Cracking morning as Wallace might say to Gromit. Clear, crisp, cold but still ever so still. Like the ice on the puddles ready to crack once civilisation wakes up.
My plan was to get up early and armed with the camera head out to take some snaps. I did get up but not as early as planned therefore all hopes of iconic dawn shots remain as do my night time dreams confined to my bed.
There was no one about so we could enjoy the peace and quiet without intrusion, the dogs ran around, discovering whatever and I just walked and snapped, relishing the morning.
If you are out for a walk today hope you have as much fun.
Gosh it's quiet here today. I'm not complaining far from it. Its just me and the dogs, they were a bit noisy chewing on their hide chews but after 7 years - not continuously obviously, that is now canine "white noise". Now that they are sleeping I'm not sure what noise is actually more distracting the gnawing or the snoring? It's fairly low key at the moment unlike last night when the 01:00 am canine goods train with a thousand heavy carriages rumbled or should that be snored through my bedroom!
Apart from the noise the only sound to be heard is the protestations emitting from my body after yesterdays return to the swimming pool. Now I am a land mammal always have been always will be. Water and me recreationally never really mixed from the swimming perspective.
The Man From Atlantis
or
Marine Boy I am not.
Having said that I do enjoy water based sports as long as the water is still and not thrashing about - sea sickness is something I don't really enjoy. Vomiting in my SCUBA mouthpiece whilst I bobbed on the surface of the water before descending into the Red Sea is one of my "Greatest Sea Sickness Moments". I now have great empathy for corks or drift wood. I've canoed, kayaked, gorge walked and even have a yellowing PADI basic dive license in my library of plastic cards. All based on a very weak swimming background.
I never liked the PE lessons that involved swimming much preferring running on grass or in the gym hall in some other sporting activity. So why did I enter the watery depths of the swimming pool? Well its not deep for a start and if I drank the pool (as I occasionally do) I know that I could stand up to cough up the water and whatever lung tissue came with it. You see I can't float either, not very well anyway and would sink like some man shaped bit of lead given half a chance. Tread water then you might think, no useless at that too, although I struggled to perform the necessary during my dive course. No I entered the water because once again I am testing myself by entering the Great Scottish Swim.
I did the event last year and it was one of the most challenging physical and mental things I have undertaken in the Fegrig folder titled "sporty things". The loch was tidal or at least drained off into a river, the wind was high making the waves white tops higher than a land based mammal was comfortable with. At one point on the journey out after about a half of a mile of what seemed like swimming uphill my mental and physical strenghth being tested enough to consider jumping on one of the safety canoes. I appreciate the need for the question but when I was gasping for oxygen, trying to breath without inspiring a wave the last thing I needed was to be involved in a conversation.
"You alright" "Mmmm" this being the yes mmmm, different in tone and urgency from the no mmmm.
Perhaps give me a thumbs up if you are good would be an alternative, this would at least signify that you were not hypothermic, it was cold. But you would be stuffed if English was not your first language and did not answer only to be hauled out of the water for your safety because you were obviously hypothermic (poor responses), intelligible speech, babbling in strange tongues (brain frozen) and thrashing (as you fought to stay in the water).
There was no time to consider whether one should give more a more detailed affirmation of my health as off they quickly paddled to offer succour to another floundering, neoprened soul. At one point I felt very alone with no safety bibbed canoeist in sight. This was alarming as I had a barely disguised fear that I might sink and drown luckily the neoprene suit gave me the essential buoyancy that would have prevented me from sinking to the depths to become fish food. I consoled myself that at least I would be found and hauled onto to the shore, my loved ones at least would have a partly fish nibbled body to grieve over.
The last third of the mile swim was more down hill as you were swimming with the wind behind your back although the person who released a sail like contraption from the back of their wet suit was disqualified. The excuse that it was the unfilled material of the suit after a severe weight loss programme did not win any reprieve. So down hill and although the batteries were almost out of juice I dug deep and swam like never before, a sprint finish even? Although many of the swimmers before me could probably have sustained my pace in 1st or 2nd gear and here was I in 8th gear!
By the end of my 52 min swim for a distance of a mile I was well bluntly... wasted. The guy with the microphone egging you on. Thankfully avoiding the fact that on getting out of the water onto the pontoon landing walkway to the safety of dry land I misjudged it and landed on my kness thereby having to cover the first metres on my knees and hands. When I reached the mic the announcer asking for some gem relating to feelings, name, or whether I was alive but my only recordable word as I silently thanked God for returning me to the land of the non gilled and not silently sucked in oxygen, was "Knackered!"
But with the 2010 calendar now on the go my fear of drowning has decreased and I want to try again and maybe even try not just the Scottish event but perhaps one of the others.
Here are some pics of the day.
Getting ready having dawned the orange skull cap I now look like I have sun bedded my shaven head with an orange tan, by applying the goggles the fear in my eyes is not as noticeable.
The warm up - hah!
F or C ?
The face says it all, the walk of an unconvinced man
Now don't fear I have not become some rampant sexist who in some ego driven exercise is asking you to count the number of ladies than he has in some little black book. No this is about real birds of the feathered variety and the event is a Royal Society for the Protection of Birds driven event. This weekend they are asking you to count the number of birds that are in your garden over an hour of your choice.
We have done this for a few years now at Castle Fegrig but I'm feeling slightly concerned about this year. n is the brains behind the identification. Binoculars held tightly against her eyes like some world war two submarine skipper she scans the terrain. One of this , one of that, two of another reeling of the names of the birds to the pen pusher (me) to record on the cleverly provided down loadable sheets. n is not here this year away for the weekend as she is. Up to her neck in wool and hopefully in stitches with all the fun she is having.
I could look at a birding book but by the time I would have found the bird it would probably be extinct. I could guess but this may skew the result if I recognise something incorrectly and the next thing I know is that I have bus loads of twitchers in the street all desperate to see the lesser spotted bobbing orange thrush warbler. One not having been seen this far north or indeed in the UK before. Media picking up the story from an wow factor or the humanitarian angle "poor birdie 1000 miles off course". You know how these things develop.
