The sound of CRASH!... BYOINGG... BERRANG, BAM, BABAM! signalled that a round trip of some 50 miles to "Gregg for Glass" was on the cards. Mr M. the retired Exciseman appeared at the patio doors to receive an explanation... Another great enemy of high level work, besides the wind, (see previous) is the lean-to greenhouse, normally clad in 2mm horticultural glass. "It's the cheapest kind of glass" Mr M. commiserated, after I informed him of the trajectory of the corroded chimney component that had been blown off the roof.
"Believe it or not we don't actually get a lot of wind here"
"Is that right?" I said, as the wind tore through the surrounding pines and sycamores like a video from one of those Extreme Weather programmes on Channel 5.
"Is that snow?" Mr M. said pointing upward to the slopes of Ben-Y-Vrackie, "Not enough for skiing though" he added with a certain drollness. We talked for a while about Global Warming, "I'm glad I'm the age I am" was his verdict, then I left on the journey to "Gregg for Glass". By the time I arrived back at exactly the same spot, I would have created enough CO2 to fill a swimming pool.
30th October. "Ye May Gang Faur And Fare Waur"
I've never known a mouth ulcer like this. On the way back, I opted to stop at the Stracathro Service Area to buy Paracetemol in a vain attempt to quell the current pain. I struggled past a carousel of Cliff Richard albums and the like to purchase a take-away tea...
As I slowly sipped, surrounded by parked lorries, my attention was drawn to certain features of these now unusual premises. This self-service facility is a product of that "progressive" era of the late 1960's, and back then probably represented ultra-modern chic with details like festoon lighting and red quarry tiles throughout. Whether it should be demolished wholesale or be subject to some kind of preservation order is a question I can't answer.
Up until the late 70's. the traffic used to thunder by in front, now it thunders by round the back. That was when they had to redo the handpainted slogan that runs the length of the building in large black & white letters. Roughly translated this reads: "In the management's opinion, you may conceivably travel quite a considerable distance, before deciding to stop at a similar restaurant to this one, and there be surprised to find that the quality of the meal served is of an inferior quality to that which one could partake of here."
Any doubts concerning the verity of this proclamation, in all probability, will have greatly magnified over the decades.
As I slowly sipped, surrounded by parked lorries, my attention was drawn to certain features of these now unusual premises. This self-service facility is a product of that "progressive" era of the late 1960's, and back then probably represented ultra-modern chic with details like festoon lighting and red quarry tiles throughout. Whether it should be demolished wholesale or be subject to some kind of preservation order is a question I can't answer.
Up until the late 70's. the traffic used to thunder by in front, now it thunders by round the back. That was when they had to redo the handpainted slogan that runs the length of the building in large black & white letters. Roughly translated this reads: "In the management's opinion, you may conceivably travel quite a considerable distance, before deciding to stop at a similar restaurant to this one, and there be surprised to find that the quality of the meal served is of an inferior quality to that which one could partake of here."
Any doubts concerning the verity of this proclamation, in all probability, will have greatly magnified over the decades.
29th October. Thoughts at The Stuart Crystal Factory Shop.
Having run the gauntlet of the display, we entered the restaurant area to the crashing sound of the opening bars of some heavily riffed metal.... Errrm...we entered the restaurant area to the strains of what might have been computer generated muzak. We were given a number; the drill is to wait for your scone pre-seated at a table.
Looking around, the crystal buying public seemed to be made up entirely of older members of society who sit there quietly in couples, having said everything there was to say by about 1974; after all those years of 9 to 5 toil, giving birth, looking after the kids, scrimping and saving for retirement, nursing ageing parents, coming to terms with hair loss, coping with decreased mobility, letting go of dreams like playing for Scotland, living with some degree of rheumatic pain, having an operation for a prolapse, watching the world you know dissapear, and society rejecting every value you hold dear... After all that, is this all you've got to look forward to: driving out to Stuart Crystal on a Sunday afternoon for a cup of tea and a fairly dry scone, hoping that the wife doesn't gravitate to anything like a crystal vase reduced by 15% to £468.
Looking around, the crystal buying public seemed to be made up entirely of older members of society who sit there quietly in couples, having said everything there was to say by about 1974; after all those years of 9 to 5 toil, giving birth, looking after the kids, scrimping and saving for retirement, nursing ageing parents, coming to terms with hair loss, coping with decreased mobility, letting go of dreams like playing for Scotland, living with some degree of rheumatic pain, having an operation for a prolapse, watching the world you know dissapear, and society rejecting every value you hold dear... After all that, is this all you've got to look forward to: driving out to Stuart Crystal on a Sunday afternoon for a cup of tea and a fairly dry scone, hoping that the wife doesn't gravitate to anything like a crystal vase reduced by 15% to £468.
28th October. The Perfect Gift.
Fergus was at a bit of a loss as to a possible gift his father might appreciate for his 80th; a retired bastion of the farming community with no interests apart from endless comparisons of other peoples status by wealth.
"What about one of those farming yesteryear annuals?"
"He doesn't read. We were going to get him one of those hand-drawn caricatures, but he'd probably think we were just making fun of him. Then someone suggested a helicopter flight over the farm, but I don't know... Everybody's phoning us up asking what they can give him as a gift, he'll probably just end up with enough bottles of whisky to last him 'til he's dead."
An idea struck me that his dad, having heard something on the grapevine about the levels of ostentation up at 'G & J's' Baronial former care home, might appreciate a look around. Fergus's eyes lit up, and he said that a guided tour of the place would absolutely make the perfect gift, as his dad liked nothing better than overt displays of acquisitive power. "It'll give him something to talk about for months."
"Aye, I've been there. Aye I've seen the Bentleys, the Conservatory. Och! a helluva money! Helluva money, aye..."
All that remains now are the logistics of inveigling his dad into the guests at the coming firework display when 'G' lets off a few thousand £'s worth all at once. Thence to the acres of the red carpeted interior, the bespoke solid wood kitchen units, the multi-fauceted bathrooms with mosaic floors and the crystal chandeliers, no expense spared.
