Tag Archives: family

Distractions

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I only realised on Monday, or maybe Tuesday, that Saturday had passed and I had forgotten to write to you at all last weekend. It felt surreal, though perhaps not surprising. My whirlwind trip to the Arctic was over in a flash. Even now that I’m home, it feels no time at all since I was landing in Bardufoss and walking across the recently cleared runway to find Shirley waiting for me, just inside the glass door of the airport building.

It was, in many ways, a beautiful trip. Temperatures were perfect at around minus one all week. Cold enough for crisp snow, not so chilly as to give you frostbite. Each morning, I went for a twilight walk with the dogs. This was my first day.


I sent the picture to my work colleagues, one of whom said it was like a postcard. I was quite surprised because to me, it’s just a road. Attractive enough with all the snow, but not especially scenic. Three years living there has skewed my perspective.

When we got back, Shirley offered to make me the same breakfast she makes herself each morning. Just some oats and nuts, I think she said. She came through a few minutes later with a delicious concoction of blueberries, porridge, nuts, seeds and honey. It was a fabulous start to the day.

I came upstairs on the 5th to find Shirley had put the Christmas tree up. This was in addition to a thousand other festive touches. With darkness outside some 21 hours of the day, it felt cosy and utterly Norwegian.

Despite being vegetarian, Shirley and Kai wanted to treat me to Norwegian Christmas dinner, so on Friday, they took me out to Senjastua for lunch. It was a delight of different Norwegian traditions, from pinnekjøtt (dried and reconstituted lamb) to pork ribbe, via a tasty lamb sausage. It was served with mashed swede and red cabbage, along with what was called ribbe sauce – effectively gravy! Delicious!

It was just as well our walk had taken us a bit further up the hill that morning, or I would never have managed the whole plateful.

The forecast was for cloudy skies all week and I had resigned myself to not seeing the Northern Lights. I did glance out of the window as I was on my way to bed that night and chanced to see stars. Stars meant the clouds must have cleared a bit, so opening the door, I went outside and, to my delight, the sky was indeed lit up with that gently dancing river of light. Standing outside in the snow, it felt timeless and wonderful as ever.

On Saturday, we made shortbread and stuffed mushrooms on a leek and cauliflower purée. No photos of those, but on Sunday, I made a gingerbread cake with cream cheese icing, which I will definitely be making again.

Somehow, it didn’t strike me until Monday that I was leaving on Tuesday. Throughout the weekend, I was thinking I was only halfway through my visit. Monday was spent shopping and Shirley and I had lunch in En Kaffe Te, where I sometimes used to go with John and Andrew, when we all lived there.

I bought quite a few Christmas things. I won’t be using them this year as my house is still in a state of flux with ongoing building work, but perhaps next year, I can make it into more of a haven. Lovely as my trip was, I confess there were bittersweet overtones. I loved my house in the north and when I bought it, I was expecting to settle there, with John nearby and probably Andrew somewhere not too far away. For a number of reasons, it didn’t work out that way and since then, life hasn’t felt settled or comfortable, but I guess that’s how life is. I can only hope to build something different. There’s no going back.

Flying out of Tromsø is always beautiful, especially in winter.

Unfortunately, my flight from Trondheim to Copenhagen was delayed, which meant an exhausting rush the length of Copenhagen airport, followed by the not-unexpected discovery that, although I had made it back to Manchester on time, my luggage hadn’t. Cue two days of hanging about at home, expecting it to be delivered. A message arrived yesterday evening at quarter past seven to say it will be arriving on Monday. I’m not very impressed.

Still Triar seems to have had a lovely time with my friend Ruth. Good to know that I have someone who loves him to look after him when I’m away. It was when she told me she was moving beds to make sure he had enough space that I knew I’d found the perfect home from home for him!

Anyway, have a good week all. Thanks for reading.

Lights in the Darkness

Arctic Advent, Blog, Holiday, Scotland, The Vet Who Came In from the Cold, , , , , , , ,

It’s nice to start the weekend with something amusing. Last night, I sent a selfie to Yoana, my son John’s partner. Last Christmas, she gave me a headband that she had knitted herself. I was touched. Homemade gifts are precious. It’s been a while since the weather has been suitable for a knitted headband, but one frosty morning last week, I put it on to keep my ears warm when I was walking Triar. I don’t normally take selfies. Too old perhaps, and anyway I’ve always been curiously preoccupied with photographing scenery rather than people. Anyway, I took a photo of me in the headband and sent it to Yoana with the caption, “Warm ears on a chilly day!”.

I woke this morning to a message, “Thank you. Wish the same for you.” I was slightly surprised. It wasn’t quite the response I was expecting, but having lived in Norway for a long time, I’m used to conversations which didn’t quite go where they would have with a fellow native Brit. I was happy just to hear from her.

A couple of hours later, a new message arrived. “Just showed it to John and he mentioned the headband which I didn’t notice!” A laugh emoji followed. I found myself picturing the scene: Yoana maybe unsure of my original message. An odd sentiment about warm ears? Rather a strange thing to mention? I’ll check with John.

And maybe John… my mum sent a selfie? Odd!

Then of course, the revelation that it wasn’t a selfie per se, rather a thank you for an appreciated gift, and it all makes sense. She and I were both amused. It was a good start to the morning. I took photos other than my selfie. It was a gorgeous sunrise over the frosty ground.

More than a morning, more than a weekend, this is the start of a two week holiday. I’m here until Tuesday, then I’m off for a week of Polar Night. Sometimes there’s a dull warm period up there at the start of December. I’m hoping for snow on the ground, sub zero temperatures and clear skies (with some Northern Lights as a massive bonus) but even if it’s wet, I get to spend time with friends. My friend Shirley was concerned it might not be good weather, but when I suggest we could stay inside, bake and cook all week, watch TV and maybe write, she agreed this was a wonderful plan. Really, I’m going to see her Nothern Norway is just the world’s best bonus!

