Day Trip to Madchestar

Antony Gormley

A kiwi friend is visiting her family in Southport, we live in North Derbyshire...where to meet? Manchester! What to do in Manchester? Need a place to chat, need a bit of walking around, need cake...the Art Gallery of course.

Kate Malone, Pineapple [detail]

We bundle ourselves into the car to Grindleford and hop on the train that used to be a bus (I kid you not) and trundle very slowly Manchester bound. It's an old train, and has a certain smell that should you wish to reproduce, get your old running trainers very wet, leave them in a plastic bag for about a month, then retrieve them and dry them out on a radiator.

After stopping at every village in the Hope Valley, and every lamp post we arrive in a soggy Manchester. 

Very lovely to greet old friend, and she has kiwi chocolate and biscuits, we set off in an art galleryish direction. A little confused with all the roads and traffic, we are beeped at by a bus, we reach our destination. (we are country bumpkins after all).

Rebecca Lawton, Roll'em Girls '16

Straight to the cafe of course, need to catch up and obviously need to eat a giant chocolate croissant to fortify ourselves for the day. Taken in by the Kate Malone ceramic pineapple on the way, the exhibition we came to see was really excellent. Fashion and Freedom "New fashion and film inspired by the women of the First World War"

We learnt things (who knew Emmeline Pankhurst's 'guards' were trained in martial arts in order to protect her) we really enjoyed the designs and the films accompanying the exhibition were well worth a watch - go see it. 

Favourites were the knee embroidery with an embroidery frame, a commentary on women being able to display parts of their body previously frowned upon. Women - now allowed to expose their knees, would actually decorate their knees!  I liked the use of embroidery to portray this and the frame of the hoop - brining a traditional female occupation into the public eye. 

Time for lunch, that chocolate croissant couldn't possibly be expected to keep us going all day. Back to the cafe, a lovely lunch, more chat of course. We  felt fortified to view more art.

The obligatory photo of the Gormley and onto some Japanese design via traditional paintings. Some lovely organic ceramics. 

One plate, four forks

Feeling inspired, onto an art shop. Sheffield's art supply shops I often find are not great. Fred Aldous beckoned. OMG - I'd never been in before. Things just seemed to leap into my basket, lovely lovely things, lovely thinks that smelt of creativity and pencils, things that will help improve my creativity. I want to live there, apparently it's not allowed.

Ey up duck

Original duck face

Time for cake before the train back to Grindleford. A minty (yes minty) brownie, kinda nice, kinda weird. More chat and a selfie - we forgot to do the duck face as seen earlier. 

  

The Great Bakewell Bake Off

A blog post about baking you you say? 


Well here you are.

It was my Birthday on Friday, and as it fell on a Friday, I considered that a valid reason to stretch out the celebrations for the entire weekend. It was lunch AND dinner out on Friday, dragging offspring along the Monsal Trail on a bike on Saturday, so a trip to the local Baking festival on Sunday was a given really.

I've not attended a baking festival before, I'd not even seen a live cooking show before, with no knowledge of what to expect, we arrive in the show grounds in Bakewell. A very apt. name for the location of a Baking festival.

We get through the gate with a very precursory check of the ticket on my phone to be greeted with stalls selling food, coffee, vintage crockery, clothing and of course an 'invaluable' kit for peeling garlic.

We greet Maisie's friend and her family and head to the theatre cooking show. Stacie Stewart of Master Chef fame was first up.  A clean living eating fanatic who now only eats raw broccoli and anything with antitoxins in it. She's lost 4 stone you know. Anyway, she wrote a book about proper baking 4 year's ago so will be demonstrating from that book rather than the book about being a good vegan that hasn't been published yet. She was fairly engaging with the audience, told some amusing stories about her Nan teaching her cooking and her mum saying she prefers going to Gregs.

Then time to walk round the food stalls. We try various cheeses (caramelised onion was a winner) ginger bread, parkin, rape seed oils (If I'm honest that tasted like the smell of massage oil), jam, and maybe a bit more cheese. We scoff a nice pork baguette whilst sat an a hay bail and avoided the wasps. We survey the games available. Quite tempted to have a go at splat the rat but Maisie moved me away.

We catch the end of Edd Kimber (@theboywhobakes) and wait for the next theatre performance Ms Marmite (@msmarmitelover). We liked the look of Edd, he made what looked like a lovely battenberg cake, a favourite, and has an obvious passion for sugar and baking. At question time, I resisted the urge to ask "what was it like being so close to Sue Perkins and do you have her phone number?" 