"What about one of those farming yesteryear annuals?"
"He doesn't read. We were going to get him one of those hand-drawn caricatures, but he'd probably think we were just making fun of him. Then someone suggested a helicopter flight over the farm, but I don't know... Everybody's phoning us up asking what they can give him as a gift, he'll probably just end up with enough bottles of whisky to last him 'til he's dead."
An idea struck me that his dad, having heard something on the grapevine about the levels of ostentation up at 'G & J's' Baronial former care home, might appreciate a look around. Fergus's eyes lit up, and he said that a guided tour of the place would absolutely make the perfect gift, as his dad liked nothing better than overt displays of acquisitive power. "It'll give him something to talk about for months."
"Aye, I've been there. Aye I've seen the Bentleys, the Conservatory. Och! a helluva money! Helluva money, aye..."
All that remains now are the logistics of inveigling his dad into the guests at the coming firework display when 'G' lets off a few thousand £'s worth all at once. Thence to the acres of the red carpeted interior, the bespoke solid wood kitchen units, the multi-fauceted bathrooms with mosaic floors and the crystal chandeliers, no expense spared.
27th October. Friday Night Live.
I was standing in the foyer of the Playhouse with Stuart, waiting for Isabelle to emerge after the credits had rolled completely. Idly I scanned a poster, which depicted a youth with a recenly stitched scar, something about knife crime and "saving face - it's not worth it."
The floodgates must have opened to Cinema 1 upstairs and young people cascaded down the steps. Suddenly testostorone levels proved too much for one pair of young adults. Whatever real or imagined grievance one held for the other, did it warrant a surprise attack? This culminated in the smaller of the two hammering the other, by now crouched on the floor, over the head with one of his boots.
The surrounding crowd instinctively pulled back and various voices were raised. I peered into the rammy half interested, half repulsed, and there was Isabelle pulling the smaller boot wielding one off, shouting
"STOP IT!! Calm DOWN!" At this, the smaller one, confused and angry but having drawn blood, moved off. The taller one, by now enraged, had to be restrained by three or four friends...
Isabelle's explanation was, "I just felt I had to stop it, I couldn't just stand there looking at it, I could feel the other one getting hurt."
The floodgates must have opened to Cinema 1 upstairs and young people cascaded down the steps. Suddenly testostorone levels proved too much for one pair of young adults. Whatever real or imagined grievance one held for the other, did it warrant a surprise attack? This culminated in the smaller of the two hammering the other, by now crouched on the floor, over the head with one of his boots.
The surrounding crowd instinctively pulled back and various voices were raised. I peered into the rammy half interested, half repulsed, and there was Isabelle pulling the smaller boot wielding one off, shouting
"STOP IT!! Calm DOWN!" At this, the smaller one, confused and angry but having drawn blood, moved off. The taller one, by now enraged, had to be restrained by three or four friends...
Isabelle's explanation was, "I just felt I had to stop it, I couldn't just stand there looking at it, I could feel the other one getting hurt."
26th October. Safety is Paramount.
The greatest enemy of high level work is, of course, the wind. Last nights forecast, with an extreme weather warning for most of Scotland, proved fairly accurate. "70 mph gusts by the afternoon" which made refitment of the octagonal chimney pot an operation that was somewhat fraught, particularly as the G's house is exposed to more than just simply the four winds. However here I am back in the same seat again having cheated The Pale Chappie once more. Also, I made a mental note whilst getting the ladders down, that the roof ladder is beginning to look as if it's made out of driftwood and replacement may be a wise move.
I used to think I was a slow eater but that was before developing this ulcer on the tip of my tongue, as well as a more conventional one on the inside of the cheek. I took so long rolling my, now regulation, lunchtime soup and roll around my mouth, the G's must have misread my tardiness as a reluctance to step back out into the hurricane.
I'm not making it up about the wind, public safety had been threatened by a municipal cherry tree between Tesco and the Leisure Pool. The uprooted and now horizontal tree meant we were subject to a traffic diversion as it was now parked in the middle of Glen Earn Rd.
I used to think I was a slow eater but that was before developing this ulcer on the tip of my tongue, as well as a more conventional one on the inside of the cheek. I took so long rolling my, now regulation, lunchtime soup and roll around my mouth, the G's must have misread my tardiness as a reluctance to step back out into the hurricane.
I'm not making it up about the wind, public safety had been threatened by a municipal cherry tree between Tesco and the Leisure Pool. The uprooted and now horizontal tree meant we were subject to a traffic diversion as it was now parked in the middle of Glen Earn Rd.
25th October. The Bored Reaper
The rain continued this morning but the Dark Angel was keeping a fairly low profile today, unlike yesterday. When I pushed the ladder up the wet slates of the north side of Mr & Mrs Gs' roof, the Spectre was already sitting up there on the ridge, looking bored. Nothing else to do apparently than watch me, with just a passing interest in a possible loss of balance.
When I came to lift the rather heavy octagonal chimney pot off the top of the stack any interest was piqued; topple over now and with a couple of strides he'd be rushing to tell me in my ear "You're going to die!" Yes well, we all know that matey, it's just a question of where, when and how?
Personally I don't even think it would necessarily have been a fatal drop, especially with the ground being soft with all this rain.
When I came to lift the rather heavy octagonal chimney pot off the top of the stack any interest was piqued; topple over now and with a couple of strides he'd be rushing to tell me in my ear "You're going to die!" Yes well, we all know that matey, it's just a question of where, when and how?
Personally I don't even think it would necessarily have been a fatal drop, especially with the ground being soft with all this rain.
24th October. A Brush With the Dark Angel.
This morning the weather continued damp and somewhat foggy. There I was heading west on the back road to Tibbermore, minding my own business, when The Reaper suddenly came into view, travelling in an easterly direction.
