My Diary Saturday 22nd September 2012 by Christine Jones

I really must be mad! The insistent bleeping of the alarm clock woke me at 4.30am, I stretched out to turn it off and then remembered that I had moved it out of reach the night before to make absolutely sure that I woke up. I sat up and reached down to silence the alarm clock, my husband was still sleeping soundly so I gave him a prod and told him that it was 4.30am and if he wanted to catch his train he needed to get moving right now, then I dashed off to beat him to the bathroom. When I got back to the bedroom he plodded off to get ready while I sneaked back under the covers for ten minutes, after all 'normal people' would still be fast asleep. The next thing I knew it was almost 5am and he was back in the bedroom showered and almost ready to go. It is surprising how fast you can get ready when you really have to. 

When I got downstairs he was just packing his lunch into his rucksack, but by the time he got outside I had already started the car and we were all ready to go. The car knows the way to the railway station, we do that journey so often. On weekdays we are up at 5am so that he can catch his train to Birmingham just after 6am, so I look forward to a more leisurely start to the day on Saturdays and Sundays. Unfortunately the lure of the railway gets the better of him and he just can't keep away. Today he is going to the Deltic Gathering at the East Lancashire Railway, he is absolutely passionate about Deltics, especially his favourite Royal Scots Grey. I would have gone with him because I like Deltics too, but I have a terrible cough at the moment, it is exhausting and I haven't been sleeping very well, so I just don't have the stamina to cope with a long day on the railways at the moment.

He waved as he slammed the car door and walked towards the station. I felt a sense of relief, I had fulfilled my promise and got him there on time, now the rest of the day was my own and if I wanted to I could go back to bed. I clicked the radio on, Radio 4 is the soundtrack to my life, I always have the radio on at home or in the car. I only half listened to the discussion about TB in cattle and the pros and cons of culling badgers to limit the spread of bovine TB, as I drove along St Andrews Road and up Grafton Street towards the traffic lights. I was thinking that my ancestors were closely  linked with this part of the town. My great grandfather was orphaned when very young, he grew up in the work house, but when he was sent to be an apprentice to a cordwainer in Leicester Street, he found a trade and a family and he spent the rest of his life in Leicester Street. His daughter my great grandmother grew up in in Leicester Street, had her first home as a married woman in Nelson Street and brought her large family up in Monks Pond Street and then Campbell Street. The area as they knew it is now long gone, but there is still one landmark that they would recognise, the spire of Seps Church still points heavenward and the clock still measures the relentless march of time in hours and minutes. The church which for centuries has witnessed the joys and sorrows of the people, stands strong and defiant amid the 'here today gone tomorrow' buildings of our modern town, reminding us of lasting values that are too easily forgotten amid the demands of modern life.

When I got home I put the kettle on for a much needed cup of tea and while I waited for it to boil I sorted the laundry into piles and put on the first load of the day. I was too awake to go back to bed and sleep, but I felt bruised and exhausted from all the coughing so I took my cup of tea and my laptop up to bed. I may not sleep but at least I could sit quietly with the radio and my laptop to occupy me. I enjoyed a couple of hours catching up with email and facebook and I began to write my diary entry for today. I must have fallen asleep at some point because it was mid morning when I woke up. I enjoyed a long relaxing bath while listening to Radio 4, a shower is fine most of the time, but there is something special about a nice hot bath. 

It is unusual to be at home on my own, but today was very quiet, my son stayed at his friend's house last night, my older daughter had gone to Milton Keynes with her boyfriend  and my younger daughter was shut in her room writing up notes in preparation for her post graduate course at Leicester University which begins on Monday. I like my own company and I never struggle to fill my time. There was a whole list of jobs demanding my attention today, but I only did the laundry and the routine tasks, I decided that the peace and quiet was too precious to waste, the other jobs can wait until I feel better, this cough is so exhausting.

The only problem with doing nothing is that you have too much time to think and this was one of those days that provided a lot to think about. Nine years ago today I sat with my first husband in the Three Shires Hospital as the last hours of his life slipped away; then I went home and told my children that their dad was dead. Life goes on but those memories don't  fade, it is not something that you forget despite the passage of time, the details of that day are imprinted on my mind. I found myself wondering how he would feel about the way our lives have changed. I hope that I have done a good enough job as a parent, it hasn't always been easy. He didn't want me to be on my own if the worst should happen but it must be hard at times for my (second) husband, living with a ghost. Perhaps it helps that they are very different. 

My son came home and my daughter emerged from her room, she had finished her work and was ready to fulfil her promise to paint my nails with crackle nail varnish, silver base with black crackle on top. It looked very nice. I hardly ever wear nail varnish, but it is nice to spoil myself once in a while and it is lovely to share moments like this with my daughter.

Time went on, we ate early because my daughter was going out later. I left my son to feed the cats while drove to the station to pick my husband up and on the way back we popped into Morrisons for a printer cartridge and one or two essentials. I was glad to get home, but I had to go straight out again because my daughter wanted a lift into town. She looked amazing. We picked her friend up on the way and I dropped them both off at The Goose in St Giles Street. By the time I got home again my husband had a cup of tea waiting for me and I chatted to him about his day for a little while, he'd had a lovely time. 

