Showing posts with label workington. Show all posts
Showing posts with label workington. Show all posts

Saturday, 29 August 2009

Not Gerry, but Scamp

YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

All I'd wished for was something to occupy me for 4 hours in Workington, while I was waiting for my car to be serviced at Kwik-Fit. I could see how I could spend maybe two of those hours wandering round the shops, so I took my bike with me in order to have a bit of an explore further afield as well.

SWANS
First I cycled down to the Mill Field and took photos of a family of starstruck swans who kept posing for the camera like the supermodels they know they are. Had a look at the Yearl with its rushing torrents of water, chatted to a dogwalker, discovered a couple of cycle tracks I hadn't known about, and headed back to the centre of town, having used up only 1½ of those 4 hours.

LOST IN SCOPE
The charity shops were calling me. In Scope, I found the two voluntary ladies discussing a small dog, which was sitting, quite unconcerned, in the middle of the shop floor. It had apparently just wandered in and sat down. Collarless, its identity was a mystery.

The volunteers didn't know what to do. They tried phoning the dog warden, who doesn't work Saturday afternoons, and suggested just turning the poor beast back out into the street, which seemed a bit heartless, with all the traffic out there. They phoned the police, who wouldn't have anything to do with it, and said they should "reject it" which amounted to the same advice as that of the dog warden.

They phoned various animal shelters and vets, but most of them were closed on Saturday afternoons. By this time another customer had become interested, and tried feeling for a microchip under the dog's skin, but couldn't find anything. She also noticed he had lost a claw, and had a rather sore looking patch on his paw.

A RAY OF HOPE
The volunteers were becoming quite disturbed by it all. We all had animals of our own at home, so couldn't take him back with us without causing domestic chaos. Then I remembered that our vet's surgery in Cockermouth have an out-of-hours service - I'd used it once before late at night. I finally tracked them down on my phone, and they said, "yes, bring the dog in as soon as your car is ready - just ring to let us know when you'll be here, and we'll go to the surgery to meet you." Nice people. I have to recommend Millcroft Vets here, as no-one else offered to do anything helpful.

UNEXPECTED DOG-WALKING
So it looked as though I was lumbered for the rest of the afternoon. I was the only one with a car, and the time to spare to look after the animal. The other customer, whose little boy looked like he would happily keep the doggie, helpfully nipped out and bought a cheap collar and lead, which we attached to the stray, and off I marched out of Scope, with the most unusual thing I've yet acquired in a charity shop.

A TEMPORARY NAME
Feeling a bit silly walking a nameless dog I decided to give him a temporary name, so he became Gerry for the duration. He did look very like a Gerry for some reason.

MORE PATTABLE THAN MY DOGS
I was surprised at how many people stopped and patted him - particularly quite small children who were more at his level. Nobody ever stops to pat my dogs! Gerry was perfectly behaved. He trotted along all cheerful and alert, never bothering if we passed another dog, never barking, never rushing ahead or trying to pull me along. You could tell he came from a good home where he was well looked after, and of course this meant that someone, somewhere, must be frantic with worry about him by now.

WORKINGTON HALL
We walked around the shopping area for a while, hoping someone would suddenly come rushing over shouting, "There he is! Thank goodness!" but nobody recognised him. I could see I was going to be on my feet all afternoon, so I checked my bike was securely chained to a railing, and headed off for the grounds around old Workington Hall, a nice grassy area for dogs. (I'll come back later with the sad & disgraceful story of Workington Hall.)

HOME, BOY!
Gerry was very pleased to run on the grass, although obviously I couldn't let him run loose. He had loads of energy for one so small! As we headed back towards the road I realised he seemed to know where he was going, so I let him lead me, in the hope that he'd head for home. I kept saying "home!" in a meaningful voice, and he took me down several footpaths and across the bridge over the Derwent so that we were heading towards Seaton. This seemed just the sort of place he might live - loads of houses there, and for a little while I thought we'd cracked it, but suddenly he paused, and looked puzzled. He couldn't figure out which way to go now. I had to remember that he's only a Jack Russell, not a Border Collie: my dogs can find their way home no bother at all.

"HE THINKS YOU HAVE HIS DOG!"
Back in the town centre, I found him dragging me suddenly towards the door of the multi-storey car park. This seemed like a clue. Perhaps his family had arrived by car and parked there. I was about to go inside to see if he could lead me to his car when my phone rang. Kwik-Fit were ringing to tell me my car was nearly ready, and by the way, there was a man there who seemed to think I had his dog!