On this occasion the Pale Rider had assumed the form of a 26 ton, 6-wheel Seddon-Atkinson Tipper truck. Given the narrow chicane in the road ahead, the mud and the wet, I felt the speed of the oncoming juggernaut was inappropriate, excessive and with todays low co-efficient of friction, at the limits of tyre adhesion. I'd only just had time to think that thought when the unstoppable heavyweight did indeed pass its limit, breaking free of the tarmac and sliding sideways, snaking first one way, then the other, as the driver must have fought with the steering wheel. For a few moments the answer to the question of whether the wayward HGV would crush all in its path was a bit fuzzy...
On this occasion the Pale Rider had assumed the form of a 26 ton, 6-wheel Seddon-Atkinson Tipper truck. Given the narrow chicane in the road ahead, the mud and the wet, I felt the speed of the oncoming juggernaut was inappropriate, excessive and with todays low co-efficient of friction, at the limits of tyre adhesion. I'd only just had time to think that thought when the unstoppable heavyweight did indeed pass its limit, breaking free of the tarmac and sliding sideways, snaking first one way, then the other, as the driver must have fought with the steering wheel. For a few moments the answer to the question of whether the wayward HGV would crush all in its path was a bit fuzzy...
23rd October. Cats 'R' Us
"Oh! I got the story from Sandy's wife about the kittens."
"Yeah?"
"Somebody must have abandoned them on the other side of the bridge on the Silver Walk, they followed Sandy all the way back to his house."
"God, imagine if you'd found them, the whole house and our lives would've been reorganised around them for weeks."
"We need replacements for Lulu and Tiddles, who are going to die soon."
"Replacements? We don't need any replacements."
"I'm not going to buy kittens, I'm just going to take the ones that come to me."
"You mean like that big black stray with watery eyes that jumps onto the bed every night and thinks the top of my head is a radiator?"
"Yeah?"
"Somebody must have abandoned them on the other side of the bridge on the Silver Walk, they followed Sandy all the way back to his house."
"God, imagine if you'd found them, the whole house and our lives would've been reorganised around them for weeks."
"We need replacements for Lulu and Tiddles, who are going to die soon."
"Replacements? We don't need any replacements."
"I'm not going to buy kittens, I'm just going to take the ones that come to me."
"You mean like that big black stray with watery eyes that jumps onto the bed every night and thinks the top of my head is a radiator?"
22nd October. ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Sunday morning, we start the day with an argument about the use of colons and semi-colons. "Ever since you read that book about punctuation you're becoming unreadable." And at the same time, I've revealed the breadth of my ignorance of the entire subject of punctuation in general. It's not my fault that our Headmaster was part of avant-garde 1960's primary education," just get your ideas down! We'll worry about punctuation later." Later?
Later punctuation and grammar smacked of rules and by then you couldn't tell me anything about anything anyway so here we are here we are full stop
Later punctuation and grammar smacked of rules and by then you couldn't tell me anything about anything anyway so here we are here we are full stop
21st October. A Family Visits; I Need a Lie Down Afterwards.
I'd like you to meet The Whiner, The Screecher and The Charmer; three little girls, each with their very own strategy for getting what they want from Mummy and Daddy.
The scope of genetic variation between siblings never ceases to amaze. (A) was a born a Whiner, (B) screeches non-stop but (C) began placidly enough. That's not to say that (A) is incapable of either screeching or charming, but (B) coming after (A) had an inately different approach rather than following her elders' example, and (C) was naturally charming.
If any of the three could articulate their thoughts with a sufficient degree of abstraction they would say: "Whining/Screeching/Charming works quite well for me."
There's no doubt that screeching is the most wearing for all concerned. On the other hand, The Screecher develops a tremendous will power in addition to lung capacity as a result of these straight-forward head-to-head knockout rounds. Whining is a slow, drip, drip, Chinese water torture that could drive you to drink, or to take the much easier route of just giving in to the constant demands. Charming is a more subtle approach to setting the agenda entitled "My needs and how you're going to meet them".
The combined onslaught of all three at once, would be, in my opinion, more than enough to put anyone in the Nut House.
The scope of genetic variation between siblings never ceases to amaze. (A) was a born a Whiner, (B) screeches non-stop but (C) began placidly enough. That's not to say that (A) is incapable of either screeching or charming, but (B) coming after (A) had an inately different approach rather than following her elders' example, and (C) was naturally charming.
If any of the three could articulate their thoughts with a sufficient degree of abstraction they would say: "Whining/Screeching/Charming works quite well for me."
There's no doubt that screeching is the most wearing for all concerned. On the other hand, The Screecher develops a tremendous will power in addition to lung capacity as a result of these straight-forward head-to-head knockout rounds. Whining is a slow, drip, drip, Chinese water torture that could drive you to drink, or to take the much easier route of just giving in to the constant demands. Charming is a more subtle approach to setting the agenda entitled "My needs and how you're going to meet them".
The combined onslaught of all three at once, would be, in my opinion, more than enough to put anyone in the Nut House.
20th October. More About Ladders.
When I came out of Tesco tonight brandishing a new "super-mop" and a few essentials it was practically dark, but there was enough light to notice that the ladders on the roof-rack weren't tied on. Ah yes!... I remember now, I was going to do that after whatever... and there's the rope left in the trailer for that very purpose. So, since driving away from Mrs R.S's, I must have covered, what - a dozen miles? - down the A9, then through the town centre. Dear oh dear, tsk, tsk, tsk...
Ironically, half-an-hour earlier, I'd been congratulating myself on my own mindfulness whilst taking down the ladders from Mrs R.S's; a delicate operation, as the roof of the former church proved to be a fair bit longer than the actual roof ladder itself.
By coincidence I passed the wreckage of two accidents on the same route in the morning: somebody had mis-timed reversing out into the traffic from their drive, just up from Tesco, then there was a Tourist bus sat in the fast lane of the dual carriageway with four or five cars pulled off the road, the drivers involved in some sort of grand debate as to what exactly had happened.
" ...a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a Lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end." (Edward Whymper, Mountaineer.)
Ironically, half-an-hour earlier, I'd been congratulating myself on my own mindfulness whilst taking down the ladders from Mrs R.S's; a delicate operation, as the roof of the former church proved to be a fair bit longer than the actual roof ladder itself.
