Second week at Maternal Manor

Valentine's Park, July 2026

This is starting to feel like when I was at uni and I was blogging multiple times a week because there was so much going on. This account starts more than a week ago...

The heatwave continues albeit slightly less intensely with the occasional breeze, and I haven't yet needed to wear socks while I've been at Maternal Manor. I've been working quite hard at tidying, rearranging and organising while trying hard not to leave mum behind. So far I think she still knows where everything is. (Wait until I get started on the kitchen...)

I took myself off to Valentine's Park, which is a 30-minute bus ride away, to do a bit of sightseeing. The Park itself has been tidied up a lot since my day (which was the early 1980's), and they have also renovated the Mansion that the park was named after - a house on an ancient map was named Valentine, presumably after its owner. The current house was built in around 1696 probably on the site of that house, for Elizabeth Tillotson and her family after the death of her husband, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The house and its garden and the park have changed hands and been redeveloped many times since then, being enlarged and then having bits knocked down as it fell into disrepair, but was finally restored by the Friends of Valentine Mansion who offer guided tours. So I joined one, and found out lots of interesting stuff, and in an ideal world I would have gone round again after the tour to read some of the labels and look more closely at some of the contents. But it was really hot and I was tired by then, so I'll save a second trip for another time.

Then the day finally arrived for filling the trench in the kitchen now that it has dried out after the leaks in the pipes were fixed. Two men arrived (neither of them JC or his previous sidekick), and one proceeded to do all the work while the other just passed things to him. At one point the worker was chiselling adhesive off the floor while the other watched, and when I asked about this they said that they only had one chisel. So I loaned them another.

They managed to save four whole tiles of the original colour, and we had three that mum had bought some time ago that were only slightly different, and I had bought twenty-two contrasting tiles - nine loose and thirteen in a box - on the understanding that we could return the box but not the loose ones. I spent some time trying to work out the best pattern for using them and in the end we only needed to use nine of the the contrasting tiles, but when I tried to return the box I found that the wretched workers had cracked one, probably by sitting on the box. So now we've got thirteen spare tiles including a broken one. 

When they tried to put the sink back, we discovered that the plumbing had been constructed while the sink unit had been pulled away from the wall (to allow the wall to dry). Moving it back into place meant the sink drain wouldn't line up with the outlet pipe, and the pipes prevented the whole unit from reaching the wall anyway. This means we'll have to go back to the original plumber and try and get him to come and do the job properly. Apart from that, the floor looks all right. Next step - fixing the rest of the water damage to the skirting and walls. And another job for JC, replacing the decaying garden fence.

One of my own jobs I'd been waiting to get to was to go through all the old letters I'd kept, and when the workers were filling the trench and tiling I sat and read all of 1990. This was the year that I was in Australia and corresponding with family and friends in Denmark, Manchester, Israel, London, Spain, China and France. I learned quite a lot about the younger me through these letters, and not all of it very comfortable - there was one whole batch that I left unread.

The letters contained some great passages though, which when read entirely without context suggest a whole untold back story. I present a few extracts here for your entertainment.

Letter to family: "Mario [a fellow kibbutz volunteer] shared a room with the psychopathic triple murderer and was suitably shaken by the newspaper clipping ... Rica [the kibbutz volunteer manager] wrote among other things that the mass murderer isn't the one who was at Ein Gev so I don't know a psychopath after all."

In digs in Sydney: "I love living here ... Even the cockroaches have lessened and now the place has dried out the mouldy smell has gone too."

In Australia's Northern Territory: "It's not like home where if you sit absolutely still for 36 hours with an infra red camera you stand a 1 in 50 chance of seeing a badger - here if you stand still for 30 minutes with a dog you stand a 9 in 10 chance of being attacked by a crocodile."

On a motorbike touring down the west coast of Australia: "Lots of birds of prey everywhere, and I get to watch them for ages when the bike breaks down."

Other things I've been doing while I'm here - obviously there's badminton. I joined the Oldsters for one evening, and they were very nice but the standard was not quite as high as I would like although that did mean I did a lot of winning (which I like). Still more research to be done on the badminton front.