In previous years our numbers have been pretty good but his year maybe one hand will do for the count. Where have all the birds gone? During the snow hundreds of them after the thaw not a chirp. To lay foody enticements to attract them in, is a bit underhand so I will just have to rely on personality and good looks. or perhaps the chickens could act as hostesses?
Lets see how we go 1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8.. Tut!! 1..2..
Too late should be in my bed but before I do thought I would post these pictures of Boris. But before I do was contemplating takingw pictures of this
I obviously decided too this being some fungus growing out of slowly rottings logs. The pile is about two metres tall and about five metres long and nowadays not too steady.
So I was a bit surprised when I looked up to see this
He looks quite alert and noble standing there but once the interest waned in whatever it was, he was faced with this.
How to get down? Although he could have made the leap I erred on the side of caution and encouraged him to walk off the logs. He is solid and i did not fancy carrying a dog out of the woods on my shoulders due to a break or other incapacitating injury.
Tonight I was about to write about something then thought about something else. The new iPad, favourite TV programme of the moment, the elderly chicken, The POTUS and his state of the Union address, so much.
Then I noticed that this movie " The 40 year old virgin" was being played on one of the ITV digital channels.
Now some would say that the film is not funny, entertaining, uses strong language but there is one scene that I find hilarious. I have done so ever since I stumbled across the movie one night when I was away on business and unable to sleep, surfed the channels and found the movie. When I watched this part of the movie I laughed so much that I almost stopped breathing. I am not sure what my enjoyment of the scene says about me in addition to me finding it funny. Perhaps I am just relieved that my chest is pretty much like my head.
The part of the movie in particular is when Steve Carell has his chest hair waxed, you can't find the scenes to embed but here is a short relating to the scene. Apologies for the language.
Tonight we had our haggis, a veggie one that is rather tasty, not as spicy as the meaty type. We don't just have haggis on Burns night but have it regularly throughout the year. Usually with tatties and for me turnip or swede. Tonight however it was haggis and some veg and if for some the thought of haggis is unpalatable, then the veg we had with it tonight is beyond the pale for others - we had Brussels sprouts.
It was a late dinner tonight as earlier on it was Fegrig taxis on call to take the youngest gentleman to a Camp America recruitment fayre. It all went swimmingly well with the young man being offered two positions there and then!
To say I was surprised would not be telling the truth as we always had belief in his ability and potential. It's just that the belief is sorely tested at times. Aptly for haggis night plus one we regularly have a turnip standing before us.
However like the majority of parents you know you have unearthed a diamond, one that is precious only requiring final finishing and a polish.
So there I was at the sweat palace, working that body, going for the burn, staving off death and any of the other reasons people give for catching up on all those skived school physical education lessons and post scholastic decadent living. I was at the "gym"!
Being a sparkly emporium of lycra and wobbly bits, in built into some of the cardio equipment.....
I think cardio is a word that really demands to be said in a voice as thick and gravelly as sandy treacle, perhaps by the guy who does the voice over for horror movie trailers. Not much difference really between actors acting scared being chased by some weirdo wielding a piece of metal and new members of a "gym" looking scared as they attempt to work out how to use the cardio vibrating pump action gyroscopic ab and ass machine.
.....as I was saying, in built into some of the equipment are TVs and as I was pounding away on the treadmill I spied a programme from BBC1 Scotland celebrating Burns Night.
Happy Burns Night by the way did you have some haggis, tatties and neeps? We will talk about that tomorrow then.
So the programme was almost finished and as tradition dictates the assembled singers and the audience were singing "Auld Lang Syne". However the audience as tradition also dictates or is it that it's the only thing that anyone knows? only sang the chorus. I don't think I have actually heard the whole song sung before as it was by the artistes and it was quite touching. Hopefully my fellow emitters thought it was just sweat in the corners of my eyes.
Then we had the wee 1 minute mid evening news update from BBC Scotland during which they ran footage of Bill McLarens funeral. Who he? you may say. Without sounding cliched or appearing lazy he was simply the voice of rugby coverage in Scotland, UK and indeed to the English speaking world. It might be if you try to access these links from overseas you will be unable to see them so just visit the BBC Scotland pages and take it from there.
I never knew the man but like many who listened to him until his retiral in 2002 you felt you knew him and the pictures of his funeral cortege driving through his native Hawick was another excuse for heart tugging. If I was not in touch with my emotions I knew that I could always pass that feeling of as "stitch".
So this evening the visit to the juke box that passes as an exercise yard brought lumps to my throat rather than limps to my legs.
Ok so the days almost done and no blog entry and I've decided not to tie myself in knots now at 23:44 typing out some prose about my adventures.
Instead I'm going to continue in my happy mood for the last 15 minutes of the day inwardly reflecting on a productive weekend.
Cooking, one of my favourite things to do, all weekend the Aga mine alone as n was up to her eyes in her tax return.
All the domestic chores done, including the weekend cleaning. Just like working on the wards at the weekend when I was younger. Traditionally less frenetic when you could work through the weekend cleaning book. We do not have a weekend cleaning book in our house in case the thought crossed your mind.
A wee run sneaked in although the snow and ice in parts made underfoot a bit sloppy.
The chicken house received a power jet clean, the chickens having been ushered on for their safety. The chooks had a close inspection and to my untrained eye they look alright. Although the oldest is acting her age but is still way more productive than the two youngsters. She seems to be laying an egg a day at the moment, lovely breakfast I had too. Home made bread and own chooks eggs. Num, num, num.
The dogs had a brush taken to their coats no problem there very responsive as they appear to enjoy the sensation. However it's a different story with their teeth. They do sit but it's teeth clenched, puffing and snorting of dog toothpaste and whatever else lives in there a byproduct of the process. Nothing lovelier dogsnot eau de toilette. They also have little traction motors somewhere in their hind quarters as they have the canny ability to reverse away from the toothbrush. Clever that.
