cocktails, I recommend Avocado cocktail bar. Halfway up the hill with the most gorgeous view of the town with its twinkling lights around the harbour. And seven days is just enough time to work your way through the entire cocktail menu……that’s a fact I know because I might just have achieved it! I hardly drink at home but I do like a little tipple on holiday.

Parga town itself is beautiful. It’s a little horseshoe shaped promenade lined with pretty bars and cafes, a small but perfectly formed harbour, a hilltop castle, and just lovely to stroll around in the evening.

It’s also well connected to the islands by ferry or day trip boat. It’s close to Corfu but I decided instead to spend a day at the more remote islands of Paxos and Antipaxos with a stop at the Blue Caves enroute for swimming with the rather aptly named Captain Hook! Not the real one I suspect, as I saw both hands, clutching either a Marlboro or his mobile phone. All joking aside, he was an amazingly good captain, and it was quite possibly the best 35 euros I spent on holiday.

The blue Caves were excellent and he skilfully got the whole boat inside and then let us jump off the boat into the turquoise waters. There were so many pretty fish. I love swimming in the sea when it’s so blue. Then we had a pod of dolphins chasing the boat, such a sight, beautiful.

We stopped off in Gaios, the main town on Paxos for three hours. It was such a lovely sleepy island town. Highlights here were the harbour front, pretty little terracotta church, bougainvillea, and statue of George Anemogiannis. George was born on Paxos and was a hero of the Greek Revolution against the Ottoman empire getting killed in 1821 aged 23 on his ship, in battle.

Oh, and another highlight was the creperie and gelato taverna on the waterfront where I ate a huge crepe, with Peanut Butter gelato under the pretence that the fresh fruit on the plate and inside the crepe constituted at least 3 of my 5 a day!

Feeling a bit guilty (only a bit) about the over indulgence on cocktails and cakes I also took my running gear and yes, I did go, and here is photographic evidence that I nearly had to be carried back to the hotel. Parga has a little church. It’s at the top of a hill, and the hill is very steep. I can confirm it was just short of 6 miles there and back, and the church from the beach is 1300ft above sea level. It was 30 degrees, and my face ended up the same colour as my t-shirt……pink! It was horrible. I felt just like I look. I can, however, confirm that I actually run one minute a mile quicker after seeing a snake. A small baby Mediterranean viper of some sort, I’m told, but I’m not a huge fan of snakes and didn’t hang around too long.

It’s now only one week away from the Barnsley Boundary relay race on 10th June though and knowing I’ve been placed in the V40 ten person female team who are favourites to win that category I’m feeling a bit under pressure!! I’m just trying not to think about the fact that my leg starts at 8am and I’m going to see the Arctic Monkeys on the evening before with a 22 year old son who loves nothing better than to lead me astray! It’s absolutely not going to be a re-run of 2018 though when he abandoned me in the mosh pit, my feet were black and blue the day after, and I might just have had a few too many to drink. I’m older and wiser now and it’s just not happening!

Back to Parga. It might not be for you if you don’t like hills. I found the answer to the question, “Where is……….please?” Was always…….”at the top of the hill.” I swear on my life it has more hills than Rome. The only upshot is that there’s usually a café or bar at the top. I had one last gigantic hill climb on my last day to walk to the pretty watermill museum. A lovely walk through greenness with no end of spring flowers and butterflies. Definitely worth the climb.

Final highlight of the holiday were the fireflies!!!! Beautiful little things, and this time of year is firefly season in Greece. Nothing better than sitting with a glass of wine, watching the stars, and listening to the cicadas and the sea with the twinkling of the fireflies in the undergrowth. Fireflies like a tropical climate, so surprisingly, we don’t have them in Yorkshire! They are fascinating. They are little winged beetles. The colour they flash and the frequency depends on which species they are. They are flashing to attract a mate. How cute is that. There’s no need for dating websites in the land of the firefly, just flash your light on your bum, and hey presto, he’s all yours! Downside though is that after all that flashing and happiness they only live for two weeks in Greece! Fascinating.

Anyway, I’m back home in God’s own county now, planning where on my bucket list to jet off to next May. But if you are thinking of Greece, consider Parga, it gets a big thumbs up from me.

I have a new favourite word……………..’Coddiwomple’. Doesn’t that just sound lovely. Basically it’s a verb which means to ‘travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination’.

That’s just me! I’ve no idea where I’m going, but I’m purposefully marching on, laughing and smiling as I go! I’m ‘coddiwompling’ sounds so much more fun than I’m having a midlife crisis though doesn’t it. So this post is about this week’s coddiwompling and trying to achieve a better balance through exercise, sunshine and colour.

Even though in my head I’m still 21, I’ve been feeling exhausted and thought it was just too much running. I also keep waking up with the birds at 5:30am and can’t get back to sleep. But a blood test has revealed a very acute vitamin D deficiency. Quite common when you live in a place where it rains a lot, it’s dark in winter, you work all day in an office, and glorious sunshine is reserved for just 3 summer months…….despite the fact that when I’m not working I’m usually outside.

But every cloud has a silver lining, and in addition to my short-term medication to rectify this, the prescription is more sunshine, oily fish, and dairy. So I’ve interpreted that as book more holidays abroad where it’s sunny and eat unlimited ice cream and fish and chips…….all of which I won’t have a problem with.