Before I end of course I must provide an update on the house: my solicitor has written to say they have sent the draft contract and all the information in the forms I filled in to the buyers' solicitor. I sent Mr Celery a list of things I'd leave in the house if the buyers want them, and he passed it on to the buyers who have now contacted me directly and we've arranged to meet later in the month. 

Their solicitor cheekily told my solicitor that I'd agreed to complete by the date they were completing on their house; I'd done no such thing so I put them right about that. So it continues, and worries about 'what if' arise in my dreams and wake me early in the morning. But I reassure myself that all will be well, and if it isn't, it soon will be.

GRUHI in a heatwave

Adhisthana, May 2026

After the retreat I spent 10 days at Lola Towers, walking with and meeting and phoning friends and generally getting my head together over the situation with the house sale. Nothing else to report on that score until either the estate agent or the solicitor tells me I'm supposed to do something. 

Of course I continued with the GRUHI project at Lola Towers, paying particular attention to the loft and the garage this time, which resulted in another fruitful trip to the tip and a couple of donations to the Library of Things (a garden spade and a rake). I took a full car of Stuff to Maternal Manor, including bedding, winter clothes and a bedside cabinet that will stay there. 

We had booked a council Bulky Waste collection for Wednesday, and the large sofa, sofabed and dismantled wardrobe had to be out on the drive by Tuesday evening. Mum had made arrangements with a neighbour to help, but we were scratching our heads about how to manoeuvre the large sofa through the hall and out of the front door when our handyman JC arrived with his sidekick to look at the trench in the kitchen floor. The two of them easily managed what the neighbour and I had failed to achieve.

JC the handyman had come to finalise the plan for filling in the trench in the kitchen floor, but we took advantage of the fact that the neighbour was also there to discuss arrangement for fixing the broken garden fence. Then JC and I talked about how to complete the refurbishment of the kitchen floor once the trench was filled, and this required me to visit various tiling establishments where I discovered that 330mm square tiles are not actually very common. It won't be possible to match the colour so we went for contrast instead. 

Lola II came and joined in the work for an evening, and helpfully took away some more Stuff. I ferried mum out on trips for shopping and to the optician. We marked two years since dad's death by getting stuck into the many accumulated storage containers that remained on the garage shelves, separating the contents into metal and non-metal ahead of a trip to the tip. Mum was particularly taken aback by the amount there was; I am no longer surprised by what dad 'collected'. This clearing of the garage shelves continued over several days and we got rid of quite a lot.

My efforts to find a suitable badminton club continue. I don't intend to return to the one I went to last time, but found another club on a Monday. The organisation is again complicated, made worse by the poor directions which meant I couldn't find them within the Sports Centre. Once I finally arrived they were quite friendly and the standard nearer mine, but while asking directions I had come across a set of oldsters who have been playing together for ages and are now suffering from depleted numbers due to age. Next week I'll have a go with them.

I went to one of the Buddhist centres I'm trying out while I'm at Maternal Manor, and they had air conditioning and were lovely (this is the centre that I'm favouring at the moment). In contrast, I went to Lola II's concert, or at least I tried, and in the time it took me to get to Paddington by tube and train I could have driven to Leamington. At that point no more trains were travelling west, so I gave up and came back. I claimed points for trying, though, which were awarded with good grace, and we all know what points mean.*

In between all of this, during the third heatwave of the year, I was liaising with J+J over our 2027 ski trip. Having been to the same place in France for many years we were attempting to find somewhere else to go that we might conceivably reach by train, that has a high probability of having snow cover and plenty of intermediate slopes, and the right sort of accommodation. It looks as though a couple of resorts in Austria might fit the bill.

* Prizes.

What I've been reading

Kidnapped
by Robert Louis Stevenson

narrated by B. J. Harrison

"Orphaned and penniless, young David Balfour sets out to find his last living relative. But in doing so he will become caught up in the greatest and most frightening adventure of his life, involving kidnap, shipwreck, murder and a dramatic flight across the Scottish highlands with the fiery, sword-fighting fugitive, Alan Breck Stuart."