Would you look at the time 23:58 time to go Night! -- Post From My iPhone
Hello what a busy bee I have been today working away for some of that time as "Fegrig the cook"
I made a chicken and vegetable broth, roasted vegetables, tomato wholegrain bread and what was described as a rich root soup. You can see the bread and root soup in the picture below. The roasted veg was also on the menu but they've all been gobbled.
Usually when I make soup, which is one of my favourite food types, it's a bit of that and a bit of this with a glug of the other and maybe even the odd twist and pinch of something else. But today I decided to follow a recipe from Nigel Slaters excellent book "Tender, volume 1" this recipe named "A rich root and cheese soup for a winters day" is on page 385 in the parsnip section.
Enough for 4 (but my approach gave enough for about 7)
a medium onion
2 large parsnips (I used more)
50g butter
garlic 2 plump cloves (I used 3)
a little flour
dried chilli flakes a teaspoon (no flakes in the cupboard so I used powder)
turmeric half a teaspoon
vegetable stock a litre (probably a few glugs more)
single cream 100ml (no cream so I used evaporated milk)
mild grainy mustard 2 tablespoons (I used an excellent vermont maple grainy mustard acquired last time I was visiting my sister)
cornish yarg or gruyere cheese diced (neither in the fridge and perhaps should not have used the cheddar that was)
So its chop the onions and parsnips into the butter leave to brown and soften. Squash the garlic and add. Nigel suggests leaving things to soften on a moderate heat with the lid on and not disturbing the veg too much.
Add the sprinkling of flour, chilli and turmeric cook for a couple of minutes then add the stock bring the soup to the boil. Lower heat and simmer until all veg is soft 20 mins is suggested but I just plonked the pot in the hot oven of the Aga to cook through.
It was then a case of using the whizzy stick to blend it down before adding the milk and mustard. I did not add any salt and pepper as it tasted fine throughout to me. As suggested I put a small cube of cheese in the bowl before serving but do be honest I could have done without this bit as the cheddar I used probably had to high a melting point.
The soup went down very well with the veg and bread coming after. A good supper and just what the workers required.
After the huge amounts of snow inevitably comes the thaw and around here mud, mud and more mud.
The mud is thick, sticky and in some places you would think a family of pigs had been having a big piggy holiday.
The mud has even attracted a few disorientated and confused types looking for a winter festival a cold Glastonbury perhaps?
This weather is not ideal for walking the dogs slipping and sliding as you do. As you would expect the dogs are going to get muddy and need cleaning after their exercise session. All fine no problem with that, just what you would expect but there is something I don't understand.
Both dogs are short haired, no long flowing locks blowing behind as they run. Tall enough you would think to have enough clearance between the mud and their body but it's not a simple as that.
This is one "dog towel"
Clean, unsullied but it has been used and then we compare with the other "dog towel" after its rubbed the other dog down.
The question is why the difference? Why is one towel so clean, one so dirty?
Now I have some theories, maybe I could have a poll to pick the most favourite or most likely?
1- Dog A is clean because he has Dog B carry him around and above the mud.
2- Dog B likes to body surf in the mud.
3- Dog B has a weird approach to his beauty routine and has taken the mud pack idea just too far.
What do you think or is there another explanation that has passed me by.
It must have happened on the tube or maybe at Heathrow. Heathrow, yes that must have been the place when they take your photo to match you up with your ticket before you go into security land.
Or perhaps it was in the lounge was the juice tampered with? Is there a sedative effect in cheese. Yes I had some more!
Whenever it was it's kicking in now the sleepiness. Perhaps there was a subliminal message planted in the safety briefing on board as I did fall asleep during the flight.
"when Silent Witness comes on you will sleep, sleep, sleep"
Not Slim Shady or James Bond I think today I must be Wallace?
Apart from breakfast today I seem to have turned into a cheeseitarian.
For lunch Brie and apple on toast. Whilst sitting in the departure lounge waiting on my plane to London had some biscuits and cheese.
Now that I have arrived in the big smoke I'm not that hungry but looking for something non meaty to eat. I'm in one of these indecisive eating moods and I am being swayed rather boringly towards a cheese sandwich.
Maybe I should just go to bed but I might have nightmares with all that cheese!
Radio and TVs I suppose are different. You could lose yourself in the dialogue being played to you or give your opinion to the question on the phone in without raising to many eyebrows.
Cookers, fridges, freezers and washing machines they're different and apart from the bleeping to say wash cycle over. Or the pinging noise that alerts you to the defrosting freezer then their ability to communicate is pretty limited.
What to do with these new fangled machines namely "Sat Nav" I've never had one of these box of tricks before but it came as standard in the new car. Like an unwanted Christmas present however it sat, unused.
Today I thought I would see what it could do. I typed in my destination. A place that I knew the location and route to. I waited to see what my instructions would be like some new start in the dance class.
First of all "sharp right" Uh! No that's wrong I knew my journey took me straight on "and then left turn" But that would be like traveling SW when I want to go NE! As I had disregarded the offered instruction a more insistant repetition of left - ignored - left - ignored - more lefts. I knew all this was nonsense as I knew my direction was right.
Getting nearer to my destination along the correct route I was still being assailed by directions taking me to a place the gods only knew where. Even as I sat on the street looking for a parking space I was still getting instructions to drive elsewhere.
Of course you engage in a conversation querying the geographical credentials of the sat nav lady. You start questioning the cognitive stability of an animated atlas!
It is at this point that you realise that you have been escalating this debate for ten minutes. Luckily it is at this point that the
"RETURN TO REALITY"
neon sign (that is also a standard item) in the new car flashes intermittently prompting me to take the action that I should actioned at the first left.
Morning, I have been invaded overnight and not just any old invasion it must have been the sort that only Extra Terrestrials could orchestrate!
Now I'm not usually one for making a fuss or a drama out of an ET crisis and have never had the male only variety of the pig or bird virus, but I was fine last night and this morning well it's different.
It's clear to me what the aliens have done first of all they have been in my brain excavated a party space within my skull and had one of those gigs that you only see in the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars.
Whilst we had party central in my dome the aliens needed somewhere do clean their clothes and other laundry pursuits but despite their advanced trans solar adventurous spirit drainage has not been high on their engineering priority list. They obviously had no thought of this as they washed, bashed and spun their space clobber. Why else would my nose be running this morning.
