On Sunday 13th July this picture is set to appear in the Sunday Mail's "20 Things Every Scot must see" pull out poster...
Part of me thinks it's a shamefully cheap way to produce a newspaper, and that I am doing a professional photographer out of a commission.
The rest of me is quite chuffed...
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
The League of Barely Perceptible Salutations
It's another cycling post I'm afraid. It has been very interesting (to me) watching the numbers of cyclists increase as the year has gone one. The better weather helps for certain, and on good days there are easily 5 times more bikes on the cycle paths than on wet ones. But I reckon there's a cost implication too, as the ludicrous price of petrol continues its slow bite and people actually begin to experiment with having some money at the end of the month again.
Of course, there is a clear divide between "real" cyclists, the ones with the 1000 yard stare who talk bravely about their experiences cycling in "January", and the new wave of Johnny-come-lately fair-weather lightweight...well, you know. This leads to a kind of sneering bike-snobbery, mainly from people like me, which is unfortunately demonstrating that "road rage", the name given to the act of hitting someone over the head with your wheel brace until they stop moving, is badly named. It's simply "human rage", because it's beginning to infect the formerly friendly, tranquil lanes wending their gentle way through Granton and Drylaw.
It's caused by exactly the same issues as car-human-rage... bad indicating, refusing to give way and all the other petty but actually-very-serious-at-7-in-the-morning trangressions which make you want to...well...hit someone over the head with your bicycle pump until they stop moving. And that would take a while, pumps are not heavy. And you'd have to chase them, sort of like jousting.
Anyway, the in-crowd of the cycle ways can identify each other by the way they refuse to actually ever say hello, and seem to dread being seen to be friendly. But there is also the fear of being seen to be unfriendly, leading to a greeting which falls somewhere between a shrug, a twitch and something in your eye. Hill walkers will be familiar with the concept that the only two people for miles can pass each other in the middle of the Ardnamurchan Peninsula with only a grunt and a wry look to the rain clouds. Any more than that is simply being over familiar. Well, it's the same kind of thing. Heaven help the loser who actually tries to form the word "hello" or dare to identify the time of day with a mumbled "Morning" or "Afternoon". But conversely the regulars expect some sort of greeting which is where the Barely Perceptible Salutation comes in. You can't be taught it, you have to earn it.
Of course, there is a clear divide between "real" cyclists, the ones with the 1000 yard stare who talk bravely about their experiences cycling in "January", and the new wave of Johnny-come-lately fair-weather lightweight...well, you know. This leads to a kind of sneering bike-snobbery, mainly from people like me, which is unfortunately demonstrating that "road rage", the name given to the act of hitting someone over the head with your wheel brace until they stop moving, is badly named. It's simply "human rage", because it's beginning to infect the formerly friendly, tranquil lanes wending their gentle way through Granton and Drylaw.
It's caused by exactly the same issues as car-human-rage... bad indicating, refusing to give way and all the other petty but actually-very-serious-at-7-in-the-morning trangressions which make you want to...well...hit someone over the head with your bicycle pump until they stop moving. And that would take a while, pumps are not heavy. And you'd have to chase them, sort of like jousting.
Anyway, the in-crowd of the cycle ways can identify each other by the way they refuse to actually ever say hello, and seem to dread being seen to be friendly. But there is also the fear of being seen to be unfriendly, leading to a greeting which falls somewhere between a shrug, a twitch and something in your eye. Hill walkers will be familiar with the concept that the only two people for miles can pass each other in the middle of the Ardnamurchan Peninsula with only a grunt and a wry look to the rain clouds. Any more than that is simply being over familiar. Well, it's the same kind of thing. Heaven help the loser who actually tries to form the word "hello" or dare to identify the time of day with a mumbled "Morning" or "Afternoon". But conversely the regulars expect some sort of greeting which is where the Barely Perceptible Salutation comes in. You can't be taught it, you have to earn it.
