I ripped off the plasterboard exposing the remains of the fireplace at Mrs Hs' before setting about the surrounding wall with the Kango electric hammer.
A large spider, rudely awakened, made for a gap between the bricks and the laminate flooring. It must have spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell the noise was all about.
The same thought must have crossed the mind of the goldfish in the kitchen and the woman next door, who had the TV turned up especially loud, I noticed, in the afternoon.
7th January. A Load of Rubbish.
Filled up the trailer with half a ton of detritus from the driveway. In the long run it's better if I set a new stern example by being ruthless with clutter. Normally things are put aside for 'the future' to be thrown out two or three years later. By that time they are sufficiently rotted or rusted to be of any conceivable use.
Amongst today's scrap was the remains of the unmotorised treadmill machine which was recently doing double-duty as a perch for robins and hens. It's original capacity to provide cardiovascular exercise had been heavily outweighed by it's unique ability to cause Isabelle a herniated disc between L4 and L5.
Amongst today's scrap was the remains of the unmotorised treadmill machine which was recently doing double-duty as a perch for robins and hens. It's original capacity to provide cardiovascular exercise had been heavily outweighed by it's unique ability to cause Isabelle a herniated disc between L4 and L5.
6th January. Friday Night Fever.
Welcome to illness, courtesy of up north, Aberdeen Pre-Schoolers 1. me 0.
The delirium of the night resulted in tortured dreams of everyone in the world having not just one but several Bank of Scotland Visa cards. The situation was so out of control that the bank was forced to write off the untold millions in personal debt.
The delirium of the night resulted in tortured dreams of everyone in the world having not just one but several Bank of Scotland Visa cards. The situation was so out of control that the bank was forced to write off the untold millions in personal debt.
5th January. Getting To Grips With 2007.
I had to force myself to wish a "Happy New Year" to various individuals that normally populate 'Chimney World'. Naturally not many people looked that happy, because they were back working at somewhere like the builders merchants; or if they did laugh, it was the hollow laugh of irony.
Roughly translated, "Did you have a good new year?" means "Did you have a large enough intake of alcohol to momentarily forget just what a dead end your life has become"?
The general idea is that, if this annual opportunity for complete intoxication was missed due to some circumstance, then ones' life is very much poorer for it.
Roughly translated, "Did you have a good new year?" means "Did you have a large enough intake of alcohol to momentarily forget just what a dead end your life has become"?
The general idea is that, if this annual opportunity for complete intoxication was missed due to some circumstance, then ones' life is very much poorer for it.
4th January. Running Hot & Cold.
Peter phoned for technical advice.
"The cold water's coming out hot, any ideas?"
Well, if it was your heating that was at fault, wouldn't you be poisoned by the anti-freeze and corrosion inhibitor in the system? Maybe it's a massive electrical short; is the meter spinning out of control? Or wait... Could it be seismic activity, a crack in the Earth's crust? You must have seen "Dantes' Peak", you know, with Pierce Brosnan? Unusual events, like water heating up, are a tell-tale sign that baby's going to blow! Get the hell out! You can't outrun a pyroclastic flow!
"The cold water's coming out hot, any ideas?"
Well, if it was your heating that was at fault, wouldn't you be poisoned by the anti-freeze and corrosion inhibitor in the system? Maybe it's a massive electrical short; is the meter spinning out of control? Or wait... Could it be seismic activity, a crack in the Earth's crust? You must have seen "Dantes' Peak", you know, with Pierce Brosnan? Unusual events, like water heating up, are a tell-tale sign that baby's going to blow! Get the hell out! You can't outrun a pyroclastic flow!
3rd January. Awakening.
The light of a grey Aberdeen dawn filtered through the french windows sillouetting the leafless trees against a blustery northern sky. I lay in a sleeping bag with a full bladder on the floor of Jimmys' living room as the sound of various pre-schoolers filled the house.
"Cup of tea?"
World of Chimneys 2007 begins... Groundhog Year.
"Cup of tea?"
World of Chimneys 2007 begins... Groundhog Year.
2nd January. Caponisation.
The current crop of young chickens are now entering the equivalent of puberty with a corresponding loss of innocence. Normal practice amongst poultry keepers is simply to 'dispatch' all the cockerels and make a nice pie. Unfortunately this option isn't available due to a surfeit of sentiment regarding these particular adolescents.