Lets not even discuss why my nose is grotty. I think that they also had a tumble dryer that of course would only have pumped additional moisture to the nose and like so many no one emptied the filter until the very end. Leaving all the grotty bits in my nose rather than putting it in their space bin.
Whilst they were partying and catching up on the laundry chores I think another bunch of ETs had converted my mouth into a body shop for their space ship. A quick respray and polish can surely account for my mouth feeling like it had been sand blasted before being preserved in some moisture repellent sealant product.
Farther back the ET boxing club have been using my tonsils as some sort of punch bag stunt double thing why else would they feel battered and bruised this morning?
Finally there is the lower back ouchyness this is the fault of the ET skiing fraternity. First apply a liberal amount of freezing product thus enabling your skis to slide easily down the spine, before ski jumping of the sacral-gluteal curve. Many must have misjudged the take off and crashed just before they became airborne. Or perhaps they got scared and rather than launching themselves off the jump stuck their spikey ski pole ends into the "ground" to stop.
So there you go self diagnosis complete.
Get Mulder and Scully out of retirement, this is a much more satisfying case that the last movie ever was.
What do you mean it might be a cold? Over reacting - Man Flu - Me!
No for feeling like this an ET invasion is the only answer.
I have missed my walks in the woods. The snow did not bother me so much, it was the fact that the last time I went there the car was almost stuck in the slithery, icy snow. I was not that bothered, well wrapped against the weather it was the dogs that I was concerned for. It was not much fun for them being used as sled dogs to pull out the car, only joking!
So this morning on a bright and clear morning decided to go for a wander around with the camera. Today then rather than words I'll give you some photos to look at.
Busy day today and I think I've sprung a leak. Don't worry I'm not going to regale you with a story about my incontence or the runny nose that I sometimes get post SCUBA diving.
No the leak is more virtual as I'm losing my oomph. Feeling a bit listless and creaky, like an old ship.
Therefore I'm only going to say that today I gave my 114th blood donation my little bit for the community. If you also give your 454mls excellent, if you cannot for whatever reason, (there are so many) thanks for thinking about. If you don't give or have not thought about why not go along to your donation centre. Give it a try, please.
In case you are wondering my oomph was not removed down this tube as it's not carried in the bloodstream.
The snow is melting and the secrets that it has kept for almost a month are now being exposed. Its not some preserved animal from an ice age accident or a neighbour who disappeared whilst walking to the shops for the milk and papers.
During the snowy time the garden birds were looking a bit thin and in need of food and like the good folk we are we dolled out the fat cakes, peanuts and the wild bird seed. Like some profligate council gritting department with no eye on their budget the seed was thrown around with some abandon.
During the lulls in the snow falls we did our best to clear the fallen snow away from the bird feeding area but the snow was just too persistant and then the ice came along to lock the bird food in like some frozen dessert with bits in. Are Ben & Jerrys looking for new flavour ideas? If you think of a multi layered peanut butter sandwich but the ice was the bread and the seed the peanut butter.
With the snow retreating back, melting into the ground it has exposed just how much seed was thrown out and more telling how much the birds did not eat. My only concern is that there is now too much for them to eat. Do they now feel like the family with the large US sized freezer that has given up through some electrical fault or other. What to do with the rapidly defrosting food? The family are then faced with either a huge cook off or a mega feed resulting in the family pigging out and then recovering in front of the telly.
So I'll be on the look out for the mega garden bird cook off, maybe a huge bake sale of seeded biscuits or something similar. Hopefully the birds will not be so full with seeds that they will doze off in front of the telly as there are a few cats roaming around who might take advantage.
At this time it would have been appropriate to share a photo of the seeds lying around like the beach strewn contents of a hull breached containers ship but I decided not too. As I was positioning myself for the shot I was body slammed by a 130kg Robin, seed gluttony! Territorial birds they are and he obviously thought I was after some of his seed!
I shall look at my breakfast cereal in a different light in the morning.
This morning, feeling less than special, I was moping around readying myself for work. Limbs aching, still tired after a sound sleep and with the drive function absent from my psyche, it really did feel like "Thursdays child has far to go".
The dogs, despite having been out for their morning constitutional, watch me as I move around the kitchen before sitting down to eat my breakfast and drink my morning cup of tea.
You hear of stories (and I am not here to discredit them) of how dogs can detect elements of ill health. Stories of how Rover the Retriever's persistence resulted in their owner having an early diagnosis of cancer. Or Micky the mongrel barking to alert the medical staff to the fact that things are just not right.
Our canine consultants are no different, they seem however to be more interested in assessing and reacting rather than early treatment and detection. Not for them the Rover or Micky approach to their owner's health needs.They are into everything these two, always sniffing and given half the chance, licking, in an attempt to offer the weight of their opinion.
They are experts on everything that comes through our house. ER - when n broke her ankle and we waited for the ambulance. Orthopaedics - when I returned home from hospital having had my knackety knees fiddled with. Gastroenterology - they love a good vomiting. Trauma - well you can tell a lot from a good licking up of the dripping blood especially if they can get close to the actual cut. And then there was the day that I cut my head after swinging from a tree branch that subsequently broke falling onto my unprotected scalp and I slumped on all fours, working out what had happened. In they came resuscitating me with their wet nose and tongue therapy before being shooed away by the boys as if they were overgrown wasps swarming a pot of raspberry jam.
Perhaps though Boris is more caring, more an empathetic carer who when left to his own devices will come along just as he did this morning to give you a psyche assessment. He will look, observing in a detached manner before heading in for a more in depth analysis ultimately the therapy session will end with a snout in your lap.
This position is fine but not perhaps this morning as he snuck in behind me preventing the door from closing as I entered the bathroom. Perhaps he had placed me on close observations suspecting that my lack of drive was a mental health issue. Had I shaved? Would he need to remove sharp objects, razor blades, toe clippers? Regardless of the reason a wet nose in your nether regions is certainly a wake up call and had the necessary effect of assisting me in finding the drive that was absent in the initial stages of the day.