So this weekend I’ve spent a lot of time in my garden getting my vitamin D as my garden is definitely one of my happy places when it’s sunny. I love this time of year and it got me thinking about colour and how that too can impact your actual balance. Now, when it comes to inside the house, I’m a bit of a believer in Feng Shui. I have lots of plants in the house (I love orchids), have a muted natural colour scheme, soft lighting, comfy furniture and I hate clutter.

But outside in the garden I just love colour and plants and it’s no surprise that my favourite colour is green, and this time of year the green is just so green when everything is new and fresh and just springing to life. I’ve been planting my pots, sorting my hanging baskets, growing my salad, herbs, potatoes, and doing some weeding (my least favourite bit). Now when it comes to flowers I like hot colours…..pink, orange and yellow and these colours, along with green, make me feel happy and vibrant. I must be naturally drawn to these bright, happy colours, and I do think colour influences how you feel, but I think it’s personal choice and is probably why we all have different favourite colours. For instance, I’m not a huge fan of blue in the house and garden…….it makes me feel cold and a bit sad even though I love the blue sky and sea. So I’m sure there is a right time and place for every colour in your life. Here are my favourite garden happy colours from this week.

Quite possibly my favourite plant in the whole of my garden this week, but it’s such a shame its flowers don’t last too long. The wisteria over my kitchen back door. I love it, and it smells gorgeous and makes hanging out my washing a pleasure.

Then this is possibly the prettiest corner of the garden this week, and I managed to sneak a little ‘on the way home from work’ trip to the garden centre to buy a new plant for my ever expanding collection!

Have you ever stopped to look at a flower in detail though? They are the most amazing things and some of them are just as pretty and amazing on the inside as they are on the outside. Just look at the inside of this Peony.

And then there are my pots and baskets, which all got their summer makeover last weekend. My basket and pots I get into trouble with every year by my Mother. They take quite a bit of watering and looking after. Every year, I do them, and then every year, I then disappear off for a large part of the summer delegating the watering duties to various family members! But at least when I’m here they look lovely!

It’s that time of year when you can start to be a little bit more self-sufficient too. I love to cook, and through the winter, I make do with those dried herb things in a jar as nothing grows in Yorkshire in the winter! But I’ve made use of some old white ceramic sinks and filled them with those herbs I use lots, and they taste so much better! You can grow them in absolutely anything that you can recycle.

I’d like to tell you I use the mint for cooking……..I do…….but it does find it’s way into the odd Mojito or two too!

So that’s what I’ve been busying myself with this week on a mission to increase my vitamin D intake. I’m sure there’s more to it scientifically, but in my simplistic terms, I definitely think that exercise, colour, and sunshine have a big impact on how you feel.

I do, however, still have an element of brain fog at the moment, and I’m doing some really stupid things, much to everyone’s amusement. Generally I am very efficient, organised and ‘with it’……..but not this week. On Tuesday morning I made my packed lunch for work, promptly put it in the kitchen fridge at home instead of my work bag and then spent 15 minutes of my lunch break at work looking for it when it was still at home. Then, on Thursday, I got a lovely message from my friend Kathryn, who was texting to check I was ok, because we’ve known each other since we were tiny and she knows how efficient I am. She said thanks for sending Oliver (her son) a birthday card, but it wasn’t his birthday, and I’d already sent him a card in March when it was. So poor Oliver S. whose birthday it was got no card and a grovelling apology 2 days after his birthday, and Oliver W has had two cards. We’ve had such a giggle about it, and I’m sure she’ll not let me forget, but at least I’m laughing about it.

I’ve even started a Monday night movement class for ladies of a certain age! Yes, seriously! I never thought it would come to this. I could do a whole post on this, and it really is a good laugh. Just picture it…..it’s a fantastic group of fun loving ladies around 50 years old, who do just over an hour of yoga and pilates aimed at women ‘coddiwompling’ along to their ‘second spring’ (as the yoga instructor calls it). I’m still stuck somewhere between autumn and winter at the moment, but nevermind, I’ll take her word for the fact that my second spring is on the way! We are all trying to balance our minds and bodies, avoid ‘bingo wings’ (Yorkshire for those flabby upper arms) and resist the urge to wee our pants when we laugh, so all our movements are tailored to achieving this. We have such a good laugh, and last Monday, I actually tied myself into a knot I could not get out of whilst getting cramp in my toes at the same time! So if you are young and reading this , this is what a night out looks like at 52! No, seriously, this is just Monday nights, there are still many nights that involve the odd tipple and other exciting things that would constitute growing old disgracefully, including a fast approaching Arctic Monkeys gig in two weeks which I’m so excited about but more on that later!

So if like me you are coddiwompling along and looking to boost your wellbeing I recommend rolling around on the floor at least one night a week tying yourself in a knot, gardening, sunshine, whatever colour takes your fancy and makes you feel good, fish and chips and ice cream. A little bit of them all, but not at the same time, and you will feel perfectly balanced.

This weekend was a lovely sunny quiet weekend with lots of time for resting and reading. Both mornings involved a little run in the countryside at home first thing though, as a run just sets me up for the day. It wakes me up, releases all that adrenalin, empties my mind and allows me to be in the moment and really appreciate the important things in life. It also allows me to burn off some calories to partake in one of my other favourite activities, eating! I am sure if I did not run I would be at least twice the size that I am.

However, my runs are normally eventful and something usually happens on every run that stops me in my tracks and makes me think, and this weekend was no different!