I suggested having the more precocious and unruly males Caponised. "A capon is a rooster (a male chicken) whose testicles were removed at a young age. Typically the castration is performed when the chicken is between 6 and 20 weeks old." A proper caponiser can apparently sort out 200 birds an hour. "...the benefits are a non-aggressive male that can serve as a mother for baby chicks. They also produce ample, tender meat when butchered and as such are a choice poultry meat in some locales. Capons taste great due to the high fat content, they are self-basting..." (this fact can for our purposes be ignored.)
It's possible that the caponising technique could be adapted for other young adults for whom the threat of the 'naughty step' is no longer deterrent enough.
I suggested having the more precocious and unruly males Caponised. "A capon is a rooster (a male chicken) whose testicles were removed at a young age. Typically the castration is performed when the chicken is between 6 and 20 weeks old." A proper caponiser can apparently sort out 200 birds an hour. "...the benefits are a non-aggressive male that can serve as a mother for baby chicks. They also produce ample, tender meat when butchered and as such are a choice poultry meat in some locales. Capons taste great due to the high fat content, they are self-basting..." (this fact can for our purposes be ignored.)
It's possible that the caponising technique could be adapted for other young adults for whom the threat of the 'naughty step' is no longer deterrent enough.
1st January. The Year of the Bore.
2007 will see the start of the Chinese 'Year of The Bore'. The Pig type is usually a montonous, self-obsessed and wearisome person. He/she is an immodest, tedious character who prefers the sound of his/her own voice. When others despair, he/she is invariably around to offer their own lengthy and fixed opinion. This type of person is diffuse and wordy with those they do not know too well, but as time passes and they become even more garrulous and soporific, those around them may discover an extremely dull and unexciting person behind that rambling and roundabout manner. Despite those born in the year of the pig having a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, they have few close friends willing to endure their excessively prosaic and humdrum inner thoughts and feelings. Such people are never afraid to share a trivial, over-long, and labourious anecdote preventing others their freedom of expression.
31st December. More Gas Reserves.
Thunder and lightning played havoc outside as the rain lashed against the skylights here in the room upstairs. The options for Hogmanay had to be considered, these included driving to Edinburgh not being able to park or drink, watching the fireworks in the rain surrounded by tens of thousands of drunks then getting stuck in traffic; enduring the neighbours and having to kiss people who ignore you for the rest of the year or overeating at the Royal George, playing a board game with F & D then having an argument about some aspect of the rules.
I had the Steak Pie but shouldn't have eaten the cream cake part of the High Tea. The flatulence that followed a few hours later gave a slight variation on the traditional 'First Footing' of the New Year at Muirhall Drive... much to everyone elses disgust.
I had the Steak Pie but shouldn't have eaten the cream cake part of the High Tea. The flatulence that followed a few hours later gave a slight variation on the traditional 'First Footing' of the New Year at Muirhall Drive... much to everyone elses disgust.
30th December. Unnatural Gas.
Felt a bit dead this morning. Took the remains of the PC around to Alistair, who took the hard drive thingy out of it. After plugging it into his computer he said it was similarly deceased, that's what I can tell the Inland Revenue if there's any dissecting of last years accounts. Before I left, I managed to stink out the front room, the back room and the kitchen in his house, a consequence of last nights over indulgence, "heavy aromatic compounds" he said.
29th December. Sick Outside The Fishermans.
The annual private function in Broughty Ferry was drawing to a close. I made a bee-line for the swing doors with a growing sense of urgency, politely ignoring any attempts at long-winded farewells from fellow drinkers. Once outside on the pavement the dizzieness heralded an out-of-stomach experience, such as is seen all over Britain amongst binge drinking young people. However any illness was quickly washed away by the rain or carried on the gale which had sprung up from the river.
The doors swung open and Isabelle came out of the bar walking towards me then quickly assessing the situation, "Eeeyuch! I've walked in your vomit."
The doors swung open and Isabelle came out of the bar walking towards me then quickly assessing the situation, "Eeeyuch! I've walked in your vomit."
28th December. That Hen Again.
No sooner was the house heated up again and who should come calling but 'Hettie the Intelligent Hen', who recently has got too clever by far.