Later on my husband wanted to watch a film, it wasn't really my sort of thing so I decided to head up to bed with my laptop to listen to Radio 4 Extra and catch up with my friends on facebook. The cough was impossible, I couldn't stop coughing and I couldn't get my breath, it was a very frightening feeling, I was exhausted but I knew that I had another sleepless night ahead of me. Thank goodness for the internet and friends who stay up late and are happy to chat at 2am. How different from my childhood when my mum considered it very bad manners to make a telephone call after 9pm. 

My Town ~ the Dream Town?

By Nicky Sarti

Royal Theater

I was all geared up to write a couple of blogs about my town and its Councillors after seeing the latest play at the Royal called “Town,” I was ready to moan and ask what in the blue hell is happening to my town… I still might, but right now I want to lay some praise on someone. The first time I went on duty to this “Town” play was Thursday 26th June, which coincided with the date our “pride of lions” were unveiled around town. I knew they were coming, but much like the recent performances by England’s overpaid prima~donnas; I was not prepared for them! 

Castle Station

Heading up past Castle Station (notice I won’t use “Northampton Station” ~ it’s always been Castle Station, never mind what the sign says! As with Jimmy’s End ~ St. James and of course MK “City” ~ but the less said about that the better!) and over St. Peter’s roundabout I noticed three lions kindly guarding (or watching, you choose) over John Dickie’s home…
Having said that I was not prepared to see lions (real or otherwise) in Northampton was not an understatement, after the initial swear word and “there’s three lions!” I could not stop smiling to myself; fancy that ~ I was actually smiling for once!

Guildhall

Wandering around town now seems more fun, I actually find myself looking up more. Even nights out seem much more fun, and yes I have the pictures to prove that ~ and no, I did not break the one outside the Guildhall… and I was gentle getting on that one in the picture!

Conversations with friends are filled with “have you seen the lions?” and “where’s that one?” People seem to be stuck with something between curiosity and amazement that something good could come from this town, which is a worry! Having seen and heard all the views (including my own!) over what is wrong with this town, it seems to shock people that something good can happen.

People know my views on the things our Lib Dem (is it now a coalition too?) run NBC have and have not done, the site at Edmunds Hospital, Princess Marina and Market Square say it all. But; and here is the thing, they are all done with the view that “hopefully” people will want to come to the town and maybe invest/stay.

Market Square

I know that many people will say “but that is not enough!” and to be fair I do slightly agree. However, look at the lions for an example. People do like them, they look cool and get people talking… is that not the point? People love to see the Elephants in London, we spot them (or try) every time we go down to City; the lions seem to be having the same effect here.Which is a very good thing in my view, and should surely be encouraged? How about this for an idea: more arty type stuff, more plays from local people about local things? Let us get a little crazy here, how about this too: get more things going like those wonderful Heritage Weeks? This town has so much going for it, to let that die would surely be a crime?

Taken on Heritage Weekend

There are people willing to show those of us willing to learn around, I know this from first hand experience. Case and point, most people reading this blog will know Councillor Trini Crake; some will know her husband John is something of a town historian. All reading this blog will know that I am a member of my local St. John division too, and have been for a while.

Digressing for a moment, our meeting nights at St. John often consist of training, training and more training! Occasionally we have a few guest speaker nights thrown in among the training and the courses we have to do, and a few nights a year we have social evenings. Rarely do we leave the safe confines of our building, if we do it is either to attend our HQ for more training or exams; but it has not always been like this!

St Johns, St James

We have gone out to the pub! (Yes I know, admittedly we had to walk there; but it was fun!) If I am right in thinking, we have gone out to the hospital for a sort of “outside” guest speaker. The point I am trying to make is, visiting places is good fun, and it gets us out and about… which as many people will tell you, is a good thing!

Anyways, back to the plot… after bumping into John Crake going past the Guildhall, we stopped to have a little chat; during which he told me about the mark on a block outside the Guildhall which meant Northampton was so many feet (sorry I can’t remember how many now) above sea level. I never had a clue the mark was there let alone what it meant, which made me think; “what else don’t I know about my town?”

Guildhall

Having been around the Guildhall once (and totally enjoying it) I thought I would ask if John would show my division around too, after all many of them aren’t from Northampton (and even those that were) so they might not know about its history… of course John kindly agreed, but when I rose the subject at the meeting that night; to say it was met with the “damp squid” effect would be an understatement.

(See, there’s my rant. A slight tangent, but the usual rant I am sure you would all miss if I left it out…)

Guildhall at Night

Anyways; to end, how about this for an idea: Fred and Doris, (work with me on this!) have lived here all their lives, but there is still so much they have never seen; yet they have seen it all. Both have watched a million and one different councils try their best to “make this town better,” but all that happens is the town quiets seems to die a cold death. However, this week they have been seeing more and more Meerkats (just for Alderman Dickie there) painted weird and wonderful colours; popping up around the town.

Derngate

It looks so good and has everyone talking about it, so much so that Fred and Doris’s children have heard about it all; and their grandchildren! Moreover, that is not all they have heard about either! Imagine this; there are local plays at the local theaters. There are local bands playing in the local pubs and clubs, there is local art in the local art museums and a whole host of other things too boot.



However, the best thing about it all is the beautiful buildings and scenery with the amazing history. And guess what? It is something all the family can go and see, they can all experience the history (first hand maybe?) and the stunning scenery! Not only is it on Fred and Doris’s doorstep, but much of it is free! Gosh, how about that; a week where all members of a family can get something out of... who’da thunk it hey?

Lionfish ~ from the Pride of Northampton Lions.