Friday, May 30, 2008
The Forth's on Fire
We got quite the sunset last night. On my way home from collecting scenery for our school show I stopped off in South Queensferry for a snap or two.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Snails thinking
These guys caught up with me and suggested it was time for an update. Yes, ok, it is.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Budapest - The Thursday
Ok, let's get the incredulous looks and eye-rolling over with first: yes, I left Lorna in Scotland on Valentine's Day to spend a couple of nights with "the lads" in Budapest. Right. Let's say no more about it.
Unfortunately when I booked my bargain Ryanair £70 return tickets (including "priority boarding"...) I foolishly thought that a 9.05am flight from Prestwick would be easy to make on time, only travelling from Edinburgh and Scotland's travel infrastructure being so good. So, cut to 3am on the 14th of February to see me catching the night bus into Waverly to make the 3.30am bus to Prestwick, arriving at 5.30am. Any other way would have got me there after check-in had closed. I was vindicated when the bus passengers were more Hungarian than Scot. Still, plenty of time to check in and bask in the early morning light. Of WHSmith's fridge.
Priority boarding worked a treat. It was worth the £3 just to see the poor people being shunted out of my queue. See ya, suckers!
Calum was due to pick me up at 1.30pm in Budapest, so when Ryanair announced with a trumpet fanfare (really) that they were 25 minutes early and Calum's text revealed he would be a half hour late, this left me an extra hour in the airport to...well, hide. It was only once on Hungarian soil that I realised my complete lack of any knowledge of the language or culture, a combination which in many places can get you shot. Apparently blowing your nose then checking the hankie can get you kneecapped in Turkey, and wars have started in Eastern Asia over the "pull my finger" joke. I thought it safer to sit clutching my bag and avoiding eye contact for the time being. I guess international sign language was always available to me but hungry as I was, I just couldn't bring myself to point at a piece of pizza while rubbing my tummy and offering my wallet. Not only would that require three hands, what if he asked me whether I wanted a bag? It was unlikely he would reciprocate by rubbing the bag seductively while winking at me.
Calum arrived in time to save me from an international incident and set about showing me the city. Unexpectedly one of the highlights came a few moments later - the appropriately named (by me) "Porn Guy". Where some people were begging from the cars as they sat in traffic, and others tried with little success to sell flowers, Porn Guy had gone one further and was selling roadside dirty magazines. He was draped with them, hanging from strings round his neck, filling both hands and surrounding him in grubby piles. I would have taken a picture but traffic was flowing freely and Calum unkindly refused to reverse back up the dual carriageway.
We then spent a cultural, relaxing afternoon visiting some of the sights of central Budapest, including...
Heroes' Square
The Basilica of St.Stephen
The Chain Bridge
The Parliament, and also spent some time dwelling over
this Holocaust memorial on the banks of the Danube.
(I had decided to go all out on the tourist thing so clicked away with my nice new camera with carefree abandon. Then came home, deleted 80% of the guff and crowed over the ones I liked.)
Jon and Mark's journey from Toulouse to Paris to Munich to Budapest (makes me seem a little petty for moaning about the early bus, doesn't it?) had encountered fog, and after a short spell worrying they might not make it at all we learned they would actually be a couple of hours late, allowing Calum and I time to eat before picking them up. His Hungarian is very good after 4 years in the country which made me remarkably more confident, even smiling at waiters and visiting the toilet on my own.
Having collected them from the airport we headed back to Calum and Zsanett's flat, politely ignoring the bulldozer knocking down the house next door. That evening the five of us went to a very traditional little restaurant hand picked for its authenticity where we ate soup (very big in Budapest) followed by a stew with rice and roast vegetables. And pickled cucumber. Mark made the mistake of tasting his cabbage garnish first and was not allowed to forget it. Making tiny mistakes and getting hammered for it is a running theme when we get together, so much so it's a wonder anybody dares talk at all. Many beers later we returned home to sort out sleeping places, Zsanett having wisely gone to her Mum's for the duration to leave us to it.
