Wednesday July 7th 2010

We visited Hunstanton again, this time to have a look at it Sea Life Centre. Ed liked touching the star fish and I enjoyed the crab display by a lad who conceded that he didn’t really like crabs. However, Ed was testy and we broke up our visit into two parts. The funfair next door was of more interest. It was quiet and one ride operator kindly let him have a second go (even if it did mean withstanding the accompanying music of what sounded like an amalgamation of ‘When the Saints go Marching In’ and Elton John’s ‘How Wonderful Life is when you’re in the world’ played on a eighties kid’s Casio keyboard).

I went for a run on the Norfolk coast in the evening and approached a scattered group of enthusiasts who had gathered to watch and film the sunset. I stopped running and joined these in viewing this impressive spectacle over the sea. There was little noise coming from anywhere – no cars or planes and of course my mobile wasn’t about to ring having died in that swimming pool. In a hectic child centered holiday, it was a nice respite to watch this splendid sight in the relative quiet.

Thursday July 8th 2010

The longer journey to Cromer entailed predicatable toilet stop requests along the way. I took Ed into a village pub and found his burgeoning interest in hand driers heightened by the presence of a Dyson Airblade.

Cromer was a reasonably pleasant, cheap and friendly place. It pleased me, after treading on some stony beaches, that the sand on the beach where we settled was relatively smooth. I bought Ed an ice cream then provided a supplementary role in catching the dropping cream from his clothes and lap. A set of rides at Cromer Kiddieland look like they go back some time – Jan thought that the Helter Skelter was the same one that she recalled from her seventies childhood. Old and rickety they may be, but they happily filled a kiddy size chunk of the afternoon.

Friday 9th July 2010

We decided to go to the pool later in the morning. The details in our Welcome pack said it was open 9 -5. When we arrived there at 11:40 we were told by a lad that the pool was closing shortly for lunch. He pointed to listed opening times on the door that confirmed this. Jan was furious that these times didn’t tally with those in our welcome pack. She yelled at the lad who went to fetch the barely older manager. When the duo of lifeguards had been duly shouted at, Jan marched into Reception Office for further denunciations. At the reception desk they conceded with raised furrowed eye brows that there was a disparity in the listed opening times. That work in progress, the complaint form, beckoned.

I took Ed away. It seemed that the young workers on the front line who are probably not paid enough were getting an earful when all the while, as is the modern way, the managers were removed from things, out of sight and out of the site. I learnt that the manager was, in fact, resting after the heady experience of attending a conference.

We returned to the pool when it opened in the afternoon. I felt that the lifeguards were eyeing us wearily, perhaps waiting for Jan to come near enough to breaking one of the many pool rules so they could blow their whistle, shout a caution and high five each other.

We attended the Site’s Entertainment Hall in the evening for our penultimate meal out on our last day. There had apparently been a revolving door of chefs all week usually departing when finding the place to be quiet and food orders rare. The guys behind the bar showed us a skeleton menu. I had vegetable lasagna which was recognizable as a pre packaged supermarket type. The main reason we had come was for the mini disco but this was at too late an hour and as a tiring Ed got tetchy, we retired early to assemble our bags for leaving tomorrow.

Sunday 28th March 2010

In the morning I completed the assembling of a chest of draws that are to go in Ed’s new bedroom. I was concerned that he would get restless or attention seeking but he seemed to like being in an atmosphere of industriousness.

In the afternoon we headed into town on what was a fairly bright day. The drawn up shopping list I had included some Spring Greens. I bought an open bag of leaves from Sainsbury’s impressed that Janette had opted for some seasonal produce. When I got back, however, I was told that this was not what was required and it was to directed to the bin. What was needed was the sealed bagged and shredded stuff. Eventually she assented to using it just as I was planning in my own head several days of teas to be accompanied by retrieved spring greens. And good it was too: a worthy accompaniment to veggie and non-veggie Cottage Pie.

While out, I took Ed on the carousel. An attendant will usually survey the kiddies on board to see that they are strapped in and then receive the pound per go. However the carousel had started moving while I was still strapping Ed upstairs on the double decker ‘fun bus’. As his bus pulled away from my outstretched hands his clipped in straps didn't have that ideal waist clinging firmness. luckily Ed is unlikely to want to manoeuvere anywhere else on this rotating ride. The attendant was still distracted when the ride finished. I lifted Ed out passed over a belated pound coin to her King Tut bearded chum.