"It's practically taken over the kitchen, that bird has" I said.
"You should have seen her face this evening" Isabelle said. "I just looked out of the door and her face was full of purpose, just saying 'Open the door'."
The real purpose is for the hen to wander about the kitchen knocking the cats' water bowl over, perching on my shoulders, pecking at any odd bits of cat litter, then after about 8pm retiring to a cardboard box in the bedroom. Hettie likes to sleep late.
"It's practically taken over the kitchen, that bird has" I said.
"You should have seen her face this evening" Isabelle said. "I just looked out of the door and her face was full of purpose, just saying 'Open the door'."
The real purpose is for the hen to wander about the kitchen knocking the cats' water bowl over, perching on my shoulders, pecking at any odd bits of cat litter, then after about 8pm retiring to a cardboard box in the bedroom. Hettie likes to sleep late.
27th December. Cold Comfort Here.
Arrived back here with the heating off for almost a week, took me right back to the days of going to bed with cold feet.
Back then, when Isabelle first arrived here, we used to sit there in the kitchen with coats on and Isabelle would wear a scarf and gloves, and you could see your breath. A tank of central heating oil lasted three years. Needless to say by the second year an ultimatum was delivered, and a 50:50 compromise worked out; heating on during the day but off at night.
Back then, when Isabelle first arrived here, we used to sit there in the kitchen with coats on and Isabelle would wear a scarf and gloves, and you could see your breath. A tank of central heating oil lasted three years. Needless to say by the second year an ultimatum was delivered, and a 50:50 compromise worked out; heating on during the day but off at night.
26th December. How to Order a Coffee.
Isabelle was surprised then appalled when she discovered the reason the man behind the bar at The London Hotel had served up two black coffees as well as two white coffees. This was clear evidence of another case of 'Are you on drugs?' syndrome; the inability to communicate the simplest of requests by word of mouth.
Isabelle and Junior gave me a thorough grilling on speech habits, not being bothered, and not willing to make any effort regarding enunciation etc. Junior determined to enlighten me further with the use of the newly acquired video technology of his mobile phone, as to just how much of a retard (for want of a better word) I come over as. Some progress has been made on that front I must admit.
Isabelle and Junior gave me a thorough grilling on speech habits, not being bothered, and not willing to make any effort regarding enunciation etc. Junior determined to enlighten me further with the use of the newly acquired video technology of his mobile phone, as to just how much of a retard (for want of a better word) I come over as. Some progress has been made on that front I must admit.
25th December. Xmas Morning Care Home Dialogue.
"Will you be coming tonight?"
"Probably not, but we're all here now."
"NOW's no good is it!! It's Christmas night that matters! They're all going out! It's not much of a prospect is it? It's not very nice being on your own on Christmas night. They're all going out, I'll be on my own."
(Pause) 'Will you be coming tonight?"
"Yes, we'll be coming tonight."
"Oh! please yourselves! Don't come if you don't want to!"
(Pause) "I don't want you here! DON'T come then!"
(Pause) "What are you doing tonight? I'll be on my own", etc...
"Probably not, but we're all here now."
"NOW's no good is it!! It's Christmas night that matters! They're all going out! It's not much of a prospect is it? It's not very nice being on your own on Christmas night. They're all going out, I'll be on my own."
(Pause) 'Will you be coming tonight?"
"Yes, we'll be coming tonight."
"Oh! please yourselves! Don't come if you don't want to!"
(Pause) "I don't want you here! DON'T come then!"
(Pause) "What are you doing tonight? I'll be on my own", etc...
24th December. Christmas Eve Morning Day.
Xmas meal No.1 passed off as planned but only I opted for Turkey. The others wanted to save themselves for tomorrow and the next day. Total cost came out at £47 including drinks for five people, less than a meal for one at last years Xmas Day prices at The Talardy just down the road.
Mother got a bit teary, going on about 'being a burden' etc, when I had to wheel her through to the disabled toilets for another gymnastic session. I made light of the situation commenting that old age was simply a fact of life, before wheeling her back for Xmas Pudding.
