Author: jl.boreham

This was a really special adventure. It was beautiful, challenging, magical in the snow, an achievement but also very sad too. It was a day of really mixed emotions.

There are not many winter days like this in Yorkshire when you have thick snow on the peaks but glorious blue sky and sunshine at the same time, but last Saturday was one of those very rare days.

You will have worked out by now that I love hiking, I love mountains and I love snow (when I’ve not got to drive to work in it). I live on the very edge of the northern Peak District which straddles the counties of Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Cheshire and Staffordshire. The Peak District is a huge expanse split into the Dark Peak in the North where I am based, which gets its name from its geological formation from dark coloured gritstone, and the White Peak a little further South named because of its paler coloured limestone geology.

Just 20 minutes from me in the Dark Peak is the very bleak, isolated moorland, aptly called Bleaklow. It is over 2000 feet above sea level and is a huge plateau of peat covered gritstone. It lacks any changes in elevation. It is completely flat and has huge channels in the peat which you walk along. It’s a bit like a huge flat maze once you get up on the top of the moor and into the channels. In poor conditions, off the path, it is the most difficult traverse in the Peak District as the cloud just hugs the top and because it is so vast and flat it’s just so difficult to get a navigational bearing because there is just nothing there.

In addition to being a really difficult area to traverse it also holds much bigger secrets and that’s what I went in search of today. It is known as the UK’s biggest aircraft graveyard. There have been no less than 173 aircraft accidents in the Peak District, a large number on Bleaklow. At 1437 km² that’s almost one every 8km² compared to only 128 in the whole of Scotland which is 77,910 km².

What makes it even sadder and more eerie is the fact that due to the lie of the land, although the bodies were eventually recovered, the aircraft wreckage still remains in a lot of cases, as it would just be too difficult to reclaim it from such a bleak, isolated destination.

Now this is a story of ‘third time lucky’. I’ve been up here before on two previous occasions and never made it to the wreckage sites. I’ve lost my nerve both times when the cloud came in and I’ve turned back. All you have to help you find the wreckage is an Ordinance Survey Map grid reference. They are not on a footpath, there are no large signs, no directional arrows, just nothing for miles. It’s a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack and you completely lose your signal on any electronic devices up there so they are of no use at all to assist.

I’m not sure why exactly I have always wanted to get to the wrecks. I guess I just like to learn the history of things and try and understand. I know it’s going to make me sad, just like all those other war related sites I’ve visited, but I just have to go in search of them, pay my respects and understand.

There are three major aircraft wreck sites in a radius of a couple of miles and I wanted to try and find all three. I parked up in the small town of Old Glossop to climb the very steep hill which leads to the top of Shelf Moor and Bleaklow. It put my new coat to the test because although there wasn’t much snow at the bottom, as I climbed higher and higher it just got thicker and thicker and it was freezing cold. I was well layered though in my ski thermals and a number of other layers. I managed to stay snug as a bug in a rug and pressed on. I’d remembered my poles fortunately but it still felt like one step forwards and two backwards in the snow. You could tell in places, no-one else had passed that way for days, since it snowed earlier in the week, as sometimes there were no fresh tracks in the snow, just those of the mountain hare who looked to have been the only living thing up there.

Once up onto the jutting out section of hillside known as James Thorn it was time to look for wreck number one. It took ages to find it but eventually the single stone monument could be seen sticking out of the ground. This is one of the smaller wreckage sites and not the big one I had mainly come to find, but its sad story made me want to seek it out nonetheless. This is the wreckage of Lancaster Bomber KB993. It took off from Linton on Ouse near York on the 18th May 1945 with 6 men on board. It was a Canadian Airforce plane and had a Canadian goose emblazoned on the side and the words ‘For Freedom’. Ironically the war in Europe had ended just 10 days before this tragic event and preparations were being made back in Canada for the welcoming home of the squadron on 20th May 1945. Unfortunately, these 6 men never made it home. They were just on a routine exercise practicing take-offs and landings. It is thought that they got a bit bored and decided to take a circular tour over the Peak District. Darkness fell and with no navigator on board to warn them of the height of the hillside, the plane struck the side of James Thorn at around 10pm that night, bursting into a ball of flame. Although the rear gunner lived for a short while after impact all 6 perished. Parts of the wreckage still remain along with a plaque bearing the names of the crew and a dedication to them. It really is sad when you are stood amongst it all.

Once you have found the first wreck the second is quite easy to find. It is only 200 yards from the first so once you have taken a bearing you are straight to it. This is the wreckage of a C47 Skytrain (Dakota) US Airforce plane which crashed just a few months later on 24th July 1945. There were a crew of 5 and 2 USAF passengers on board. It was flying from Leicester to Scotland on a routine supply trip. The first Lieutenant had been given an alternative flight path up the east coast and had been warned of bad weather over the Peak District. However, with a navigator on board they decided to take the more direct route over the high ground of the Peak District. They never made it to their destination and the wreckage was discovered two days later by two walkers. They thought they had discovered an old crash site, the Lancaster KB993 of a few months earlier, until they spotted someone they thought was asleep on the grass. It was only when they scrambled over the rest of the wreckage that they found the other passengers and crew, all dead, and realised it was a new crash site.

It was all really quite sad and by this time I needed a moment and was not sure I wanted to find the third site. It got to me more than I thought it would, they were so young. I’d taken my picnic and a flask of peppermint tea so after walking another mile or so onto the top of High Shelf Stones I clambered onto a rock to eat my lunch. It was actually very beautiful, and were it not for the fact that my trousers froze to the rock I could have stayed up there all day.

After lunch it only took me around 10 minutes to reach the site of the wreckage of what I’d really gone to find, the Superfortress 29 ‘Over Exposed’. It was every bit as moving as I thought it would be even though I felt a sense of achievement at having made it up there and finding it in the first place. This area is Woodhead and Edale Mountain Rescue Team’s worst nightmare. Someone in their infinite wisdom last summer put it on TikTok. Subsequently hundreds and hundreds of people completely unprepared (think flip flops, no waterproofs, no map and compass) thought it would be a good day trip. What followed were a few weeks of rescues and public appeals from Mountain Rescue not to go looking for the wrecks unless you could read a map and were fully equipped. So, if you are reading this and thinking it would be a good day out, it is, but just make sure you go prepared to get lost and be up there a while i.e., a good bit of food and drink, map, compass and some warm layers just in case.