The photo at the top of the page is of the Nith as it runs under the Devorgilla Bridge in the centre of Dumfries. I was out last night for a low-alcohol beer with a friend and was struck by how lovely the water was, with the lights shining out in the darkness. It felt like a good start to a winter holiday. Tomorrow I’m joining some colleagues in Glasgow. A group of female APHA vets, we’re going to an escape room as our Christmas Day out. There are no trains to Glasgow on a Sunday morning, either from Dumfries or Lockerbie, so I’m about to find out what the bus service is like. Hopefully on time, as well as relatively cheap!

I have a decorator coming this evening to look at my building project. Hopefully he’s going to tackle the complications of partially removed lining paper on (probably) lath and plaster on my stairwell. He’s unlikely to do the work before Christmas, but I am eyeing up carpets and thinking I might be able to get the bedrooms finally in order. There are buried clothes in my bedroom which I haven’t seen now for over a year. Getting them out (and putting them away in actual drawers) will be a novelty after a year where my clean clothes are piled on a table and there are four beds, a pile of boxes and no other useful furniture in the room where I sleep.

Anyway, December is almost here. For anyone who hasn’t seen my photo Arctic Advent calendar, you can find it here: Arctic Advent

As for me, I’m off there shortly to make some new Arctic memories. I shall leave you with more frosty morning pictures. Have a good week all and thanks for reading.

To Brighton and Back

Blog, Food, Holiday, The Vet Who Came In from the Cold, Travel, Vet, Yorkshire Dales, , , , , , , , , ,

I was in Brighton last weekend to attend “the largest annual grassroots feminist conference in Europe”, according to FiLiA who ran it. If you’re in the UK, you might have seen in the news that the Brighton Centre venue was vandalised the night before it started. The whole of the front of the building was sprayed with pink paint and several windows were broken. In addition, inside there was also disagreement, with a woman announcing in the opening ceremony that she “wouldn’t be lectured on Hamas” before attempting to rouse the room with chants of, “free, free Palestine”. A few women stood up and joined in, some Jewish women stood up and walked out, some jeered and the rest of us sat there in stunned silence. For an uplifting weekend, where FiLiA say you can “Build your Feminist Network. Leave inspired,” it wasn’t a great start.

Regular readers will know I love strong women and there were plenty of them there, but I don’t think I will be going to the next one. Brighton was also curiously depressing, though perhaps it isn’t curious really. Like many UK cities, the drugged homeless lined the pavements and the whole place seemed dirty and down at heel. Like many seaside towns, you could see it had once been gorgeous and rather grand, a haven for holiday makers. Now they go for beaches abroad, with reliable sunshine at lower prices. I did get a photograph on the first evening that I love though. The sea is still beautiful, under the evening sky.

There were cafés along the beachfront, where the lovely Welsh woman I made friends with on the first day bought me an ice cream! It was probably the high point of the weeekend!

On Monday, I headed back to Scotland. Somewhat rashly, I had agreed to work in Stranraer on Tuesday and had booked to stay there Monday night. The logistics of collecting Triar from my parents in Yorkshire and dropping him off with a friend in Dumfries were complicated. Several delays on the railways meant I ended up getting a taxi for the last leg of my Yorkshire journey. A jackknifed lorry on the A75, with blue flashing lights lighting up the night (nobody was hurt) was the final hold-up, but at least the hotel was comfortable when I finally got there at 10:30 in the evening.

My lovely friend also seems to have enjoyed having Triar and sent reassuring photos of him looking happy. I’d been a bit worried about picking him up, driving him two hours, then dropping him off again, but he seems to have been so well looked after, that it was all good!

As usual, after a few days back at work, it feels as if I never left. Two days out on farm, blood testing cattle with three (female) animal health officers was uplifting. We have some wonderful women in our APHA team. I was duty vet on Thursday, where the high point of the day was dealing with a query about fish-sludge being fed to maggots (no, me neither). And all the while, as I was out on farm and juggling bizarre questions, there were emails landing in my inbox about cows which had been transported to slaughterhouses with shackles on.

For my non-farm readership, occasionally (and particularly around calving time when the ligaments are softened) cows do the splits on their hind legs and then can’t easily get up. With shackles buckled onto their hind legs, that stop their legs sliding outwards, they can often manage okay, until they heal. A new decision has been made that travelling in shackles isn’t allowed, on the grounds that an animal with them on, isn’t fit to travel. This isn’t a law, it’s a directive that has come from someone high up in APHA. Like all such decisions, it’s somewhat controversial. If a farmer wants to send such a cow to the slaughterhouse and can’t send her in shackles, he may decide to take them off and risk sending her anyway, which is more risky than sending her with them on.

As my investigative case is all about unfit animals being transported, all the emails about this new rule being broken (in Scotland) are now being directed to me. What it really highlights is not that animals in shackles shouldn’t be travelling, so much as that there is a huge gap in care, now that having lame animals culled on farm and being sent to the abattoir afterwards is so incredibly limited. If a cow has an accident, farmers only have 24 hours to decide if it’s so serious that she should be culled, so there’s no time to wait and see how she fares. This is all a hangover from the EU, so since we’ve left, perhaps we could start to look at systems that might work better for our animal welfare here. If I can find the time, and put together some coherent arguments, maybe a visit to my MP is in order. There are times when trying to sort things out locally, just isn’t enough.

I shall leave you with some stormy pictures of Yorkshire. Thanks for reading and have a lovely week!