We scoot up to the front of the tent for Ms Marmite. Famous for developing the home restaurant concept in the UK. Inviting your mates round for dinner and charging them.  She was great. A real person with a desire to feed people. In fact, she made a valiant attempt to provide the entire audience with a lemon curd injected donut. With the help from her daughter, she chatted and chatted, and fashioned loads of donuts. Rather than the 30 minutes from the other bakers, we had the whole hour full of cooking theatre. To our delight, Maisie got a donut...mmm donuts. Ms Marmite would be welcome to come round to our house for tea is ever in the area, I'd only charge her a tenner!

However, not everyone in the tent was impressed. Ms Stewart was waiting stage left to come on next. Ooh, a bit of drama. Her face was a picture. She was not happy about the timing. Sadly for us, Ms Marmite finally finished her donuts and blondie cake, and was shuffled of the stage. A rapid tidy up was executed and Ms I'm a proper healthy vegan was back on stage. I think I would have liked her better if she hadn't mentioned being able to deliver her cooking presentation within the time (in a passive aggressive way). I also think I would have liked her better if she had baked the food she was passionate about, not the food she doesn't eat anymore. I'm a firm believer in being who you are. 

Well, after all that drama, a quick look at some cakes was needed, a taste of some Japanese tea and back for more Edd. A healthy debate about the pronunciation of scone. Obviously you pronounce it scone. And if to put the cream or the jam on first. The jam obviously. Edd disagreed. Boo.

The finale was a chocolate creator based in Castleton. Good to have a local, and refreshing to see someone not selling their latest book. Good stuff.

Time to come home and shout 'bake' 

How can you tell if librarians like cake?

Well you hold a bake sale and make over £160* for Comic Relief of course!

There's much to be excited about in a library environment when there's talk of a bake sale... well mainly the availability of cake and maybe the odd biscuit. A colleague enlisted my help with a Comic Relief bake sale. I was delighted, I could dress up in the style of Sue Perkins and eat cake (guilt free) all day! 

Unfortunately, I was suffering from a cold... fortunately the lovely offspring was more than happy to bake some biscuits. We thought biscuits in a bag so they could be transported home and consumed at a convenient time - and we included a free joke. High quality jokes about biscuits are, as it happens, plentiful. 

For example:
Which biscuit singer sang Dancing on the Ceiling? 
Lionel RichTea!

Classic. Who wouldn't pay a £1 for the joke alone?

As people delivered their offerings to us in the morning, I was aware we needed to be mindful of nuts. When a colleague presented an orange and almond cake I did, to my embarrassment, ask... "does it contain nuts?" He looked at me as if I was nuts and said "Yes - almonds!" In my defence, it was early and we were being overwhelmed by cake deliveries! (The cake was delicious btw).

We baked, we had photos of the bakers in red noses on the wall and we had bunting. People were surprisingly excited by the bunting. "Ooh look, bunting," led me to think we need more bunting in our lives, well in the tea room at least. We had a little bit of rivalry with another library site who had organised a quiz. I think that may even have accused us of having soggy bottoms, but all in good fun. It felt like a good community event and we ate loads of cake (not just me). There was a spotty cake, a spotty tablecloth and, I suspect, spotty complexions after all that sugar, butter and chocolate. But who cares? All for a good cause.

*full amount to be verified next week.

21 things* to do with a redundant Tax disc holder

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Times are a changing, I’ve been driving around the streets of the UK now proudly displaying a tax disc for 20 ish (cough) years and yesterday, suddenly there was no need. I still have my tax disc displayed - along with countless other drivers -, but alas - it expired on the 30-09-14. It sits there all forlorn on my dashboard as the stickiness of the holder expired long ago. Actually, it’s not alone, there are possibly three years worth of tax discs there, shoved in the back as I’m too lazy to have removed them. (maybe the cause of the lack of stickability to the windscreen).

This has all led me to consider…what to do with all these tax disc holders. I’m sure I’m not alone so I thought - why not come up with a handy dandy cut out and keep guide? If only I had the technology to make it a perforated press out and keep guide, that would be good.

