A study of Shellfish by Chantal Scott Anderton

'Shellfish' is the picture hanging in our cottage kitchen

Master of the Robarts

Introducing to the world again the noble visage of my ancestor Benjamin John Elder who died in 1856. Master of the sailing ships the 'Lady Susan 'and the 'Robarts' he is resplendant in plaster on our hall table. A forerunner of the digital photograph a plaster bust was the resort of the not so rich ,who wanted posterity without notoriety. At the moment I am using his face for my profile on Facebook where I hope every one of my five friends will appreciate him. I am hoping for notoriety for posterity.

Upstairs Downstairs

Spouse has borrowed the whole set from a friend. We have done Series 1 and Series 2. We have re-aquainted ourselves with Mrs Bridges, Ruby and Sarah. Lady Marjory has gone down on the Titanic and we await the first World War. I dont know how much more I can stand.

I thought I would add my own picture from 1972, better than Upstairs Downstairs, no 3 or 4 court Wimbledon , think its Fred Stolle.

Facebook 2

I have got the hang of the Photo Album thing now. It took 50 minutes to upload a few pictures without the benefit of Broadband, so had a trip to the Library , what a difference, minute or so to load 17.

Broadband next - Waitrose is my preferred option but everyone seems to have BT. Perhaps I 'll just wait another 10 years and go to Filey Library.

The piece of elegant red metal street furniture is a VR postbox, splendid and proud in China town ,Newcastle, just along from the Red gate which is the piece of street furniture people everyone goes to see.

Gypsey Race

I have noticed with delight that for the last week the Gypsey race has been flowing through Burton Fleming. Whether or not the good people of that post office and publess village , not a hamlet, thanks to the church, share my delight is debatable. I recall that the last time it flowed about four or five years ago it flooded across the road.
Part of my weekly pilgrimages to Beverley to live bones of Saint MVB always include the slowdown into second at the Burton Fleming crossroads and past the butcher and the bridge to view the water or lack of it. I am a fishermans daughter. Looking at the water is ingrained. Further along the flow of the Race is always visible, though sometimes only just, at the road to Woldgate a few miles from Bridlington. One could even fancy a rod and fly at some times as it wends to the sea. Further downstream , next to Bridlington Hospital , onwards to Tesco's one could only catch shopping trollies and bicycle wheels, laced with non recyclable plastic bags.
I love the name Gypsey race, I love all that is written about it in that wonderful bed side book of Topography, 'The landscape of the East Riding of Yorkshire' by K Allison. All Three sentences, and one map. Why did he write so little about it , and yet pages on Sunk Island. I am going to find out more.
Meanwhile , I persuaded to spouse to let us come home from Scarborough Hospital the scenic way today in the interests of didactic driving.
So our route was thus:
Brompton by Sawdon, a stop to look at the Derwent, sandy roadsides to Sherburn,West Heslerton and the pretty drive up to West Lutton, Weaverthorpe merely damp Gypsey race, Boythorpe , past the Burtons farm where I saw my first ever Combine Harvester, indeed it was one of the first in the East Riding. On to Wold Newton, Oh! good! water in the Gypsey Race, watch it Colin , watch it ,I have to drive, Is it still there and full . The anticipation builds- wait till you see it at Burton Fleming. Amenable spouse is trying to get enthusiastic by now. An hour after leaving the hospital, he wants to get home but is trying to be kind ,he suggests a charming divertion.Lets drive to Rudston and see how the race is doing there. I dont hesitate, this is a field trip ,not the ride home. Rudston does not disappoint, quite full past the Recycling bins. Drive straight across and through a narrow lane he says there it is , and there it is , a charming stream , a beck ,always there he says, always got water in it and I never knew. Me the East Yorkshire girl , he the London boy. He knows about the Fleet though.

Facebook or 'On a bandwaggon'

Cant decide about this one. Young people seem to leave such rude comments on the walls of their friends. Was I like this? I need to decide what I actually gain from this networking site. Understanding another generation is a start. I did the Movie Quiz Ok. Looking for a clever picture now.