The savings made at the Tweedmill Xmas Eve economy dinner have to be offset against the almost inevitable purchase by Isabelle of a coat here at the trade outlet. We must also include in the calculation, the £89 worth of M&S Christmas food we have to consume tomorrow whilst Mother has her own dinner along with the other Care Home inmates.
Mother got a bit teary, going on about 'being a burden' etc, when I had to wheel her through to the disabled toilets for another gymnastic session. I made light of the situation commenting that old age was simply a fact of life, before wheeling her back for Xmas Pudding.
The savings made at the Tweedmill Xmas Eve economy dinner have to be offset against the almost inevitable purchase by Isabelle of a coat here at the trade outlet. We must also include in the calculation, the £89 worth of M&S Christmas food we have to consume tomorrow whilst Mother has her own dinner along with the other Care Home inmates.
23rd December. Tony Blair.
Mother failed the Tony Blair Test this morning, the closest answer to who the Prime Minister is? was Tony... Benn, "well I don't like him anyway", she said of the current PM, (Whatever his name is presumably).
Technically getting the first letter of the surname right gives a final score of 5 out of 9 letters. This equates to scraping through with a pass mark of 55.5%.
Technically getting the first letter of the surname right gives a final score of 5 out of 9 letters. This equates to scraping through with a pass mark of 55.5%.
22rd December. Father Ted Meets Google.
My brother (70) has been threatening for a while to enter the digital age but to date still lacks a computer. What do you need a computer for eh? 'Junior' has a computer but no internet connection, honestly in this day and age! How can anyone live without Google? For instance if you'd been watching a xmas episode of Father Ted and wondered what year it was made. but not having received a Classical education how could you find out what the Roman numerals XCVI mean, without leaving your seat? is it 86 or 96?
This is an example of one of many invaluable services the home computer can provide. Does this mean that General Knowledge may go the same way as mental arithmetic since we've all had pocket calculators? Duh... just a minute there... I'll have to google that one...
This is an example of one of many invaluable services the home computer can provide. Does this mean that General Knowledge may go the same way as mental arithmetic since we've all had pocket calculators? Duh... just a minute there... I'll have to google that one...
21st December. Christmas Dinner-Bargain!
Departure for "Sunny" Rhyl is scheduled for tomorrow. It was my idea to have Christmas one day earlier than normally advertised.
Mother is now, to be perfectly frank, at a stage in life where one day is pretty much like any other. It's maybe unfair to go as far as to say she doesn't know what day it is, and also, when I tried her out last visit, she still passed the Tony Blair Test with full marks. Why pay all that money for a meal out on the one day in the year when they bump up the price of Turkey all because of Baby Jesus? You can get a perfectly adequate Christmas dinner at the "Tweedmill" any time up to three weeks before 'His' official birthday, with wheelchair access, disabled toilets and you can pick up a cut price pair of jeans at the same time. Another advantage is that my brother won't have to defy the laws of physics by being in two places at once on the 25th, but will still be able to eat Christmas dinner twice, as we all will, even Mother, who still has a remarkable digestion at 92.
She will probably have forgotten anyway, by the time she's eating turkey with all the trimmings again a day later in the care home.
Mother is now, to be perfectly frank, at a stage in life where one day is pretty much like any other. It's maybe unfair to go as far as to say she doesn't know what day it is, and also, when I tried her out last visit, she still passed the Tony Blair Test with full marks. Why pay all that money for a meal out on the one day in the year when they bump up the price of Turkey all because of Baby Jesus? You can get a perfectly adequate Christmas dinner at the "Tweedmill" any time up to three weeks before 'His' official birthday, with wheelchair access, disabled toilets and you can pick up a cut price pair of jeans at the same time. Another advantage is that my brother won't have to defy the laws of physics by being in two places at once on the 25th, but will still be able to eat Christmas dinner twice, as we all will, even Mother, who still has a remarkable digestion at 92.
She will probably have forgotten anyway, by the time she's eating turkey with all the trimmings again a day later in the care home.
20th December. Interlude At the Health Centre.
Clocked in at Glaver St, first thing but Nurse Grey pulled Isabelle up short on the subject of having a syringe stuck in my arm.
"We can't just take blood willy-nilly you know, we can only do a chloresterol test on the request of a Doctor. Does he have a heart condition? It's only the immediate family history that matters".
"Yes, but he eats a lot of butter and cheese".