By coincidence I passed the wreckage of two accidents on the same route in the morning: somebody had mis-timed reversing out into the traffic from their drive, just up from Tesco, then there was a Tourist bus sat in the fast lane of the dual carriageway with four or five cars pulled off the road, the drivers involved in some sort of grand debate as to what exactly had happened.
" ...a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a Lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end." (Edward Whymper, Mountaineer.)
19th October. Talking Wrist Fractures.
Felt a bit vulnerable on ladders for a while after hearing a story at lunch-time, following an invitation in for tinned soup by Mr & Mrs G. Quite why I should be extended this hospitality I'm not sure. "The Lad's" who work for Roy the builder were left out in the firms' van with sandwiches and their copies of The Sun open as the rain lashed down, therefore remaining nameless from the customers point of view as a kind of Untermensch, and certainly not welcomed into the Aga heated farmhouse kitchen.
Anyway, talk came around to stoves and the splitting of firewood, then wear and tear on wrists whilst using a heavy axe. Then dwelling on wrists for a moment, it turned out that Mr G. had already had one wrist all pinned together with stainless steel following an incident involving a ladder...
He readily admitted to an unsafe ladder angle but didn't actually fall very far. However, as often happens, he fell backwards on his hands, and when he got up one set of fingers didn't work anymore.
They took one look at casualty and he was straight into theatre. "Why the rush?" I asked. Well, the two bones in the forearm had been displaced in such a way as to pinch the main blood supply and cut off circulation to his hand. There were fears that they'd have to lop it off.
'Imagine that', I thought to myself from the roof of the kitchen in the continuing rain, 'imagine ending up getting your hand amputated after a short fall from a ladder...'
Anyway, talk came around to stoves and the splitting of firewood, then wear and tear on wrists whilst using a heavy axe. Then dwelling on wrists for a moment, it turned out that Mr G. had already had one wrist all pinned together with stainless steel following an incident involving a ladder...
He readily admitted to an unsafe ladder angle but didn't actually fall very far. However, as often happens, he fell backwards on his hands, and when he got up one set of fingers didn't work anymore.
They took one look at casualty and he was straight into theatre. "Why the rush?" I asked. Well, the two bones in the forearm had been displaced in such a way as to pinch the main blood supply and cut off circulation to his hand. There were fears that they'd have to lop it off.
'Imagine that', I thought to myself from the roof of the kitchen in the continuing rain, 'imagine ending up getting your hand amputated after a short fall from a ladder...'
18th October. A Perfectly Good Afternoon Wasted.
I said to get an electrician in to fix the light switch at Cronton Place because it just isn't economic to have me crawling around in the attic pulling at wiring. In the end I was crawling around in the attic pulling at wiring. Carefully tracing a maze of pvc cabling underneath a lavish amount of fibreglass wool laid by the previous owner who must have bought a job lot.
Then I couldn't find my screwdriver that lights up in contact with the mains before you do. Another trip up to the High Street, "No, we don't take Switch Cards for under a fiver." Ok, a short walk to the bank, then back to the shop, then back to the attic. The wiring doesn't make any rational sense...
Then I just decided to turn on every light in the flat, with the result that the hall light which had stubbornly refused to illume came to life. The hall light switch was really just a joke light switch and with its attendant wiring was like the human appendix, a redundant organ from aeons ago. The actual switch had been there all along at the other end of the hall...
Still, I managed to keep Isabelle in the dark as to extent of the pointlessness of the exercise, the lights were "fixed" now.
Then I couldn't find my screwdriver that lights up in contact with the mains before you do. Another trip up to the High Street, "No, we don't take Switch Cards for under a fiver." Ok, a short walk to the bank, then back to the shop, then back to the attic. The wiring doesn't make any rational sense...
Then I just decided to turn on every light in the flat, with the result that the hall light which had stubbornly refused to illume came to life. The hall light switch was really just a joke light switch and with its attendant wiring was like the human appendix, a redundant organ from aeons ago. The actual switch had been there all along at the other end of the hall...
Still, I managed to keep Isabelle in the dark as to extent of the pointlessness of the exercise, the lights were "fixed" now.
17th October. "I Could Give Myself an Aneurism"
The missing part for Mrs R.S's stove fails to arrive, and I find myself at home on a Tuesday... 11.20 am, I walked into the bedroom and found Isabelle crashed out on the bed.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"I have to lie down to calm my heart rate after coming out of the bath" she muttered, then sat up long enough to finish off a strawberrry yoghurt.
"For God's sake! I gasped, you're more fragile than my mother" (currently installed in a care home).
"Oh! I feel sick"
"Do you?"
"I feel very dizzy and exhausted, my blood pressure must be up, and my heart goes chika, chika. chika, chika... I'll take my time getting up... I feel pressure on my chest."
"Really?"
"You know, I went to the Doctor one day, two or three years ago and she took my blood pressure after I'd been sitting in the waiting room for 10 minutes, and it was sky high. Her face went a bit funny, so she took it again and it was normal. Sometimes my heart races on its own. My arteries are probably all blocked with the fat I eat."
"...Quite"
"I feel that pain again in my left arm... I bet my arteries are blocked."
"Cycling through equatorial Africa might be off then?"
"I'd need a full medical before I do that."
"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"I have to lie down to calm my heart rate after coming out of the bath" she muttered, then sat up long enough to finish off a strawberrry yoghurt.
"For God's sake! I gasped, you're more fragile than my mother" (currently installed in a care home).
"Oh! I feel sick"
"Do you?"
"I feel very dizzy and exhausted, my blood pressure must be up, and my heart goes chika, chika. chika, chika... I'll take my time getting up... I feel pressure on my chest."
"Really?"
"You know, I went to the Doctor one day, two or three years ago and she took my blood pressure after I'd been sitting in the waiting room for 10 minutes, and it was sky high. Her face went a bit funny, so she took it again and it was normal. Sometimes my heart races on its own. My arteries are probably all blocked with the fat I eat."