Thats the feeling I have. The sort of internal message that says sofa + quilt + fire = contentment If you do happen to study the inside of your eye lids then so be it, you've earned it.
A heavy day at work yesterday followed by a night in a hotel bed in which you thought you slept well but now realise you probably did not. This being the only excuse you can think of as you sit with heavy eyes, limbs and brain in the first session of the second day of the workshop event, hence the strange bed.
It takes all of the depleted battery resource to ping you into participation mode. The seat position does not help as you adopt the guise of a contortionist in order to see the presentation at the front of the room. This is difficult as the aches in your lumbar and neck region add a further reminder ( if it was really required) that you did not sleep well. Flashbacks of you moving around in bed as you tried to get comfortable come into mind.
The break arrives and I resist the urge to jump in the river running behind the hotel a brisk walk in the winter air will suffice. Invigorated you throw yourself back into the rest of the days sessions. Nodding and contributing as required.
Now however as I sit on the warm train ( "the school kids express" ) returning home. The heaviness is returning to my limbs, brain (lots of correcting going on here) and eyes I worry my mind will return to the sofa, quilt and fire combo daydream and I will fall fast.......
So here I am heading towards a meeting traveling on the train. The train I am on serves a town near which a prison is situated. Being a passenger on this train can be very educational!
What time of the day and the train that you are traveling on dictates the demographic of the passengers who will get on and off the train at the station in question.
In the past I've been on the wives and girlfriends special that arrives in time for visiting. On this train you will have gone to the bathroom before you get on. Once the train leaves its base station to start the journey, the on board toilet facilities become the de facto changing room, come make up lounge with no space for those in " need".
Suitably glammed up of our damsels hop off the train and head to the jail to show their "man", ( a particularly Scottish way to mark ownership irrespective of the marital status that exists within the relationship) what he is missing!
I'll skip the announcement heard the last time I was on this particular train when the assembled party of women passed comment on one of the group and her appearance. The response from the young women to her peers being that she had made a special effort as it was a
"conjy visit"
Today it's the release special with some young gentleman having completed their debt to society getting on the train to continue their journey home.
I listened as a tutorial was given or at least a one sided conversation evolved. The topics covered included drug use and the damage it can cause, how to reduce the length of your sentence, privileges, life terms and where were we ( as in what stage of the journey).
Please do not think I was eavesdropping as I suspect even a person with ear buds welded into their heads listening to their iPod on at hearing "critical"level would have heard the main protagonist.
On reflection he must have been on the phone as people seem to lose the ability to self regulate their speaking volume when on their mobile device.
So it made an interesting change and provided an auditory back drop as I worked through the ubiquitous email traffic as I trundled along on the " jail express".
Hello, down there over on the right in the side bar is a new widget thing. This is a link to dailymile described as a social training log. I set up my account at the weekend in order to put the widget in the side of the blog and to publicly keep me on my exercising toes as it's all to easy for me to slip into slothfulness. A public advertisement that I have not added to my account, hopefully will keep me on the straight and narrow. Please feel free to chastise me if you feel I am slacking.
As I described on the blog from the 09/01/2010 "stats" are a big thing in many men's lives and I reader am no exception some say that there is a bit of Aspergers in all men to a greater or lesser degree. I'm only going to log the activities that add kilometres to my accumulative total. Any other stuff that I do will continue to be logged separately as it is now, on the personal log that lives within my phone.
I'm not going to document any normal activity on this log just the exercise that involves planning and commitment so for me it will be running, cycling, rowing and swimming. All of these will probably be performed indoors for the next wee while. Running, assuming my knees and ankles can take it will move outdoors once the weather improves.
My aims for this year are to try and complete an organised running event once again after being out for so long with knee problems and then a dancing inflicted ankle injury. Enter and complete at least one Great Swim. Finally just be active and healthy.
I don't plan to devote hundreds of posts on the "Fit with Fegrig" campaign but the odd one may pop up from the eclectic soup of life. Please feel free to comment, share or send me a link to your similar project.
2010 and the "picture houses" are full of new releases for 2010. I have my eye on a few.
As I have a Cineworld card that allows you for a monthly price to see as many movies as you want anywhere in the UK chain once you get past two sittings it's free movie time. Although to be honest there are some months that the offerings are dross and the card lies unused in the wallet.
Starring: Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, John Krasinski, Lake Bell
A refreshingly grown-up comedy about a couple who strike up an affair - years after their divorce. View more
A refreshingly grown-up comedy about a couple who strike up an affair - years after their divorce.
A decade after their marriage break-up, Jane (Meryl Streep) and Jake (Alec Baldwin) are amicable friends who have moved on with their lives. But problems set in when the pair find themselves out of town attending their middle child's graduation. An innocent meal together rekindles their romance and turns into an uncontrollable love affair. With Jake remarried to the much younger Agness (Lake Bell), Jane realises she has become the 'other woman'! Stuck in the middle of their restored love story is goofy architect Adam (Steve Martin) who is trying his best to woo Jane, much to Jake's annoyance. Should Jane start afresh or go with Jake - who now wants her back? Is it truly possible for love and marriage to be better second time round? Whatever the outcome, like life, it's bound to be complicated... Hide
Starring: Viggo Mortensen, Guy Pearce, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Charlize Theron, Robert Duvall
A man and his son struggle to stay alive in post-apocalyptic America. View more
A man and his son struggle to stay alive in post-apocalyptic America.
Adapted from Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel of the same name, The Road follows an unnamed father (Viggo Mortensen) and his son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) as they struggle across a barren, dystopian landscape and head towards the coast. There's very little life left, less food and the only weapon they have to protect themselves is a pistol with two bullets. At night, the man dreams of his wife, who killed herself before the story begins; each morning, he coughs up blood as a mystery illness begins to take hold. As they continue on towards the warmer climes of the sea, the father must continue to protect his son against exposure, starvation - and groups of terrifying, murderous gangs - in the blind hope that they'll find a better life at the end of their journey. Hide
Starring: Sam Neill, Ethan Hawke, William Dafoe, Claudia Karvan
Immortal vampires and their human prey are locked in a struggle for supremacy - and survival - in a world that's rapidly running out of blood. View more
Immortal vampires and their human prey are locked in a struggle for supremacy - and survival - in a world that's rapidly running out of blood.
