Father's Day at the Olive Press and Quarry Mill

The Olive Press, an Italian themed restaurant in Cheadle Hulme, is situated below several floors of offices. It is run by a chap called Paul Heathcote for whom the term ‘celebrity chef’ is used in the local papers. There were no ‘Father’s Day’ themed offers on today but the place is pretty children friendly and, naturally, the young ones were present with their families today of all days. A glass wall where various types of packaged dried pasta were shelved and displayed on the other side came between our table and the chefs.

We had some appetisers of breadsticks, crispy bread with olives, pesto, hummus and a sun dried tomato spread. We recalled Ed liking this on his only other visit here. Sure enough, he also liked it today. I had a main course buffalo mozzarella, cherry tomato and basil pizza, really a plusher version of the margarita but pleasing enough. J had a carbonara which she liked although it was a bit frugal on the bacon. Ed divided his time seeking to be lifted between benches while tending to his lasagne.

Under threes ate free here, and the waitress reminded us that Ed was entitled to a desert. The service was very good. Several weeks ago some staff went through the traumatic experience of being ambushed and held by a bunch of scumbags after one night shift. If that has cast a shadow over the place, it didn’t show this afternoon. Our two courses, drinks & Ed’s meal came to just over £22. This place is worth visiting, especially with the offers available until the end of next month.

After our meal, we went on to Styal Mill, an industrial heritage site. It was sometime later in the afternoon by now so it was more of a whistle stop tour than it would have been. The factory was founded for the spinning of cotton, and one chap on the site volunteered to show us three how one such old machine would have worked. Its chugging and rickety volume caught Ed unaware. He had some scope for walking and we covered the whole area, with the massive working water wheel being the last of our stops. After our walk through here, we had a coffee then caught an electric fuelled float to the top of the hill and walked through the trails back to the car park.

Moving up an age group

It is the first day at Ed’s new Tumbletots group. He has moved up from age group 1 – 2 to 2-3. The previous group he attended involved a circuit of ladders, slides, tunnels, elevated planks, tilting planks all punctuated with sing songs and other sporadic activities involving the likes of hoops and beanbags. There is a commitment to developing child’s motor skills and confidence. Ed never chronologically followed the looping circuit; he would return to favourites, bemusing others with his attachment to the numbered stepping stones on the occasions that these get an outing.

I knew that this new older age group would be more structured and present a challenge to Ed’s free spirit. The first part of the new session, had us all sitting around in a circle. Genial group leaders ask the children to relay what they have recently done. Various children stepped forward and told of their recent activities to the interested and engaged group leader. No sooner had the first lad volunteered his trampoline success than Ed scurried off. He wanted to play on what he has been familiar with and – success! – the numbered stepping stones were laid out. I shadowed Ed as he sounded out his new surroundings. Meanwhile, in the circle, other children continued to step up and recall their recent activities. I couldn’t coax Ed back to the circle and was relieved when the green light came from the circle for play on the apparatus.

This didn’t appear to be very long and I inwardly sighed when the Tumbletot kids were to be subsequently divided into four leader led groups for ‘train-time’, an activity that involves doing a train/conga like walk between groups. A quarter of the hall was siphoned off for each group’s activities. Ed looked bewildered and raised his arms to me for support; I recognised and recalled that experience of not knowing what’s going on as all other young peers are familiar with and on top of what they are doing. We went through three out of four ‘train’ groups. He did go on to get a grasp some activities such as balancing, with my support, on the wobble boards.

At the end, back in the circle group, he was presented with a certificate for moving to his new group. Pleased, he set about applying his sticker to it. It’ll be a tricky period ahead, preparing and encouraging him to embrace the workings of this new group before breaking up for the summer holidays.

Montgolfier Brothers Kings Arms, Salford 11th June 2009

Roger Quigley’s band outings around Manchester and Salford are usually free and played in good humour. Tonight’s outing is an open rehearsal for a gig that will take place the following night, at Moscow’s Open Book Festival. We are warned that there may be some starts and stops but, after a faulty speaker is put right during the first song, theMontgolfier Brothers run through tunes picked from their three albums.