This was a huge plane, enormous. It was another US Airforce plane and had previously been engaged in the Pacific as part of the Atomic Bomb unit which took part in the tests on Bikini Atoll in 1946. By the time it crashed on 3rd November 1948 it had been re-kitted as a photo reconnaissance plane. It was only flying a routine flight of what should have been 25 minutes from Scampton in Lincolnshire to Burtonwood USAF base in Warrington with a crew of 13 men. They were told they would experience broken cloud between 2000 and 4000 feet. It is assumed they tried to descended to below 2000 feet to get below the cloud but went crashing straight into the ground which at the summit of Bleaklow is 2077ft above sea level. When the plane failed to arrive as scheduled, an air search was commenced and the blazing wreckage was spotted high on the moor. A mountain rescue team was quickly despatched but it was clear when they arrived there was nothing they could do to save any of the 13 crew. The wreckage and bodies covered a wide area and although the following day the bodies were all found and stretchered off the moor, the wreckage remains. It’s not until you start wandering amongst the heather that you realise just how big the aircraft was. There is just so much wreckage: wheels; engines; undercarriage; side panels. I thought the first two sites were sad but this one is devastating. I think it’s just the sheer size of it. And this one is much higher up, the snow is much deeper, the terrain more challenging and to put it quite bluntly is just such a godforsaken place to die. It’s a well visited site though and they will never be forgotten. There is always a remembrance service up here for anyone daring to brave it in November, with the flying of the American flag, and people will often come up here to plant crosses and just to remember the service of all of the service men who have lost their lives up here in pursuit of our freedom. 122 of the 173 aircraft lost in the Peak District were military aircraft.

All in all it was an epic adventure, but one of very mixed emotions. It was very sad, but it was a beautiful day to visit and I was so glad I made it this time around. All that was left was to do the 5 mile return journey all the way back in the snow down to Old Glossop. I’ve decided 5 miles uphill is easier than 5 miles downhill in snow……..a sledge would have been better for the return. I got down just before dark and was so ready for my usual end of adventure refreshment. Now this being an epic adventure and feeling we needed a little toast to adventuring, a drink to drown sorrows and a dedication to those brave airmen I had no problem swapping my usual flat white coffee for a Raspberry Mojito! Well, come to think of it I have no problem swapping my coffee for a cocktail on any day of the week. Caught in the act again!

I have had two very busy weekends of adventuring. Last weekend I went to the seaside, yesterday I went on a really exciting, very big, amazing snowy adventure I need to tell you about and today I have been to Manchester. I’m exhausted. I’ve done so much adventuring, I’ve not had time to write about it. So, this is just a quick post and some pictures from today and I promise that in the calm of next week I will share with you what I’ve been up to over the last few weekends on my seaside and snowy adventures.

So today, a visit to the big city, Manchester! What for? To celebrate the Year of the Rabbit of course and the Lunar New Year. To say I don’t like New Year, this was good, I’ll make an exception for the Lunar New Year.

I think I’ve said before I’m not a city girl, I go to Manchester, Leeds or London when I need a girly shopping day, want to see a show or some other cultural museum visit, and then I’m happy to come home again. I like the countryside and nature. I do like a good street party though and Manchester and London have the biggest Lunar New Year celebrations in Europe. Each of the cities have their very own ‘Chinatown’ area and are home to a huge East Asian population. It’s a fantastic area to visit at any time of year as there are some amazing restaurants here: Vietnamese; Chinese; Japanese; Korean; Thai and lots more. I love Asian food, particularly Thai, so it’s always worth a visit.

I’ve also mentioned before that I love to learn about different cultures and their celebrations, and I love to join in. The Lunar New Year marks the beginning of the lunisolar calendar year whose months are cycles of the moon. The date changes every year but the East Asian Lunar new year is always on the new moon that falls between 21 January and 20 February. The main celebrations this year are today, 22nd January. So off to Manchester I went in search of a street party.

I went on the train so it was a bit of an adventure as I don’t normally travel by train. There is a good reason for me travelling to Manchester by train. I’m not proud of it but I’ll admit it, I have been banned by the household from taking the car to Manchester on my own. I may have told you that I am a bit of a daydreamer and not always fully aware of what’s going on around me. I think it an age and hormone thing, like brain fog (that’s my excuse anyway). But to cut a long story short the last two times I have been to Manchester alone in the car I have received a £60 fine each time for driving straight down a bus lane! I swear it’s not very well signed and I can definitely blame the sat nav for one occasion but according to everyone at home I’m just not safe to be let out in a city in a car on my own! So, train it was today, in my new hat which according to the household has not been in fashion since Abba won the Eurovision with ‘Waterloo’ in 1974 when Anni-Frid wore a blue one! I could seriously fall out with them sometimes, but warmth was my priority today.

Anyway, it was fantastic. It was loud, it was busy, it was colourful, there were fire crackers going off everywhere and there was the hugest parade going the full length of the city with a 175ft dragon accompanied by drums and traditional lion and ribbon dancers. There were street entertainers, traditional street food vendors, music and just a really good atmosphere and celebration. I ate, I drank and just generally had a really good time soaking up the carnival atmosphere. I just need a rest now to recover from all my exploits and tell you what else I’ve been up to so watch this space!

Oh, and on a separate note, I’ve returned home to an empty house……………..they’ve gone! Back to University! A day of double celebrations, the Lunar New Year and the grand student depart. I just need to get my rubber gloves on and tackle two bedrooms and a bathroom next week. I’m secretly missing them a little bit already, it’s just so quiet, and even though they think I’m the most embarrassing uncool human to ever grace the planet, I can just tell with that last hug that they give you before they leave that deep down, they might be missing me and my Abba hat a tiny little bit too.

What have I been up to now? I did promise myself that every weekend was going to involve a little adventure after my escape this summer. Well, this was the weekend I almost broke my promise to myself. After my Park Run success last Saturday, a very busy Christmas, lots of running, an horrendous first few weeks back at work, two students still at home (the novelty has worn off and they need to go!), I just wanted a Sunday sofa day. I had a lazy lie in but by 11:00am my conscience got the better of me and I was a bit bored, as I’ve mentioned before I’m not good at being still. My legs were aching though so I was trying to think of something that didn’t involve running, walking or leg work. Then I had a flash of inspiration…………the kayak!

The kayak has not been out this winter as I’m a bit of a fair-weather kayaker. However, it wasn’t too cold, just dull and wet and there’s no such thing as ‘bad weather’ in my house, just the ‘wrong clothing’. So, I decided if I got my waterproofs on and went on flat water it would be fine.

I don’t have sea really close to me, it’s a good two hours away, but there are lots of lakes, rivers and canals. I got the kayak when the boys were little as we used to go all over with it in the school holidays. It’s one of those sit on top ones so if you tip up you are straight in the water. It’s made for two adults but when they were little, I could get one adult and two children on it by perching one of them on the front. I used to put their buoyancy aids on and off we went. We had loads of fun. It’s supposed to be quite sturdy but believe me when I say I am capable of capsizing even the sturdiest of kayaks!