It's the year 2019 and a plague has swept across the world, transforming most of the people into vampires. Having being hunted to near-extinction, humans have now become an ulra-rare food resource. Power-hungry corporate boss Charles Bromley (Sam Neill) seeks to farm the remaining humans to maintain a precious supply of blood, but Chief Blood Researcher Edward Dalton (Ethan Hawke) thinks he have come up with a viable blood substitute. Meanwhile, crossbow-brandishing outlaw Elvis (Willem Dafoe) heads a group of surviving humans who need Edward's help if they have any chance of rebuilding their race. Offering action adventure with a sci-fi twist, the twin-brother writer/director team of Michael and Peter Spierig create a frighteningly believable futuristic world where the last remains of humanity are faced with extinction. Hide
Starring: Robert Downey Jr, Mark Strong, Kelly Reilly, Rachel McAdams, Jude Law
Robert Downey Jr stars as a buffed-up, bare-knuckle-fighting Sherlock in this all-new saga of the legendary detective from director Guy Ritchie. View more
Robert Downey Jr stars as a buffed-up, bare-knuckle-fighting Sherlock in this all-new saga of the legendary detective from director Guy Ritchie.
With bulging muscles and impressive brawling skills - as well as his customary whip-smart intellect and razor-sharp wit - Baker Street detective Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr) is fighting fit for his latest case in Victorian London. Along with his loyal assistant Dr Watson (Jude Law), Holmes must bring to justice an enigmatic new nemesis, Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong). The plot thickens with the appearance of Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams) - beautiful, elegant, and the only woman to ever get the better of Holmes. As Lord Blackwood puts his sinister plan into practice Holmes and Watson find themselves dodging fists, bullets and explosions while battling to unravel the mystery. Director Guy Ritchie comes up trumps with a revamped Sherlock Holmes poised to give 21st Century audiences a run for their money. Hide
Starring: George Clooney, Vera Farmiga, Jason Bateman, Anna Kendrick
George Clooney racks up the air miles in this sophisticated comedy from Jason Reitman, the Oscar-nominated director of Juno. View more
George Clooney racks up the air miles in this sophisticated comedy from Jason Reitman, the Oscar-nominated director of Juno.
Corporate downsizer Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is the consummate modern business traveller, a man totally content with his unencumbered lifestyle of airports, hotels and rental cars. A pampered and privileged elite member of every travel loyalty scheme in existence, he can carry all that he needs in one wheel-away case - and he's moving ever nearer to attaining his lifetime goal of 10 million frequent flier miles. There's even romance in the air when Ryan meets the beautiful Alex (Vera Farmiga), who shares his world-view. However Ryan's boss (Jason Bateman), inspired by Natalie (Anna Kendrick), a young, upstart efficiency expert, is threatening to permanently call Ryan in from the road. Faced with the terrifying yet exhilarating prospect of being grounded, Ryan begins to contemplate what it might actually mean to have a home. Hide
At the start of this media driven snow alarm I think that the snowy weather had a traditional feminine air about it. The beauty of the snow enveloped landscape, pictures of happiness and smiling families as snow frolicking is reported on, all softness and misty eyed, romanticism writ large. All the positive qualities so often associated with women.
After three weeks the soft feminine image of the snowy weather has (as many now hoped the real stuff would do) melted. Replaced as it is by a harder, more butch side of the snow. Its now described in harsh, blunt tones. No longer "soft snow", it's now hard, impacted and like some alcohol soaked young man, dangerous.
The media is now concentrating on these male aspects when reporting the snow and its implications. It's all about biggest, deepest, coldest, harshest, inches, centimetres and lots and lots of statistics. With the weather putting paid to so many sporting events and deprived of their basis for accumulation of trivia this appeals to Mr Man. Men do love their "stats".
So no longer is it the umpteenth goal/run/score/assist/win/loss/draw.
It is now our town/village/city
And it's the coldest/most frozen/lowest temperature/deepest snow drift/has the longest trip to a snow free zone civilization/ used most salt and grit/ has the smallest or largest supplies of salt and grit/ most days without food.
It's becoming endemic and it's now also becoming personal. With the "look how much snow and ice I have shoveled out of my drive way" behaviour now appearing like some genetic throw back. The mounds of frozen waste sit proudly to the left or right of the house exit like some badge of endeavour or courage. Not unlike some visual manifestation of a scent mark, "look at my mound - it's bigger than his or his".
Perhaps this is how Neanderthals perished in the great evolutionary race and Sapiens flourished after the last ice age. Mr Sapien shoveled more snow and had a bigger mound outside his cave than his neighbour Mr Neanderthal therefore more ladies, (after they had finished mistily gazing at the retreating ice glacier in their girly way - as reported by "The Daily Ug" that well known argus of the day) would flock to his cave.
So although we are perhaps more civilised or at least more socially constrained nowadays when the ice age returns, as it has reportedly done so in the last three weeks, then these deep rooted behaviours come to the fore.
Finally on a more personal route my hunter/gatherer manly side has been present for a few years now or at least since we had an invasion of furry squatters under the shed. These rabbits have attempted to use our veg patch as their local branch of Tesco whilst I and my team of hunting dogs (Ha!) have miserably failed to alter the odds in the vegetables favour. This morning whilst removing my mammoth skin winter wear collection and boots I saw this headline from BBC Scotland and I sneered.
Text sent to son no2 offering him lift home after he finished work. The offer was gratefully accepted and I headed off to pick him up at the bus stop, this being some distance away. However what started off as a mundane son collection turned into an adventure of an unexpected nature!
Rather than taking the sensible option of the well gritted and cleared road route home I decided to take the more adventurous route that of the minor B road. The minimally cleared and never gritted road. The road that due to the build up of snow on either side of the road had been reduced to a one lane track!
