Pensioner in disguise

It was the Ilkley half marathon recently, MrFF and I were out on the route encouraging the participants of all abilities.   It was a hot day and I was impressed by the smart kit worn by many of the women particularly the elite runners.   Cropped tops that I assume were also sports bras, cut out vests and much flattering figure hugging lycra.

Later I had a discussion with a friend I used to run with more than 30 years ago.  We reminisced that in our day there was very little stylish kit for women.  Mostly we wore Ron Hill men’s freedom shorts, which were brief and flappy, never intended to fit the female form.  In winter we had Ron Hill tracksters which were slim jogging trousers with stirrups to stop them springing up, a bit like ski pants for those who remember. The only item specific to women was very brief track shorts that looked like knickers.  I never wore those, far too revealing and clingy.  Sometimes our club would send a driver to the Nike factory on Tyneside to buy seconds, a guy would turn up at the training track with a selection of male oriented kit in the boot of his car. Finding anything that fit wasn’t easy, you bought what you could and style wasn’t an option.

How times have changed, there are dedicated running shops everywhere even chain store brands have lots of great sports gear.  Now on my power walks I step out in colourful and comfy Lycra leggings that fits like a second skin.

I have lovely soft stretchy cycling type shorts with pockets.  Nothing I ran in had pockets, on fell races I used to stuff a photocopy of the map in my bra, not that I could read a map and yes I got lost a few times.  Obviously this modern clothing is unforgiving but since I got below 9 stone thanks to my dental work I feel confident whilst acknowledging that at 76 it’s hardly age appropriate.  But equally power walking up and down the valley till I am red faced, hot and sweaty isn’t the norm either.

I am at a stage in life when I wear what I like.  I may have succumbed to elasticated waists but I embrace shorts and camisoles, sleeveless tops and strappy sundresses when I have a tan, I love bright colours and rarely wear black because it makes me disappear.  Recently I bought a pair of python print skinny trousers, I’ve already worn them to the supermarket and I didn’t get asked to leave. 

It’s my opinion that if you can you should for as long as possible, I don’t know of an age bar to wearing Lycra.  If this lovely modern kit had been so easily available 30 years ago I am sure I’d have run a lot faster and happier. 

Nature update

Before we left Italy I posted Here about the huge flower stalk on an agave which I hoped would still be open when we return.  MrFF had been checking our security camera and here it is in flower, it looks spectacular.

He also showed me on the camera archive that three pine martens had been playing among my pots at the back door of our house.  Sadly neither of us can get the video to transfer to blogger or capture a still. Last year we saw one pine marten, these three seem quite young so maybe they are the kits.  They were having such a jolly time chasing each other and climbing in and out of pots at 3 am in the morning.  Like the bats they are protected in Italy and not known for causing any damage in the garden.  Here’s a photo taken from the internet, the ones we have are just as adorable and very welcome visitors.

Pot luck

Sunday MrFF suggested we take my usual walk together before shopping for the news paper and a few items we needed as friends were coming for dinner.  We were out in good time, only got a little damp and were home before the heavy rain started.

The route down to and over the river takes us past a pretty garden where the owner often puts out pots of mostly bedding plants for sale, around 50p each and sizeable healthy plants they are a bargain.  You make your selection and post the money through the letterbox.   As usual I stopped to see what was available and this time he had some very lovely terracotta pots planted up with begonias and petunias.  I am a sucker for a nice pot, I’ve been known to buy plants just to get the pot and these were good.  Two small square ones £5 each a larger one £10 of the usual flowerpot shape with a pie crust border.  I looked at them longingly while MrFF pressed on, no way could we carry them on our walk. But I thought about them a lot, particularly the square ones and Monday morning after breakfast announced I needed to go out.  

Amazingly the pots were still for sale and I bought the two square ones, posting a £10 note through the letter box.  I also checked the pie crust pot which I saw was handmade from Witchford Pottery they call these their pastry pots. We visited the pottery located near Stratford in Avon many years ago when we toured the Cotswolds.  Then I bought a lovely pot for my Scottish garden that I passed to my brother when we downsized.  

By the time I came home via the town collecting a few essentials my arms were aching as after overnight rain the pots and their contents were saturated.  But it was worth the effort, they look great on the balcony.  But of course the pastry pot preyed on my mind and by mid afternoon I was out again telling myself if the pot had been sold it didn’t matter.   It was still there, another £10 through the letterbox, more arm ache and it came home, I’d walked 3.5 miles on my journeys.

I like the symmetry, a friend had already lent me the other big pot for my dahlias, and I like all the clashing bright colours. I am so pleased with my purchases and our summer balcony. 

A tisket a tasket*

I lost my summer basket.  When we returned to sunny Ilkley in June I had visions of me floating round the town wearing cream linen carrying my lovely basket from the Oxfam shop fair trade section.  Except I couldn’t find the blooming thing anywhere and began to wonder if I’d taken it to Italy in April and left it there.  I searched all the wardrobes plus I thought the coat cupboard which was where after several weeks I eventually found it, on a coat hanger and covered by a coat.  