Saturday 27th March 2010

I decided to venture into my local pub to see if they were showing a Bluebirds match that was live on Sky. I hadn't previously found it particuarly friendly but a small feature in the local paper accompanied by a smiling landlady reported that it was under new ownership. A poster on its window promises ‘all live matches shown’. I had barely walked in when a shaven headed bloke with a barely gnawed pie looked up from the table and asked, in a gravelly voice if he could help me. I mentioned the match. ‘Yes, we show all live matches’, he said and went on to switch the big screen on. A familiar watchful landlord type, perhaps best suited the pubs of the this very local sort.

In the afternoon we drove to Altrincham. We went first to a retail centre for a crib mattress for our new baby then, while in the area, on to our friends. We took our respective offspring to the local park. A grafitti artist hoarding for Woodstock Park caught something of the atmosphere as some youths with hooded tops larked about. The largest yells, however, came from Ed who objected that two other children had dared to take up some swing seats for which he presumably should have hadfirst refusal

Monday 4th January 2010 - Snow to the rescue

I got out this morning with the scraper to get the ice off the side of the car windows. The heaters and front windscreen wipers took care of the front and back. It was during this time that J asked Ed what he was doing today with Daddy. Ed replied ‘Going to Rumble’ (a soft play centre) so after 10am I set off to that very place with him. Our entrance to the place brought a period of vocal stroppiness, the cause of which I could not discern. He eventually entered into the spirit of play, starting first at the soft play part and ball pool before graduating onto the cars.

It was a wretched period walking back home on the ice covered ground. Ed was unhappy and refusing gloves. My own hands, meanwhile, felt itching pangs from chaffed skin cuts despite the fact that I was wearing gloves. We stayed in the house for the rest of the day.

It was snowing by the time I took Molly for a walk at 9pm. This is the best option as I'm not yet bored of the snow which helps to grip our shoes against the ice.

Film Review: Home

Home - Directed by Ursala Meier (French – subtitles)

Marthe and Michel’s family of five live off a highway. Not one that tails away from a slip road – there is little space between their house and the road. As the road has been un-used for some years, this hasn’t been a problem. The road becomes an extension of their life as the space is utilised for various sports, games and leisure activities that indulge the free spirits of this family when they’re not at work or school. Yet there is always the creeping spectre of their lifestyle being rudely shattered with the motorway once again set to host traffic. Reports of work lorries, some way down the road, are wearily investigated and a local roads based station ‘Radio Highway’ becomes a harbinger of doom when it anticipates, in excited tones, the re-opening of the motorway.

If Radio Highway’s voice reeks of propaganda on behalf of the petrol heads, the element of ‘occupation’ is suggested by the appearance of road workers, all orange nylon work trousers and heavy boots, who descend to erect road guards and dispassionately move anything on the road owned by the family.

Up to this point we have seen a happy go lucky family living in their own idyll but with the onset of traffic and noise pollution, characteristics of the family give out and eccentricites are exposed. One of the daughters Judith, a stoic, thrash metal listener who seems to predominately sun bathe elicits honks from passing motorists. The family begin to get viewed with freakish curiosity. Cracks open up. Basic things like setting off to work or school become fraught operations.

Michel’s temperament often threatens to boil over in these circumstances so when he bursts in on the bedroom of a now communally huddled up family to declare ‘It’s over’, things take a darker turn into a living entombment. This is an original ‘anti-road movie’ film on what happens to a family when the outside world starts to unwelcomingly encroach on a family’s space.

Phantom Band 7th November 2009

Having arrived at Salford's Islington Mill by way of asking directions I was glad to find that Marple’s Dutch Uncles were the support band. I had seen them last year, also in a support role, and found their spidery guitar tunes all contained within a pop framework very enjoyable. The band are young, their stage manner bouncy and fittingly, inside what was an old cotton mill, their clothes carried a radiant hue.

The Phantom Band appearance is more inscrutable by contrast with some of their hooded attire extending to spangly, sequined robes although singer Rick is unfrocked.

In contrast to the Dutch Uncles elasticity they positively take their music on an exploratory loop for minutes at a time before morphing into something else, feathered along with various pipes or percussion instruments. The more conventionally structured songs such as Island (whose preliminary strums enticingly recall Silent Night) are delivered with such echoey precision as to make them sound other-worldy. It would be a challenge to see the songs of such length hold the audience’s attentions but there’s enough in the likes of the Howling and the Doorsy Throwing Bones to pick up the pace. I left after their main set to catch the bus home seven miles away but they were to come back and played two encores.

I was unaware of this venue which has already been active for several years. This looks a fine place with other floors given over to artistic ventures. The open plan is all it had in common with the loft apartments that often arise from such unoccupied buildings. After lying derelict in urban Salford the Mill has been re-opened.

Photo by Simon