The excellent opener, the title track to their first recorded offering ‘Seventeen Stars’, contains a familiar lyrical note of resignation. ‘Time to bring things down’ says Roger after another such lyrically themed song. The set is shorn of the instrumentals that sound like they could accompany a poignant social documentary about Salford. The tunes played, right up to 2005’s jaded 'love cheat’ themed selection from ‘All my Bad Thoughts’, are sometimes sparse and sometimes layered with new member cellist Sophia (which wouldn’t make them brothers any more I suppose) adding texture on songs such as on lushly orchestrated ‘Even if my mind can tell you’.

The gig was played in two parts with the backdrop of a black and white Italian film behind the band. The audience were seated at candle lit tables lit with only the odd actor punctuating things with a heckle. With not even a beer glass collection passed around for putting their thought out live show on, credit crunch culture doesn’t get better than this (you can forgive the Kings their beer prices).

Seven Day Diary

Below I have relayed some diary items for the last week. As I published them following the day it happened, it starts from the bottom upwards. Reading back on an evidently rainy week, there are reoccurring themes such as nap time. I'll probably relay more of my experience of house husbandry in the future but, for the time being, I'll write about other things on the blog as some of the themes below may read as quite humdrum and repetitive if I continued as I left off.

Saturday 23rd May 2009

We had spent the afternoon at Mum-in-Law’s. Some Aunts and Uncles were visiting from Suffolk. The weather had been welcomingly sunny and Ed had a trial run out in his newly bought ‘lightweight’ travel buggy. It had been a long afternoon and he was ready for a rest. He grabbed his Mum’s wrist, and sought to lead her away saying the words ‘come on’. There’s no section in our Baby Record Book for noting the date he has said this – so for the record, this verbal coaxing was made at age two years, two months and ten days.

He fell asleep for the journey back but woke when we stopped at Handforth for a few shopping items. Being in the car in this hot weather was understandably not going to be to his likening. While waiting for our shoppers to return, I opened the windows and played my free CD of ‘The Tides’ then tuned into Loose Ends on Radio 4. He was still discernibly discontent. Hmm, I’m going to have to work on this. I got out his Iggle Piggle sketch pad, a somewhat babyish copy of ‘That’s not my Teddy’ and then, more winningly, some white chocolate milk buttons. I pointed out noticeable things from his back seat vantage point while hoping Mum and Aunt would return soon. They returned after forty minutes loaded down with shopping bags. Next time, I should be better prepared for scenarios like this, I thought. Either that, or volunteer myself to accomplish an altogether quicker bout bit of shopping.

Friday 22nd May 2009

If I brave a long walk with Ed in the buggy, I try to break up the journey with stops so as not to stretch the boy’s patience. This morning, I needed to go to the Vets for some anti-flea pills for our dog. We passed a park but the day was overcast and dank so I attempted the fifteen minute walk in one swoop.

By Devonshire Park Road, Ed was registering his discontent by taking off his shoe and lobbing onto the pavement. His sock followed shortly after.

Foreseeing a lot of stops where I stopped and wrestled with his foot as I haplessly sought to put the shoe and sock back on, I headed on to the Vets to complete the job. The lady who sold me the pills was sympathetic. ‘My five year old was once the same’, she said.

Coming back, the heavens well and truly opened. The nice traffic-free private road, Davenport Park Road seemed to provide a bit of respite from it. In Bramhall Lane, people hovered in shop fronts that most readily provided shelter. Pounding rain, noise from traffic and my bawling two year old kicking and thrashing against the rain cover combined to lowered the spirits. I pushed Ed to the sanctuary of the Funky Monkey Coffee Shop.

Thursday 21st May 2009

We got some ‘heavy rain’ not long after I started the twenty minute journey to our toddler group. I put the rain cover on but Ed wasn’t happy. I suppose having rain splayed vision takes away from the view. Fortunately, a long road we passed through had enough overhanging tree branches to provide shelter and I took his cover off.

When Ed made loud demands for a biscuit by jostling to the front of the queue, I tried to encourage him to queue patiently behind everyone else. Later, when he got irked over something, he would scurry from the room we were in, down the hall and to the tea counter. By now there was no queue. During biscuit therapy, it proved to be a difficult job to get him to say ‘please’.

In the afternoon, he reclined on the sofa, spent sporadic short periods in his bed and rested his head on a pouf. ‘Time for a nap’, I thought. I took him out in the buggy but he did enough to hold out against sleep. With the coming of age there are obviously going to be less and less naps, but it made for a fractious afternoon of behaviour from him.