Closure

We’ve been in Cottingham today, because having found buyers for Mummy’s bungalow, the task we’ve been putting off finally had to be tackled.  Though we’d already sorted out the personal treasures and taken them home for safety, there was still the tricky business of emptying wardrobes, kitchen cupboards and suchlike.  Fortunately, I’m blessed with a family who are ready and more than willing to step in at a moment’s notice, who rally round and make the job so very much easier.  Thanks to their help, we were able to get on with it with minimum fuss and bother.

For some reason, I felt it important that I dealt with the personal bits and pieces myself.  Never mind that she had no secrets, I didn’t like to think of a total stranger dealing with those things.  So, deep breaths taken, all courage gathered and some six hours later it’s more or less done.

Of course, we discovered little things tucked away.  Old letters, newspaper clippings and, totally out of the blue, a box containing my first ballet shoes, a Brownie card dated 1963 and a rather formal letter from my first employer informing me that I had “successfully completed the probationary period of my teaching career”.  Just as I was asking myself why on earth she kept such things, I reflected on what bits and pieces I squirrel away from Edward’s life and reckon I’ve inherited that particular weakness.  He hasn’t had ballet shoes to save (!) but I have still got his first little buckle sandals, never mind various letters offering university places, confirming degree results, job offers and so on.  It’s what proud Mummies do, isn’t it?

Or?

The comforting part of the day was meeting the buyers, who came over to talk about what we might leave behind for them – light fittings, curtains etc.  Having only spoken to them on the phone, we had no idea what they were like – not that it really mattered.

But imagine our delight to discover they are a couple of local teachers with two young daughters and, in seven weeks, will add a son to their number.  New house, new baby – their excitement at the prospect of making a new home for themselves was really lovely to witness and served to confirm that life does indeed go on.  Their younger daughter was so happy in the garden, collecting rose petals from the many rose bushes Daddy planted and took such pride in – he would have been thrilled to know that they will continue to be enjoyed.

Tomorrow, all that’s left to do are one or two last bits and we’ll leave it to this next generation and, though I dreaded letting go of this last link, I must say, it will come as a huge relief.

Comfort foods

We've been to Hull and back since my last post - just a flying visit because we realise that it's something we've been putting off for too long. Sorting Mummy's house out is not a comfortable thought for either of us and though we've had time to do it, we have found excuses and have prevaricated too long. Anyway, it had to be done and to be truthful, it wasn't as bad as I feared. Upsetting at times, of course, but actually, it's so long since she lived there (9 months since her stroke) that there is little of "her" still in the house. Though the garden was looking a little bedgraggled from all the wind and rain, Daddy's clematis was blooming lovely!

There was one nasty shock in the form of a summons for us both on the doormat. Though we had paid the Council Tax bill to the end of the financial year in April, the East Riding bureaucrats had changed the name on the account and been informed of our address, they had changed one but not the other. So, there was the bill, a reminder and a summons all there waiting for us. Fortunately, Mark had the most efficient and charming lady clerk to deal with when he went in on the dot of 9 this morning to sort it out, and sorted out it was, in no time at all, apologies all round.



We needed comfort. He brought that home with him in the form of a Yorkshire Curd Cheesecake from the bakers in Cottingham. yum!! We have been known to devour a whole one of these in one sitting, most recently at a service station on the M1, but this time, we restrained ourselves to a delicate slice at lunchtime and brought the rest home with us.

Well, we had just had haddock and chips for lunch and in Hull, the fish are far from small! (Plates above are dinner plates, believe me - and that's just one portion of chips shared between the two of us!)

Further to my last post

How ironic that immediately after my last post about the photo a day, life dealt a blow which means that we are in Hull. Whilst not totally unexpected, it's taking time and clearly my priorities lie elsewhere.

I have taken a photo each day, as much for my own record of the year as any other and will post in due course. In the meantime, your kind thoughts and prayers for my dear, dying Mummy would be greatly appreciated. Up to date news is on our family blog, link on this page somewhere.

At the Pier

For reasons too lengthy to go into here, Edward's muse has always been Minerva. So, it was apt that today, on his 23rd birthday, we should find ourselves spending an hour at the Pier in Hull and the Minerva. The weather was amazing - bitterly cold but clear and sunny.

The kind of day we always think of as a "New Zealand Day", in fact.

The long slope in the photograph is the old "horse wash" where working horses would be taken at the end of the day, for a bit of a splash.

This is the pier from which the ferries used to depart for "New Holland", that mysterious place on the other side of the River Humber, where the yellow bellies live. Not many people from Hull used to take the adventurous journey, so it was quite an occasion when I took the 32 small girls in my class at Tranby Croft on one of the last crossings.

Of course, there's now the Humber Bridge, just visible upstream in this picture.

Part of the old wooden pier still stands however and there's still an ice cream parlour - albeit a new one - and the ticket office is converted into flats.

And there are fish underfoot. Love them!

On the other side, downstream of the River Hull on Sammy's Point is The Deep, quite remarkable architecture and still attracting the crowds, which is a huge relief to the city. Further on, the ferries which depart for Zeebrugge and Rotterdam are berthed in the Humber now they are too large to go through the lock gates into King George Dock as they used to do.

Tied to the fence are some sad reminders of the close seafaring connections here, for this is about the closest place to those cold, muddy waters.

This amazing sculpture "Voyage" and a sister sculpture in Vik, Iceland, symbolise the bonds between the two countries and those who have lost their lives in the North Atlantic.

Time for a pint and some further reflection in the Minerva pub then. Cheers, Edward! Happy Birthday!