I'll do the day 2 write up tomorrow. To rush it now would be a true injustice to a most enjoyable and surreal day. Until then you can read Jon's take on events here...>
Unfortunately when I booked my bargain Ryanair £70 return tickets (including "priority boarding"...) I foolishly thought that a 9.05am flight from Prestwick would be easy to make on time, only travelling from Edinburgh and Scotland's travel infrastructure being so good. So, cut to 3am on the 14th of February to see me catching the night bus into Waverly to make the 3.30am bus to Prestwick, arriving at 5.30am. Any other way would have got me there after check-in had closed. I was vindicated when the bus passengers were more Hungarian than Scot. Still, plenty of time to check in and bask in the early morning light. Of WHSmith's fridge.
Priority boarding worked a treat. It was worth the £3 just to see the poor people being shunted out of my queue. See ya, suckers!
Calum was due to pick me up at 1.30pm in Budapest, so when Ryanair announced with a trumpet fanfare (really) that they were 25 minutes early and Calum's text revealed he would be a half hour late, this left me an extra hour in the airport to...well, hide. It was only once on Hungarian soil that I realised my complete lack of any knowledge of the language or culture, a combination which in many places can get you shot. Apparently blowing your nose then checking the hankie can get you kneecapped in Turkey, and wars have started in Eastern Asia over the "pull my finger" joke. I thought it safer to sit clutching my bag and avoiding eye contact for the time being. I guess international sign language was always available to me but hungry as I was, I just couldn't bring myself to point at a piece of pizza while rubbing my tummy and offering my wallet. Not only would that require three hands, what if he asked me whether I wanted a bag? It was unlikely he would reciprocate by rubbing the bag seductively while winking at me. Calum arrived in time to save me from an international incident and set about showing me the city. Unexpectedly one of the highlights came a few moments later - the appropriately named (by me) "Porn Guy". Where some people were begging from the cars as they sat in traffic, and others tried with little success to sell flowers, Porn Guy had gone one further and was selling roadside dirty magazines. He was draped with them, hanging from strings round his neck, filling both hands and surrounding him in grubby piles. I would have taken a picture but traffic was flowing freely and Calum unkindly refused to reverse back up the dual carriageway.
We then spent a cultural, relaxing afternoon visiting some of the sights of central Budapest, including...
Heroes' Square
The Basilica of St.Stephen
The Chain Bridge
The Parliament, and also spent some time dwelling over
this Holocaust memorial on the banks of the Danube.
(I had decided to go all out on the tourist thing so clicked away with my nice new camera with carefree abandon. Then came home, deleted 80% of the guff and crowed over the ones I liked.)
Jon and Mark's journey from Toulouse to Paris to Munich to Budapest (makes me seem a little petty for moaning about the early bus, doesn't it?) had encountered fog, and after a short spell worrying they might not make it at all we learned they would actually be a couple of hours late, allowing Calum and I time to eat before picking them up. His Hungarian is very good after 4 years in the country which made me remarkably more confident, even smiling at waiters and visiting the toilet on my own.
Having collected them from the airport we headed back to Calum and Zsanett's flat, politely ignoring the bulldozer knocking down the house next door. That evening the five of us went to a very traditional little restaurant hand picked for its authenticity where we ate soup (very big in Budapest) followed by a stew with rice and roast vegetables. And pickled cucumber. Mark made the mistake of tasting his cabbage garnish first and was not allowed to forget it. Making tiny mistakes and getting hammered for it is a running theme when we get together, so much so it's a wonder anybody dares talk at all. Many beers later we returned home to sort out sleeping places, Zsanett having wisely gone to her Mum's for the duration to leave us to it.
I'll do the day 2 write up tomorrow. To rush it now would be a true injustice to a most enjoyable and surreal day. Until then you can read Jon's take on events here...>
Friday, February 08, 2008
A visit from Grandad
Lorna managed to lure her dad up to the house today with the promise of a ham sandwich...and the realisation that we hadn't actually seen him yet this year! So he caught the bus up to us and spent the afternoon playing with Kit.