Laterooms

My latest discovery is 'Laterooms'. I have been directed to this site by well travelled partner of less well travelled son. I need to find a comfortable, clean and convenient double bedded ensuite in the same spot as Malmaison, Newcastle , but for a quarter of the price and the same view of the Millenium Bridge and the Sage. I am hopeful that the price of somewhere wonderful will go down to £50 with breakfast. Will keep you posted. I am having much pleasure choosing wonderful suites, reading the reviews and deciding if 0.3km is too far. It is called Virtual holidaying or maybe Virtual booking would be better.

Disney

Christmas includes Cinderella's coach and horse in enormous box,Cinderella Slipper game (Batteries from garage as soon as it opens on Boxing Day), Winnie the Pooh game with bees round Honey Pot. Spouse aka Grandpa reads the Rescuers to small children sitting in bed two minutes after his wake-up cup of tea. Family all sitting around the log-burning stove , four generations , buffet lunch, real coffee, chocolates.
AND THE SOUND OF A RECORDING OF CAROLS FROM KINGS NOT DISNEY AND WILL NEVER BE.....

Duke of Edinburgh's Award

Aged parent has announced her wish to travel to place of abode to supervise its complete Spring Clean in Winter before she takes up residence again after the F---d. I cannot take her on Friday. Don't worry dear I am going on the train. I am only 87. I do not go upstairs. I fall asleep in the car. My rail card will need renewing. It expired in 2001. I have not been on a train since 2001. I will manage . Dont worry dear. I can mind the gap. People are always so kind. I will get lots of help from the porters. The taxi will meet me so I dont have to go over the bridge. The driver will move the train for me so I can get on easily.
She went and they did.

Child is father of the man

The pantry in the Saltshouse Road house of my childhood was the place for Nigella type browsing amongst the shelves. I would take a spoon to Horlicks, Peanut butter and Ovaltine. I would take Twix bars out of the biscuit tin. Once I opened and ate a whole tin of Condensed milk. How would I get rid of the tin without Mother finding out. I know I will throw it behind the garage where the gap next to the wall is just wide enough for the evidence.
I have seen the jar of Peanut Butter in my cupboard, it is going down. It is not me, it is not spouse, it must be aged parent.

Look North

Sixteen years of Tyne Tees BBC TV have endeared us to the personalities we see and hear every day with the local news at 18:00. So when aged parent has a respite break from us with Cheshire Sibling, spouse and I take off for what is now known as a City Break, in Newcastle.

With a Metro Rover one day pass we go to Tynemouth Priory on a glorious day. The first delight is the wonderful Railway station, triumph ofVictorian day trippery. Abbey is closed so a walk to Cullercoates along the beach as recommended by elderly resident is rounded off with a great sandwich at the Queens Hotel, full of the retired of the 'Coast' eating tinned peas and carrots with chips and sloppy mince. Denture heaven.

When we access our hotel room in a dark lift with purple lighting we realise that for the view of the Millenium Bridge, The Baltic and the Sage, literally outside our windows it is worth every penny of the fortune we have to pay for the room , or suite, as it is euphemistically called because it has a sofa and a coffee table and a flat screen TV. I am entranced with the view, the changing colours of the lights on the bridge, the lights period. The Quiet.

So Carol Malia-thank you. We loved it all, the bus drivers, the Q1 and the Q2, the exhibitions, the Blaydon Races, the Get Carter car park, Jesmond Dene, Armstrong Park, Heaton Park, The Old Biscuit Factory, the ferry across from North Shields to South Shields, Fenwicks Sushi Bar, The Shout at the Sage, the glass pavement outside the Laing and the architecture of the University of Northumbria. Never have we had needed a break as much as this. The people of Newcastle were all so helpful and kind and so proud of their city. We feel as if we have been away for Two weeks, which of course we could have been with the price of a two night stay , breakfast extra, at our guinguette.

History repeats itself

Progeny are back in Wincanton Road this weekend staying with Godmother of the best sort. They have been to the Sound of Music, worn gladrags, travelled and giggled, and hit Primark . They send earnest texts about Birkenstocks. Number one daughter has left behind spouse , mother in law and sleepless nights, number two, spouse the naughty step and all things organic. Its so Dr. Johnson, bless him.

Pegs and Jif lemons

Just an experiment to see if I can get the hang of uploading on dial up

Facing up

I thought I might have upset the Street Credibility of my offspring by signing up to Facebook some weeks ago, and then ticking all the wrong dialogue boxes and joining a network in Sheffield when I live in the North Riding. Has this YO14 part of the world got a network. Son in London by the sea has just asked me to be his friend .