Run number one on Saturday morning was around the nearby village of Bradfield and Dale Dyke Dam. A lovely 9 miles of pure beautifulness. Up and off early, no make-up, not a care in the world and I even forgot to brush my hair. Sunshine, lambs, moors, a traffic jam of sheep, streams, pretty villages and daffodils………………a gorgeous hour and a half to set me up for the rest of the day of relaxation!

Bradfield is a lovely little village. Very pretty, a few cafes and the area’s best brewery! I recommend the Farmers Blonde, Brown Cow and Belgian Blue…… I’ve sampled them all, but those 3 are my favourites. There is a lot of history here too, some of it not so happy. It is home to Dale Dyke Dam which when being filled for the first time on 11th March 1864 developed a crack in its embankment and burst. Three million cubic metres of water swept through the village and down the valley, flooding 4,000 homes and killing 240 people in what is known as The Sheffield Flood. Fortunately the dam is stable today and is so peaceful and beautiful you would never guess what went before.

Anyway, what happened today? Well, something that really amused me. I’m interested in people. I love to chat and learn about different peoples’ perspectives on life, interests, and, well, just people in general. So earlier that week, I had been interviewing for a post at work with one of my school Governors. In between candidates, we were having a good old chatter. He was talking to me all about spirituality and manifestation. Which led me to ask, “What’s manifestation?” Because I’m not really into that sort of stuff. Now, I’m a bit of a black and white sort of girl, I don’t do fuzzy grey areas. If there’s no scientific basis that you can show me that proves something, I’m not going to believe you and am very unlikely to buy into an idea. I’m a scientist and mathematician, show me the proof. I’ve never had my cards read or fortune told, I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that. So he went on to explain manifestation to me. He basically explained it as the process where you visualise your desires and think aspirational thoughts with the purpose of making them real, and they will become real. Then he went on to give me a couple of examples of his own. Now, I was sceptical. My argument was that there was more than spirituality about it. You might have the thought, but surely it’s the action that you take which makes it come true, nothing else. For example, I’m a doer, not a going to do sort of person. If I desire something I find out what I need to do to achieve it and get on and do it, taking lots of small steps if needed. That’s what I’ve done all my life. I’m not manifesting, I’m just ‘doing’, because I’m a motivated and driven sort of person. There’s nothing spiritual about it, it’s down to the action. Surely you can think all you like, but without the action it’s not going to happen is it??

So there I was running along. It was hot, I was thirsty as I hadn’t taken water with it being a relatively short run. At numerous times during the run I had visualisations and thoughts about ice cream……..I often do! I wanted one so much to cool me down. Mr Whippy with chocolate flake, Solero ice lolly, my favourite pistacchio flavour gelato………any really, I just wanted an ice cream and had decided it would be my reward when I got home. I would call in the supermarket on my way back home and get an ice cream. Anyway, a visit to the supermarket was not required and this is why. I manifested an ice cream van!!!!! Yes, I got back to my Mini, and parked right next to it was Monty’s ice cream van. Well, I just could not stop laughing to myself. I’m still not sold on the idea and am putting it entirely down to coincidence but it did make me laugh and will have great pleasure in relaying the story to said Governor next week about how I actually manifested an ice cream van. You make your own mind up, but to me, that’s coincidence, not manifestation!

So that was the high of this weekend’s running. Now, for the low which literally did stop me in my tracks!

I’ve signed up with running club to be in a 10 man team to run the Barnsley Boundary Relay race. The race takes place on the route of the Barnsley Boundary Path, which forms a big circular route around the countryside of the town. It’s a 73-mile long, mainly off-road, trail route, and it is split into 10 legs with it being run like a relay. Duly assigned to leg 3 of just over 7 miles, I thought I better go and do a little recce on Sunday morning as this leg is right at the other side of town to home, and I have never run around there. I could see from the map that there were lots of places where wrong turnings could be made in fields so my plan was and is to run leg 3 a few times before the day of the race and commit it to memory, so that on race day I can just run, without a map, and hopefully not go wrong as my worst nightmare would be letting the team down.

I was very pleasantly surprised and it started well. The start is a bit industrial but you are soon out in the open countryside and it was much prettier than I thought it would be. I only took a few wrong turns which I’ll hopefully remember next time. There were cows, woods, pretty villages, bluebells (I love these) and fields full of rapeseed flowers. The latter was a bit of an issue as the route goes straight through the middle of a field of it and I am so allergic to it in terms of hayfever. I paid for it half an hour later and the rest of the afternoon so antihistamines will be required on the day!

However, shortly after the rapeseed field it all went slightly wrong as I fell down! I am so clumsy! There I was running through a dark wood on a little path. It all happened so quickly, one minute I was upright the next I was laid face down in the mud. I’d tripped up over an old metal fence post that was stuck up about three centimetres, camouflaged on the path. My second most spectacular face plant ever! Not quite as spectacular as my last one which needed a hospital visit and stitches, but impressive nonetheless and would definitely have got me a penalty on a football pitch. I flew through the air for a couple of metres and just lay there in shock for a moment wondering what on earth had happened. It had been raining the day before and was muddy so I had mud all up both legs, all over my skort, all up my arm and hands, in my hair…….everywhere!! So there was blood, sweat……but no tears. I did feel like crying because ouch, it hurt. You don’t bounce as well at 52 as you do at 12, but I put a brave face on and ran the last 3 miles. So now, I’m nursing a lovely black swollen knee. So the recce was worthwhile. Lessons learned: turn left not right at the first set of steps one mile in; take antihistamines before; beware of the fencepost sticking out of the path in the second wood!!

