Another world on my doorstep

The sea. The shore. The sand and the beach. And in particular, tonight, the shoreline. It was only as I was walking back on to the prom and the shore in Morecambe this evening that I realised how far away I'd just been - and yet I'd not been out of sight of all the hustle and bustle.

About 30 hours late, the sun had put in a glorious appearance at about 6pm this evening and I decided to go out to the beach to enjoy it, read some National Geographic and put my notebook in order. I was just in the process of completing all of the above when it started to rain. It was raining in that way which sometimes turns into a downpour and sometimes passes but I wasn't entirely sure which way it was going to go. Given I had lots of paper out (relatively) I decided to finish up and pack it all into my bag. I then realised I really wasn't fussed by the rain when it was just me getting wet (rather than bits of paper getting soggy) so thought I'd walk around to the other side of my "sticky out bit" before heading for home.

Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. The tide was already sufficiently high that getting around the headland was going to involve serious wading and I've too much respect for the sea to try my hand at that. So instead I turned along the shoreline the other way and started following the edge of the tide as it came in. Walking along I was just gazing at the water and the things in it. And my, were there a lot of crabs and jelly fishies. The crabs were mainly blanched and very dead (but it just seemed surprising how many there seemed to be) and the jelly fishies weren't looking too healthy either although I did see a couple of little ones that seemed the right side of the grave. I ended up walking the length of that particular "cove" of the Morecambe front (it's not a cove, but I'm not sure how to describe it otherwise - a wide expanse of Morecambe bay shore bounded by two groynes is what it is practically), all the way along the shoreline and ventured almost to the rocks under the stone jetty except that the water seemed to have developed a rather unenticing scum (oil from boats? Some other sort of pollution?) and I decided to curtail about 30 metres from the rocks. And wander back.

It was delightful. Seeing the sky. Seeing the sea. Feeling the sand under my feet and the water on my legs. Seeing beasties. Seeing seaweed. Just wandering. As I reached my "starting point" (my actual starting point was somewhere between 10 and 20 metres further into the waves) I popped my flipflops on in an attempt not to get sand all over my feet. Slipping around in my flipflops slowed me down again which was good (always good to take the slow option when possible) and I meandered back, still in somewhat of a sea-and-sand induced trance.

I'd popped some paper and a can into the recycling bins and was just coming round past the Breeze Cafe when I realised just how far away I'd gone. I passed a guy who just had a look of ambivalence - and realised that the "normal world" was beginning to hit me again. The cars. The noise. The concrete. The worries. The everyday.

I'm slowly beginning to understand and be able to explain what it is I love about Morecambe and today's expedition to the great beyond on my doorstep (I was no further than 1 mile from my front door throughout my meander, and mostly much less) somehow brought a whole host of it together. Morecambe for me is about the simple things. Good food. Space. Sea. Sky. Reflection.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

It took me nigh on 48 hours to get my feet on the beach this weekend. Quite how that happened I have no idea but that was the reality! I've spent a lovely couple of days preparing for and hosting friends - none of whom knew each other before, some of whom had worked for the same company and all of whom just settled into spending time with each other. There was cake. There was bowling. There was quiche (no one else was convinced but I was quite taken! This was vegan quiche, of course). There was curry. There were cocktails. There was tea (lots of tea). And there were many many good times had. Lovely to spend time with each of them and lovely to see them enjoying getting to know each other.  

I'm really lucky in that I can stop what I'm doing and go for a "beach break". I don't need to plan a whole afternoon, nor even a whole day, at the beach. I can just pick up my blanket (or wide scarf), my keys and a book and I'm there. Brilliant. And now that I'm learning to do that when the mood takes me (and, indeed, head back to Tigger Towers when the time feels right) I get to spend a lot more time on the beach at the right time. Lucky lucky me :)

And today's idea for the day is to create Tigger's Morecambe Chronicles. Not really chronicles, but "The Morecambe Chronicles" just sounded ace. I love showing people bits and pieces of Morecambe. I love discovered new bits. I love learning more about the place and getting to share that at various moments. I also love the idea of friends coming up to stay for a weekend or so, possibly even when I'm not around, and having a few pages of interesting notes on what's around, interesting places to investigate and maybe even comments from previous visitors who've all added to the chronicles. A project in the making...