He and Jess have taken a big step recently, getting passports and booking their first ever foreign holiday...and then booking their second too. They will go by coach, by way of the Superfast ferry, first to Switzerland in June and then a tour of the Rhine in October for their 20th anniversary. Really it should be China for a 20th, but one step at a time, I guess.
I am on holiday for a week now and head for Budapest on Thursday to visit Calum, conveniently the same time as Jon and Mark will be there. I'm only away for two nights but one of those is Valentine's Day. Oops, not good timing...
He and Jess have taken a big step recently, getting passports and booking their first ever foreign holiday...and then booking their second too. They will go by coach, by way of the Superfast ferry, first to Switzerland in June and then a tour of the Rhine in October for their 20th anniversary. Really it should be China for a 20th, but one step at a time, I guess.
I am on holiday for a week now and head for Budapest on Thursday to visit Calum, conveniently the same time as Jon and Mark will be there. I'm only away for two nights but one of those is Valentine's Day. Oops, not good timing...
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Bad translations - thanks, Ulrike!
OUr friend in Germany, Ulrike, has a blog. I found it the other day, and decided the easy thing would be to translate it using the world famous Babelfish site.
Now, perhaps Ulrike spelled the odd word wrong. Perhaps she uses a lesser known dialect or unusual writing style. More likely though, is that Babelfish isn't all that good. Here is the translation of a recent post...it made me laugh. Thanks Ulrike, and sorry.
"Panic attack
When I today in my car into the evening hineingondelte, radio on overhousehold-noise level, reached me the message that the album „thriller“ from Michael Jackson a round anniversary has „Raten you times, dear Hoerer“, I was requested, „wie old this album today ist?“
Well, I thought, am already ' ne olle Kamelle, this music of the Jackson. The pertinent video had Jacksons conversion into a who wolf and the following ballet of the dead ones in a road of the industrial quarter still exactly in the head -. Fuffzehn years will already have, estimated the thing on the embossment I.
When the moderator opened to me, „thriller“ commit his five-and-twentieth, I nearly into the ditch would have driven. Yes, spinn I!! Where did the time remain? How could it happen that 25 years disappeared in such a way in the nothing, or at least in the non--much? I have nevertheless no ten-year winter sleep behind me!
And:
If it continues in this speed, which by-rush next 25 years also in this speed at me, I, if I turn next time, am SEVENTY!!! That cannot be true simply!
In the afternoon I had fallen asleep over reading a book and two wonderful easing hours in bed had spent. Immediately I have a bad conscience. I plan, the dear God never again one day not to steal times more one hour. To use my time. Carpe diem and the night still in addition! From today on I am 26 hours per day awake.
And begins finally to write the novel."
Now, perhaps Ulrike spelled the odd word wrong. Perhaps she uses a lesser known dialect or unusual writing style. More likely though, is that Babelfish isn't all that good. Here is the translation of a recent post...it made me laugh. Thanks Ulrike, and sorry.
"Panic attack
When I today in my car into the evening hineingondelte, radio on overhousehold-noise level, reached me the message that the album „thriller“ from Michael Jackson a round anniversary has „Raten you times, dear Hoerer“, I was requested, „wie old this album today ist?“
Well, I thought, am already ' ne olle Kamelle, this music of the Jackson. The pertinent video had Jacksons conversion into a who wolf and the following ballet of the dead ones in a road of the industrial quarter still exactly in the head -. Fuffzehn years will already have, estimated the thing on the embossment I.
When the moderator opened to me, „thriller“ commit his five-and-twentieth, I nearly into the ditch would have driven. Yes, spinn I!! Where did the time remain? How could it happen that 25 years disappeared in such a way in the nothing, or at least in the non--much? I have nevertheless no ten-year winter sleep behind me!
And:
If it continues in this speed, which by-rush next 25 years also in this speed at me, I, if I turn next time, am SEVENTY!!! That cannot be true simply!
In the afternoon I had fallen asleep over reading a book and two wonderful easing hours in bed had spent. Immediately I have a bad conscience. I plan, the dear God never again one day not to steal times more one hour. To use my time. Carpe diem and the night still in addition! From today on I am 26 hours per day awake.