So there you go, the highs and lows of this weekend’s running, manifestation and clumsiness. So, how did I replace my calories this weekend, other than ice cream? No cake treats this weekend you’ll be surprised to know. After two afternoons of rest and relaxation the evening was an out to dinner night to try a new restaurant at Bradfield. Chicken liver parfait followed by seabass with chorizo, blistered cherry tomatoes, sauteed potatoes and lemon caper beurre blanc……………………………oh my, it was delicious! So good that I could not fit dessert in, which is most unusual for me.

Unexpectedly, this turned out to be a lovely weekend.

While the rest of the nation whipped themselves into a King’s Coronation frenzy, I have to admit it had largely passed me by! There are a couple of reasons for this. Firstly, I’ve been so very, very busy at work. I had not even had time to think about the extended weekend or what I was going to do until it was suddenly upon me. Secondly, I’m not very patriotic. I’m not anti royalist or anything like that. I neither love them nor hate them, I don’t have strong feelings either way. And I’m very patriotic to my county, Yorkshire, there is nowhere finer. But I’m not very British.

In theory, I know I am British, but in practice, I’m not. We are very fortunate to live in a democracy and to be able to be exactly what we want to be, and on the 31st January 2020, I became European and Yorkshire. I don’t harp on about Brexit, and I don’t have a problem with anyone who voted for it, I’ve let all that go. I just don’t identify with lots of the characteristics of what today’s Britain looks like to me. Characteristics like greed, selfishness, lack of compassion, individualism, loss of community, sense of entitlement, consumerism, a divided society, and a lack of respect for the world we live in. That’s why usually, as soon as I have a break from work, I’m on an aeroplane out of here, I can’t wait to see the back of it for a few days or weeks.

So when I was asked numerous times at work, “What are you doing this Saturday for the Coronation?” I thought, “Oh, perhaps I should be doing something. ” Then I had another thought………..my Grandma Kathleen and the china tea set! I suddenly thought, “Gosh, Grandma will be turning in her grave and be so cross with me.” Now Grandma, bless her, was the Royal Family’s hugest fan. There would have been bunting, baking, celebrations and the china tea set. I remember quite clearly the 6th February 1977, going with Grandma when I was aged five, to Halifax Road in Thurgoland and standing rigid for hours, waiting in the freezing cold, for the two seconds that the Queen was driven past on her Silver Jubilee tour of the UK. I remember the hat I made and everything about it. I also have very fond memories of Christmas Day afternoons at Grandma and Grandad’s when lunch had to be finished, pots washed and everyone had to be seated, in silence, in front of the TV for 3pm to listen to the Queen’s speech. Grandma was a very quiet, elegant lady and the only time I ever saw her get cross was when Grandad spoke during the Queen’s speech, which I still swear to this day he did on purpose every year.

Anyway, I am now the very proud custodian of the fine bone china tea set, and I thought she’d be so very disappointed if it wasn’t got out and used for the Coronation. So, I thought I’ll just get that out, and I’ll make an English Cream tea to celebrate the Coronation and then that’s me done with it.

So Saturday morning was spent baking my scones whilst watching Rishi delivering his reading on my mobile phone in the kitchen. I have to admit I did watch the whole of the 2 hours of the Coronation, mainly because I wanted to see what everyone was wearing. It was a very grand affair and very impressive to watch and it was lovely to see the nation coming together for once to celebrate something. I did actually secretly enjoy it.

I did something really quite funny though and was asked why I did it and I could not explain why I’d done it other than, “because that’s the way Grandma would have wanted it.” Despite there being no visitors planned, I got the whole tea set out, put sugar in the sugar bowl (I don’t take sugar), filled the milk jug up and made a full tea pot of tea in my Royal Doulton tea pot. I then laid it all out on the table with the clotted cream, strawberries, homemade strawberry jam, and the full works. I have to admit I did have more than a cream tea for one, though. I may have also eaten the cream tea of a few more as those scones were just delicious.

Oh, and I did do another thing that gives me away as being British. I like stripes in my lawn like at Wimbledon so I cut my grass and my lawn stripes did vaguely resemble those on the Buckingham Palace garden at the parade, mine may have been straighter.

So, with everywhere closed for the day, me being full of cream tea, and it being a lovely sunny day I thought I’d go for a little wander around my village to spy something else very British. It was a beautiful afternoon stroll, and what was going to be a quick walk took me hours. It’s so much better when you walk slowly and take it all in. I stopped to just sit numerous times and saw so much that I just would not have seen had I been rushing. I’ll share some lovely pictures of what I saw.

First stop was my favourite bench two minutes walk from home. I sit for hours on here. Just look at the view and the clouds. This has to be my favourite time of year, so green and so many flowers.

Another thing I like about this time of year is baby animals. I can’t believe how quickly they grow though. This little lamb was tiny two weeks ago and was wobbling about, barely able to stand. I’ve run past it almost every day, and now it’s almost a sheep. It bears no resemblance to two weeks ago. It’s lost it’s pretty look, I think sheep are quite ugly things when they get past the fluffy lamb stage.