1. A tribute to tax discs gone by, it could remain on the dashboard/windscreen for the rest of the ownership of the car to remind ourselves of the pain of the perforations and tearing out the round disc without tearing it in half
2. I thought it could house emergency biscuits, particularly digestives - just the right size. Essential when stuck in traffic and blood sugar is running low. Possibly just one biscuit. n.b. try to avoid emergencies, and don't eat and drive, and maybe avoid chocolate biscuits
3. A handy place to store your driving monocle
4. A handy place to store a drinks coaster
5. A handy place to store  - well most round flat things
6. You could put it in your glovebox or the car door, with the remaining tax disc/s in as a symbol of not being quite as lazy as not bothering to remove from the windscreen/dashboard
7. Bring it inside to languish in a draw to be discovered by future generations to prove - yes they had invented the car xx number of years ago
8. Instead of storing a coaster, use as a stylish coaster instead. Guaranteed the stickiness would revitalise itself and stick to the bottom of the cup/mug/glass when you have your mum/vicar/in-laws round for tea 
9. A quirky accessory to any window, complete with tax disc. A great conversation starter “why do you have a tax disc stuck on your bedroom/lounge/bathroom window?” Yes why indeed…freak
10. Stick to the kitchen window to store the kitchen sink plug
11. A novelty hat for a small pet
12. I’m getting desperate now
13. Curious to see if you could keep it on the windscreen, but put a tomato in there for sun drying purposes…however, this is Britain.
14. Did I mention I was getting desperate 

*there may not be 21 things

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Fell Trail Fit?

It's that time of year when crazy ideas arrive in one's brain. Take running up a really steep hill and down again for example. I took part in the local fell race last year....as a  marshall...the organiser saw me running up the road and said "I don't know if you are interested, but I organise the local fell race" He obviously hadn't clocked that I was gasping for breath after only barely reaching a run up the gentle incline of our road...I was however happy to help. Anyway...this year I'm thinking "why not?"

Several things do come to mind as to why not
1) It's up hill
2) It's back down a steep hill over rough terrain
3) There are menacing looking sheep up there
4) I'm an unfit middle aged weak ankled lazy cake eating librarian
4) Did I mention the uphill bit? 

So I did the sensible thing...contacted friend of friend Andrea for some hill/fell running tips and to run the route with me after work one evening. (She's a proper runner (and swimmer and biker) check out her blog: Trepid Explorer)

I run around the countryside to prepare for this, I ran around the coast track in Cromer (to be recommended - it's lovely) and the evening of the test run arrived. I drive home from work and there's a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Actually the glimmer is thick fog...here's me thinking nobody in their right mind will want to run up a hill into that? How wrong can one be. My new personal trainer arrives, with back up in the form of husband...they quickly quash any ideas of whimping out in favour of a light skip around in lower territory.

Then they pull on all the running gear, I don my grotty old trainers and a sweat shirt and there's no turning back. Off we trot. Unfortunately I didn't even quite make it out of the village at a run. Resorting to large strides...we get to the start of the countryside bit. Into the fields and the territory of the wild sheep. My running companions are skipping around like mountain goats whilst I concentrate on not throwing myself on the ground to demand a helicopter take me back to the sofa.

There's more hill, then a bit more, thank goodness for gates to open and maps to read. More hill...I hear occasional "ooh look at the lambs" "awhh look at their lovely ears". If I'd had the ability to speak at this point, I may have muttered "never mind the ****** lambs my lungs are about to explode"

We see what I hope is the summit several times and then finally, finally in the mist I think the summit is achieved. The view is stunning I expect, all we can actually see is a few sheep and trees. The valley below is completely obscured by thick fog. 

We jog around a bit, trying to find the right track a little error involving a scramble over a fence and a very loud bleating at by several indignant sheep and their lambs, and hooray some flatness. Flat I can do. Also the advantage of being very warmed up at this point. 

Running running, avoiding sheep, a bit of 'pacing' (aka walking in fell race terminology) and looking out for the giant transmitter arial thing on Calver peak which should be on our right at this point...oops it's on the left. Oh well, we trot down the hill the same way we come up, at least our error of navigation hadn't meant we'd fallen down a mine shaft. We run down to the bottom of the road and up a part of the track which is actually the end of the official fell run route. At the first gate, Andrea bravely decides to carry on running for half an hour, for me and Andy it's back to the comfort of a nice dry house.

I ran 4.99 miles according to my phone...bugger, should have gone just that little bit further. However in reality, I didn't think I would ever move again, both lots of calf muscles objecting strongly to any movement, lots of stretching and a hot shower to enable shuffling to the sofa.