This reminded me of The 39 Steps (in a good way) with a rattling narrative and a satisfactory outcome. My only reservation is that it relies a good deal on knowledge of Scottish history and geography, which are not among my strengths.

The Reason I Jump
by Naoki Higashida

narrated by David Mitchell

"This remarkable book provides a rare insight into the behaviour of autistic children. Using a question and answer format, Naoki explains why he talks loudly or repeats the same questions, and why he likes to jump."

This short book is written by a 13 year-old autistic Japanese boy in the form of questions and answers. He often speaks for all people with autism, and sometimes doesn't have answers to his own questions, but it's a remarkable book given his age and the fact that he is barely able to communicate by speaking. (N.B. the narrator is the author not the comedian of the same name).

Precious Teachers: Indian Memoirs of an English Buddhist
by Sangharakshita

"It is 1950, and Tibetan Buddhism has begun its exodus into India, with Kalimpong as a gateway. Urgyen Sangharakshita shares his recollections of those Tibetan gurus and traveling academics who lived in and passed through Kalimpong, a hill station at the foot of the Himalayas."

On the reading list for my retreat but not one of the primary texts, this is a memoir covering the period that the author lived in Kalimpong, India, within sight of Mount Kachenjunga in the Eastern Himalayas. There, at the junction of India, Nepal and Tibet, he met many spiritual Buddhist teachers who influenced his thinking, writing and teaching in the years to come. I've read his three other memoirs and not sure how I missed this one. It's not a beginner's book but I've now got enough of the basics to make sense of all the characters involved, and their place in the subsequent story of Western Buddhism.

The Mandibles: A Family, 2029-2047
by Lionel Shriver

"It is 2029. The Mandibles have been counting on a sizable fortune filtering down when their 97-year-old patriarch dies, but now their inheritance is turned to ash. Each family member must contend with disappointment, but also — as the effects of the downturn start to hit — the challenge of sheer survival."

This author wrote a (different) book that was made into a film that sounded much too challenging for me to watch or read. But a friend loaned me this book so I though it was worth a try. Some parts were simply boring (a dinner party where they talked about economic policy for a whole chapter), some traumatic (the description of a society breaking down into anarchy) but by the end I was glad I read it. I really won't try any more of her books though.

Middlesex
by Jeffrey Eugenides

"The story of Calliope Stephanides and her truly unique family secret, born on the slopes of Mount Olympus and passed on through three generations. Growing up in 70s Michigan, Calliope’s special inheritance will turn her into Cal, the narrator of this intersex, inter-generational epic of immigrant life in 20th century America."

I love a good family saga, and this tells the story of three generations of a Greek immigrant family, culminating in the birth of a baby with a chromosomal disorder that results in genital characteristics of both sexes. And that's it really, but the story of her progress to manhood is told alongside that of her parents and aunt and grandparents. I enjoyed it more than most of the other books I've read from the Classics list.

Living Together
by Sanghadevi

"For many of us, living with others offers both the greatest challenge and the greatest joy. We would all like to have a harmonious life, feeling connected to those with whom we live. Here we can discover how friendliness, co-operation, simplicity, meaningful communication and mutual vision can build fulfilling relationships."

With four days left on retreat I started to worry that the worst may happen and I might finish all the books I brought, or would be left only with a dry textbook, or even start a book from the Centre library and not have time to finish it. So I took a break from my own books and found a couple of suitable ones in the library. This one was so small I finished it in less than a day. The idea of living in communally in a Buddhist context has occurred to me as an option so it was interesting to read about what this author sees as important in making such an enterprise a success. This would be worth returning to if community living becomes a more solid ambition.

Ordination
by Moksananda

"Ordination: a spiritual journey, a noble quest, a lived myth, a rite of passage. Finding something of true value that evokes our faith and commitment is rare indeed, especially in a time when positive myths are in danger of disappearing."