Then I got lost in another of my favourite places……..the wood. Well, when I say lost, I’m not actually lost. I know roughly where I am, but I spend hours in here. It’s huge and I like nothing better than a wood and this one at home, in particular, is spectacular. And you have to come this exact week of the year. One week on either side and you have missed them ……………. the English Bluebells. If you want to see them in all their glory, there is nowhere better than this, but blink, and you’ll miss them as they are only this good for a matter of days.

It’s funny, you are never far from the reality of the modern world, but on a day like this, even the railway line through the village looks pretty.

I like to use all my senses and I love the smell of spring too, despite the fact that I get hayfever. That smell of pollen and cut grass I find so soothing. I also have a strange fondness for the smell of cow manure which friends find most bizarre. I don’t know whether it reminds me of Yorkshire and home, I’m not quite sure, or whether if just reaffirms that I’m in the countryside, one of my happy places, but for me the smell of cow manure is a positive smell, not a horrid one. Another smell I love, from the bottom wood below the railway line, is that of wild garlic. Such pretty white star like flowers and when you brush past it on the way to the stile its aroma wafts all around you.

It’s not just about Wild Garlic and Bluebells either. There was an abundance of Greater Stitchwort, Brunnera, Cellandine, Buttercups and Cherry Blossom. It was just beautiful.

Then I spotted the daisies. These always make me smile. They remind me of school and PE on the playing fields. Spring was ’rounders’ and ‘cricket’ time and once you’d had your turn and had been caught or run out there was not much to do other than make a daisy chain necklace or lay about in the grass working out, using that very reliable daisy, whether he ‘loves me or loves me not’, plucking off one petal at a time repeating the phrase until the final petal remained.

Then the wildlife. Look what I spotted. Not the greatest photo and a bit out of focus, but it kept flitting about and really did not want its photo taking, a Peacock butterfly.

Then it was out of the woods and back home via the Wagonway. This is your bit of history for the day. The village and surrounding area was built upon the coal mines. Coal mining, along with agriculture, were the main industries in the area. The Wagonway was built in the 1790’s and was a narrow gauge industrial railway which was used to transport coal from the village mine to the Calder and Hebble Navigation Canal in Wakefield for onward transportation. The coal wagons were pulled along by horses, on rails which sat on stone block sleepers, the horses walking in the middle of the two rails. The rails were taken up and sold in the late 19th century when the railway ceased to be used but the stone block sleepers remain and form part of a village heritage trail as can be seen in the picture below.

Then my last little treat of the day was my chance encounter with these lovelies on my way through the field which adjoins my house. Now for anyone not too fond of cows this would be terrifying but as long as they don’t have horns I’m fine. Young boys will be boys and cows are no exception, this lot just wanted to play. A field of young bullocks, so very excited to have a human play mate. The main thing to remember is DO NOT RUN! If you run they will think you are engaging in play and will run with you, at you and everywhere. Just stand still, wave your arms about and make a bit of noise and they will come to a halt. They will not stop until they are very, very close though so if you don’t like them it does take a bit of nerve, but they were beautiful, so inquisitive.

This one was my favourite. He insisted on following me all the way up the field licking the leg of my jeans. My leg was wet through.

Almost home, but just couldn’t resist a quick half of beer in the local pub (the local pub being another British institution) where Charles was waiting for me for a photo opportunity now I’ve been promoted to Queen.

All in all, a lovely Coronation Day before I switched back to being European on Sunday.

Yes that’s right! I’ve been in trouble with the Police.

Now I’m one of those people who has always hated getting into trouble, I’m such a good girl. I was always star pupil at school, the girl with the pigtails in her hair in the choir, the one with the pretty dress and the knee high socks, quiet, shy, you know the one I mean. The worst thing I ever did was get caught hiding in the ditch, walking, in school cross country. It’s only as I get older that I realise I’ve perhaps missed out on being the rebel and I’ve become quite outspoken and adventurous. I think I’m making up for lost time.

This wasn’t a deliberate attempt to get in trouble with the law enforcement, but I’m finding more and more that I’m getting into trouble without trying, and it quite often involves my misuse of technology or running. Well this was nearly the ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’ as we say and involved both those things, running and my phone. My boys know absolutely nothing about this and if they find out I will never ever live this down. There is a silver lining to this story though so sit tight, it was all worthwhile in the end, even if the policeman did shout at me so loudly I cried.

So what have I been doing………..lots and lots of running. I had this crazy idea that I would enter the Penistone club running championship in the V50 female class. That involves running a minimum of 12 races this year out of a very long list to choose from. 3 road, 3 cross country and 3 fell races must be run as a minimum, and your best 3 scores in each category are those put forward, but you can run more if you want. Once I set my mind to something, I’m on a mission. Anyway, before I tell you about my mishap, and progress so far, here’s something that made me giggle. I have a bit of an obsession with shoes and this made me smile.

It made me smile because Johnny has competition! I know just how Johnny feels, I swear on my life they are all different and I’ve a way to go before I catch Johnny up! There are some for road, some for trail and some for fell. Some well worn, some newer, but they all live in their boxes and are cleaned when they get dirty. There’s a bit of brand loyalty on the running shoe front going on too!