Nettle overload

After yesterday's exploits I found myself with a lot of nettles. A LOT of nettles. As in picked and slowly losing their nettley joy (although not their sting, as it turns out). Having had nettle soup, nettles with pasta, nettles in my Sunday morning fry up, made some veg stock with nettles and started preparing the nettle-plant-food-concoction I decided I may be overdoing it on the nettles.

The big sign was that I was sick of the smell of them. Not a good sign for food which is supposed to be scrumptious and brilliant.

So the remainder of yesterday's "crop" (which was particularly prolific as I was clearing a whole chunk of nettles that were in my way - along with goose grass and some dandelions - rather than just picking some to munch on) has not been torn apart and put in the nettle-plant-food-concoction and banished outside. Apparently I'm looking at a 3-4 week festering period before my plant food will be ready for use (with a peg on my nose, by all accounts) but for now I'm having at least 24 hours sans nettles.

Nettles, I love you. You're my newest addition to the joys of my ingredients cupboard. And you live outside in my yard so are easily accessible next time the urge takes me. But for now, you just keep on growing...

What's been particularly fascinating is I'm now obsessive about using my mildly-grey water (been used for washing up but little else). I haven't got a collecting bucket yet as I'm fairly certain I've got a spare in Morecambe so I've been using my blender jug to ferry it out to my little raised bed in the yard but I'm now getting shocked by just how much water is used, even on my relatively water-friendly washing up. As well as getting excited about mulching possibilities for said little raised bed. This is so exciting!

The pot-garden on my living room window is also doing well: the first coriander shoot is up, the spinach is going good guns, the parsley which has somehow just about survived many moons is showing a bit more life and the sandy-pots are just ruminating as to whether they have enough joy to grow little plants or not. Yay growing stuff :)

The Unexpected Garden

Now, I was always a fan of the secret garden as a child and although that was pretty cool, the reality is that I've just discovered I have an unexpected garden and not only that, an unexpected garden that has just provided me with lunch!

I've been wanting to have a garden or some land to tend to for ages - but it wasn't quite happening. When I moved to Halifax I knew there was some space at the back of the block but wasn't sure how to get to it - that said, I thought I might plant up some pots in my little outside space which is where the stairs to my front door are. As it turns out, those little plantings are now going good guns (the mint is a particular favourite - still fairly small but, brilliantly, means I can have minty hot sweet cocoa. Brilliant!) but even more exciting is that I contacted the other flat owners in the block about maybe doing some planting in the yard behind the house (which turns out to have a fair amount of space) - and they said yes!

This all happened about 2 weeks ago when I decided it would be a brilliant way to get some growing going and get some outside time which didn't involve sitting in a park reading (or sleeping). I knew this was going to be the next weekend I'd really get a chance to get stuck in and it's all worked out perfectly. When I first moved in there was a lot of waste lurking in the yard, plus a skip which was already full but there was no indication it was going to get moved. I'd been clearing the yard by filling up the wheelie bins the council collects periodically and had managed to get the skip collected, but there were still some bits that simply wouldn't fit in the wheelie bin (including a tall fridge/freezer and cooker). I'd been in touch with the council as there was some more general waste that seemed to be accumulating out the back of the bar next door - and today I discovered that someone (the council, someone else, who knows) had been and taken away the big bits! It's still a bit scruffy round the edges but at least it's no longer filled with rubbish.

So, I'd been out and bought a gardening fork with the idea that I'd just turn the soil and get some planting going. Hmm. Nice theory. Immediately outside the back door are some flag stones which peter out very quickly. On starting to dig I discovered that, at some point in the past, it seems there may have been a whole heap of little stones put down, like you get on driveways etc. Boo. Turning the soil wasn't much of an option but I was getting some traction so I pressed ahead. I'd thought already that the way to make sure any plantings didn't just get trodden over would be to create a raised bed. Whether I'd clocked it before or not I don't know, but I found a few old breeze blocks and by the time I was finished, I'd cleared and dug and put out breeze blocks such that I've now got a composter (which is rather full with random plants I dug up, and was made from an up-turned plastic bin - the bin had been in my little "outside the front door" bit but didn't have a lid so this was a perfect use for it), the wheelie bins for the flats are against one wall, I've created a little raised bed (prob about 2 - 3 metres by about 80cm), I've planted a tomato plant I had, two strawberry plants I picked up today and a bunch of seeds including thyme, courgette, spring onions and broccoli (normal and purple sprouting).