"...Quite"
"I feel that pain again in my left arm... I bet my arteries are blocked."
"Cycling through equatorial Africa might be off then?"
"I'd need a full medical before I do that."
16th October. Warmest Autumn For 350 years.
The unseasonably warm weather continued today. I paused to make a cup of tea in Mrs R.S's kitchen and noticed that the electric kettle was full. Before switching on I decanted most of the contents as per current energy saving guidelines. This is just one of the steps an individual can take to reverse the melting of 10 billion tons of ice every year in Antarctica. Along with checking tyre pressures regularly to halt the thawing of the Siberian Tundra and its consequent release of the equivalent of seven years of carbon emissions...
It's a shame that our house is so close to the present sea level. Maybe I'm just using global warming as another excuse for not getting on with the planned renovations, was Isabelle's slant on it.
It's a shame that our house is so close to the present sea level. Maybe I'm just using global warming as another excuse for not getting on with the planned renovations, was Isabelle's slant on it.
15th October. Sunday Lunch Interrupted.
I required assistance in taking down a forty foot ladder.
I gave a pre-arranged signal to the Lt-Col through the double glazing of the immense conservatory. He paused, fork midway to his mouth, whilst registering my presence in the garden. I acknowledged Mrs Lt-Col but she looked back blankly as if I was an escaped loonie, despite our previous conversations of a few months ago . The Lt-Col jumped to his feet and left the dining table, while the two invited guests turned around in their seats to look, obviously irritated by this uncalled for interruption to Sunday Lunch...by a tradesman?...Good Lord!
It was interesting to note that sectors remain of British society that still partake of The Sunday Lunch. My own memory of this venerable institution centre mainly on sitting alone with a bowl of "Eve's Pudding" after the rest of the table had been cleared. The specific instruction to leave a clean plate ensured a life long dislike of cooked apple desserts especially when flavoured with cloves...
I gave a pre-arranged signal to the Lt-Col through the double glazing of the immense conservatory. He paused, fork midway to his mouth, whilst registering my presence in the garden. I acknowledged Mrs Lt-Col but she looked back blankly as if I was an escaped loonie, despite our previous conversations of a few months ago . The Lt-Col jumped to his feet and left the dining table, while the two invited guests turned around in their seats to look, obviously irritated by this uncalled for interruption to Sunday Lunch...by a tradesman?...Good Lord!
It was interesting to note that sectors remain of British society that still partake of The Sunday Lunch. My own memory of this venerable institution centre mainly on sitting alone with a bowl of "Eve's Pudding" after the rest of the table had been cleared. The specific instruction to leave a clean plate ensured a life long dislike of cooked apple desserts especially when flavoured with cloves...
14th October. Gastronomie Domestique.
As we issued forth from the newly opened B&Q Mega Plaza clutching curtain poles and other accoutrements of flat titivation, I made a suggestion. "Why don't we have a spot of brunch over the road, at Tesco, although, it would count as a meal out". It was nice for us to recapture the gastronomique side of our relationship now that we are back to normal here in the UK...
Isabelle was a trifle out of sorts being in the grip of the common cold virus. I climbed into the bath at 2E Cronton Place and began to scrape away at the failing bath trim. Then a fair amount of shouting interspersed with spells of a great calling on The Almighty came from the living room during the supposed emulsioning of the walls. "I need you to go to Boots for Lemsip Max, I'm getting worse by the minute!" I readily agreed as medication seemed the most appropriate response to this particular crisis...
Isabelle was a trifle out of sorts being in the grip of the common cold virus. I climbed into the bath at 2E Cronton Place and began to scrape away at the failing bath trim. Then a fair amount of shouting interspersed with spells of a great calling on The Almighty came from the living room during the supposed emulsioning of the walls. "I need you to go to Boots for Lemsip Max, I'm getting worse by the minute!" I readily agreed as medication seemed the most appropriate response to this particular crisis...
13th October. Friday The Thirteenth.
Last week, taking the lift up to Isabelle's dad's flat on the 16th floor, each number on the display lights up; 11,12,14,15,16? Do residents with an address on the "14th" floor really believe they are safer because of this numerical sleight of hand? Mind you, the Mad Axe-man can't see you either, provided you keep your head under the duvet...
I had a premonition that something untoward might happen today involving ladders, so, stayed in bed all day; no, no, that's a lie. An excellent day for falling asleep though, primarily at the wheel, given the current physiological condition, a consequence of transmeridian travel. Desynchronosis, dysrhythmia, dyschrony, jet lag, or jet syndrome, the condition is generally believed to be the result of disruption of.......... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................
I had a premonition that something untoward might happen today involving ladders, so, stayed in bed all day; no, no, that's a lie. An excellent day for falling asleep though, primarily at the wheel, given the current physiological condition, a consequence of transmeridian travel. Desynchronosis, dysrhythmia, dyschrony, jet lag, or jet syndrome, the condition is generally believed to be the result of disruption of.......... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................
12th October. Past-Life Experience.
You know, once I'd finally got out of bed, had a cup of tea, manhandled the shocking pink suitcases out of the van, gone to buy peanuts for the birds, put the ladders on the roof rack, hitched up the trailer, collected all the necessary tools together, microwaved the porridge, made my sandwiches, put a washing on, it would have been nice to call it a day...
Of course Mrs R.S. would be waiting at the living room window, as today was finally the day that "the man would be there to make a start" removing one stove, fitting another, climbing about on the roof and generally making a mess . The nature of the work does involve some creation of rubble, which is only normal.
As the room filled with dust, knowing what to do came easily, almost without thinking, as if I'd done this exact same job in a past life... However the physical experience proved quite different as if I was in the wrong body. This is because my real job is eating out at reataurants.
Mrs R.S. presented me with a Polish sausage at 4.30pm to take home, which was apparently surplus. By coincidence Polish was the one restaurant we were supposed to visit but didn't, in Montreal.