I love shoes! And these are just the running shoes. If you want to know what a person is like you only need to look at two or three things, their eyes, their shoes and their smile. You can tell so much from eyes and smiles but the shoes tell the full story. Now modern technology is good. I’ve never been on a dating website but I can see the benefit. If I were looking for the ideal man I could not be bothered with all this looking for a needle in a haystack and kissing a thousand frogs before you find your prince. I haven’t got the time or patience. I can seriously understand why people just cut to the chase and go on these websites. I would want an extremely good advanced filter mechanism on there though, and am convinced I could get the shortlist down from hundreds to single figures with a few clicks of the mouse, I’m a bit choosy, and shoes would have to be one of the filters. Nice, well kept shoes are a must. Dirty shoes are a definite no! Pay attention to the type of shoe too. Sliders…………no…………he’s either too young for you or he’s having a midlife crisis if he’s got plastic sports sliders on. Anyway I digress. Running shoes sorted and championship entered, I’ve been doing lots of running. Three races in the last two weeks, one in each category.

It’s all about small steps though. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep chipping away at it. First up Herod Farm, the fell race. This will teach me not to look too closely at what I’ve entered. This nearly killed me. “It’s only just over 3 miles”, I thought, easy! Yes, three miles with 1,211 feet of ascent! It was an almost vertical mile and a bit up and an almost vertical mile and a bit down with an itsy bitsy tiny bit of flat on the top. I forgot my buff so my hair was in a race all of its own and I ran for three and a bit miles not being able to see where I was going, finishing 149 out of 162. It was a disaster, but I kept going and finished!

Anyway. I always say to my boys if you get knocked down 7 times just make sure you get up 8. So practicing what I preach, there I was a few days after for round 2. The Higham Hurtle. Now this went much better. This is the cross country one, so I’m in my comfort zone. Give me undulating ups and downs, fields, trails, water, and I’m in running heaven. 5 miles of beautifulness, loads of Strava best efforts, a PB for the mile at 7:46 and half mile at 3:40. Third V50 female and a respectable 44th out of 96 runners. I was buzzing.

That was until I got back to the car and checked my telephone which had been in my running waist belt. There was my voicemail from a very shouty and irate Detective Constable something or other from South Yorkshire Police telling me to stop ringing the emergency number and hanging up and if I really did need emergency police assistance could I please call back on this number. “What on earth is he talking about?”, I thought. I was then horrified to check my phone to discover I had rung the ‘999’ emergency response number 7 times in the space of 6 minutes while racing. The police had then proceeded to text me 3 times and finished by calling me and leaving a voicemail which ended by him saying “we think you might be running”.

I don’t know what made me feel worse. The fact I’d called ‘999’ seven times or the fact that the whole emergency control room had heard me puffing and panting my way around the Higham Hurtle. They finally managed to contact me and I explained that I had absolutely no idea how it had happened, my phone must have been pressed that tight against my body that the screen lock swiped and the emergency call button must have been pressed 7 times over the space of those 6 minutes. I apologised profusely, confirmed I was alive and well, but nevertheless I got a big telling off and felt so small. I’ve decided that my phone will not be coming will me on races where there are plenty of people to pick me up if I fall. It will only come with me when I’m running remotely on my own and it will be safely turned off unless needed. I absolutely cannot let my two boys know about this. They already think I’m dangerous out on my own in charge of a vehicle or mobile technology and this will just confirm all their suspicions about me being a bit of a liability when on my own.

Not wanting to be put off in my quest to be fastest female V50 I was there 6 days later for the Spencer’s Dash. Now this was a Thursday evening race. Not a good day of the week to race. I’ve done 4 full days with 330 children by this point in the week. And it’s a mainly road race and I don’t like running on tarmac. I was exhausted before the start of the race. Anyway, it went ok. I remembered my buff, had a good run and got a second fastest mile. I did look 82 not 52 at the end. But I did manage a smile, or was it a grimace, at the end to the two lovely gents shouting ‘Come on Penistone’ and ‘Well Done Love’ as I literally limped to the finish line after someone in their infinite wisdom stuck a huge hill in the last half mile.

Anyway, the silver lining! The interim results are out for the club championship now the first race in each category has been run and scored. And who is sitting in first V50 female position and third in the whole club………………..oh, gosh, it’s ME!!!!!!!!! You’ve just got to be in it to win it! I’m just going to keep turning up to as many races as possible, putting one 52 year old foot in front of the other, keep eating my body weight in carbs, cake and ice cream and just keep myself out of bother with the police, and what can possibly go wrong!?

But there’s always someone who will rain on your parade isn’t there, or as we say in Yorkshire ‘piss on your bonfire’…………..and my two are just experts at this. I thought, “I know what I’ll do, I’ll send them a screen shot of the club league table with their own dear Mother in third place. They’ll be so proud.” These are the responses I got:

George by the way is currently the very fast 5 minute mile runner in first place. I doubt very much he will be sweating with me in third place! It’s nice to know however, how much faith my boys have in my running ability. “How’s that happened then?” and “How are you 3rd?”. No sign of a “Well done Mother, we are so proud of you.” Neither do they know how much trouble I’ve got myself into with the police in pursuit of super stardom.

I could be put off by my mishaps, and stay indoors, but no, I’m going to keep going one step at a time. This could be a real life version of the hare and the tortoise! Watch this space, make way, old lady coming through! So the messages in this post are: your never too old; keep going one step at a time; getting knocked down is ok, just make sure you get up again; and DO NOT run with a mobile phone tightly packed in a waist belt. Onwards and upwards!