Today is the next day....oh my word, there is not a muscle in my body that is not complaining. 

I'm so doing that again on Saturday...Calver Fell Race watch out...here I come! (Weather permitting  - wether I chicken out maybe! Watch this space)

Home alone

Well the child is in France and we are left moping around the house without her. However, even though she is not here, somehow we end up doing a Guide thing anyway. She's raising money for her Japan Jamboree trip in 2015 and the Guide leader said we could do a craft stall at the coffee morning. 

Cue finger puppet rabbits and 'Totes Amaze Bags'

We set up our stall, we purchase coffee and cake. There's loads of cake. We await the villagers. Make finger puppets and they will come! 

Our punters arrive, mainly of the older generation very keen on the idea of a chin wag, a cup of coffee and cake. It was a lovely raucous village atmosphere. All were appreciative of our crafts, plenty of purchases made, we ate loads of cake, took cake home and caught up with neighbours. Then...as if that wasn't an exciting enough day - a trip to the tip. Yay! 

Duck or canard?

Part deux of the French experience

What could top celebrating Burns night for a French teenage experience of Derbyshire life? A trip down a dark cave and scrambling into a boat might not be everyone's cup of tea…but that was what we did.

We drive though the pretty villages of the Hope Valley to the destination of Castleton, famous for it’s Blue John, stalactites and stalagmites. OK, who can tell me how you tell the difference? I was taught stalactites need to hang on tight to the ceiling, and stalagmites need to be mighty strong to build up from the ground. Oh yes - Blue John is actually blue…I’ll be testing you later.

I find a guidebook to the speedwell cavern in French…result. I give this to Clara and the French contingent gather round and read about what was to be expected for the next hour. I find the guide to ask if he knows any French…he doesn’t (except bon-jaw N.B. his accent was way worse than mine.)

We don protective headgear and stumble en masse down the 900 steps to the awaiting boat. In which we are treated to a ride in the cold dark tunnel, accompanied by the guide telling us about the history of mining in a fairly strong Derbyshire accent. Not sure our French students will have covered coal mining, child exploitation and controlled explosions in their English lessons; at least they have the book. There was a particularly low bit of the tunnel and we were encouraged to ‘duck’. I shouted ‘canard’ to alert the French. Apparently its not the same! Amused my fellow English passengers though.

We get out of the boat, we admire the cavern, we take photos, we stare at our shoes, we take a few more photos having convinced ourselves that there is definitely no 3G signal and clamber into the next boat with relief. The tour guide has some funny stories about previous questions from tourists - for example “How many undiscovered caverns are there?” and “Can I take my hat off, I keep banging my head” And I thought the duck joke sank!

Back on the surface, we decide to go for a hot chocolate and perhaps some cake, we felt we deserved it. However, there were eight adults and 10 children in our party. So the Castleton carnival begins. I’m not sure why we ALL felt the need to traipse into every cafe, establish that the remaining one table and three chairs was not sufficient for our party, cause a log jam in the doorway then tramp to the next establishment, but that was what we did. I am sure we are still the talk of the village. At last, a restaurant agreed to make us a hot drink and feed us cake - phew!

Vos marques, prêts, du shopping et manger - Première partie

Ready to eat and shop in France - part one.

Destination  - Lille

We arrive with a bang, or was that just Leanne reversing into a tree? (no damage to car or tree, phew)

Following Lars in his about town car, we arrive in the centre of Lille. This turns out to be a very beautiful Brusselesque town with loads of fashionable shops and patisseries. First item on the list is obviously some cream for my eczema. Whilst the rest of the party pressed their noses up against the patisserie window, I set off fearlessly with my bad French and a very recent lesson on how to pronounce hydrocortisone. (Drop the h and replace the y with an e).

In the pharmacy I go, I stumble through hello I need some edrocortisone creme s'il vous plait, I explain I don't know what it is in French, blank looks. I start to point to areas of my body affected by eczema, well the areas I can show in public without fear of arrest, I'm sure by this time I had attracted the attention of the security guard. I mime rubbing on cream, I continue to babble on for what seems like ages, when eventually the pharmacist says in perfect English, yes, it's called hydrocortisone in France as well, that will be three euros fifty please! Sacre bleu.

I guess I gave them something to talk about in their tea break.

In the patisserie!