WET
I couldn't believe it! How on earth had he tracked me down to Kwik-Fit? I told Kwik-Fit man to keep the dog-owner there, as I'd get there as quickly as I could, just as the heavens opened and soaked both me and Gerry quite thoroughly.

JOYFUL REUNION
So there he was - the dog owner sitting in his car in the Kwik-Fit forecourt. Nice chap, obviously very very fond of his dog, and very very delighted to be reunited with him. I sat in their car for a bit telling my half of the story. Seems they'd been in another shop just a few doors away from Scope, and had tied the dog up outside. When they looked out, he'd gone - spooked by something probably - slipped his collar and departed.

DETECTIVE WORK
They'd been searching all afternoon. They'd been to the animal shelters, (which had been closed) and phoned the police, who, although they'd been no help at the time, had obviously logged the phone call from the shop, and were able to tell him that his dog had been found in Scope. So he'd visited the shop, where the ladies had told him his dog was in safe hands, and they also remembered me telling them that I was picking up my car from Kwik-Fit at 5 o'clock.

I was so happy to see them reunited! Oh, and they do live at Seaton, and the dog's real name is Scamp. (I still think he looked more like a Gerry.)


Saturday, 23 February 2008

Michael Schenker at Workington

Michael Schenker at Workington (23)
Seems odd how these big rock stars end up playing on the stage of the little Carnegie Theatre in Workington, a place even Steve's Los Huevos Bandidos have been known to strut their stuff. Hell, I've explored the backstage area myself, and turned up my nose at the grotty dressing rooms, and yet Michael Schenker turns up and plays there.

I had no idea if I'd like it or not, but it's always worthwhile accompanying Steve to see his heroes, even though he won't return the favour. (I'm off to Langholm - alone - next week to see Fraser Fifield - a brilliant Scots sax player - the sort of thing you'd expect Steve to like, but on the strength of 4 tracks on his MySpace site he's decided he doesn't like him. Oh well, it's his loss.)

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed Schenker, and even more so because I've finally given in and bought myself a packet of fluorescent yellow expanding foam earplugs from B&Q. Meant to protect your lugs while using power tools, they're brilliant for taking the edge off very loud rock music, to the extent that you can actually hear the notes being played, adding a whole new dimension to this wonderful art form.

The singer and bass player were as good to look at as to listen to, and I now have, I think, the definitive list of players: Leif Sundin - vocals; Thoman Broman- drums; Wayne Findlay - guitar/keyboards; Thomas Torberg - bass.

The rest of the photos can be seen here.


Wednesday, 2 January 2008

Back to work

Fed up with all this gratuitous holidaying, I decided it was time to get back to work. It's all very well for people with jobs, who get paid leave at this time of year, but if you're self-employed you only get paid if you work, so unless there's something more important to take up your time (like morris dancing, for instance) you might as well be earning a living.

I'm in the middle of repairing at least 3 woven seats at the moment. There's the big ongoing project of course - The World's Biggest And Slowest Double-Panelled Cane Sofa - and I keep trying to do bits on this so that eventually it will be finished. This one is taking somewhat longer than I suggested to my long-suffering client when I took on the job, and I'm feeling suitably guilty about it. So I'm now trying to clear the decks and get all the smaller ones out of the way, so that I can concentrate on the big one.

Nearly finished the bamboo rocking chair, which, after giving me several weeks of wondering what on earth I was going to do with it is now turning out to be rather fun. It had originally been covered - seat and back - with ready-woven rattan webbing of a type I can't get, and although the owner was quite happy for me to use a different type I realised that removing the framework in order to install the new stuff would involve taking out rusty nails and trying to put back new nails in the very dry bamboo, which I didn't really want to get into, as this sort of thing is a recipe for disaster. So, having had a chat with the customer, and his blessing to do anything I liked with it so long as it ended up usable, I'm doing it in a completely different way, and it's turning out really well. I'm using Danish cord. It looks great. Just a little more to do tomorrow, and lots of loose ends to tuck in and tidy up, and maybe a few bits of lapping cane to replace over the joints, and it'll be done.

I'd have finished it if I hadn't had to go to Workington with my leaky tyre. The nice man at KwikFit discovered it was punctured in the tyre wall, which is, apparently, unrepairable, so I had to have a new tyre. Bugger. Oh well, at least it's safe again.
Workington harbour at dusk
Above - boats in Workington harbour. A tripod would have made this photo sharper, but I love the colours. It's my mission to try to improve the image of places normally thought of as ugly and industrial.

Took a detour via the harbour on the way home and took a couple of photos of the boats as the sun went down. I really must start leaving a tripod in the boot, just in case, for occasions like this. Anyone would think I don't take photography seriously.