Now, I've also finally got round to  reading about permaculture and was a little reticent simply to pull up all the plants ("weeds") that were already there given some of them may have uses but I decided simply to go with what I know in terms of gardening as a starting point, continuing my permaculture studies while my seedlings get going. The strawberries and thyme will, hopefully, be perennial and I'll be investigating the remaining weeds (for there's still plenty of space left to be cultivated!) in due course. Not sure how the seeds will do as the soil really is quite poor - but I'll keep an eye on them and do what I can to encourage them. Including getting some garden soil if needs be. I've also done a bit of experimental potting on my living room window ledge with the sandy soil that seems to have accumulated under my steps - if it works, ace. If not - c'est la vie!

But, even better, I've known for ages that nettles are edible and I'd decided I was going to give "cooking with nettles" a go. And there were plenty of nettles to get going with - indeed, there are still plenty of nettles out there. I've got a pot of them now awaiting further culinary delights as I was a little over enthusiastic with the amount I'd need for the soup I was planning. It ended up being red lentil, potato and nettle soup - and was surprisingly tasty! Why buy spinach in plastic from the supermarket when there are nettles growing outside?! (And, indeed, when with any luck there'll be spinach growing on my window ledge in the near future).

I'm feeling pleased. Very pleased. Even if I do have that tingly sensation of having been nettle-stung a bit ;)

Discovering Halifax

 Halifax is a fascinating beast – and my relationship with it seems to expand every time I actually spend more than a fleeting couple of hours here. Which is less often than you'd think, given I live hear (but more often than you might expect if you know me).

My route between home and train station (often via a supermarket) was already of interest. Discovering how many different shops there were, serving pretty much all I would ever really need from shops. Working out when I could get to the library. Assessing when I wanted to trek across town for food or when I just wanted to pop into the central shop. But it's all a bit towny. Not much greenery or open space.

I discovered the Halifax Playhouse – I've already had a bit of a play on the stage and am looking forward to getting more of a feel for the team of volunteers who keep it open and running over the next few weeks and months.

And I started discovering the open spaces – the People's Park is up the road from me, the old hall on the corner of my road which has just sold to a training company, and the fascinating shift from back to backs to large stone buildings with enclosed gardens and mature trees. Halifax seems to be an amazing patchwork of really quite different parts which somehow meld into a whole.

But in the main there's a cared for and clean feel to Halifax. Even though there are a number of empty buildings in the city centre, they are clean and generally in a good state of repair. Yes, there are exceptions but that's what they are – exceptions. Compared to, say, Morecambe, Halifax feels somehow like it's having an odd spell of not being “fully occupied” rather than having been abandoned and left to rot. My little flat with its central location was a real find – but if I'd gone slightly further from the centre I could have found myself one of those gorgeous houses (OK, maybe not the detached ones, but perhaps a terrace) with a lovely big garden and this great sense of space.

That's what it is. A sense of space. Whereas Hebden is beautiful its location in a very narrow part of the valley makes it feel enclosed, somehow trapped. And this from someone who's lived in London. But Halifax has the sense of the hills but is ON the hill. So rather than being trapped in the valley bottom there's this sense of space, and relief, and roominess. Perhaps not in the absolute town centre but it doesn't take many minutes to walk to somewhere I can find that feeling. And with a little bit more grass and a little bit less concrete I suspect it could even be introduced to the areas just outside the centre very easily.

Leaving my flat this morning I was reflecting on the comparison of the sublime simplicity of Halifax (simple flat, simple furniture, simple kitchen, sewing machine, done) and the slightly ridiculous nature of Morecambe (rooms and rooms and rooms and rooms with stuff and stuff and stuff and stuff). And realising that I do have a desire for space and space and space and I thought Morecambe would offer that. And it does – in a way. But that the long term dream of the rooms AND the space are just that – longer term. Not in a defeatist way. But in a being happy where I am and really enjoying building the picture of that fabulous place of space for the future. Having a reason to be doing what I'm doing – as laying the foundations for that future. Recognising all the experiences that have led to now – good and bad. Valuing the now. Valuing the dreaming.