As we slithered and slid along the toboggan run that passed as the B8829, just appearing in the gloom was the main gritted and clear road - but between it and us was another car coming towards us. Being a polite, accommodating type of adventurer I pulled over to the side of the road as did he. He had a 4 x 4 drive car and we were sitting in one that was not!
He passed us by and we passed the time - stuck! Out you get I said to no2 son, "I can't" I jumped out and surveyed the cause a one metre snow drift sitting atop a few hefty chunks of ice. I jumped back into the driver seat and tried the the old to and fro escape from the snow combo without success. Plan A stuffed. Time for Plan B.
In you get I told my Padawan instructing him into the driving seat. This is the clutch, this is the accelerator and this is the gear stick. A short tutorial regarding biting points, gentle acceleration and how to manoeuvre the car out of it's stuck position, and off we set.
As you would expect initially lots of vroom but he learnt quickly, gently does it. Biting point like a puppy on a proffered finger. No budging, more digging out, no forward momentum regardless of me mimicking of the Scotland Rugby team in some alternative scrummaging exercise.
Time for Plan C, this is how to get into reverse, straighten up the wheels and this is what we will do. You keep things straight, gentle acceleration and I provide the muscle. The pre planning for A was for him to be the muscle and I the brains behind the wheel but as I am bigger and more magnanimous I quickly binned this first Plan A, A1?
Heeeeeeeave!, the car slowly moved backwards, ten centimetres, 20 centimetres, slowly but surely we were pulling free from the icy snows embrace. By now I could stand up from my crouched pushing position, my efforts no longer required to be faced by my wee boys illuminated (from the interior car light) face - even though he is a man, he is still my wee boy - and his face initially joy filled at his success was now turning...
Turning to that best explained as
"S... how do I stop!!"
as he slowly trundled backwards heading for the other side of the road and another bank of snow!
It quickly dawned on me that I had missed explanation of the third pedal at his feet! I started running and although he was only a few metres away from his start point I was starting to work out how to explain the brake concept. However he took a more direct option by removing all feet from all pedals.
With the car now stalled and colour returning to his cheeks we swapped to our more conventional seating positions and resumed our journey home. During which I was giving a more comprehensive explanation of the pedals at my feet namely
A busy day and just a wee post because I need to get to bed a day of paid work, dog walking, snow clearing, grocery shopping, taxi driving and whatever else needed to be done on the "to do" list and I am wabbit.
With the clock ticking and the dogs looking at you with those expectant eyes, waiting for their walk and there is one more thing to do. Why not combine the two? What is the other thing?
Well in addition to participating in a daily mug shot i.e. a shot of my mug (you can see the roll over there on the right) I have also decided to try and take a photo of a less Fegrig centric nature every day. So tonight on the walk with the dogs , camera at the ready, contemplating what to capture. Ideally it would have been the three rabbits we caught in the security light glare before they scampered off but that's another story perhaps.
About 20 photos were taken but such is the beauty of digital you can keep pressing the shutter button and keep what the best one is and although it will never win a Pulitzer here is tonight's effort.
You can see more over there on the right at the top of the column. Until tomorrow.
My Diary today informed me that I had a meeting in London @ 12.00, the appointment having been made in far warmer times when thoughts of snow were just that, distant memories. However plans were made and options put in place just in case the winter grip would not soften.
So, up earlier than usual ready for a taxi to take me to the airport, no problems so far. Quickly through security or as quickly as you can manage nowadays especially when you have layered up in true cold weather style - along with the boots. As I took off and put on these coverings I did wonder if the rationale for this clothing approach would come to be the cause of amusement. Would the threatened deep snow and whatever else the weather promised to London actually arrive or would it be another false alert?
It is not unusual in Winter for me to arrive at a meeting looking as if I have just stepped off a dog sledge after traversing the snowy wastes, leaving the dogs catching their collective breath outside as I sit down at the meeting table. Once I have disrobed and settled in I realise that I am being scrutinised with questioning eyes. The closest the owner of the eyes has come to the cold that day being someone sneezing in their vicinity. The explanation that I had to dodge woolly mammoth to get out of the road and that it was cold and snowy seems to raise only faint empathy. These feelings ran through my mind today as I moved away from security. At least I had shaved off the holiday beard, removing me by another degree from Grizzly Adams, Mountain Man.
Fortunately I was able to sit and bide my time in the frequent traveller lounge but even here I could not escape reference to colder climes. I stupidly sat near to the constant TV only to be assailed by regular (read constant) updates on the weather (read new ice age). One of the problems with 24 hour news is the need to fill the 24 hours with only about 1 or 2 hours content. Over and over and over and over and over again we were informed of how bad it was, will be and even could be. However like two fluffy book ends, the real stories were wrapped up in "nice" images of children playing during their unexpected holiday from school and of dogs bouncing over and through the snow. Then they cut back to the real story of the "serious weather" again!
So it was in with the ear phones in an attempt to block out the TV and lose myself in some tunes, however Snow Patrol were not on the play list and there was no place either for Coldplay. Out of the corner of my eye I was aware of a silent image (well done ear phones). It was a pacing figure and again the reference to cold came to mind. This time of a polar bear neurotically pacing in its zoo pen.
A bloke waiting for his plane - delayed as all were by now - paced up and down, up and down. He was on the phone but is that an excuse or was he trying to guard against plane induced thrombosis in his lower legs? Or was it that he had been given a stepometer for Christmas and he was furiously working on his 10,000 a day?
The delay was now up to one hour before we were eventually called to board a fairly quiet plane for the time of the day and route - had I missed something? Settled in, stragglers on board and then the announcement.
"We have missed our take-off slot and we will have to sit here till our new departure time of 12.00"
Ugh! It's now 10:30! Luckily with no hold baggage I was able to escape back to the land-side as my planned meeting would have been nearly over if I had stayed the course and waited for the plane to complete its journey. Then with some organising I returned home for possibly the slowest travel journey that I have undertaken in some time.
Distance covered 16 miles, over 6 hours = 2.6 mph.