The canals are so well maintained in the UK by the Canal and River Trust and the Environment Agency. They are as pretty as a picture in lovely weather as they are lined with riverside pubs and full of canal barges. A number of the barges are lived on throughout the year, others are just hired out as holiday lets. You can even just hire them for the day and we had great fun on one for the day for my dad’s 70th Birthday.

There are hundreds of miles of navigable waterways in Yorkshire including the Aire and Calder Navigation, Calder and Hebble Navigation, Dearne and Dove Canal, Barnsley Canal, Leeds and Liverpool Canal, Rochdale Canal, Huddersfield Narrow Canal and lots more. They have so much history to them too. Most of them were completed between 1750 and 1830 and were built as part of the industrial revolution. The purpose of most of them was the transportation of goods, and in Yorkshire they linked the textile mills, coal mines, quarries and other key areas of production with the big cities during this time. I think my favourite is the Leeds and Liverpool as it goes all through North Yorkshire and is definitely the prettiest. But one of the closest to me without too many locks is the Calder and Hebble Navigation, so this was where I went. Locks are fine on a barge but when you are in a kayak, without the key to the lock gate, they are a bit of a nightmare as you have to keep getting out, hauling the kayak out and then carrying it around the lock to the other side to set off again.

Other than a few spots of rain it was so pretty. Not as nice as when the sun shines but you still see all sorts of wildlife on the water. Birds, fish and lots of signs of spring, catkins and little buds on the trees. There’s something special about swans too and kayaking with them. They are so majestic and peaceful and I’ve got over the time when one nearly took my thumb off on a family holiday to Bournemouth when I was around seven and decided to hand feed it. That’s a word of advice for you, never hand feed a swan, they have a serrated edge to their beak and it hurts, trust me!

However, on a kayak I really am ‘all the gear no idea’. I am hopeless with a capital ‘H’. I could even be worse at kayaking than skiing, and after one torn medial collateral ligament in 2018, I can safely say I’m pretty bad at that too. I get full marks for trying though and I’ll have a go at absolutely anything. I really enjoy myself kayaking, it’s is just something that I don’t excel at, but I keep going because I love it and that’s what life’s all about, enjoyment! And I love water so I’m always eager to go.

I think the problem is the fact it’s a two-person kayak. When I’m in it on my own there is no problem whatsoever. However, you do not want to be in a kayak with me! It’s a no-win situation really. Firstly, the person at the back steers it and needs to paddle in sync with the person in the front. I don’t mind being at the back because it means I can have a little rest and hope the person on the front does not notice! However, I cannot steer it, I have no co-ordination and end up everywhere except where I should. I’m also that busy looking around and noseying that I’m not concentrating on where I am going, or the paddle stroke of the person at the front. So naturally, I’m usually placed in the front to avoid any collisions or arguments. Apart from the fact that I can’t keep stopping for a rest because I’m easily seen, I like it at the front. However, the issue is then created for the person in the back. No matter how much instruction I get, I don’t know how I manage to do it but I get so much water inside the boat and all over the person sat behind me that it has to be seen to be believed. Whoever comes with me has to wear full waterproofs and today I even had to empty the water out of the boat before the return journey back down the canal in the opposite direction! I just can’t get the hang of it. I get ten out of ten for enthusiasm though.

A lovely afternoon on the water and a bit of Yorkshire canal history for you. Like all my adventures this one ended in a café too, and this week’s treat of choice was a good old Yorkshire Cream Tea otherwise known as a scone, strawberry jam and clotted cream!

But first things first, before I tell you about my lovely last Sunday wandering I need to share my achievement of this Saturday before I burst with excitement! I’m definitely getting ‘Faster at Fifty’! Dragging myself out with running club on what is normally a wet and windy 7 miler on Tuesday nights is starting to pay off. I went to my first Park Run since October (the week after the thorn in the shoe incident) and not only did I knock another 30 seconds of at 26 minutes 39 seconds and get a new personal best, I came first place in the over 50’s ladies category (and yes, there was more than one running if that’s what you are thinking!), there were five. According to Strava, I achieved five ‘best efforts’ including my fastest mile at 8:04. I know 8:04 is not like lightening, but for the girl who hid down the ditch in school cross country and has eaten half her body weight in mince pies over Christmas that’s good and I’m going to blow my own trumpet while I can because it’s unlikely to ever happen again!

Onto last Sunday. Well, what a glorious day! Wall to wall blue sky and sunshine. Ok, freezing cold still, but just the perfect day for a long walk of just over 10 miles. I’m still a little bit tired from my Christmas running efforts but last Sunday was just too good an opportunity to miss a little adventure and explore.

I was also desperate to try out my Christmas presents from being on Father Christmas’s ‘nice’ list, my new down coat and bobble hat! I’ve had a bit of an accident with my old down coat and I do lots of outdoor adventuring so decided it was time for a new one. The old one needed a wash and although I’ve followed the instructions and washed it in the right stuff it’s done that thing where all the down clumps together and it’s just not warm anymore. No matter how many times I put it in the dryer it just won’t puff up again. And, as for the bobble hat, they are like Christmas tree baubles, you can never have too many. I have a reputation for being cold all the time, I am truly not made for a British climate which is why I think I like to travel a lot, I need warm and sunshine! I am very rarely seen outside between October and March without one of my infamous bobble hats on from my ever-growing collection. A new bobble hat is always a safe Christmas present for me.

Sunday saw me go to the beautiful village of Malham in North Yorkshire for a long walk, taking in Janet’s Foss waterfall, Gordale Scar, Malham Tarn and Malham Cove. I love it up there and it’s a couple of years since I’ve been to this side of the county, being a South Yorkshire girl. So here we go on a little tour around this part of Yorkshire.

I like this walk because it sets off from the beautiful village of Malham where there are two lovely pubs and a selection of cafes. There is also lots of water alongside the route and I love being beside water. The village is well known for its natural limestone pavement and other geological limestone formations.

The first part of the walk sees you walking alongside the beautiful Malham and Gordale becks until you reach the quite spectacular Janet’s Foss waterfall. It is a small waterfall but in the most magical setting in the middle of a wood. The water tumbles over a limestone outcrop into a really deep pool. In the summer it would be ideal for a dip but much too cold on this day. It really is a magical place and legend has it that Jennet the queen of fairies lives in a cave at the back of the waterfall, hence the name of the waterfall, ‘Janet’s Foss’, with Janet being a derivative of Jennet and Foss being from the old Norse language for waterfall. In days gone by the pool under the waterfall was used as a natural sheep dip.