No, he’s not my new man, he’s a boat! And a very fine canal barge he is too. He is newly painted green and red with his name on the front and is very beautiful. He has a full kitchen, comfy seats, and a flushing toilet. What more do you want or need.

I was trying to think of something relaxing and restful to do with a 20 year old after exerting myself on the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge at Easter. You both want to spend time together but your idea of fun can be a world away from theirs at this age as you have different ideas of a good day out. Mine normally involves movement , exercise, and fresh air. His involves as little movement as possible and an over indulgence in alcohol. So a compromise had to be found.

Anyway, this one was a success. I hired a canal barge for the day. His name was Ben and I’m in love.

We drove to Skipton to collect him and spent the full day pootling up and down the Leeds to Liverpool canal.

Said offspring was in charge of the boat and brought his able assistant along in the form of his girlfriend – his real one, not the one he is growing in the jar of water.

What did I do? NOTHING! I sat on the bow like Kate Winslet in the ‘Titantic’ film with a cup of tea and a book all day, it was wonderful, partly because I’m still a little stiff, well not a little, a lot, as it was only two days after the Three Peaks. Oh, I did make the crew a bacon sandwich down in the galley, and I did buy the drinks at the canal side pub we moored up at – that was the alcohol compromise. But I did make them get off the boat to operate all the swing bridges.

It was an extremely enjoyable restful day with me being chauffeured for a change. The canal was quiet with it being a week day, the sun was shining and we saw so much wildlife. The skippering was first class, much better than I would have been, and no wildlife or other boats were harmed on our inaugural canal barge sailing trip. All in all a lovely family day out on the beautiful Leeds to Liverpool canal.

This was a tough one, but it really is Yorkshire at its finest!

I last walked this over ten years ago and it was hard then. How I came to do it again is beyond me as I distinctly remember saying last time that I was never ever doing it again. However, somehow you forget the pain and tears. There I was, school holidays, a perfectly sunny and clear day forecast, if not a little cold and windy, so I thought, “I know what I’ll do, I’ll do the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge.” I love being outdoors on days like this in places that offer complete solitude.

So what is the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge? It’s a 24 mile (38.6km) route which includes 5,200 feet of ascent, summiting three of Yorkshire’s finest and highest mountains Pen-y-Ghent (723 metres), Whernside (736 metres) and Ingleborough (723 metres). It’s absolutely jaw droppingly beautiful. To complete the challenge you must do the route inside 12 hours.

First up, Pen-y-Ghent, quite possibly my favourite, although I do like Ingleborough. It was a tough little early morning climb. This one involves a bit of scrambling around, but within about an hour or two you are up at the top and summit number one is conquered.

It’s then a long way down the other side and almost a 10 mile trek to the next summit which is Whernside. The countryside here is beautiful, lots of little streams, birds chirping, fields full of Easter lambs and a nice flat section where it was possible to do that little bit of running. The sun came out, the jacket was off and it was glorious.

Then you cross a number of boggy bits and a stream before you reach the road and the mighty Ribblehead Viaduct. This is one of my favourite parts of the walk. The viaduct carries the Settle to Carlisle railway line. It is a beautiful Grade II listed structure and is the longest structure on this line. It was designed by John Sydney Crossley and started in 1870, opening in 1875. It has 24 spans and required a 2,300 strong workforce to build. It was a challenging task, in tough terrain and over 100 men lost their lives during its construction. You cannot entirely comprehend when taking in its size how it was constructed primarily with manual labour.

Then it is time to press on up Whernside. I don’t like this one! It goes on for ever and ever, is the tallest mountain of the day, is unbelievably windy, as you’ll see on the video, and is just a bit bland. But summit number two was reached, very slowly, and my smile was not quite as big as on reaching summit number one, I was frozen due to the wind chill.

Then finally as the sun was starting to drop in the sky, the long trek up number three, Ingleborough. I like the climb up this one almost as much as Pen-y-Ghent. The summit of this one is completely flat like a moonscape. Being the tallest mountain on the west side of the country you can see all the way over to the coast and the sea from the top. I’ve re-gained my smile as it’s the last peak of the day……..only six miles back to the start now.

Then it was off back down to the start. Mission accomplished! There was a lot less running than I thought there would be but a very respectable time of 8 hours and 40 minutes, a full 2 hours quicker than my 40 year old legs carried me last time. I burnt off over 3,000 calories so had great pleasure in replacing them over the following few days, and I didn’t cry so that was a result! 😂 Yes, that’s right, last time I cried all the way down Ingleborough I was in that much pain and by the time I got to the end I was being held up by a fellow walker. This time I made it all the way around, on my own two feet without one tear or tantrum. I was still hobbling around three days later but everything slowly started to get back to normal. Would I do it again?? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! If I ever, ever utter that I may do it again please stop me!!! But it was a beautiful day out in Gods own county.

I thought long and hard about posting this one but I actually think it delivers quite an important message, in amongst all the flower pictures from one of my happy places.

So what have I being doing this very weekend……..well I’ve been falling apart actually. So I’ve been to a happy place in search of three of the things that cheer me up – flowers, food and sunshine. I’ll tell you about where I’ve been in a minute with lots of lovely photos interspersed throughout, but none of me this weekend, as I actually do look like I’m falling apart, a bit like a panda having a bad hair day. Think dark circles, no sleep and a bit fraught looking. The trouble is these days, “I’m not OK”, is just something we don’t say often enough. There’s a stigma to not being Ok, particularly in the UK, and Yorkshire in particular. We are supposed to be tough! How many times has someone said to you, “Are you OK?” and you have said “Yes” when the real answer is “No I’m falling apart, can you just hug me for a minute while I cry on your shoulder.”