And begins finally to write the novel."
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
Another Hogmanay
Having enjoyed reading Jon's teary, nostalgic stories of Christmas past, I decided some reminiscing of my own wouldn't be out of place.Christmas for us was usually spent in Dundee where your enjoyment of the festive season was generally measured by how much food you could consume between dawn and dusk - not eating meant not enjoying and that would simply not be tolerated. From the bacon stuffed rolls which left your dressing gown smeared with butter grease and tomato sauce to the industrial vats of prawn cocktail, it was heaven for a 9 year old with an appetite. Indeed there is a well worn family story where Gillian, who could be relied upon to work herself up into a vomitus over-excited wreck on Christmas Eve, was only cured of her boke by the ingestion of two cheese and tomato pizzas.
Another lasting memory is of the organisation involved when squeezing four or five adults and up to six children, plus guests, in a cottage originally built to house a crofter and possibly his wife. Place mats were laid each meal time in the livingroom on every available horizontal surface. A middle spot on a table was nice as there was less chance of things ending up on the floor, or of one of the dogs helping you to finish. Seats near the fire were at a premium earlier in the day when the house had yet to heat up, but by evening the furnace blast meant that only the cat and dogs could get within a few feet of it. This gave them the best view of the (off) TV and a perfect vantage point from which to let off casual farts in the direction of your Vienetta and Ice Magic. Feeding aside, the sleeping and washing arrangements alone were impressive enough. Bunk beds and inflatable beds were frequent friends as you were given your place in the sleeping hierarchy.
We were a family who still did "turns" - I did a mean Margaret Thatcher impression, and once an optimal amount of alcohol had been consumed the various uncles and aunts from many generations would indulge in some music hall classics to pass the time. One advantage that we had over the Broons was a "television", but this was in the days when the war for children's minds was still being optimistically fought by parents who believed two things - 1) that family derived entertainment was more fun than Tiswas and 2) this was a fight which could still be won. We could debate if either, both or none of these is true but it won't help me in 1982.
Anyway. Hogmanay as a child was perhaps less exciting, barring the thrill of being allowed up late. Once or twice we were taken along to parties then put to bed before being "gently awoken" at early o'clock when it was time to go home. I would not wish this torture on any child and will try to avoid it with my own. Jon's blog reminded me of those first few "allowed out" New Years when the rules of social etiquette were still being learned, then ignored. Hogmanay evening would be spent touring the houses of...people we knew. Calling them all "friends" would be a bit false considering many of them I have never, and will never see again, but we knew enough "friendly people" to organise or instigate quite the tour of Tain. Traps would be laid for us, though; on arrival at Tower Gardens for example I would be presented with a generous basin of neat whisky from my host or hostess which would then be refilled at a pace Oliver Reed might have called "a bit much". It was all my teen male ego could do to drink them as fast as they were presented. But then later in the evening any of my visits to the toilet would be accompanied by sharp intakes of breath and some tut-tutting as I weaved my wibbly wobbly way past vases and display dinner services before engaging other guests in inappropriate conversation. These truly were "the good old days". As time went on Jon and I became less of the social butterfly type and concentrated more on becoming connoisseurs of witty stories, droll recollections and the contents of other people's drinks cabinets.
We also frequently set out to prove that the right amount of alcohol prevented hypothermia. When it's 2 in the morning, and snowing, and you've been drinking whisky since midday, and someone says to you, "Let's go down to the beach" you really should say "No." But the memories of running my hands through my hair to dislodge the ice only serve to celebrate the anti-freeze properties of The Famous Grouse.
So, tonight Lorna and I will hit Tain town centre again after all these years. We are attending the Hogmanay street party organised, I think, by the Tain Gala Association Ceilidh band, fireworks (one assumes) and home by 00:10 if all goes to plan...