The walk then takes you across meadowland to the quite spectacular Gordale Scar. This is a hidden gorge over 330 feet high and includes two waterfalls. There are a couple of theories for its creation, either water from melting glaciers or a cavern collapse. The right of way is actually straight up the middle of the scar but involves climbing up 10 metres of unprotected tufa limestone directly over the lower waterfall. It is a favourite of local scramblers and it will be no surprise to anyone that last time I came I did just that and scrambled straight up the middle of the waterfall and gorge, telling my mother after I’d done it, not before! However, with the torrent of water coming down today following lots of heavy rain, my still tired running legs and still being a bit precious about my new hat and coat I decided that today was a bit too risky to attempt it and took the long route around.

Then it was a glorious climb over the hills and meadows and time to get the flask out for a cuppa at the side of the river. The scenery in this part of Yorkshire is just jaw dropping on a day like this, a never-ending landscape of rolling green hills and vast blue skies.

The path just goes up and up until you reach the large limestone pavement of Malham Cove which was full of climbers on Sunday. After around two miles you come to Malham Tarn, a glacial lake. At 377 metres above sea level this is the highest marl lake in England and is one of only eight upland alkaline lakes in Europe. The tarn is a designated protected nature reserve and a site of special scientific interest and is home to lots of unusual flowers and fauna in addition to various birds, animals and fish. The site was the inspiration for the 1863 Charles Kingsley novel ‘The Water Babies’. On a day like Sunday, it is quite a sight.

Time for my picnic, sat on a bench at the side of the hare sculpture, and then the return 5 mile walk. The return walk was just as beautiful as the way up to the tarn. You take a slightly different route back and have full view of the setting sun. I think I captured what is probably my favourite picture of the day on the way back. It looks almost like an Ashley Jackson landscape painting rather than a mobile phone photograph. The shafts of the last bit of sunlight were piercing the clouds and lighting up the limestone pavement and in the middle of the skyline was the skeleton of a lonesome bare tree. The photograph probably does not do it justice but it was one of those moments where you just have to sit and rest a while to take it all in.

Another lovely day of wandering!

Happy New Year!

And I do genuinely mean that. Although I have to admit I am to New Year a little bit like the Grinch is to Christmas. For some reason I don’t like it. I have tried so hard to get excited about it but to me it’s just an arbitrary date, the date after 31st December! I’m not so much of a Grinch that I suck the mood out of everyone else. I did put a smile on my face and go up to the packed local pub. It was Karaoke which was enough to put a smile on anyone’s face as it just gets funnier and more painful to listen to the more alcohol is consumed! But at just after midnight, I’m done with it!

I can actually feel quite down about New Year and I don’t know why. I don’t know whether it’s because I get so excited about Christmas and New Year is a bit of an anti-climax; whether it’s because I’m sad because I see it more as an ending to 2022 and all the good things that happened in the previous year; whether it makes me think of people that are no longer with us; or whether I just feel under pressure to do something different and make a new start even though I’m quite happy to continue 1st January just as I ended 31st December. You see, for me every day is 1st January. I like to think I live every day as if it’s my last. I like to look for opportunity, be thankful for what I have, and if I see something aspirational, I’m not likely to wait until 1st January to start my quest to achieve it, I’m a bit more of a ‘doer’ than a ‘going to do’ and I like to live my life like a bit of a magical mystery tour…………I still don’t quite know where I’m going but I hope it’s exciting and full of mystery, love, adventures and surprises.

Today I’ve been fed up and I guess this post is about the fact that it’s ok to be so, and a little bit about the importance of water in my life. I guess I don’t really mean fed up, I think a better term might be ‘over stimulated’, and that might be partly why I don’t like New Year. It’s when I get to that point when I need to be on my own. I think I get so excited about Christmas and do so much stuff, then there are all the demands from the students at home that you thought you’d got rid of, then I’ve worked for two days to try and keep on top of everything at work, then I’ve been running training and racing and then along comes New Year. There’s only so much any girl can take! By 1st January I’ve had enough! Today I’ve escaped and I’m going to share with you where I’ve been, some very inspirational words from a wonderful author, and something you might like to try when you’ve ‘had enough’.

So, first things first. It’s ok to have had enough and want to be on your own. Those close to me know I’m ok, there’s nothing wrong with me, I just need some space to think, reflect, be thankful, and reset. I’m not depressed, I’m not sad, I just want to be alone with that fantastic person I discovered on my Camino………me! And today I’ve had some quiet, calm, peaceful, reflective time, been thankful for everything I have, thought about all the lovely people in my life (you know who you are) and now I feel so much better. So where have I been………..up on the windy, wet moors wild swimming of course!

It’s been a bit of a cold wet one today. Not much sunshine yet again but there is something magical and healing about water that I want to share with you. Today I’ve been to this lovely remote spot. The water temperature was 18 degrees today so very fresh on entry but lovely once you are in and moving around.

About that author, his name is Roger Deakin. Sadly, no longer with us, Roger was an English writer, film maker and environmentalist. The only one of his books published in his lifetime ‘Waterlog’ founded the wild swimming movement. He lived at Walnut Tree farm in Suffolk, his own little wild swimming paradise. In a couple of his most poignant quotes, for me he perfectly sums up the power of water over the human mind and spirit. Here are some of my favourites of his and a few pictures from today. The quotes may explain why I do what some might think is a bit of a mad thing to do on New Year’s Day.

“I can dive in with a long face, and what feels like a terminal case of depression, and come out a whistling idiot. There is a feeling of absolute freedom and wildness that comes with the sheer liberation of nakedness as well as weightlessness in natural water, and it leads to a deep bond with the bathing place”. – from Roger Deakin, Waterlog.

Now I can’t speak for the nakedness! Roger was a Speedos at the most kind of guy but at 18 degrees I’m a full wetsuit type of girl, including shoes, gloves……and yes, the bobble hat stays on! But certainly, the weightlessness and freedom were felt and I do always come out a lot calmer and happier than when I went in. The nakedness will have to wait for summer, I’ll let you know then!

“When you swim, you feel your body for what it mostly is – water – and it begins to move with the water around it. No wonder we feel such sympathy for beached whales; we are beached ourselves at birth. To swim is to experience how it was before we were born” – from Roger Deakin, Waterlog.

A bit of an odd comparison? The definition of beaching is when something is stranded on land and the outcome can often be death from dehydration, collapsing under own weight or drowning. Perhaps not that odd then, because in life you can sometimes feel a little bit stranded, drowning under the weight of everything and I guess that weightlessness of being in water does make it all feel better for a while. There is something soothing about it and perhaps that floating about in water all those years ago in the womb is still somewhere in the subconscious and gives rise to that comforting feeling.

