Several weeks earlier I'd been texting my family. The subject of carbonara came up. I thought that was a year idea then remembered that cheese, cream, bacon and mushrooms are pretty tricky to find and would be left with pasta covered in egg yolk. However, Mags makes an awesome carbonara so, after a pint of ale in a sunny square, we had a night in. Margaret is a passionate and talented cook. As a friend recently commented "what other 13 year old makes souffles?" So it's easy to drop the line "oh, we should've bought pudding" and ten minutes later she's worrying that a chocolate souffle might drop too quickly. Which it never does.
On Friday Manchester was holding its idyllic blue skies with fluffy clouds, temperatures dropping and rising as the shade patterns rippled across the landscape. Katharine had the day off and we decided to have a picnic, including the delightful Aodhan who's also an ex-Mancunian seeking the joys of home. What the Edwardians did for us of course includes green space dotted throughout towns. Nestled in a landscaped valley places in the streets of Didsbury we found a spot for a picnic of pork pies, crisps, lashings of beer and whiled away the hours in tales of music and education and changing lives. My craving for the discipline, complex vocals and epic scores of European music still exists but at least I'm a bit more up to speed on the gossip.
Excitingly my old school chum Peadar got in touch to see if we could meet up whilst I was over. So the evening began with a wine bar by the Cathedral in the warm setting sun, making Manchester's red bricks glow. Weirdly we ordered a Riesling but received a Viognier. Choice of wine being a little novel and being an old favourite anyway I didn't care. Ale and a steak sandwich followed then everyone went home. Mags, a couple of her mates and I decided to play pool instead of sleeping, then ended up in a karaoke bar. Again Peadar proved his metal as a mate by coming back out when he realised the bar was just by his house. As teenagers this was a night we would have described as random.
Saturday was scheduled to see Gran and Grandad. As ever the spread was lavish and various family members popped in for stories and cuddles. My grandparents are lovely and tell many stories of our history. This time grandad was explaining how they used to run the family budget in cigar boxes. I think my little book of planned spending and regular tallies is easier. Apparently gran wasn't very impressed with the cigar box system either. Still, I think I get my story telling from them and am very pleased they are now online so can read this blog.
Most of my family are storytellers but I was yet to hear the tale of Mags' recent trip to South America. So we holed up in a favourite old pub with half pints of Guinness and went through the photos. Hearing tales of new food tried, jumping on salt flats, opinions on the Incas and crowded favelas explored gives a good back drop to stout and I've missed many tales of home. The following day would bring the Walkuffellows and days with old friends, and chance to look from this year's tales to the upcoming adventures for us all.
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