Monday, December 17, 2007
A Cold Snap
Ah, Christmas is almost upon us. Where has the year gone? We really knew it was this time of year over the weekend when I took part in the Santa Run, visited the German Market the braved John Lewis for some frenzied shopping action. The Santa Run involved 2500 people dressed as Santa doing two laps to Princes Street gardens in aid of a charity. I was hoping for a race but was disappointed to receive no race number and to be held up by children dressed as reindeer and babies in prams as I barged my way round both laps in search of glory. There was even someone on crutches for goodness sake - what's Christmassy about that? Anyway, it was well worth it for my Lidl bag containing water and a banana at the end, and at least I had support in the form of Little Santa, pictured.The German Market is where German wanderers tempt us with their rustic traditional wares - salt crystal candle holders and models of motorbikes made out of nuts and bolts. You know, very German stuff. The mulled wine was worth a look though, laced as it was with rum.
The last week of term was as busy as usual, full of parties and plenty of "media studies" - our name for watching a DVD. It was Bugsy Malone for P7 this year, and before showing it we announced to them that we planned to put on the stageshow in June. Because they are such a keen class they began singing along, and claiming the parts they wanted to play - a good sign for us if the enthusiasm continues.
Kit enjoyed his Christmas Party at nursery. He won a Santa face cloth and towel set and didn't cry when the "big" Santa arrived, so that counts as a big success. People keep asking us what he's getting for Christmas but I'm afraid we are being a bit unimaginative and putting some cash into his savings account...boooring, but he still doesn't know what's going on and we reckon his other relatives will cough up enough sparkly wrapped goods to keep him happy.
In January Lorna changes to part-time hours at last. I say at last because it's something she's wanted for a while - more time with Christopher - and now she is able to plan all sorts for events and activities. Another benefit is that I have many Friday half days during the second part of the school year so we'll plan little trips swimming, climbing or such like.
Some bad news on the 24 hour cycle front... having neared the end of our training and bought most of the extras we'd need, including ludicrously expensive lights sent for the USA, we are having to pull out! Unfortunately Mike had a wee accident - he fell off his bike (!) and has craked bones in his arm and shoulder. It was his racer, not even the mountain bike, and he was caught out by a greasy patch on the road. Nobody is more fed-up about this than Mike. I have mixed feelings. Part of me is disappointed having prepared for it for so long. But part of me is quietly delighted not to have to do it! There were suggestions from people that I find a replacement partner, but that's not really in the spirit of teamwork. I felt it should be Mike and I or not at all. Besides, it was his camper van we were going to be using...
Sunday, November 11, 2007
The Strathpuffer Trial Run
Yesterday Mike and I took a drive up to Strathpeffer to check out the course for the Strahpuffer 24 race. All weather forecasts showed two rain drops coming out from a grey cartoon cloud so we bravely told ourselves that it would be a good practice for "the real thing".Leaving at 7am we hit the A9 and had some breakfast at The Inn in Dalwhinnie. It's not somewhere I would normally have chosen but if you are looking to beat the lunacy of Bruar it's certainly worth a try. Besides, it's twinned with Las Vegas according to the sign which should give you some idea of the fun to be had there... It was a time to talk tactics - basically try to work out how many laps to try each at different parts of the 24 hours.
Full of breakfast we carried on to Strathpeffer and called into Square Wheels, the wee bike shop which organises the event. For a little round shop they manage to cram some amount of stuff inside, lots of ways to go into shiny debt. The canny man behind the counter (hmm, how can I get loads of bikers into my shop? In January?) sold us a map and drew the route for us in warning-red. He was also careful to remind us that brake-pads wear out extra quickly on the course; something to do with lots of mica in the soil...
Missing out on using the locked public toilets (tourists don't need to pee out of season) we found our start / finish point and ventured up in the hills. It was wet, very muddy and the course has a real split personality. It was either fairly boring slogging round forestry tracks (which all seem uphill) or incredibly difficult and technical sections with solid rock giving way to thick deep mud in an instant. Some bits were difficult to even see a way through. After 2 laps (managing about 50 minutes for each 8 mile lap) we stopped for some dried fruit and nuts (mmm) but the tea rooms were calling us... We noted how quickly we cooled down off the bikes too. We also realised that the whole "mind your brakes" thing was very real as Mike's rear went from fine to bad to gone... Anyway, time for one more lap then we called it a day.