"What difference would him knowing his chloresterol level make? We should all try to eat a healthy diet anyway" countered Nurse Grey.
"That's ok" I said, "I don't really mind. Actually, I've got a touch of Trypanophobia" I said looking at a syringe filling up with Isabelle's rare warm blood. Luckily there was no more requirement for additional puncturing in the form of boosters for Typhoid and the like, vis-a-vis the next upcoming tropical soujourn. That was according to the now uploaded medical records.
Just to make sure, Nurse Grey hauled out the original files, I mean can you really trust anything on a computer screen I thought, as she perused an on-line map of Malaria incidence in Vietnam. "I think Trang-Bang's there" I said, pointing to the red shaded area which just about covered the whole country.
"We can't just take blood willy-nilly you know, we can only do a chloresterol test on the request of a Doctor. Does he have a heart condition? It's only the immediate family history that matters".
"Yes, but he eats a lot of butter and cheese".
"What difference would him knowing his chloresterol level make? We should all try to eat a healthy diet anyway" countered Nurse Grey.
"That's ok" I said, "I don't really mind. Actually, I've got a touch of Trypanophobia" I said looking at a syringe filling up with Isabelle's rare warm blood. Luckily there was no more requirement for additional puncturing in the form of boosters for Typhoid and the like, vis-a-vis the next upcoming tropical soujourn. That was according to the now uploaded medical records.
Just to make sure, Nurse Grey hauled out the original files, I mean can you really trust anything on a computer screen I thought, as she perused an on-line map of Malaria incidence in Vietnam. "I think Trang-Bang's there" I said, pointing to the red shaded area which just about covered the whole country.
19th December. Ladderwork- a Proactive Approach
The McBs work on the principle, that as far as the house goes, he makes most of the decisions, Mrs McB only has to decide when to hoover or when to go out to the shops, which are in easy walking distance. Recently bereaved, Mrs McB made a point of mentioning before going out to the shops mid-morning "to be careful on those ladders with the ice and frost", which was nice. I must admit it had already crossed my mind, as a precaution I decided to take my mobile phone with me. The reasoning behind this was; in the event of a fall onto say the conservatory roof if I regained consciousness to find myself half paralysed, or maybe just with a fractured pelvis I might be stuck there and end up suffering from exposure before Mrs McB finally came back from the town. I nipped out into the street as I'd forgotten the name of the house should I need to give directions to the emergency services.
18th December. That Rob Liddle Thing-Ch. 4.
Re: The Trouble With Atheism.
According to Mr Liddle the dangerous vacuum left by the disappearance of Religion would leave us all living in something akin to a Marxist state operating a system of Eugenics. Well to be honest a package tour to the Soviet Union of the mid 1980's left me with the distinct impression they'd just swapped one set of religious icons for another; the same profile of Lenins head everywhere you looked. Can anyone seriously equate so-called Atheist states with a network of Gulags as encouraging the habit of thinking for yourself. As for Hitler, Atheism and whatever, the way I have it, Hitler was latterly off his trolley and a ruthless dictator to boot who used any means possible to achieve some crackpot notion of World domination. Even if Hitler was an Atheist It's tantamount to saying because Hitler was a vegetarian anyone that doesn't eat meat should be watched very carefully indeed.
According to Mr Liddle the dangerous vacuum left by the disappearance of Religion would leave us all living in something akin to a Marxist state operating a system of Eugenics. Well to be honest a package tour to the Soviet Union of the mid 1980's left me with the distinct impression they'd just swapped one set of religious icons for another; the same profile of Lenins head everywhere you looked. Can anyone seriously equate so-called Atheist states with a network of Gulags as encouraging the habit of thinking for yourself. As for Hitler, Atheism and whatever, the way I have it, Hitler was latterly off his trolley and a ruthless dictator to boot who used any means possible to achieve some crackpot notion of World domination. Even if Hitler was an Atheist It's tantamount to saying because Hitler was a vegetarian anyone that doesn't eat meat should be watched very carefully indeed.
17th December. Last Post?