Well I didn't actually go anywhere having the luxury of being able to work from home for the day. What a busy it was, lots to do, lots to organise. All eating into the luxury that I have had for the past 17 days of blogging and general relaxing.
I sat there and found my new home work space too bright and at times distracting. Before my view was more wall facing the window was there but I had to move a bit. Not now right in front of me it is.
and on a closer look we could see the hills all snow covered
So that was the far and farthest view but closer just outside the window we had this
The one photo that got away as they say was of a blue tit resting on one of the longer icicles. That's one of the great things about home working you are so much closer to nature.
Left upper arm, right ankle, right wrist, brain slowly recovering from prolonged exposure to the chill (hat was on honest!) that thawing kind of headache feeling and my lower back.
Recovery aches after being unable to let go of dogs leads as they chased after the rabbits in the field - no
Last nights session of clubbing today making me realise that I am no longer a trendy young dude, who can pop out some groovy moves - no
An impromptu bout of wrestling - no
A call to the park for some touch rugby, with more touch than there should have been - no
Post road traffic accident side injuries, as a result of the icy roads - no
The after effects of indulging in too many packets of crisps (stubborn packets , unwilling to open and yield their contents) - no
The after effects of falling over in the treacherous underfoot conditions - getting warmer (like my brain)
I'm getting weary, brain frigidity? My back is sending signals
"mobilise... MOBILISE... MOBILISE...!
I must therefore type quickly and put myself and others out of misery. I have been doing my bit for the community. It was that time again when men answered the call and engaged with the snow and ice, the very impacted snow and frozen ice. Did I tell you how impacted it was? My right wrist can. It required the snow clearing equivalent of senna.
Four of us responded to the call and cleared the road and parking bays that we inhabit in order that we can try and escape the comfort and warmth of turn of the year holiday time in order that we can return to work. Typing that I now realise that I must be slightly unwell why would I want to to do that?
Not much has moved out of our road a cul-de-sac in several days and the council divert their resources to the main routes as you would expect. Generally the icy conditions or snow last a day or two and then the temperature rises and we are all damp and chilly again but not now day 17 and rising and its just one snow flake after another. Like some belly banger snow and ice sandwich, layer upon layer upon layer.
So out we were shoveling, hacking, scraping, brushing, pushing and piling the product of Urll. We had tea and coffee some biscuits and cake to fuel our labours, regular short breaks ensured maximum effort and three hours later it's done.
Now of course no one will want to leave as the clear space and the flying start this gives on the journey. As the vacated space may be taken by those "cuckoos", who slope in later and leave you with the snowy space that we were not able to clear because of the unknown car parked over it.
Perhaps we should rig up some security system, movable stinger cable, guard dogs or staff with ill fitting uniforms and parking ticket paraphernalia to ensure those who laboured reap the rewards ad those who did not are deterred?
It matters not to me as our car is going nowhere as I need to walk not sit and eat pain pills but I do have that warm glow of accomplishment.
Or perhaps it is the first dose of pain pills kicking in?
I don't know about you but I generally read the Saturday papers over two breakfasts. Firstly I should perhaps explain -
1- I do not eat two breakfasts.
2- One of my New Year resolutions is not to become the subject of some cable TV documentary called "Fegrig the largest man in the world" by eating aforementioned multiple breakfasts.
3- Another New Year resolve is not to improve my reading speed and that is why at present it takes 24 hours to read the newspapers, starting on Saturday and finishing on Sunday. My reading speed is quite sufficient for my needs thank you!
4- I am not some weird obsessive collector of old newspapers type person. The type who gives the refuse collectors who service his bins an easy life because nothing is thrown out or recycled. You know the one that you see on that cable TV documentary series called "Old guys who collect old newspapers and now have a living space the size of a smallish shoe box that they share with their dogs".
5- I don't therefore keep old newspapers to read in order to catch up on the "news".
I browse on the Saturday and with so many sections you either devote the whole day or pick up the unread sections on the Sunday when potentially you have more time. It is the day of rest after all?
A section in the newspaper was "what we have learned this week". I know what I have learnt this week.
1- The snow God - Ullr, yes there really was one, I "learned" it. Those Norse folk had a god for everything it seems but this bloke was a bit of a part timer being also the god of agriculture. So maybe a seasonal god and looking for full time employment had a summer and winter job?
2- Anyway what I have found apart from Ullr being the snow god is that he is looking down on me, yes he is! For the past 16 days we have had a carpet or indeed a duvet of snow, omnipresent never melting away, most unusual for us. During that time whenever I clear the stairs and the path to the front door old Ullr presses the snow button or shakes his head to allow the Valhalla dandruff to fall. Not an hour or two later not that evening but right after I come back into the house after putting the snow clearing equipment away!
3- I have learned that I need to join 4 x 4 car library. The kind of facility where four wheel drive cars are kept in a place of safety until it snows and the roads become more difficult to navigate. when this happens you ring up the number on your library card and the 4 x 4 vehicle is delivered by helicopter. I would not want the delivery lorry to be held back by the snow would I?
4- I need the dogs to search google for dog stilts. I am sure that they exist somewhere? Although not small dogs they are not huge either and the snow is now getting to the height is some areas where we walk that the dogs are basically happy that they are not as the vet says "entire". If they had been the expression of brass primates would have to change to brass canines. So the dogs need stilts to carry themselves above the snow line.
5- Whilst looking for snow stilts for dogs I also need to search for snow shoes for chickens. As I have learned that the chooks are basically stuffed (but not in a literal sense I hasten to add) due to the amount of deep snow. Despite clearing their "front yard" and house daily - see 2, they are still troubled. They have attempted to walk about but run the risk of joining their butchered sisters in the freezer cabinet. A chickens breast's do not match the efficiency of a snow plough. So snow shoes for chickens it is although it may seem more advantageous a snow plough for chickens is just silly.
"Thanks Urll!, really enjoy being snowed in, yes that IS our house!" The Chickens
So I have increased my knowledge with five new things in the last week and with my return to work almost upon us I can return with not only a rested mind but one with more knowledge than when I left for my vacation!