Once changed we went to Strathpeffer's old railway station which is now collection of shops with a tearoom in the middle where we ate our own weight in soup and bread whle listening to the locals talk drivel. The woman sitting at the table beside us struck up a conversation on hearing we were cyclists - her partner had done it last year. "How many spare bikes are you bringing?" she asked brightly. "At least, brake pads anyway. They say they wear out very quickly..." Even the lady running the shop couldn't resist telling us that she's heard brake pads could wear out very quickly on the course. Message received and understood, everyone!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Arty playing
We are just back from seeing the family in Tyningham. As the sun was setting we went for a play on the green in front of the house and I got snap happy. This is my new favourite picture of my family :-)
Monday, October 22, 2007
Generous people!
Week one of fund raising and already £175! Thank you all so much and keep it coming!
Friday, October 19, 2007
Strathpuffer24 08
Those of you unfortunate enough to be in my email address book will already have the gist of this, but Strathpuffer24 is a 24 hour mountain bike race held in the forestry near the spa town of Strathpeffer.
Earlier this year, sometime in the spring I think when the buds were beginning to show and winter's chill was fading, I mentioned to Mike that I had bought a mountain bike. A good one, like, with suspension and disk brakes and everything. His eyes narrowed and he asked whether I wanted to take part in an event next January - it sounded like ages away, and full of bravado and warm soup I agreed.
So here we are! January is only 12 weeks or so away... I have kept up my daily cycling to and from work as far as possible - sometimes I need the car to carry stuff and sometimes the motorbike if I have to be somewhere soon after work, but I've pretty much stuck to it, so that has helped me get fitter and faster. On top of this Mike and I have been visiting Glentress and Innerleithen, local mountain bike singletrack developments which, after some initial fear and reservation on my part, is absolutely brilliant fun. Sure we crash, and get knackered, but it's worth it for the downhill sections and the views from the top.
So the Strathpuffer is a reality. We both have a bit of a shopping list - waterproofs and lights seem to be pretty important as will be a Scottish January and 17 hours are in darkness. Brrr. Convincing some good friends and family to act as support crew will be important too - who else will make us soup at 4am if not them??
I'll keep posting exciting training stories and boring techy gadget details as we go along.
And don't forget the donation box on the top right of this page - I'm raising funds for Edinburgh's Sick Kids hospital. I chose it as a kind of taliksman...if I give to them maybe I'll never have to use them ;-)
Earlier this year, sometime in the spring I think when the buds were beginning to show and winter's chill was fading, I mentioned to Mike that I had bought a mountain bike. A good one, like, with suspension and disk brakes and everything. His eyes narrowed and he asked whether I wanted to take part in an event next January - it sounded like ages away, and full of bravado and warm soup I agreed.
So here we are! January is only 12 weeks or so away... I have kept up my daily cycling to and from work as far as possible - sometimes I need the car to carry stuff and sometimes the motorbike if I have to be somewhere soon after work, but I've pretty much stuck to it, so that has helped me get fitter and faster. On top of this Mike and I have been visiting Glentress and Innerleithen, local mountain bike singletrack developments which, after some initial fear and reservation on my part, is absolutely brilliant fun. Sure we crash, and get knackered, but it's worth it for the downhill sections and the views from the top.
So the Strathpuffer is a reality. We both have a bit of a shopping list - waterproofs and lights seem to be pretty important as will be a Scottish January and 17 hours are in darkness. Brrr. Convincing some good friends and family to act as support crew will be important too - who else will make us soup at 4am if not them??
I'll keep posting exciting training stories and boring techy gadget details as we go along.
