23rd August. Swimming With Jobbies.

This wet Sunday afternoon brought news from Mr Brown next door that all our poo in these parts had been going nowhere fast for a goodly stretch.

The septic tank was overflowing apparently, from under the heavy slate cover.

In fact it was a complete Scheissenfest.

"If I could just reach in and pull that tee piece off we could rod it, if you hold onto my feet."

"Wait, let me move the lid before it falls down..."

"...On my head?  That would make Reporting Scotland - Perth Man in Cranial Crush Shitfest Horror."

"It's amazing how you can get used to a smell in a fairly short time PHHHOOORR! JEEEZUZ!"

"You could never get used to that smell..."

"Maybe not."

16th August. Aberfeckin'useless Middle Distance Tri.

Morale was fairly low at 8 am at the loch side as there was to be no moral or immoral support from The Otter, now 'involved' with a woman and less interested in Lycra.

The decidedly choppy waters of Loch Tay induced at least one panic attack in a female competitor.

Hypothermia resulted in the wearing of far too many clothes on the bike. Approximately 200 fellow cyclists came past during the 90kms. thus confirming that the Raleigh Run-About is to be retired before Helvellyn Triathlon. 3 hr 20 mins.

The run was endless with one knee making a gradual recovery from the cycling, the only highlight was keeping pace for about 4 miles behind a Lycra'd young filly with dainty footsteps and nice buttocks, eventually I couldn't take any more and this vision of loveliness slipped from view.

All in all a very poor effort despite finishing half an hour earlier than last year but at least in time for the burgers.

14th August. Dresden - Twinned With Coventry.

Continuing the WWII theme Dresden was the next port of call to see what was left after the night of Feb 13th 1945.

I mean it's not my fault that I grew up with war generation parents, for me Dresden was synonymous with flattened and firestorm.

The first thing you notice coming into the station is that the steel structure is pre-war but the thousands of panes of glass are missing, instead there is a modern looking stretched canvas affair.

Having been pointed in the general direction of what remains of the 'Altstadt' by sign language it was fairly obvious that Bomber Command had pretty much cleared the way for a bright new Socialist utopian vision in brutalist concrete.

Post reunification some of the open spaces in this Orwellian vision had been filled in with Starbucks and trendy boutiques in ubiquitous steel and glass.

There still are old buildings, but the thing everyone comes to see now is the 92 metre high Frauenkirche which up until 1990 odd was still a pile of rubble.

I texted 'Young' Alastair about the amazing reconstruction of this centre piece of Dresden.

"Nothing a Lancaster couldn't sort".

13th August. Escape To Colditz.

By the age of the concrete stretching to infinity at Leipzig-Althanburg airport it looked distinctly like a relic from Goering's Luftwaffe days, why else would there be an airport in the middle of nowhere? More in the middle of nowhere than any previous Ryanair destination and also the smallest terminal building of all time.

We'd gone but a few miles on the connecting night bus when I espied a sign that said Colditz 50k, who says the British are obsessed with WWII?

"Let's go to Colditz tomorrow" I said. 

Isabelle was all for 'Doing Leipzig' and time was indeed short as I had elected to just come for the  day.

After a mornings argument at Althanburg Railway station about where exactly Colditz was, it also transpired that no one in the former GDR speaks a word of the Queen's.

It's ok, Isabelle now has train tickets to Colditz? Due to timetabling issues we end up sitting for an hour on the platform at a spot known as Grossbouton, a perfect example of the post industrial wasteland now common in former East Germany.

"We must be the first tourists they've ever had at Grossbouton" I remark.

I'm still not really sure Colditz is the real Colditz or not until we finally get to the castle itself and there is a sign sponsored by Smirnoff detailing escape attempts and 'Home runs'.

Naturally the tendency has been for anything to do with WWII to be brushed under the carpet, which incidentally was what the owner of the castle wanted "What's 5 years in the history of Colditz which goes back 1000 years?"

Quite. 

Despite that there is a knowledgeable local woman who has all the stories of escaping to hand, although she herself would never fit down any of the 30 tunnels, too many Rostbratwursts. 

Basically no one from Britain is really interested in the other 995 years, I want to see where they sawed through the floor joists under the floor of the chapel etc etc...

Colditz is highly recommended by the Daily Arse.