Of course Mrs R.S. would be waiting at the living room window, as today was finally the day that "the man would be there to make a start" removing one stove, fitting another, climbing about on the roof and generally making a mess . The nature of the work does involve some creation of rubble, which is only normal.
As the room filled with dust, knowing what to do came easily, almost without thinking, as if I'd done this exact same job in a past life... However the physical experience proved quite different as if I was in the wrong body. This is because my real job is eating out at reataurants.
Mrs R.S. presented me with a Polish sausage at 4.30pm to take home, which was apparently surplus. By coincidence Polish was the one restaurant we were supposed to visit but didn't, in Montreal.
11th October. I.D.
4.30 a.m. in limbo at Gatwick for several early hours. Isabelle dozes on two chairs. I find myself vulnerable to the odd negative thought or two concerning re-entry to ...what? A reality of my choice?
I remarked yesterday or was it today? before taking the flight from Canada, that my identity has been wiped clean. Like the information strip on a weekly pass for the Montreal Metro that's been left beside a powerful magnet.
I have become someone who just eats out a lot at restaurants...and doesn't drive. Now I can become someone who drives everyday and shops. At Tesco... or Asda... or Morrisons? We can all choose our own realities, you know...
I remarked yesterday or was it today? before taking the flight from Canada, that my identity has been wiped clean. Like the information strip on a weekly pass for the Montreal Metro that's been left beside a powerful magnet.
I have become someone who just eats out a lot at restaurants...and doesn't drive. Now I can become someone who drives everyday and shops. At Tesco... or Asda... or Morrisons? We can all choose our own realities, you know...
10th October. Vacances Gastronomiques-La Grande Finale.
Sushi "Wakaname" was the allotted venue for our final 'repast'. A lithe oriental woman poured out Asahi japanese beer as Brother-in-law Ayk, well versed in these delicacies, ticked all the boxes on the multiple choice menu. Saki, no doubt at the correct temperature, was dispensed to the diners, which engendered a certain warmth to the anticipation ...
The Japanese tea cups, Saki receptacles and beer bottles made way for what looked like a scale model of a Viking long boat crewed by ranks of carefully arranged and freshly made Sushis. Flying Fish caviar the colour of Holly berries, raw eel, tuna, salmon with strawberries, and probably sea urchin, since it was somewhere on the menu...
Not knowing what you're eating can be useful in masking any native prejudice against a complete experience of taste and texture. Isabelle said of me "that a few years ago, I would have simply refused to go to any kind of Sushi restaurant". But now in this new era of detente, the motto has to be "Moins rigide, plus heureux!" - (Less rigid, more happy!)
The Japanese tea cups, Saki receptacles and beer bottles made way for what looked like a scale model of a Viking long boat crewed by ranks of carefully arranged and freshly made Sushis. Flying Fish caviar the colour of Holly berries, raw eel, tuna, salmon with strawberries, and probably sea urchin, since it was somewhere on the menu...
Not knowing what you're eating can be useful in masking any native prejudice against a complete experience of taste and texture. Isabelle said of me "that a few years ago, I would have simply refused to go to any kind of Sushi restaurant". But now in this new era of detente, the motto has to be "Moins rigide, plus heureux!" - (Less rigid, more happy!)
9th October. The Biggest Hole in The World.
Our first stop in the town of Asbestos was the graveyard, to pay our respects to Isabelle's Grandfather. He lies just a few hundred yards from the edge of The Hole and in the shadow of the now silent processing plant. Grandfather's birth coincided with the year of the opening of the mine and his death in 2002, curiously, with it's closure.
Despite the continual blanketing of the town in Asbestos fibre, referred to as "summer snow", which Grandad routinely had to clear out of the gutters, he survived quite healthily to the age of 92 without any apparent sign of lung disease. I noticed that he shared this longevity with both his parents and his siblings. The family Jewellery business continued until the shop, along with half of the town, fell into the ever expanding hole in the early 70's.
After taking Isabelle's Grandmother for Sunday lunch at the "Restaurant Gryzou" I was excited to finally view The Big Hole... The Hole certainly is vast, at a guess two miles across with circular tiers something like Dante's vision. Up till recently trucks the size of houses wound their way up and down, lost in the scale of the enterprise. At that time the hole was so deep the bottom couldn't be seen but now a green coloured lake has formed.
The town no longer advertises its links to the mineral the world no longer wants and has had to adjust to a falling population. Recently the community has been toying with the idea of a change of name from what currently may as well be Mesothelioma-ville...
Despite the continual blanketing of the town in Asbestos fibre, referred to as "summer snow", which Grandad routinely had to clear out of the gutters, he survived quite healthily to the age of 92 without any apparent sign of lung disease. I noticed that he shared this longevity with both his parents and his siblings. The family Jewellery business continued until the shop, along with half of the town, fell into the ever expanding hole in the early 70's.
After taking Isabelle's Grandmother for Sunday lunch at the "Restaurant Gryzou" I was excited to finally view The Big Hole... The Hole certainly is vast, at a guess two miles across with circular tiers something like Dante's vision. Up till recently trucks the size of houses wound their way up and down, lost in the scale of the enterprise. At that time the hole was so deep the bottom couldn't be seen but now a green coloured lake has formed.
The town no longer advertises its links to the mineral the world no longer wants and has had to adjust to a falling population. Recently the community has been toying with the idea of a change of name from what currently may as well be Mesothelioma-ville...
8th October. Lost...
The queue of people at the entrance to the Jardin Botanique stretched quite a distance. The warmth of the sun lingered, radiating from the stone of the west side of the ticket kiosk. Once through the turnstile we made our way along with several thousand other Montrealers towards the Japanese Gardens. Here the traffic slowed to a single file as we shuffled along guided by the light of numerous hanging chinese lanterns. This led us to brightly lit forms: exotic birds, colours reflected in the blackness of the lake, warriors rowing in a chinese version of the Oxford Cambridge Boat Race.
Inside a crowded Pagoda strains of a haunting melody flowed from one corner. I edged forwards toward the sound which came from one of those bowed affairs that look rather like a joke instrument. A quite beautiful chinese woman, clearly very accomplished, swayed with the music... The overall effect was quite captivating...
