We’ve not taken advantage of the summer enough. So last night, we headed out to sit in the pub garden just before 8 and walked to Broomfield, just north of Chelmsford proper. Strolling through the fields of corn, with a gentle evening breeze and the reluctant setting sun glinting through the trees, it was all rather idyllic and reminded us that we should make hay while the sun shines (pardon the pun), and take any outside opportunities while we can. It could be a long winter.

It was a fun affair, with copious amounts of sparkly stuff to drink, lots of warm finger nibbles and dips, and as her living room filled up, lots of varied people and conversation. The journey to Island Gardens on the DLR was surprisingly easy, while a lack of engineering works on our line meant that we might not be quite so wary next time.

One of the many highlights of the afternoon was Poppi (above), the 10-month old Jack Russell, who can jump as high as a small child, and whose excitement knew no bounds. Another memorable moment came when the same young Nathan asked Steven if he had a girlfriend (clue: he doesn’t, and isn’t interested in females in the slightest). All in all, a fun way to spend an afternoon.

And quite different to the way we spent the latter half of yesterday. In the morning, we walked around a grassy field and took in the Battlesbridge VW Weekend Show at Battlesbridge Antiques Centre (full report at PoloDriver, picture above), while in the afternoon, we headed down to the shopping centre behemoth that is Lakeside, off the M25 at Thurrock.

The main reason for our impromptu visit was a mooch around IKEA, but on the way, we meandered around Decathlon, What! (exactly what we asked ourselves when we saw some the rubbish it sold) and Best Buy, which has only just opened at the Essex retail park. The US-based retailer isn’t as ground-breaking as you might have been led to believe from all the advertising, and we left the store disappointed. The only downside to both a social and busy weekend.

Good reports had come back from The Saracen’s Head Hotel, and so we booked a table for five (Bart was conspicuous by his absence). It was only after the event that Nik told us that the hotel’s restaurant had been the subject of an episode of Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares when it was in its previous incarnation, D-Place.

Mother’s Day at The Saracen’s Head Hotel: Ean, Nik, Rich, Vikki and mum

The foul-mouthed chef had clearly worked wonders and turned the place around, though. (But not before trade had reportedly gone down 50% and the place made bankrupt within two weeks of Ramsay’s departure.) With the exception of underdone but surprisingly tasty vegetables, the meal was very good. My roasted pepper soup was full of flavour and the addition of toasted white bread to accompany it made a nice change from a bread roll.

The beef served for the main course was beautifully tender, the roast potatoes cooked until just the right side of crispy and the Yorkshire Pudding was an equal of those cooked at home. Even the wine was good, and at £11.95 per head for two courses plus wine, it was excellent value, too. The only thing that could be criticised was the service, which could, at times, be a little slow. That wasn’t all bad, though, as it gave us time to digest one course before moving on to the next.

Not feeling blue: one of the new Rhode Island Ranger chickens meets Ean

The rest of the weekend was, as usual, equally as enjoyable. Family fun on Saturday night was had by playing cards after a three-courser consisting of tomato flan and a mezze starter, fish pie and spicy rice, and treacle tart to finish off. Yes, there were small computer matters to attend to, but they were dealt with swiftly and easily, leaving us more time to socialise, catch up, and for our visitors to meet the new additions to the back garden chicken coop.

An eggy breakfast on Sunday rolled into a stroll around the shops before the Mother’s Day lunch at Saracen’s and while we didn’t have coffee or dessert in the restaurant, it was much nicer to have a pre-journey portion of tea and cake before mum, Ean and Vikki whizzed the 88 miles north up the A12 to home. And for a change, mum did nothing. A Mother’s Day which was true to its word.

When we got to the lock itself, the steady stream of people strolling at the side of the road said it all; their boots were caked in mud. We hadn’t taken our dirty walking shoes, rather foolishly thinking that as the day dawned very frosty, there would be no mud and soggy ground. It was a silly mistake to make; everyone knows that walking + fields and tracks = mud (even on a fine day). So, we went and grabbed a coffee and cake in Sainsbury’s excellent value for money café, before driving the short distance home.

It was probably just as well. After a sore throat one day last week, I’m now in the midst of what I think is a full-blown cold. A runny nose has since developed after the weekend’s mild aches and although that seems to have gotten much better, the dry, cracked and slightly bleeding lips which have been caused through all the blowing, are I think, a worse thing to bear.

