Dullcaster. North Ferriby. Rowley, Matlock.

Today we were all to do different things.

Tilly would do a lot of sleeping and wondering when her next meal would arrive, whilst Mick and I climbed onto to trains to head in different directions.

My train took me to Sheffield where I caught a bus to Chatsworth House, a very beautiful journey through serious countryside that I’ve done once before. I opted to stay on the bus to Bakewell where I had time to inhale Bakewell Puddings and Tarts that tourists were queuing up to purchase. Another bus got me to Rowley where I diced with death crossing the road to the Level Centre.

Here I was joining a group of people, actors, a composer, director, writer and several producers all associated with Separate Doors. A lovely welcome from the staff, a pack up lunch, then we all gathered to discuss how to promote integrated theatre for general audiences. We had tasks, we had discussions, we learnt a song with sign language.

We retired to the Premier Inn in Matlock. I took advantage of an hour’s break to go walking. Along a ridge behind the hotel, down into the valley and back along the River Derwent, managing to expand my 2 minutes brisk walking into 40. Back just in time to walk with everyone back into Matlock for food at Ostello Lounge which had the biggest gluten free menu. Lots of good company and conversation about our favourite crisp flavours.

Meanwhile Mick got a train heading northwards, joining two of his sisters, Kath and Christine. Alighting at North Ferriby they joined Anne and Alasdair, Marion and John. All siblings in one place to mark the passing of the last member of the generation above them, the wonderful Auntie Gill.

Mick here. My auntie, Gill Chignell, was married to my mother’s brother, Uncle Henry. All my four siblings have extremely fond memories of Auntie Gill. Many of our family summer holidays were spent with the Chignell family, their four children and us five made up a great party and many happy summers were spent with our cousins. They had a caravan and we would rent a holiday home somewhere, often on the South Coast. Good times. I am still in good contact with most of them.

My four sisters and I all made the trip to Ferriby in East Yorkshire and although it was a funeral it was great to see everyone and have a good chat. It wasn’t really a sad event: Gill has been suffering from dementia for a number of years and in a care home for 5 years. She was 94 when she died. In many ways it was a relief.

0 locks, 0 miles, 2 buses, 3 trains, 1 lazy cat, 1 symposium, 5.84 miles walked, 56 minutes briskly, 1st burger of the year, 5 siblings, 1 celebration, only 1 Aunty Gill.