I realised I was lost in more ways than one as the tide of people carried me back outside into the dark. There was no sign of any other family members amongst the sea of chinese lantern viewers...
In the absence of any "phone cellulaire" I decided to just go with the flow as the mainstream would carry me back to the park entrance. Logic dictated that this was the most visible spot on the island and it would only be a matter of time before I was picked up by a search party.
Inside a crowded Pagoda strains of a haunting melody flowed from one corner. I edged forwards toward the sound which came from one of those bowed affairs that look rather like a joke instrument. A quite beautiful chinese woman, clearly very accomplished, swayed with the music... The overall effect was quite captivating...
I realised I was lost in more ways than one as the tide of people carried me back outside into the dark. There was no sign of any other family members amongst the sea of chinese lantern viewers...
In the absence of any "phone cellulaire" I decided to just go with the flow as the mainstream would carry me back to the park entrance. Logic dictated that this was the most visible spot on the island and it would only be a matter of time before I was picked up by a search party.
7th October. Harvard Pre-Conception Mis-Conception.
Part of our accomodation difficulties in Boston could be ascribed to a slight misconception on the part of Isabelle. The fact that Harvard has been described as the American version of Cambridge was perhaps the one fact known she was aware of. The city fathers had gone as far as to actively encourage this belief by renaming that part of the town as Cambridge, that is Cambridge Massachusetts...
As Isabelle had spent several years in Cambridge, England, she fondly imagined a similarly quaint setting. As the skyline of downtown Boston appeared above six or eight lanes of traffic I nudged her awake on the bus to draw her attention to this fact. "Look! There's Boston now". Her astonishment was understandable when she beheld a sight roughly equivalent to Manhattan Island.
How different her perception might have been as last night, safely back in Montreal, we viewed the latest work of Martin Scorcese "The Departed"... A tale of police corruption and internecine Irish Italian gangland violence set against the gritty urban backdrop of... Boston, Massachusetts.
As Isabelle had spent several years in Cambridge, England, she fondly imagined a similarly quaint setting. As the skyline of downtown Boston appeared above six or eight lanes of traffic I nudged her awake on the bus to draw her attention to this fact. "Look! There's Boston now". Her astonishment was understandable when she beheld a sight roughly equivalent to Manhattan Island.
How different her perception might have been as last night, safely back in Montreal, we viewed the latest work of Martin Scorcese "The Departed"... A tale of police corruption and internecine Irish Italian gangland violence set against the gritty urban backdrop of... Boston, Massachusetts.
6th October.It must be this way, (otherwise I'd be wrong).
I'd got the direction right, it was just that the City of Boston had been rotated around in a perfect mapping of 180 degrees. Possibly something mentally reversed on the way up the escalator from Copley Square Station. Isabelle expressed strong doubts as to the direction we were taking, but we carried on walking in the cold wind, me clutching the tourist map, to the next block, and then the next...
Isabelle threatened: "If the next street isn't Newbury, I'll hit you"! The next street transpired to be Columbus, Isabelle took the matter up with some fellow pedestrians then heeled around abruptly. I was left on the pavement shouting "Come back! Look at the map"!...
I stood squinting at the map under the pale light of the Victorian-style lighting, then continued on self-righteously...
After walking for another couple of blocks I fumbled for my reading glasses under another dim street light. An elderly passer-by offered his assistance: "...Beacon Street?... err... oh yes... Beacon...ah! that's the other way...yes...yes, about fifteen minutes walk...last street before the Charles River...you're walking in the wrong direction"...
Reluctantly I had to accept this new city plan and retrace my steps...
Isabelle threatened: "If the next street isn't Newbury, I'll hit you"! The next street transpired to be Columbus, Isabelle took the matter up with some fellow pedestrians then heeled around abruptly. I was left on the pavement shouting "Come back! Look at the map"!...
I stood squinting at the map under the pale light of the Victorian-style lighting, then continued on self-righteously...
After walking for another couple of blocks I fumbled for my reading glasses under another dim street light. An elderly passer-by offered his assistance: "...Beacon Street?... err... oh yes... Beacon...ah! that's the other way...yes...yes, about fifteen minutes walk...last street before the Charles River...you're walking in the wrong direction"...
Reluctantly I had to accept this new city plan and retrace my steps...
5th October."I'll Always Think About That Squirrel".
Our tour around the hallowed grounds of Harvard University was halted when Isabelle chanced upon a young squirrel suffering from what appeared to be a learning difficulty. I doubt if it was simply a case of food shortage as the grass was carpeted with fallen acorns, which surely must form its principal diet...
I shirked any involvement, idling on a nearby bench. A squad of priviledged undergraduates rowed past on the river, as Isabelle, oblivious, tarried with the unfortunate creature, I could imagine no hasty conclusion to this episode.
Soon a small crowd gathered, and things took a lucky turn, a passing female cyclist knew of some local facility. So, hurriedly emptying out some recently purchased items, Isabelle pressed the woman to transport the hapless rodent forthwith in a carrier bag. Afterwards remarking to me: "He's so cute people are bound to do something for him".
I shirked any involvement, idling on a nearby bench. A squad of priviledged undergraduates rowed past on the river, as Isabelle, oblivious, tarried with the unfortunate creature, I could imagine no hasty conclusion to this episode.
Soon a small crowd gathered, and things took a lucky turn, a passing female cyclist knew of some local facility. So, hurriedly emptying out some recently purchased items, Isabelle pressed the woman to transport the hapless rodent forthwith in a carrier bag. Afterwards remarking to me: "He's so cute people are bound to do something for him".
4th October. "Boston's Best Slept Secret".
After a four hour hike through the varying Downtown landscape of the financial, the high couture, and select seafood bars, the evidence began to mount...
The idea that accomodation existed in Boston for under $400 U.S. a night was begining to look like a complete fantasy. As darkness fell I was getting a little frayed, and in the balmy night air was all for lying down on the nearest park bench and taking our chances with any would-be muggers. It was either that or taking the next bus back to Montreal.
