Soot the 19 ½ year old cat got me up at 5:40 AM via loud meowing, and the sky was really really grey. A bit of variation was developing one hour later, and he was on my bed, light was coming from the room my Uncle was staying in (he’s a fantastic and very cuddly one and he’d come to visit for 3 days); and at the end of the garden the 3 chickens were all up and about and squeaking (only one didn’t want a blackberry). I could hear vegetables being watered in the front garden once back upstairs and being purred upon, but it appeared Soot didn’t want to hear the 7:00 AM headlines, as he went and curled up by my feet when I turned them on.

A goldfinch came and perched on 1 of the plum tree branches now tall enough to be visible from my window, and a couple of pigeons were getting romantic on the roof of house number 16, he thoroughly cleaned a back leg (and then curled up again), and I was nearing the end of writing Thursdays diary entry when I had to get up and dry just washed kitchen equipment. Afterwards, I kept writing on my bed and Soot decided to use my right foot as a pillow until 9am – when breakfast cooking started downstairs, so I had to move. In the kitchen, Mum and Uncle were talking about Michael Portillo, I went and harvested a little dish of blackberries from the end of the garden, and they’d moved on to Gary Linekar when I came back in, followed by district councils handling of recycling and how its advanced from metal dustbins (that always made loud clanging noises) in the last 20 years, banking, how that’s advanced (and how – at 1 point – to withdraw money, you had to go to the bank and write a cheque to yourself and then you were given the money in cash); Soot had flopped on the back of the sofa – behind Uncle (who was sat there), and I’d spotted all 3 of the hens in the run and some cat vomit on a sitting room rug by the time I’d brushed my teeth and packed my bag; and Soot climbed down on to Uncle and remained purring on him until 11.10am (and by then – I’d persuaded – with difficulty, as she remains a paper map type person – Mum to use my phone as a sat nav), and it was 11.16am when we got in the car.

Dentistry (and people yanking their own teeth out during lockdown), and how – when Uncle was young – dentists had to give patients gas to inhale (so they’d pass out) through odd smelling masks before procedures were done – got discussed before reaching Brandon Marsh at 11.39am, where Mum parked in a rather cramped space and I struggled to get out of the back of the car.

We made it to the entrance building – and there were plantable childrens books, little boxes of marbles, big magnifying glasses, animal face masks, and sacks of 12.55kg of peanuts (for £36.99) were for sale (among lots of other stuff), coffee was wanted, so we went and sat in a cafe called The Badgers Kitchen, and Mum started stroking a small cactus in a pot on the table. I was reminded that lattes are milky coffees, and black ones are americanos, we wondered what flat whites were (Wikipedia says: A flat white is a coffee drink consisting of espresso with microfoam (steamed milk with small, fine bubbles and a glossy or velvety consistency). I was told by Mum that capuchins are monks – while I wondered what cappuccinos were (Wikipedia says: cappuccino is a coffee drink that today is typically composed of a single espresso shot and hot milk, with the surface topped with foamed milk) and I was reminded that espressos are extremely strong little coffees. 12.17pm was when we all got up, and followed signs to the woodpecker and kingfisher trails; there was a random wind turbine by a lake (which had one swan on it), Mum decided to go down a dark path, we emerged on to a lighter one, Uncle spotted a butterfly, a sign/wooden pole further along said ‘jump like a frog’ on it (Mum tried and looked very odd) with a big wooden pinecone next to it, and another wooden pole said ‘slither like a snake’ on it. At 12.45pm we were back by the wind turbine, and there were 2 swans and 2 cygnets on the lake, and several ducks watching from a wooden platform; at 12.52pm we were back at the visitor centre, I saw a ‘muddy boot cleaner’ (i.e a tap) on an outside wall; and 5 minutes later we returned to the car.

The horrendously bumpy speed bumps we’d driven in over had to be driven out over; and by 1.03pm we were at a local pub – next to a very loud railway line. Inside, Doom Bar Amber Ale was available at the bar, something called Surf & Turf was in the ‘off the grill’ bit of the menu, and a cocktail board had 7 on it – including ‘Aperol Spritz’ (which – when I’d first glanced at – I’d thought said ‘aerosol spritz’). Mum and Uncle talked about cars and car prices on the way home, and once we’d made it, she took several goes to reverse into the driveway, and I was feeling hysterical and couldn’t explain why.

Inside, Soot squeaked until a human (which was me) gave him a cuddle, I checked on the chickens (who were all in the run – and I spotted an egg that had been laid down there – rather than the nesting box) and gave them each a blackberry, and Mum got herself a mug before beginning Soot’s spa treatment (what she terms grooming the cat). By the time he’d been fully brushed (and come and sat on me), it had reached 4pm, Uncle was talking about a client he’d had during his insurance career called Sir Richard Goodenough, who – after a consultation – asked Uncle for a luncheon voucher; then Mum took over the computer, Uncle picked up his book again, and Soot flopped on me. Once she’d turned the computer off, Mum said German people are being subjected to cold showers – which Uncle clarified as them being allowed only cold showers in swimming pools for energy saving purposes; the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony being tonight was mentioned as the reason for the slightly early supper (homemade soup) when it was served – at 6.50pm, and Upstairs Downstairs, Downton Abbey, raspberries growing fungus, and our 3 hens egg production were among things talked about while supper was eaten.

After it, I closed the hens up at 7.45pm; and at 8pm, the TV was on – and the ceremony, at that point, had someone whispering their hopes and dreams to a dying star (with shards of light coming out of it), followed by a man whacking a big drum with lots of pink dust on it, lots of people wiggling around, and then 72 flying houses drifted over people with more pink dust covering their hands. Lots of cars got driven in – to form a union jack on the ground, Prince Charles drove himself and Camilla in in a car that runs on organic waste from wine and cheese making, then people with glowing suitcases ran around a bit, the origin of the word ‘brum’ was explained, and something I forgot happened before a woman who’d won a Nobel Peace Prize gave a speech. People from the Birmingham Royal Ballet were running around in water surrounding a thing that was – at that point – an iconic building that burnt down in 1873, while a song called ‘Hear My Voice’ got sung; then people waved axes and hammers around, a man with a massive accordion yelled some stuff, more people waved umbrellas, a big yellow lemon shaped balloon had someone called Ginny Lemon in it, and a giant printing press got driven round (1 of the commentators said ‘I’m having flashbacks to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’) while some singing was done. A massive robotic metal bull with smoke coming out of its nostrils caused panic – until being calmly led out by a woman with a torch; a lot of multicultural dancing was done by people in different coloured clothes (and Soot walked off at 8.45pm), the angry bull came back and got some metal lifted off its head by a couple of flying people; and lots of volunteers came in, followed by Lenny Henry – and the athletes parade began at 9.15pm, and we decided to turn it off.