And particularly – enjoying the space and the sun.

Quietly Eventful

A strange thing happened when I awoke on Friday morning. I may even have happened on Thursday evening. In fact, I think it did. I realised I was facing 4 days without plans. In Halifax. Where I don't know people. And I don't yet really know the town. A rather interesting situation to find myself in.

But as it turns out, a rather marvellous one.

This loooooooong bank holiday weekend that's turned up straight after Easter was always a little unexpected – firstly because it was unexpected. And secondly because it rushed up on me without me noticing. Or rather time was passing and I wasn't noticing. Either way – all of a sudden it was here and, well, so was I. The temptation to dash off to various locations around the UK was high – Morecambe, where I knew there were fun and games afoot and I could hang out with my new Lancastrian buddies; London, where SciFi London (the film festival I've volunteered at for the past few years, which is ironic given I don't like SciFi) is well underway and will continue so for the rest of the weekend; or Oxfordshire where I could bounce on my trampoline, see my folks and see the village Maypole dancing on Monday. Having said farewell to an Easter-time tradition just a week ago (for the past chunk of years I've gone to Nottingham for a get together of Joinees – www.join-me.co.uk for more info – this year I was on the beach in Morecambe) the question was: comfy tradition or unknown newness. And, as you can tell, the latter won out.

(On an entirely separate note: homemade popcorn with icing sugar, rather than castor. Sticks to the popcorn rather than just falling off. Win.)

Now, in truth I did have one plan for this weekend – take delivery of a second hand fridge that was going begging and in so doing spend some time with a friend from Manchester. However, that plan was suitably vague (“Some time Sunday or Monday...”) and had been fixed some time previously and until yesterday evening remained “without confirmation”. But now that's been lined up all is even better.

After a morning of pottering (and being caught by the census man who decided it was sensible for me to have to fill out the census for the third time – which I just think is excessive. Especially given on the night in question I was actually in a hotel in Scotland. Anyway) the valley beckoned and I headed off on an expedition of my local area. Each morning and evening I find myself at Halifax train station – one side of the valley has my home and the rest of Halifax on it. The other side was an unknown but had lots of lovely trees and pretty looking stone cottages. And that was the target of my explorations. Got to the top of the hill, found myself a little wall to sit on while I had a chat to my brother then decided to head back to town via a little footpath which I'd found. I didn't actually know where it would go but was working on the basis it was fairly likely I'd end up at the bottom of the valley and therefore able to work out a vague route home.

Stomping along I smelt a distinct wood-smokey smell and discovered some still-warm embers from a little bonfire someone had had. The problem with these still-warm embers was that they were merrily spreading outwards, charring and burning the very dry “forest stuff” (no idea what you call it, but the dry tiny twigs and stuff you find in woods where there isn't enough light for greenery to grow). My attempts to put out said spreading was completely ineffectual so I had my second 999 call in almost as many weeks (which, given I've never had to call 999 before, is pretty bizarre) as I couldn't find a number for the local fire station that was getting answered. Next up was the “where are you?” conversation with the operator – absolutely brilliant given I didn't have the foggiest. But by hook and by crook we worked it out and a fire engine duly turned up and I directed them to the offending burny things. Citizen duty hat back in my pocket, the rest of the day was relaxed and saw me finish The End of Oil by Paul Roberts. Thought provoking book which I can highly recommend.

But the fun really started on Saturday. Up and to the sauna. Brill. Back to do some bits and pieces before heading down to a local arts centre, the Square Chapel, for a drumming circle. I like drumming. I didn't really know this until I went along but there's something rather brilliant about it. And after an hour or so of drumming rhythms, getting mixed up and then getting back into it, I somehow found myself walking into the Piece Hall with two people who'd been at the circle (not to mention having helped a lady down the stairs with her pushchair – a lady who I'd also given my card to as they'd been a mention of Massage and she seemed quite keen) and chatting away, only to find out that they were both veggie, one was vegan (father / son combo – the son was the vegan) and were looking for somewhere for lunch. Well, any self-respecting Tigger (yes, that would be me) could only tell them about Dandelion & Burdock in Sowerby Bridge. Son loved the idea, father thought it seemed like a good plan – and promptly invited me to join them!