Boston seems to have more hotels with uniformed doormen per square mile than most, and even these were full. Another doorman did his duty as Isabelle entered another splendid hotel. I hung around outside. Half an hour later she emerged triumphant, clutching a reservation in what had proved, up until then, highly elusive: a guest house.
After giving thanks for our final arrival at the Beacon Street Guest House, the reason for its low profile became clearer. It's "sign", just under the doorbell, measured roughly four inches by three, and was only readable,in my case especially, from a distance of about a twelve inches. This is to comply with some local historic preservation order of No Signs.
The souveneir mugs on sale at reception proclaim "Boston's Best Slept Secret". Exactement!
The idea that accomodation existed in Boston for under $400 U.S. a night was begining to look like a complete fantasy. As darkness fell I was getting a little frayed, and in the balmy night air was all for lying down on the nearest park bench and taking our chances with any would-be muggers. It was either that or taking the next bus back to Montreal.
Boston seems to have more hotels with uniformed doormen per square mile than most, and even these were full. Another doorman did his duty as Isabelle entered another splendid hotel. I hung around outside. Half an hour later she emerged triumphant, clutching a reservation in what had proved, up until then, highly elusive: a guest house.
After giving thanks for our final arrival at the Beacon Street Guest House, the reason for its low profile became clearer. It's "sign", just under the doorbell, measured roughly four inches by three, and was only readable,in my case especially, from a distance of about a twelve inches. This is to comply with some local historic preservation order of No Signs.
The souveneir mugs on sale at reception proclaim "Boston's Best Slept Secret". Exactement!
3rd October. A Birthday Treat.
It was my birthday and we arrived in good time at the all inclusive chinese buffet, as the task of eating anything up to one hundred and fifty different dishes required careful pacing. These ranged in texture from the brittleness of crab's legs, through the crispiness of fried chicken wings, to the more mysterious and gelatinous end of the spectrum.
At some point the interest for any type of chinese food receded. We moved slowly out onto the pavement, then having bid farewell, the other family members dispersed into the dark underbelly of chinatown...
As a continuance of the treat theme, Isabelle had given some prior thought to our proposed visit to "The Kingdom", a recently opened venue for "Danse Contacte" also known as Lap-dancing. We made our way up the brightly lit stairwell as the volume of some power ballad or other increased in volume with each step. Isabelle assured me that it was quite normal for married couples to frequent such dimly-lit venues...
We settled ourselves in the practically deserted club after paying for two mandatory overly priced lagers. However this dearth of customers did mean that each successive performer effectively gave a private dance for us.
At some point the interest for any type of chinese food receded. We moved slowly out onto the pavement, then having bid farewell, the other family members dispersed into the dark underbelly of chinatown...
As a continuance of the treat theme, Isabelle had given some prior thought to our proposed visit to "The Kingdom", a recently opened venue for "Danse Contacte" also known as Lap-dancing. We made our way up the brightly lit stairwell as the volume of some power ballad or other increased in volume with each step. Isabelle assured me that it was quite normal for married couples to frequent such dimly-lit venues...
We settled ourselves in the practically deserted club after paying for two mandatory overly priced lagers. However this dearth of customers did mean that each successive performer effectively gave a private dance for us.
2nd October. Concrete Sandwich.
Tonight was our first trip out to a restaurant in Montreal since the collapse of a fifteen metre section of flyover last weekend. Five dead underneath the former roadway and six injured on the top. The official line is that all the bridges had been recently inspected and the bit that fell was A1, in fact it should have been another part of the same bridge that collapsed!
En route to "La Stanza" an all-you-can-eat style buffet I found myself becoming slightly nervous as we emerged onto an expressway that passed under numerous bridges. Some had steel girders, that was ok, and some where quite recent, but others were characteristic of the era that coincided with the Expo' in '67 when a whole network of roads was called for, overnight...
Isabelle's dad claims that the Mafia had something to do with the handing out of contracts and that the construction companies skimped on the concrete.
Tonight there is a certain amount of additional traffic chaos due to suspicion falling on other bridges which has caused more than just the missing road to close.
The cars ahead grind to a halt and by chance we find ourselves directly under a concrete flyover. It's an opportunity to survey the structure overhead through the back window, are there any cracks? Yes.
En route to "La Stanza" an all-you-can-eat style buffet I found myself becoming slightly nervous as we emerged onto an expressway that passed under numerous bridges. Some had steel girders, that was ok, and some where quite recent, but others were characteristic of the era that coincided with the Expo' in '67 when a whole network of roads was called for, overnight...
Isabelle's dad claims that the Mafia had something to do with the handing out of contracts and that the construction companies skimped on the concrete.
Tonight there is a certain amount of additional traffic chaos due to suspicion falling on other bridges which has caused more than just the missing road to close.
The cars ahead grind to a halt and by chance we find ourselves directly under a concrete flyover. It's an opportunity to survey the structure overhead through the back window, are there any cracks? Yes.
1st October. Four Courses in Another Language.
Leafing through the Re-max property guide Isabelle tells me that a four-bedroom house along with 50 acres can be had for a not unreasonable sum in the environs of Sherbrooke. It's doubtful though that this means she is actively considering re-establishing a base in this neck of the woods. Rather it could be symptomatic of a re-aquaintance, a re-appraisal, a re-absorption, or even a re-incorporation of a once abandoned childhood and adolescence...
As I munched through last nights gourmet meal, ordered on-line, I was party to a long animated conversation between the three former classmates of College Mont Notre-Dame. This could have played a major role in any new resolution, but I couldn't say with any degree of certainty as the repartee was rendered in such an accent as to be not recognizable as french, let alone understandable.
As I munched through last nights gourmet meal, ordered on-line, I was party to a long animated conversation between the three former classmates of College Mont Notre-Dame. This could have played a major role in any new resolution, but I couldn't say with any degree of certainty as the repartee was rendered in such an accent as to be not recognizable as french, let alone understandable.
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