“Swimming is a rite of passage, a crossing of boundaries: the line of the shore, the bank of the river, the edge of the pool, the surface itself. When you enter the water, something like metamorphosis happens. Leaving behind the land, you go through the looking-glass surface and enter a new world, in which survival, not ambition or desire, is the dominant aim.” – from Roger Deakin, Waterlog.

So very true, for a short space of time it is like being in another world. It’s cold, that all over body tingle and that slowed down breathing and those natural ‘survival’ reactions that make you feel alive, that’s the only aim at that point in time, nothing else.

“Most of us live in a world where more and more things are signposted, labelled, and officially ‘interpreted’. There is something about all this that is turning the reality of things into virtual reality. It is the reason why walking, cycling and swimming will always be subversive activities. They allow us to regain a sense of what is old and wild in these islands, by getting off the beaten track and breaking free of the official version of things”. – from Roger Deakin, Waterlog.

What a very, very wise man. Did he have a crystal ball into the future? Roger died in 2006, that’s 17 years ago this year. Roger thought, 17 years ago, that we were living in a world where more and more things are signposted, labelled and officially ‘interpreted’. Fast forward 17 years and we have a label for almost everything, are told exactly how we should think and to a certain extent have lost some of the freedom of speech that we once had, sometimes for the better, sometimes the worse, I can’t quite decide. But yes, he’s right, all three of those activities offer an escape from reality and the “official version of things” if that’s what you want to call it.

So, in short, today I’ve escaped from reality, experienced that feeling of survival, floated about wild and free and feel a lot better for it. I trudged back to the car across the moor top, past the ancient stone circle where I did a little dance in the middle for good measure to request health and good fortune for you all in 2023. Not sure whether it will work but it warmed me up. Then on to the café for a much-needed bowl off butternut squash and chipotle soup with chive crème fraiche and a coffee. I’m ready to take on what I hope will be the magical mystery tour of 2023 now!

In summary, the message, in addition to Happy New Year, is it’s ok to feel over stimulated and need to escape. And if you are feeling brave you could even try the benefits of cold-water swimming. But just remember: Acclimatise, be safe, wear the right kit, no diving, know your limit and warm up slowly. If you are new to it, you can always go somewhere quite popular amongst wild swimmers as there will always be someone else there. You don’t have to talk to them if you’ve gone to escape. They’ve probably gone for the same reason, just a quick “Hi” will suffice. Try it, you might be surprised.

In our house I’m used to being the butt of everyone’s jokes and that’s just fine, I am quite capable of laughing at myself and must admit I have done some pretty crazy things since the start of my midlife crisis when my body is getting older but my mind is flatly refusing to accept it and keeps telling me I’m still a spring chicken.

So, I thought I’d save my latest bit of news until Christmas Day, and just as I expected I was mocked and ridiculed. “I can take it!” I thought, “You’ll all be laughing on the other side of your faces on 28th December!”

Back in September I joined a running club as I don’t like running on my own over winter as it’s always dark when I go out. I thought it would also encourage me to keep going over winter when it’s cold and wet. I’m really enjoying it so I thought I’d enter a couple of events for which I needed to join England Athletics. Not a problem I thought, I can do that. Then my e-mail came through to advise me that I’d been enrolled with the role below!

Yes, that’s right……………’Competitive Athlete’.

I thought I’d share this e-mail and news on Christmas morning when I opened my present to myself, a new running top. Now I get that the title is a bit ironic as the two things I am not are ‘competitive’ or an ‘athlete’ but I did expect a little bit more support and less laughing than I got. One could not get any words out for laughing and the other pointed out that I’m nearly 52 and don’t I think I’m “a bit late to the party”. I pointed out the fact that I felt extremely proud and grateful to still be able to make it to the party!

I saved the best bit until last when I told them I’d entered the ‘Ambles Revenge’ on 28th December! “You’ll never get round that!” was the general consensus. However, when the Yorkshire Girl in the middle of a midlife crisis sets her mind to something she’s pretty driven, and laughing and ridiculing me will only make me more determined.

What is ‘Ambles Revenge? Well, as it says above it’s a cross country fell race of just over 8 miles (12.9km) with absolutely loads of uphill, the most unbelievable amount of mud, as it’s been raining for days, and more walls and stiles to jump over than I could count. It’s not an easy race and is over my usual 10k distance that I like. One of the household has run it in the past and pointed out to me that I was really going to struggle, particularly after everything he pointed out I’d eaten and drunk on Christmas Day! I then got even more worried when I went to running club and everyone who I spoke to had the same response, “I ran it once and once was enough, I marshal now!” I was starting to wonder what I’d let myself in for but not wanting to be defeated I thought I’d just turn up, have a nice little trot around and enjoy myself. I had no idea how fast I was going to be able to run it but had a secret little personal target of 1 hour and 30 minutes which I kept to myself.

I got up this morning and was all smiles. I felt good and was actually proud to pull on my team vest for its first race and my first run as a ‘competitive athlete’! 😀

I managed to get a lift in the car to the race headquarters (the local pub) on what was an absolutely foul morning. The sun has not been out all day and it has rained non-stop. Despite being laughed at for three days I was also quite surprised to see two students emerge fully dressed. When I questioned whether or not this was an apparition they both announced that they would not miss an opportunity to come along and cheer me on. Aaaww how sweet I thought, perhaps they are secretly proud, either that or they just want a good laugh at their Mum on a wet and windy morning! I was still smiling when I got to the start line despite spotting the Mountain Rescue vehicle which always puts me on edge at the start of a race as I think ‘please don’t let it be me they have to rescue’.

I always feel so nervous on the start line and I have no idea why, I think it’s just adrenaline. This is very much a run for the running clubs and there are some really fantastic athletes with the winning men’s time usually being well under one hour. I happened to comment on how some of the runners looked ‘gazelle like’, which to me they do; tall, long legs, no fat, just built for speed. So just to build my confidence my cheering on team thought they would liken me to an animal. I’m sure it was just to calm my nerves but it really doesn’t help when I get ‘Lion’, because you have lots of reddish hair and shout a lot, and ‘Sloth’, because that’s how fast you’ll be!! You see, they even carry it on all the way to the start line, this is what I have to put up with!

Anyway, what followed was just over 8 miles of the most difficult race I have ever, ever run. It poured it down with rain non-stop. I lost count of the times I nearly lost my shoes in the mud and while I was running it, I cannot 100% say I enjoyed every minute. I had cow excrement and mud up to my knees and there were moments when I could just have cried. However, there was no way on God’s earth was I giving the cheering on crew something to laugh about, I was under no circumstances not going to finish this race. I was actually quite amazed and could have actually cried when I spotted the cheering on crew at the side of the road shouting ‘come-on Competitive Athlete!’ in two separate places on the course. They had actually driven round the course to offer their support, in addition to being at the start and finish. Anyway a few pictures and snippets from the race. They are in chronological order and I look gradually worse as they progress. I look like I am slowly dying and that’s because I was! So here we go.