Dandelion & Burdock has never yet failed to please and yesterday's visit was no exception – except it was EVEN BETTER! Because there were three of us, we just all shared a bit of what everyone else was having which was brilliant for the main course (one hot dish, plenty of salady stuff and some amazing large pasta shells stuffed with cream cheesey stuff – impossible to describe but AWESOME) but when it came to dessert meant – we got to order one of everything! The sun was shining, the company was great – and then son said he'd pay for it all! Happy Tigger. The rest of Saturday was a blur of belly-sated goodness.

And today started with sortingsey-outey-stuff, a spinning (studio cycling) class (not entirely convinced either way, but an experience!) and wandering up to Shibden Hall & Park. Which is GLORIOUS. And will definitely be on my list for future visitors. Good weekend. And there's still another day to go (which heralds Massage, a fridge and lemon cake. Mmmmm)

New kitchen, new cooking!

So, it would seem getting a new kitchen and new kitchen implements results in a complete new way of cooking! New Hafilax flat with it's unloved-to-start-with-but-now-seem-to-be-doing-OK hobs plus lots of kitcheny stuff from my mate Chris is now bringing forth lentiley delights with creamed coconut (the can said coconut milk, the stuff inside is a paste. But boy, do I like it) from The Wok Of Joy. Basically, I now get to cook the “staple” in a normal pan then fling it in The Wok Of Joy for some flavouring. Today started with accidentally putting in cinnamon when I thought I was putting in tumeric, and then I ended up throwing in some ginger too. Tee hee!

I ALSO may have netted myself a new tenant – fourth through the door but definitely my favourite so far. All four through the door have been working at the local banking HQ, all on three month contracts and all pleasant enough although the first one who said he definitely wanted the room was not an option for me. It's hard to say why but there are just some people who I don't want to have living in my house or seeing me trug around first thing in the morning / last thing at night. Looks like I may have to give in to the internet revolution tho' as the guy moving in is an IT consultant (where've I met those before?) and could really do with broadband for work. Ah well, there are worse things that could happen. And because they're worse I won't dwell on them. [Update: no word from said prospective tenant who was going to confirm either way today...I may have spoken too soon! We shall see...]

Oh, how full of food from The Wok Of Joy I am. Possibly slightly too full, but that's OK too. Tomorrow I get sofa-age and bed-age arriving and if all goes according to plan tenant-age too. But right now I've an appointment with Ms Adie and her autobiography (which is awfully good).

Good Old Fashioned Body Connection

...or “How to stop a Tigger in her tracks in a really good way”. I've just been to the sauna. It was ace. I lay down. I got hot. I drank water. I went for a swim. I drank some more water. I got hot again. I had a lovely shower (hallelujah! I love my flat but I'll love it more when the central heating and hot water works). I drank some more water. And I walked home EVER so slo-o-o-o-owly. Not like a Tigger walks normally, at all!

There's a real sense of healthyness about my move to Halifax. I can see myself getting membership at the pool and building in sauna time regularly. I walk up and down hills (not big hills, and not far, but further than I was walking). I have more “thinking space” which isn't in front of a computer and is “in transit” (my favour type of thinking type). I'm in bed super early and I'm absolutely OK with it. I'm going at my speed, in my way, with my things. And it's ace.

It has to be said, tho', that, having not brought flip flops with me to the pool, tromping from the sauna suite to the pool in my black boots and carrying my towel was a little surreal. I was a little surprised by the number of people who seemed to be watching as I had my swim and then headed back to the sauna suite and it was only when I had my shower that I realised both how red my skin had got and also how many bruises I'm sporting at the moment! Having bruised easily since childhood and with a high pain threshold it really doesn't bother me but I'll always remember the cries I got in the changing room at secondary school when I had a bruise the size of a side plate on my hip which I simply hadn't noticed...until the squeals from my friends.

But yes, Halifax: ace. Sauna: ace. Sleepy-tiredy-body-connection: ace.