And don't forget the donation box on the top right of this page - I'm raising funds for Edinburgh's Sick Kids hospital. I chose it as a kind of taliksman...if I give to them maybe I'll never have to use them ;-)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Ooh, that's a bit nippy
Last Saturday we made the most of a dry day and headed to Seacliff Beach, 2 minutes from North Berwick and charging £2 for parking to keep the riff raff out. You can see from Kit's face that it was not the warmest of water but we promise, it was his idea to paddle and it was all we could do to get his shoes and trousers off before he waded in.
I been busy dividing myself between SQH worrying (I am ahead in this, though behind in the actual work), school camp, continued practice for the Strathpuffer (more on this to follow) and other general work stuff. Lorna's new term has started in earnest and with huge rewrites and restructurings of existing courses her time is taken up too.
The boy talks more and more - his longer mutterings include "Ready, Steady, Go!" -and has a fetish for the red light on the burglar alarm sensor in the living room. People think he's waving to be friendly but he's actually trying to motion-activate it.
Oh, it's my birthday on Friday but I've definately stopped counting and have to do sums to work out how old I am.
Anyway that's a short and vague update until I get a real one done. And that might be soon.
I been busy dividing myself between SQH worrying (I am ahead in this, though behind in the actual work), school camp, continued practice for the Strathpuffer (more on this to follow) and other general work stuff. Lorna's new term has started in earnest and with huge rewrites and restructurings of existing courses her time is taken up too.
The boy talks more and more - his longer mutterings include "Ready, Steady, Go!" -and has a fetish for the red light on the burglar alarm sensor in the living room. People think he's waving to be friendly but he's actually trying to motion-activate it.
Oh, it's my birthday on Friday but I've definately stopped counting and have to do sums to work out how old I am.
Anyway that's a short and vague update until I get a real one done. And that might be soon.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Sunday, September 09, 2007
“There's only one me, and I'm stuck with him.” - KV
It is a measure of how quickly time can pass that Kit not only became the "big boy" of the baby room, he has now outgrown it altogether and has enjoyed a nursery graduation into the next room, Little Roos. He is back to being the new boy again, but gets bigger toys, more time outdoors and - gasp - a mattress for nap time instead of a cot! We were surprised that he took to this so readily but apparently because they all go to sleep at the same time there is a mood of quiet to which he succumbs.
We have begun to get itchier feet house wise and even viewed a property in Balerno the other week. It wasn't the house for us, but we like the area so will be keeping our ears and eyes open should the right one come along. Lorna pretends it's all to do with countryside and catchment areas but it really comes down to the noisy teenagers who live through the wall from us.
I have just finished a couple of SQH days which have put the wind up me again as far as assignments and readings go. The good news is that I passed my first piece without a hitch - next comes the School Improvement Project which will keep me very busy until at least February!
Still, not so busy that I can't get out on the bike - in a couple of weeks I head down to Lincolnshire for a Thundercat run. I'm really looking forward to a longer trip on the bike, and especially as I will meet up with some friends I have not seen for ages. That, and a trip to see Dad in Carrbridge, will keep us busy enough for a while. Aye, the nights are fair drawing in...
We have begun to get itchier feet house wise and even viewed a property in Balerno the other week. It wasn't the house for us, but we like the area so will be keeping our ears and eyes open should the right one come along. Lorna pretends it's all to do with countryside and catchment areas but it really comes down to the noisy teenagers who live through the wall from us.
I have just finished a couple of SQH days which have put the wind up me again as far as assignments and readings go. The good news is that I passed my first piece without a hitch - next comes the School Improvement Project which will keep me very busy until at least February!
Still, not so busy that I can't get out on the bike - in a couple of weeks I head down to Lincolnshire for a Thundercat run. I'm really looking forward to a longer trip on the bike, and especially as I will meet up with some friends I have not seen for ages. That, and a trip to see Dad in Carrbridge, will keep us busy enough for a while. Aye, the nights are fair drawing in...
Sunday, August 26, 2007
I can slide all by myself...sort of.
We took the bikes along the old railway line towards Balerno today, and stopped off at Spylaw Park for a swing and a slide.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Japanese Learning English
I love this - essential phrases for that holiday mugging you've always dreamed of...
Thursday, August 09, 2007
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