Smiling so must be near the beginning or the end!

I can tell you exactly what’s going through my head on the one above as I remember it well. It’s the look of pain. I’m looking up thinking “Shit, when does this end, where is the top of the hill, it just goes on for ever!”

The ‘is this a road or a river’ action shot, just so much water!

Trying to make up some positions going uphill, I like uphill really. Digging in deep despite the growing amount of mud all up the back of my legs.

Nearly at the top on this one and still pushing on.

A little video now of the cheering on crew coming to check if I’m ok. Desperately trying to keep it going uphill and make up some places despite the driving wind and rain for 6 miles. Only about 2 miles to go now!

And finally, the end! I thought it was never going to come. Just look at the time on that clock though!! Damn it!! Where did those 22 seconds come from. Absolutely gutted to not make it in in less than 1 hour 30 minutes but secretly a little bit proud to have finished it at all so I’ll not be too hard on myself. So exhausted I did not even see the cheering on crew stood next to me at the end!

188th overall and 7th out of only 14 V50 females attempting it today, so bang in the middle where I normally am. And, I’m still smiling at the end look. Which on that note, I’d like to say a big thank you to the gentleman that came to find me at the end to tell me, “Love, if there had been a prize for smiling you would have won it hands down! I was on the last marshalling post and you were the only one of the day still smiling when you got to me!” So there you have it. I might not be that hot at running but I get the smiling prize! Thinking about it, I think I’d rather have that than the 22 seconds!

And just to make myself feel a little bit better about the 22 seconds I always like to have a little look at my stats below. So what’s the summary:

So what did I do then. Well, I spent half an hour laid on the shower room floor until someone came to help me get my tights off. I’m now sat with my feet up resting and reading, because everyone has gone out and deserted me and I can’t move. But best of all, I’m calculating which of the Christmas leftovers I can eat that would equate to 977 calories. I reckon I can get at least a turkey sandwich, bowl of trifle, cantuccini and glass of Vin Santo and maybe a slice of chocolate log if I cut it thin. Yum!

So all in all not a bad day for the Sloth! I do actually believe I have two very proud boys, although there is absolutely no way they are going to admit it and tell me to my face!

Today I have laughed so much my sides hurt.

So where in the world on Boxing Day would you find teams of crazy people negotiating freezing waters in a home-made raft race……….Matlock in Derbyshire of course!

After half a day slaving over a hot stove making Christmas dinner and then the other half of the day stuffing myself with food and drink that I really did not need I was desperate for some fresh air and exercise. The sky was sunny and blue but running is out of order this week as the final training run was on Christmas Eve and I’m now resting ready for my own crazy event on Wednesday (all will be revealed in due course)!

Where better to go than the Matlock Raft Race. It was freezing, so I got myself wrapped up like a Teddy Bear and off I went in search of a good laugh with the one son who could be bothered to get out of bed, and laugh we did, we were not disappointed. Anyone can take part in the Matlock Raft Race. The only criteria are that you have to be fearless, water loving and slightly bonkers. The second two I would definitely pass and perhaps the first one most of the time so you never know you might find me on a raft one year, but this year I went as a spectator.

The race is an annual event. It has taken place most years since 1961, always on Boxing Day, and is held to raise money for the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI). It takes place on a 3 mile stretch of the River Derwent starting at Cawdor Quarry and finishing at Cromford Meadows. There are over 20 rafts enter each year and over 100 crew from all over the country. However, the raft has to be entirely home-made, from whatever materials you can rustle together and it has to be made by the crew of each craft only, with no external assistance allowed. It’s not compulsory, but it is the norm for your raft to have a theme and fancy dress is optional.

The river bank is lined with spectators and the river is dotted with around 30 emergency rescue kayaks in case of mishaps, of which there are always many as that is the whole point of it and the joy of the event! The River Derwent is no sleepy meandering river at this point. The course of the river here is fast flowing, curving and has a perfectly positioned weir with what is described as 30 metres of cold, deep, turbulent rapid white water! So where better to spectate from than the bottom of the weir. So I do apologise for the slightly poor quality of the photos and the twigs in the foreground as I clung onto a tree branch on the edge of the river trying to ensure I didn’t end up taking part in the race!

There were some excellent entries this year and after a good few days of rain and snow melt over the last few weeks in the area, the river was perfect for lots of mishaps and hilarity. Fortunately, no-one appeared to be too badly injured, just extremely cold. Here’s a look at a few of my favourites from this year.

The Vikings were one of the first down the weir, cheered on by the emergency rescue kayaks at the top and bottom, so get my vote for bravery.

However, coming a close second for bravery was the lone crew member who braved the entire 3-mile course in a converted fairground dodgem car!

Best fancy dress in my opinion this year should go to the Spice Girls, 3 grown men in their ‘Girl Power’ craft dressed up as Emma Bunton, Mel C and Geri Halliwell (complete in Union Jack Dress) and a home-made Mel B strapped to the front of the boat.

Best original theme I would give to the Peter Pan raft complete with Peter Pan, Captain Hook and Mr Smee. The crew from Ghostbusters come a close second but did not negotiate the second weir quite as well, resulting in a couple of craft members bobbing about in the river.

Best recovery of the day goes to the ‘BoAT out of Hell’ who despite a full capsize and the loss of all crew members managed to get back on their craft and get their flashing lights and stereo working and recommence their journey.

But for me the overall winners have to be the Vikings for today’s best capsize of the day. The only craft with a non-rigid bottom. The onboard celebration at having negotiated the first weir was soon replaced by dismay as the movement and wobble from the second weir and the force of the water was just too much to prevent the loss of a number of crew members into the water. Here it is.

A customary visit to the Fish and Chip shop to warm up was required and ended a lovely day with lots of laughter. I must remember – rigid bottom for the boat – just in case I decide to have a go one year, you just never know!

I love food, I love sharing food, I love traditions and I love Christmas. I’m almost ready for tomorrow! The table is set, sprouts peeled, turkey ready for the oven, prawn cocktail sauce made, wine chilling and all those other Christmas Eve foody preparations complete. I even have time for a cheeky little visit to the pub later.

Last night I went to the pub to sing in Christmas with the local Brass Band. This is called the singing of the ‘Sheffield Carols’ and it is local tradition in South Yorkshire from mid-November to Christmas. Each village pub has its own carols and music and it’s such a lovely tradition. It gets louder and more raucous as the evening progresses and more Yorkshire ale from the local brewery is consumed, and it always gets me into the Christmas spirit.

When I go anywhere, I’m always eager to learn about the traditions and culinary customs of an area.