Tomorrow, Monday, facing up to the grim reality of another large house with beige carpeting in the living room. Beige carpet matches well with everything except soot, cement dust or any kind of mud or bootprint. Access to the top of the chimney is compromised by a conservatory which has "a flat bit on top that a ladder could stand on." However Conservatory is just another name for Glasshouse with all its attendant vulnerabilities to 30 feet of chimney liner. Frost is also set to add interest to the proceedings... This may be my last post.
16th December. 'Tiddles'-Your Profile.
In a dramatic turn of events 'Tiddles' became involved in a medical drama which was to ultimately cost, not her life, but £44.75. 'Tiddles' has, for some fourteen years, proved to be a very low maintenance cat and has never been back to the vets since the official hysterectomy. She enjoys the violin and also popular brass band melodies but only when whistled. She has in her time dabbled in soft drugs such as Catmint but her premier addiction remains Tesco Cat Crunchies. 'Tiddles' is a firm believer in a no-exercise approach to life and is very fond of central heating.
15th December. Perth Crematorium.
Skirting round the town on the by-pass a little earlier than usual I notice something that isn't usually there; a plume of fairly thick smoke rising straight up above the now leafless trees. For a moment, I thought, in a provincial town nowadays conspicuously lacking in any heavy industry, what enterprise could account for this level of pollution or indeed permit such a spread of contaminants?
Then i realised the factory in question at one time sighted on the outskirts of town and obscured by trees is now actually only separated by the said trees from the main road. We are here speaking of what has become a growth industry of late and a success story that's projected to continue for a number of years. Despite the freeing up of the marketplace the factory still enjoys a local monopoly.
Then i realised the factory in question at one time sighted on the outskirts of town and obscured by trees is now actually only separated by the said trees from the main road. We are here speaking of what has become a growth industry of late and a success story that's projected to continue for a number of years. Despite the freeing up of the marketplace the factory still enjoys a local monopoly.
14th December. 'The Swimming'
Tonight, due to a misapprehension regarding 'Swim Club' I find I'm the only swimmer in the entire Leisure Pool. It's still required that I be watched by two attendants to comply fully with current health & safety. It feels like either this is my own private 25 metre pool with a permanent staff or I'm in an aquatic version of 'The Shining'. One attendant opens the door directly to the rain and wind until a particularly strong gust slams the door shut again... then all of a sudden the pool turns red and I'm swimming in blood.
13th December. 10 Years Older.
Arrived this morning to another closely worded A4 sheet of instructions regarding the eventual appearance of the fireplace for Mrs S. To be fair there was included an apology for this degree of fussiness and a hint that this increases with age, "You must think I'm..."
Yes well, it's a far cry from Mr R for instance who left his front door unlocked having instructed me to do "Whatever you think best". Thereby trusting me to make any decision that came into my head with regard to the aesthetics, which he would then live with presumably for the next ten years or so.
Isabelle relaxes, glued to that formulaic '10 years Younger' thing on Ch 4 where normally some woman agonises over the eventual appearance of something, usually her face...
Yes well, it's a far cry from Mr R for instance who left his front door unlocked having instructed me to do "Whatever you think best". Thereby trusting me to make any decision that came into my head with regard to the aesthetics, which he would then live with presumably for the next ten years or so.
Isabelle relaxes, glued to that formulaic '10 years Younger' thing on Ch 4 where normally some woman agonises over the eventual appearance of something, usually her face...
12th December. Jack Spratts' Chloresterol Level.
For some reason, Isabelle has us booked in at Glaver Street for a Chloresterol Level check, probably sparked by some kind of dietary concern. If I'm anything like my late uncle who took the Coronary Thrombosis route, I've only about five years to go. Whereas Mother seems to have no heart trouble despite a lifetime of eating 'good food', i.e. meat and gravy.
If Jack Spratt (who ate no fat) and his wife (who ate no lean) had their levels checked, the results should correlate well with ours, as well as between them, licking the platter clean.
If Jack Spratt (who ate no fat) and his wife (who ate no lean) had their levels checked, the results should correlate well with ours, as well as between them, licking the platter clean.
11th December. "A Big Dog Has Died."
When I got in the door tonight Pete was sitting there with Callum drinking tea at the kitchen table and Isabelle said straightaway "A big dog has died"
"Who, Max?" I said, referring to a particular long-lived mongrel. "No a big DOVE". Sure enough there was this huge Wood Pigeon in a shoe box, dead as a proverbial Dodo. The bird had been brought over for convalescence but hadn't reacted well to the change of environment, I don't think it was very well in the first place and so when it got a bit worked up it did itself in.