Another short book that attracted me in the retreat centre library - I've asked for ordination, so might this book tell me about it? Luckily, nothing that was unexpected but a deepening of my understanding of what all this might mean. What it will actually mean will have to wait until it happens.

The Covenant of Water
by Abraham Verghese

"At the turn of the twentieth century a twelve-year-old girl is sent by boat to her wedding, where she will meet her forty-year-old husband for the first time. From this poignant beginning, the young girl and future matriarch will witness unthinkable changes of the span of her extraordinary life, full of joy and triumph as well as hardship and loss."

Another family saga which also happens to include a hereditary transmissible chromosomal disorder, but one which results in fear of water and deafness. It's set in southern India rather than America so there's a very different tone to the story, but it's well written and I was always hoping that the threads running through the book would be brought together satisfactorily at the end. And they were.

It starts to become real

Maybe rhubarb? Or chard? February 2026

It's been a busy few days on the house front. 'Best and final' offers came in, and Mr Celery sent me the emails that each buyer sent with their final offer. One bidder stated their financial position and ended with "Our offer is unchanged" but the other bidder's message was just what was needed: "[the] house and garden are lovely. It’s in a great position, near to the park, river, and town facilities as well as being very private. For central Leamington it is pretty unique and we felt as soon as we saw it that it’s a house we could be happy in." As well as that message they actually increased their offer to the asking price so I've happily accepted it.

I spent a day with mum, and we did some more purging of possessions along with planning which furniture to keep and what to let go, and what colour I might choose for painting 'my' rooms. I took a couple of things up into the loft, and was reminded how much more difficult it is to get things up there compared with my roomy loft and comfortable ladder in Leamington.

The house move is now permeating every thought and action. I had a routine dental appointment, and the dentist happens to be friends with the people who sold me the house 25 years ago, so he was interested in the whole business. The hygienist used to live down the road from Maternal Manor and still has a rental flat there, and the dental assistant is looking for a house in Leamington and brought my listing up on RightMove while I was lying there with my mouth open.

At short notice I booked to go to Birmingham Symphony Hall to see David Sedaris, an American diarist, writer and raconteur who, as well as writing books, reads out his work to an audience (he's been on podcasts and even Radio 4 now). While I was on my way there I tried to instruct the conveyancing solicitor, because I'd managed to complete and send them the stupid form about where I got the money to buy Lola Towers 25 years ago. This didn't work because the two initial forms were just a taster of the horror to come.

There is an app. It requires photos of my passport and utility bills and bank statements to verify my credibility and identity (some of which I've already provided in person at their office). The app also demands every detail of my personal finances over the last 12 months, and I have no choice and it feels horribly intrusive without being softened by a hint of human interaction. 

Then it wants everything else that has been done within the house in the last 25 years, with evidence of planning permission, compliance with building regulation, guarantees, safety certificates, and specification of which carpets, curtain poles, garden furniture, fitted units, kitchen equipment and light fittings I'm taking or leaving in situ. Am I leaving the roof insulation, the boiler, the radiators, the electric sockets? Will I be taking with me the doorbell, door handles, the taps, the bath? Inputting and scanning and uploading all the information required took four solid hours.

The buyer couple is very keen to get a move on because their house sale is further advanced than mine. So they are a) not getting a survey done, b) asking if they can store stuff in the garage in advance of completion (the answer is no) and c) asking if they might move in on a rental basis ahead of completion. I've said I'll think about this last request - if I allow it, it will almost guarantee that the sale will go ahead, but if anything goes wrong then I'm left with sitting tenants. Just writing that down makes me very nervous so I think the answer is no.

So now I need to get a move on in a more focused way - first with mum, carrying on making space for everything, hopefully decorating Maternal Manor sooner rather than after everything is moved in, and here in Leamington shifting all my unnecessary belongings a bit quicker than I have been. No more "I'll have a think about that and deal with it later", now it's "Do I absolutely need it, and if not, out it goes straight away". The loft is already nearly empty except for all my camping gear, old university files (still!) and one or two boxes of stuff I'm not sure what to do with. I need to deal with the contents of the rest of the house much more ruthlessly.