The missing basket however prompted me to have a good sort through the penthouse and rediscover a lot of things.  Do I need my old running club vest even if it still fits.  How many pairs of old trousers do I need for gardening when mostly I just tend the pots on the balcony.  And as for my extensive collection of scarves, maybe I need to stop knitting them.

* this is a nursery rhyme that I sung as a child.  Oddly I remember the words from 70+ years ago but not where I currently keep my basket.

A tisket a tasket my green and yellow basket.  I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I dropped it. Someone must have picked it up and put it in their pocket.

The Middleton Lemons

Growing and maintaining plants in an apartment that is unoccupied for several months each year can be challenging not to mention the logistics of potting, storing compost, equipment etc with limited space.  But I have gardened for many years and created two gardens from scratch so it’s hard not to. I still have the desire to grow things wherever I am despite being thwarted by Mario’s brutal unwanted pruning in Italy and the mow and murder gardener in our Ilkley communal gardens.

Before we left for Italy in April I passed two plants I really didn’t want to lose to a friend to keep for me.  I’d slipped a few lemon pips into the compost of the Swedish ivy, plectranthus verticillatus, one was growing.  My friend said she’d take great care of the seedling and named it Pippa.  In Italy I had a message to say another little lemon seedling had appeared, I named it Kate and then just recently James appeared, he stayed in the pot with the ivy as he was only small.

The two original plants came back to the penthouse after MrFF met up with their keepers on a group walk but the first two lemons were deemed too fragile to travel in the boot of the car and spend the day there while the walk took place.   With difficulty I managed to get James out of the compost and into his own pot, so far he has only his seed leaves.

Last Friday we travelled to our friends’ house near York to have lunch, admire their newly landscaped beautiful garden and collect the lemon sisters from the greenhouse. The girls had kindly been repotted into little terracotta pots complete with saucers and labelled.  They have grown considerably and like the other fostered plants are extremely healthy.

At present they sit in the lounge next to the balcony doors though they can probably go outside this week if the forecast heat returns.  I hope I can keep them going, it would be a delight to have lemon plants in the apartment, does three count as a grove?   My single Italian lemon tree in Italy shown below is thriving, why did I never think to plant pips there, I could have an orchard full by now.

For those who don’t follow the British royal family, Pippa Middleton is the sister of Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales, wife of Prince William, James is their younger brother 

Knitting now

Before we left for Italy I was gifted by a fellow (male) resident who is an expert spinner about a kilo of his hand spun Cheviot yarn.  I was delighted and after some thought decided I should pass his kindness forward by using the yarn to do some good. It’s very thick and rustic, I used my largest size needles for a few sample swatches and finally decided to make cable winter cowls.  I had enough yarn for 5 which I then passed back to him to be sold at a craft fair and the money given to a girls’ refuge he and his wife support.  

He was very pleased when I delivered them and I came home with about 500 g of different handspun, half of which is New Zealand lustre, much finer and softer with a very silky feel so maybe a scarf.   Again I’ll pass the end product back to my neighbour for his charity.  He did tell me he spins more yarn than he can ever use, even considering his wife is an accomplished weaver, so perhaps my own stash isn’t going to reduce much for a while.

Meanwhile in Italy i successfully used up a lot of yarn oddments to make 3 pairs of socks, some more odd than others. 

And a pair of my favourite ever socks, West Yorkshire Spinners wood pigeon, I can never have too many pairs of these. That all feels quite productive if all completely  unwearable as our heatwave continues.

Treasure trove

Before we left Italy we took a trip to the isola ecologica, the refuse recycling centre that is open two days a week.  It’s situated several miles below the village down a steep narrow road and always busy with refuse vehicles but needs must as MrFF had an old and broken wheelbarrow to dispose of and I’d decluttered a few things myself.  Lots of villages have scrap men calling most days. If you leave an item at the side of the road outside your property it disappears almost immediately, we regularly hear them calling for ferro vecchio but they never drive up to us. We have been know, with permission, to leave things outside our friends’ house in the valley if we’ve been visiting.

So off we tootled on Saturday morning, the depot was busy as Friday there had been a one day strike over safety issues so people were getting rid of their general waste as well as objects the collectors won’t take.

The centre seems to be organised by a group of ladies who run it very well, we were  told where to put the barrow and the box of odds and ends was quickly sorted and despatched to the appropriate skips.  I noticed in the large skip of rubble that a few items were strategically placed on top, pottery bowls, plates, cookware.  Of course I had to take a look and spotted a little statue of three discreetly clad young women, it looked like marble.  I suggested to MrFF it would be nice in the garden.  Take it he said, they let us take the cat carrier years ago they’ll let you have that.  Even though it was obvious the items were set out to be claimed I thought we should ask and the lady said of course we could have it, how happy was I.  She then said she knew where we lived and we chatted for a while about the heat and our upcoming journey home.

Back at the house I did some research, it’s the 3 Graces made in Rome by R Leoni from a resin of marble and other material.  One not in such good condition, mine just has a tiny chip on the base, sold for 100 euro.  Now of course I feel it’s too good for the garden, but I’ve no idea where to put it in the house.  Maybe the girls can just spend their summers al fresco after all they are hardly dressed for the cold.