So what have I been doing this weekend. I’ve been doing exactly what I’m telling you not to do and telling everyone I’m ok when I’ve been falling apart, avoiding everyone and anyone and crying uncontrollably to myself in random places.

So, don’t believe everyone when they say they are ok, they might not be. We all look at things on social media and think what a perfect life someone has. But what you can’t see is everything else that’s going on in their life. You could use this blog as an example. If you look through it you would probably think I am a cross between the world’s greatest cake and pastry chef, a fit at 52 running machine and adventure junkie, and someone who swans around drinking cocktails and going out for lunch. What you don’t see is all the other, for want of a better word, ‘shit’ that goes on in the life of the Yorkshire Girl, and I’m sure the lives of most other people on the planet, which I’m continually keeping myself busy to avoid confronting, and well, quite frankly, this weekend it has really got me down and I’ve crumbled and sunk alone.

Facebook is another prime example, don’t believe anything that’s on there. I don’t post on there that often and have a very small select ‘friends’ group. I’ll update my profile pictures every now and again like I have done this weekend and I’ll send birthday messages, like I did last week to my youngest son, as Facebook seems to be the only way you can communicate with the younger generation these days. Otherwise I just use it to follow groups I’m in relating to running, adventure sports and other interests. On my profile picture update it looks like I’m having a lovely evening with my two boys, and I was, and of course that’s the message that I give to those that see. What you can’t see is that at that moment that photo was taken I also felt like being at home, in my PJ’s crying into a hot chocolate with a packet of digestive biscuits.

So why do we say we are OK? I think it because we are scared of the response we will get if we say we aren’t and we don’t want to be a burden to anyone. We are supposed to be the strong one who carries everyone else. We are scared we will be seen as weak, not being able to cope or worst of all you could get the response I got from my mother on Friday when I fell apart and actually said I was not ok…………..”Pull yourself together!”. Whatever you do, do not say that to someone! It’s really not helpful. The fact that they have told you they are not ok probably means they have tried to pull themself together and can’t see the way, they are looking to you for a hug, an ear to listen and a bit of direction as they see you as being the one person they can turn to. It’s at moments like that, I wish I had a sister.

I remember being on the Camino and I reached a café in a small hamlet just before a place called Carrion de los Condes. Outside sat a French man. I would guess he was in his early 60’s and he was sobbing uncontrollably. Instinctively, I asked him if he was OK and gave him a hug. He assured me he was fine (which could have been a good thing as my French is very rusty) and that was that. Then I saw him later that evening, much more composed by now, and he actually came to speak to me (in English) to thank me and tell me how much that hug meant at that moment. I have no idea what his name was or anything else about him, why he was crying, nothing, but what I learnt from that was that a small act of kindness goes a long way.

So the challenge for you this week is to ask someone if they are ok and give them a hug, they might just need it.

My challenge to myself for this week is to “Pull myself together!” No, I’m joking. The words a lady who I met on the Camino gave me were “If from today I do not continue walking on my path, searching far and living according to what I have learned on this journey, I have arrived nowhere.” I’ve no idea where these words are from but they are wise words. So this week I am going to continue walking my path, even though I have no idea where it’s going, crying uncontrollably when I feel like it (but hopefully not all over my papers at work), challenge myself to say “No I’m not ok” if anyone asks me, and try to start to make sense of all the ‘shit’, as it’s about time I did. This is really not like me, I’m very smiley, strong and happy 99% of the time but I believe absolutely every one of us has days like these, even if we don’t admit it. It just feels like I’m surrounded by a huge broken jigsaw right now. All of these random pieces of different puzzles. The task is to be brave, work out which parts of the puzzle I need to keep, which parts I need to address, which parts I need to discard, and then work out how it all fits together again. Easy…………………not!

So where have I been. Well, I’ve sobbed my way around Sheffield Botanical Gardens in search of flowers and sunshine and the pictures are of all the lovely flowers I found . Half of them don’t have titles as I’ve no idea what they are but they did succeed in making me smile through my tears. Enjoy!

The gardens are amazing and for me they are one of the treasures of Sheffield. They are maintained by Sheffield City Council and are free to wander around. There are over 5,000 species of plants in 19 acres of parkland. Designed by Robert Marnock and opened in 1836 they contain a spectacular Grade II listed glass pavilion, restored in 2003 and containing tropical plants from all over the world.

I had not been here for ages and had forgotten how lovely it was. It was one of my go-to places in the summer of my maternity leave 20 years ago. I pushed that pram around there for miles getting my son to sleep and then collapsing on a bench to read my book with a coffee.

So that was the flowers and sunshine bit. Not too far away is Bragazzi Italian delicatessen and café, one of my favourites, so I had a flat white, lovely warm focaccia sandwich with Italian ham, melted scamorza cheese, San Marzano tomatoes, basil and olive oil. It was delicious!

And the other good thing to come out of the weekend is that the first crop of rhubarb is ready so it will be a lovely rhubarb crumble later!

So don’t forget, ask someone if they are ok, give them a hug and whatever you do don’t tell them to “pull yourself together”.