Wine Bar

Aged Parent, flooded out, is still on her Royal Progress around the North of England staying with a daughter at a time. Not having ready access to her very own Bank, Building Societies and Post Office, she is having to work very hard and without benefit of Calculator, to keep her paperwork up to date. She eagerly awaits B.... St........s. She knows to a day the date they should be due. She will not phone Calcutta. She has been with them for 60 years.
Today she has walked , with sholley to the local branch of her very own Bank. She asked to see the Manager or the Chief Accountant. I held my breath. She was shown straight in, helped up the steps, and was away for at least 10 minutes as I sat on the leather sofa, chatted to a friend waiting for another aged one, and heard an aged client moan to the teller behind the toughened glass that the service was not what it was.
Aged parent said you would never have known it was a Bank Manager. She had no stockings on, only sandals, and need a Hairdo."Did she do her job, did she do as you asked?" I asked nervously. "Oh! Yes" said Aged Parent.

Memory keepers daughter

A good title for a book is secret to its success in terms of marketing, sometimes. This book, which I was told , is the current favourite of the Richard and Judy book club, has kept me reading to the end because I was trying ,all the way through, to work out where the title came from. It is another Anne Tyler sort of book, you like at the time and then you have forgotten it. A Chinese meal of a book. I prefer my other august or August read 'The sea lady' by Margaret Drabble. I always read her novels because she spent seaside holidays in a house just around the corner from Casa Bridteacher. I like her descriptions of beach and sea, as they are often my beach and sea. Not in this case, I havent worked out where it is set, and nor do I mind , as the story is provoking and irritating, delicious and satisfactory. MEMORABLE

Filey Floods

Last Tuesday spouse and I felt as if we were role playing a Famous Five adventure, as we stopped torrents of water from overwhelming the back door of our jolly house. We lifted the inspection hatch to the drains with a spade and diverted the river Styx or so it seemed. Now we have a new excitement called 'sandbags' lovingly arranged in a Heath Robinson way around the back porch, a contingency plan, a super idea, what a lark.

The misery of other people however is more Waterland than Enid Blyton, and the pictures on the BBC of ordinary but disrupted lives only serve to make me thankful.

Hull Floods

The Hull Daily Mail through its Website have kept Bridteacher well informed of recent events. Thank you to all the folk who have sent in their own photos of the Hull Floods.

Newsagents in this outpost of Gods own county no longer sell the familiar and well loved tabloid. When I was a child, I thought the Daily Mail was the familiar evening paper delivered daily , and wondered why our family got it in the evening when others seemed to get it with their bacon and egg.

Here in the once Roman Signal Station town we do not even get,here in our postcode, the 'Look North ' on BBC 1. Our 6 o'clock news is followed by a regional news with Carol Malia, beloved of husband of Bridteacher. Yes I am at Second Home with the Geordie news and tales of the Sage and the Stadium of light, but miss the real Home news.

Slugs

My French Beans(Barlotta from own seed) have been eaten , as has a complete row of Kale seedlings , no loss , I don't like Kale much. The garden is looking verdant and lush, yes even drunk ,when I look at the angles of some of the stems. HOWEVER we cannot sit out , it has not really stopped raining for 10 days.The greenhouse sits at 60 degrees C, the tomatoes are stalled and only the chickweed doesn't care.
Mother of Bridteacher has been evacuated from Sheltered Posh Flat in Beverley, to Hullteacher because of flooding to the ground floor of House.
A few slugs are nothing in comparison.

Return of the native

Went in to school today for half a day Supply.It was perfect-I got to do that wonderful drive again, the clouds , the fields, the huge puddle now a lake at the new Hunmanby Gap roundabout site for the Reighton By-pass, and the car to myself. I had forgotten how therapeutic a journey alone can be. School was good too. I realised how my life had actually tangented others, as huge year 6 boys welcomed me back . Now as I wash up the dinner things and look out at the garden, where my crop of spinach beckons the pan I realise I dont have to go to work tomorrow. I am still a teacher, I will always be a teacher, I like children, I like the feeling of not having to go anywhere but my garden until next time the phone rings.