All very unpleasant, but, not wanting to speak too soon, I think I may have now turned the corner. The nose blowing has become much less frequent and I do feel a little brighter. Contracting a cold was inevitable in any case; with most of our families and work colleagues going through the sniffles at Christmas and the past month, it was only a matter of time before I picked something up. And, maybe winter isn’t properly winter without a cold after all.

At last! Blue skies heralded our first walk of 2010. We decided to take a 5.5 mile route closeby, just around Ingatestone. A small town south of Chelmsford, it sits within an area of green belt land, 20 miles north of London. It has some history; established in Saxon times on the then Great Essex Road (now major the A12 trunk road), it sits between the then goliath Roman towns of London and Colchester. The name originally meant ‘settlement at the stone’. It even has stones left by glacial action visible in the High Street.

Nik used to live and spent some of his formative years in the town (in two locations) and so knows the area well. I don’t have that much knowledge of Essex and perhaps the thing I knew Ingatestone for the most is that it’s the last stop before home on the train from London. And that it has good curry house. Our walk from the Walks Into History: Essex changed all that and to be honest, if it hadn’t, at least we managed to get out for a couple of hours, in the (all too limited) winter sunshine.

Our stroll took us around Ingatestone and also Fryerning, a village to the north of the small town. We tramped across empty fields, many deserted pastures with electric fences, over and under the A12 and round the back of the 16th century Ingatestone Hall. Open to the public at selected times and dates, the grand and majestic Tudor mansion that was once host to Queen Elizabeth I is probably most well-known for providing the exterior of Bleak House in the 2005 BBC adaption of the Charles Dickens’ novel of the same name.

After the prolonged cold snap that prevented almost everyone from going almost anywhere, it really felt good to be out and about in the sunshine again, after far too long. Mud (in the car park opposite The Cricketers pub and en route) notwithstanding, we really enjoyed tramping through the grass and hedgerows again, even sighting some deer common to the area. One thing that we had forgotten and was probably telling of the afternoon’s activities, was the aching of our legs. Maybe the moderately high mile count was to blame, maybe it was the lack of activity over the past few weeks. Whatever, it won’t stop us next time.

This is a first. We’re currently in the grip of the second and arguably most significant snowfall of the winter here in Essex, and it would appear even the chickens don’t like it. They’ve seen snow before of course and usually hang about, walking about the coop. Gerry and Margot sometimes even play spot the Barbara, as being white, our Sussex Ranger easily blends in.

But not today. They’ve gone back up the coop ladder to ‘bed’, just as they do when dusk falls. The snow on the tarpaulin over the compound might make it darker and with it being so cold, I can’t say I blame them for trying to keep warm in their insulated Eglu Cube. Oscar’s doing the same; he’s curled up under the radiator in the spare bedroom, probably wishing the summer would come quickly so that he can be out all day.

It looks like this cold spell will last until the start of next week, so our laying ladies will have to get used to the sub-zero temperatures if they haven’t done so already. The cold and the darkness is more than likely what’s causing the declining egg count (down to 25 in December 2009 from 91 in the summer of the same year), but it could be worse. They could still be moulting and be really clucking freezing.

Monday was the final day of Christmas family celebrations. Early afternoon we went up to Lowestoft to belatedly exchange presents with Ean and Vikki. A relaxed afternoon was spent at House 3, where we even met the usually reclusive Boo. Suitably (and enjoyably) fed, watered and caught-up, we all then went to mum’s to enjoy yet more food. Dinner was followed by two games of cards and before we knew it, it was time to head for home, not least as we had to feed the two cats next door.

Christmas itself was spent with Nik’s family in Galleywood on the day itself, where, due to the volume of presents, we all must have been good last year. Boxing Day saw mum and Bart come down and congregate on the house, along with Geoff, while Sal, Dan and Will popped in for the afternoon. Sunday was a day of recovery, visiting Geoff for a King’s Tower cold buffet the only excursion. That took us up to yesterday of course, when we left with mum and Bart for the journey to Suffolk. We then had just two days’ rest (the only of the two-week break) before it all started again.

Sandwiched between Christmas and New Year was my 36th birthday on New Year’s Eve. Lunch was eaten on a quiet and cold Mersea Island, while as tradition dictates, we spent the last evening of 2009 on the rug in front of the fire with Oscar, some warm Camembert and a handful of crackers. Post-carbonara at Verde’s of course. New Year’s Day was a repeat of Christmas Day, with the day spent at Andrew and Sheila’s and all of the Chelmsford clan.