I did not realise how ‘Yorkshire’ I was until I moved out of Yorkshire at the age of 22. It wasn’t until then that I also g0t a perception of what the rest of the world think to people from Yorkshire either. I moved down South, just outside London, chasing a career in banking.

In summary, people from Yorkshire are proud……we call it ‘God’s Own County’ because we say he created everywhere else, learnt from the mistakes and then created the perfect county……Yorkshire. Yorkshire people, although you might not be able to tell what we say when we switch to dialect, are renowned for being welcoming, funny, friendly but straightforward, we’ll tell you it as it is, we are quite direct. We also have the most glorious countryside, moors and coastline. People from down South can find us a bit uncultured and unsophisticated. I beg to differ, we have lots of culture, and are very sophisticated, but I’ll agree some of our traditions and customs are a little bit odd and can seem very bizarre to someone not from Yorkshire. But it’s these customs that I love and keep going hoping that my boys will continue them as it’s so important not to lose them.

My ‘Yorkshireness’ all became apparent when I had my first Christmas down South when I suggested to John, the Assistant Manager at the Bank that we have a ‘fuddle’. Now John looked absolutely aghast as if I’d suggested something completely inappropriate and to this day, I can’t decide whether he was relieved or disappointed when I explained that a ‘fuddle’ in Yorkshire is a pre-Christmas work lunchtime celebration where you pool food, and nothing else. So, for example, someone brings the cheese and biscuits, someone else the crisps, nibbles, sausage rolls, sandwiches, quiche, salad, desserts etc. etc. until you have a lovely little buffet. Apparently, ‘fuddle’ is only a Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire word and concept, but I didn’t realise that when suggesting to my line manager that we have a ‘fuddle’ together in the office. So, continuing this tradition, last Wednesday lunchtime was the school Christmas ‘fuddle’.

Then there is the Christmas Cake. Christmas Cake I know is a British tradition, not just Yorkshire. It is a very dark, rich fruit cake containing, if made properly, a fair amount of brandy. However, how we eat it in Yorkshire is deemed very odd. The correct way to make a Christmas Cake is months in advance. I made mine at the very beginning of October, almost three months before Christmas, and it takes an entire day as you bake it on a very low temperature for around 4 to 5 hours. Then every week I ‘feed’ the cake with brandy until the week before Christmas, when I decorate it in the traditional way with marzipan and royal icing and some decorations. It’s quite a laborious process which has to be done in stages and I was in a bit of a rush this year so it has just had some sugar frosted rosemary, holly and dried fruit placed on top but it still looks quite effective. The only thing is, in our house, there is only myself who likes Christmas cake. So on Christmas Day it gets cut, I keep my little bit, and then I distribute and give the remainder away because it’s huge. But Christmas would just not feel like Christmas if I did not make one.

However, in Yorkshire we eat our Christmas cake with cheese. This tradition is frowned upon elsewhere in the UK, but I did not realise this until I was observed with much amusement, down South, peeling off my icing and marzipan, placing it at the side of my plate and then proceeding to eat my Christmas cake with cheese. Not only that, but us Yorkshire folk are quite particular about what cheese we consume with our Christmas cake. Ideally it needs to be Wensleydale, made in Yorkshire. Wensleydale is creamy-white coloured cheese with a crumbly, moist and flaky texture made with milk from the farms in Wensleydale, North Yorkshire. It is made from a mixture of cow and ewe’s milk and goes perfect with fruit cake. At a push we will eat white stilton or white Cheshire with our Christmas cake if we can’t get Wensleydale, the key is it needs to be sharp, tangy and crumbly to complement the cake. I managed to find some Wensleydale earlier this week on my visit to Chatsworth Farm Shop so all is good!

So, these two, the Christmas cake and cheese combo, and the ‘fuddle’ are the two Yorkshire Christmas food traditions that I always have to observe.

Then there is the broader British tradition of the mince pie! Christmas would not be Christmas without the good old British mince pie. Christmas mincemeat has nothing to do with meat. It is a blend of dried fruits and spices in ruby port and brandy placed in a little sweet shortcrust pastry pie. I’ve made my third batch of 24 this week as they keep disappearing before Christmas but no-one is owning up to eating them!

Then my final English Christmas tradition is the trifle. A trifle has sponge cake in the bottom soaked in alcohol, usually sherry or another fortified wine. It’s then layered with fruit, custard, whipped cream and toasted almonds. Now, it’s each to their own but to me a trifle should never contain jelly. For me, the presence of jelly in a trifle absolutely ruins it. For me it has to be sherry too, to soak the sponge, and a proper Spanish manzanilla, so it’s not strictly speaking an English trifle, it’s part Spanish and the good thing is when you’ve made the trifle you can then drink the rest of the bottle with tapas or whatever else you fancy. It’s also traditional to make it in a cut glass trifle bowl. My bowl I’ve inherited from my Grandma and it reminds me of Christmas buffets at Grandma’s complete with trifle.

So, we have the Yorkshire food traditions, the English traditions, a bit of Spanish Manzanilla, and next, a tradition from my other favourite part of Europe……..Italy. Christmas would not be Christmas without home-baked Italian almond and pistachio Cantuccini. Some people call these Biscotti which is not strictly speaking correct. Biscotti translates as a more generic term for any twice baked biscuit or cookie, whereas Cantuccini are quite specifically oblong, dry biscuits studded with nuts, and at Christmas I also put orange zest in mine. These are good because all that etiquette you are taught in England about it being a bit rude and uncultured to dip your biscuits in your tea goes completely out of the window with Cantuccini, they are made for dipping!! That’s the reason why they are dry, so when you dip them in, they soak up the liquid. However, what’s even better is that the tradition in Italy is not to dip them in tea but to dip them in Vin Santo, an Italian dessert wine made predominantly in Tuscany. It’s a little hard to get hold of at the moment, none in the supermarkets, so I had to have it posted but it arrived just in time yesterday!

And last but not least, a little bit of Germany with the gingerbread Lebkuchen, so easy to make and definitely one for dunking in your tea. Eat the icing off the top first though or it just ends up floating in your tea!

So that’s the Christmas food traditions sorted. I’ll think about the diet in January. For now, I’ll eat my way through Christmas Yorkshire style with a bit of the rest of the UK and Europe thrown in for good measure! And with true Yorkshire generosity I will force everyone else who crosses my threshold to share my Yorkshire foody Christmas as it’s so much better when it is shared with friends and family.

Merry Christmas!!

There are certain things I just have to do at Christmas and one of these is my little annual jaunt to Chatsworth House, home of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. Chatsworth House is a Grade I listed property built in the 17th century and it is just in the most gorgeous setting with the grounds landscaped by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown. It is often voted Britain’s favourite stately home and it’s easy to understand why. On a sunny day like yesterday there is no-where else quite like it to get you into the Christmas spirit and it’s only 50 minutes away from my home, which is not quite as grand! It’s been used as the film location for films such as Pride and Prejudice and The Duchess and you can see why.

I even managed to drag a student along. It was a 9am set off but he’s easily bribed with the promise of an English breakfast in the café on arrival.

We parked up in the delightful little village of Edensor on the Chatsworth Estate where the Edensor Tea Rooms are located because firstly, they do a good English Breakfast, and secondly, the walk over the estate from Edensor to Chatsworth House is lovely on a sunny day and you get the most glorious view of the house. Even my little companion, the architecture student, said it looked impressive, and being 19 he does not get excited about many things!

After breakfast we had our walk over to the house itself and into the stable courtyard where they have a lovely little Christmas market every year. The smell was gorgeous, mulled wine, German sausages a fire pit to toast marshmallows. I was allowed to look around the gift shop and guess what I found?!………..Baubles!!!………and lots of them! All gold, shiny and sparkly, and then some delightful little felt ones of little garden birds. Did one find its way home with me? Of course it did! The student does not like looking around shops so the, “I’ll wait outside for you Mum”, was all I needed to choose a bauble, pay for it, sneak it into my handbag, get it home and hang it on the tree without anyone being any the wiser. Where there is a will there is a way!

Anyway, the main reason for my visit at Christmas is not the breakfast, the baubles, the market or the house itself………….it is the Chatsworth Farm Shop. A large part of my Christmas revolves around food and traditions. I’ll do a separate post on my ‘odd’ Yorkshire Christmas food traditions later this week. They are not ‘odd’ to me but to anyone not from Yorkshire I have been told they are quite amusing and mark me out as Yorkshire through and through. For one of these traditions, I need Wensleydale cheese……no other cheese will do, I’ll explain in another post. Chatsworth has the most amazing Farm Shop and a cheese counter with over 100 varieties of cheese. It is like cheese heaven and is one of my pre-Christmas shopping trips. It was a successful trip…..I found the Wensleydale……..and also bought some Devonshire Gold (blue cheese) and Snowdonia Black Bomber, a very very mature white cheddar from Wales, it’s so mature it makes your toes curl but I love really strong cheese. I love Stinking Bishop too, which they had, but I’m banned from buying that as the smell has the ability to permeate the kitchen even when it’s shut in the fridge in an airtight container!

They also have the most fantastic vegetables and another staple of the British Christmas dinner are Brussels Sprouts! It’s not a Christmas dinner if it does not have Brussels Sprouts on it. So, I bought my sprouts on a stick all ready for Christmas day much to the disgust of my youngest who absolutely hates them. They are a bit of a love them or hate them vegetable and it still infuriates my sons that I insist they have one sprout on their plate otherwise it’s not a Christmas dinner. I’m not that cruel that I make them eat it but I just can’t serve a Christmas dinner minus the Brussels Sprout!

It was a lovely Mum and son day, the apocalypse in his bedroom was not mentioned once, I am so chilled about it. I am determined he will get fed up of it before I do.

Oh, my goodness…………they are back from university and don’t I know it!! I got one back on time and the other three days late due to the industrial action on the railways…..but they are here.

This post is for all those Mums out there whose worlds, and houses, have been turned upside down, quite literally.

You don’t realise how much you get used to having a nice quiet, tidy house with just yourself to look after…….it just becomes the norm. I miss them so much though and go into overdrive just before they come home, and I know speaking to friends that the same happens to them. I can only describe it as ‘nesting’ behaviour. If you look in the dictionary the definition of nesting instinct, which all women have apparently and is not irrational but a behaviour stemming from our evolutionary past, is the burst of energy women often get in the last few weeks of pregnancy that leads them to clean and organise the house in preparation for baby’s arrival. The only issue is that I still get it every time they return from university for the holidays! This urge to tidy and have everything just right for them.

The bedding is washed, rooms tidied, welcome box of beer in place, Percy pig sweets (their favourites from when they were little) and a chocolate bear nestled in a Christmas stocking hung on their bedroom doors! It’s like a bit of a “Welcome home, I’m so glad to see you!”

That nice fuzzy feeling soon wears off though, because holy s**t I’ve got up this morning and I thought we’d had intruders and been robbed in the night. It’s taken the grand total of 24 hours to turn from the above to this! How do they do it!?!? I don’t think I could make such a mess if I just stood there tossing things around the room for 24 hours. You can’t even walk from one side of the room to the other……….both rooms!! This, added to the fact that one of them has announced he’s not here for two weeks, but possibly five! FIVE whole weeks…………….oh my days!!

So, what did I do…….well, not what I would have done a year ago. A year ago, I would have had a mini meltdown and we would have fallen out. But there would only be me getting wound up, they just stand there looking at you as if you’ve got two heads and are behaving irrationally. Not any more though. When I went on my Camino in the summer one of the learnings I brought back was the knowledge of what was truly important. I decided it was love, friendship, shelter and food. Anything else is not as important. I was spending too much time worrying about stuff that really in the grand scheme of things did not matter. I decided the new me was not going to ‘sweat the small stuff’ any more.

There are terrible things happening all over the world; wars, people without food, people without homes, children without love………..so in the grand scheme of things, the apocalypse occurring in my two bedrooms, I have decided is not that great an issue. It’s not me that’s got to live in it for five weeks. I’ve not got to find my clothes in the pile on the floor and I’ve not got to negotiate a way to get into my bed. So, I’ve casually turned around, closed the door and left them to it. I will make a judgement at the end of January as to whether I need a hazmat suit to enter and clear the aftermath when they’ve gone back or whether just rubber gloves will do.

Instead of sweating about the small stuff at the start of my Christmas holiday I’ve been out for a little run, done some baking, read my book, done my Italian and Spanish homework and had a lovely day! I’ve also been shopping and stocked up the fridge which reveals my other Christmas ‘students at home’ coping mechanism.

There are all my healthy proteins on the second shelf down, eggs and low-fat meat, next shelf down are the 0% fat yoghurts. In the bottom tray loads of fresh vegetables, the fridge of someone who likes to eat quite healthily. Then what’s that that can be spied on the shelf above the vegetables?!?!?………all those little blue cans………the secret’s out……..it’s the tonic for my gin! If you drink gin, you stop worrying about the mess in the bedroom, and if you drink enough you get to a point where you can’t even see it.

So, if your student quite literally turns your world upside down when they return for Christmas, my advice would be; don’t sweat the small stuff, just close the door, and drink gin! Cheers and Merry Christmas to all those Mums with an untidy student or two!