So, lots of food, lots of family and lots of very nice presents. The start of 2010 has to be, more than ever (and in financial terms as well as fitness thoughts), a slimmed down one, though…

I’ve found that frustrating and like the snow on the ground here in Essex, the Christmas preparations have seemingly gone on too long this year. It’ll be worth it in three days’ time, though, as we can spend more time with the family rather than in the kitchen, but it has meant that we’ve less time to catch up with end of year jobs and have some time to spend on our personal projects, but there’s always next week. Hopefully my prickly sore throat and tickly cough which appeared today will have gone by then.

If we didn’t have this week off work, I don’t know what we’d have done. It all seems to have started to slow down a bit today, though. After popping into town for a few more bits, hitting (a pleasantly quiet) ASDA for a handful of wrapping paper to finish Nik’s presents and collecting the car with its new MoT, the remaining list of jobs can be counted in one hand. Which of course means that tomorrow, we can have some fun ourselves before the proper, real (and welcome) chaotic family festive fun begins.

Look what you can turn up in the most unlikely of places. We were in Basildon on Saturday, and in a similar twist of old rare music fate to when I last found other hard to find Stock Aitken Waterman records, I stumbled across this video from 1987 on a town centre market stall which also sold, of all things, badges, model cars and Nazi memorabilia.

Completing the Hit Factory trilogy (I already have the second and third volumes in the series), it’s such an early release, it doesn’t include any Kylie or Jason, relying on Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up and Bananarama’s I Heard A Rumour (below) to lure me in. Other early SAW ‘videostars’ include Princess and Edwin Starr, as well as Phil Fearon and The Three Degrees.

And yes, just as you’d expect, it’s laughably cheesy, with one cheap video following another. Most, like Mandy Smith, seem to follow a studio-based template whereby the artist stands in front of a cloth backdrop ‘dancing’ to their track in some now-hideous outfit. Princess clearly got the pick of the deal; she got outside locations around London for Say I’m Your Number One. Mel and Kim didn’t even bother to turn up for FLM, though, relying on puppets for their appearance cut in with some concert footage.

Classic. Well worth £1.50.

Basildon is clearly the place for bargains, as well as the home town of Alison Moyet, Yazoo and Depeche Mode. It also has a giant QD store, and in the spirit of reminiscing we went in, as there used to be similar shops in East Anglia and certainly in Lowestoft and Norwich. A ‘quick look’ turned into a £45 spree, and included such hauls as a new pair of jeans and also a coat, all for a price less than the cost of a designer item of either.

I also had my first seasonal coffee (a gingerbread latte) of the year, sitting in the Costa in the town centre. And, although there were no falling mattresses from tower blocks this time – unlike our visit – and the skies were still grey – like our last visit – the place had a certain charm. That charm must have been genuine, too, as a planned ‘couple of hours’ visit turned into an all-day stay.

We didn’t mean to of course, but plans to sit and watch the cricket at Little Waltham were left unfulfilled as we were too early or too late (people were on the pitch, but we couldn’t work out whether they were setting up or packing away), so we climbed back on our saddles and pedalled to Pleshey for a sun-soaked pint of cider in the beer garden of The Leather Bottle.

Refreshed and rested, we hatched plans to pop to Galleywood for a cup of tea and to rescue Sheila and Andrew from their Sunday jobs, and cycled the country roads to the Chignalls, before arriving back at Chelmsford. Heading through Admiral’s Park and then Central Park, we stayed on the ‘official’ cycle route to our destination, and arrived in need of more food and liquid refreshment.

Sitting in the garden really was idyllic and very much like summer, with the squirrels scampering across the lawn, the blue tits flying in and out of the bird box, and the horses peering over the fence, wanting treats of cheesy bread and sticky grass. Moving on before we got too settled, we cycled the six miles or so home, where we sat chatting to the chickens, drinking gin and nibbling nibbles.

Going into town for coffee, Bond-ing with Never Say Never Again (the most disjointed Bond film I’ve ever seen – probably because it wasn’t an official one at its time of release, although Barbara Carrera’s and the Renault 5 Turbo 2 performances more than make up for the weak bits) and planting the fist crop of herbs filled in the remaining hours of the three-day break.

Our last engagement of the long weekend was to be guests at Sue and Tom’s wedding last night. Duly smarted up, we spent an enjoyable three hours in Dartford, and although Sue’s married name will be Slack, that’s certainly something we haven’t been over the last 72 hours.