It'll probably just go in the Wheelie bin without any formal ceremony as it's collection day tomorrow, Tuesday. I doubt if they'll be a burial down in the garden since no one really knew the Wood Pigeon, it was a bit of a non-entity. If it had been more of a survivor like those ex-town centre birds 'Donnie' or 'Whistle' they might have interbred and produced a Pove or a Digeon...
"Who, Max?" I said, referring to a particular long-lived mongrel. "No a big DOVE". Sure enough there was this huge Wood Pigeon in a shoe box, dead as a proverbial Dodo. The bird had been brought over for convalescence but hadn't reacted well to the change of environment, I don't think it was very well in the first place and so when it got a bit worked up it did itself in.
It'll probably just go in the Wheelie bin without any formal ceremony as it's collection day tomorrow, Tuesday. I doubt if they'll be a burial down in the garden since no one really knew the Wood Pigeon, it was a bit of a non-entity. If it had been more of a survivor like those ex-town centre birds 'Donnie' or 'Whistle' they might have interbred and produced a Pove or a Digeon...
10th December. News of a Spontaneous Remission in The Comrie Area.
I'll be writing shortly to Pope Benedict XVI to submit a report on the miraculous cure of the horrible noise from the front differential, which has simply vanished in the last couple of days.
"There exists no natural cause capable of producing the cure witnessed, it follows there is neither let nor hindrance to prevent an unbiassed mind from tracing back to the particular agency of God. Those who refuse to believe in this miraculous intervention may seek a scientific interpretation of the occurrence. How do we know that some natural force of which we are still ignorant does not operate this marvellous cure which is attributed directly to God?" How do we know? Why should this law operate for Daihatsu and not for Toyota? Is it because they deny its existence and the others believe in it? Moreover, not only there does not exist, but there cannot exist, and consequently will never exist, a natural law producing instantaneously the regeneration of bearing surfaces."
"There exists no natural cause capable of producing the cure witnessed, it follows there is neither let nor hindrance to prevent an unbiassed mind from tracing back to the particular agency of God. Those who refuse to believe in this miraculous intervention may seek a scientific interpretation of the occurrence. How do we know that some natural force of which we are still ignorant does not operate this marvellous cure which is attributed directly to God?" How do we know? Why should this law operate for Daihatsu and not for Toyota? Is it because they deny its existence and the others believe in it? Moreover, not only there does not exist, but there cannot exist, and consequently will never exist, a natural law producing instantaneously the regeneration of bearing surfaces."
9th December. The Dragons' Cave.
Ronnie tells me there's a cave on Kinnoul Hill called The Dragons' Cave, Apparently St.Serf was up there and did a bit of slaying in the 5th century. He did the same trick at Dunning where the upper part of the village is still referred to as 'The Draygon'.
The obvious question is What exactly did The Saint slay? It's really no different today as far as some of the more wackier reports go, except its more likely to be Alien abductions than Dragons in lairs. Saint Serf could easily have been off his trolley, but there's a simpler explanation, given just how bunged up with belief and superstition the populous must have been if today's anything to go by.
A young woman has gone missing, (who in reality had run off to the bright lights of Perth) a crime where the Dragon is clearly the culprit, the villagers are terrified of the wood, so they call in 'The Saint'. Saint Serf goes off into the wood finds nothing of course - comes back and to shut up the villagers, reassures them that the dragon is dead, (making light of his role in its death). Now they can all get on with daily life as normal, and there won't be any need to bother him again. However St Serf has made a rod for his own back and it's not long before he gets a call about another different Dragon problem... and so the legend grew amongst the people.
The obvious question is What exactly did The Saint slay? It's really no different today as far as some of the more wackier reports go, except its more likely to be Alien abductions than Dragons in lairs. Saint Serf could easily have been off his trolley, but there's a simpler explanation, given just how bunged up with belief and superstition the populous must have been if today's anything to go by.
A young woman has gone missing, (who in reality had run off to the bright lights of Perth) a crime where the Dragon is clearly the culprit, the villagers are terrified of the wood, so they call in 'The Saint'. Saint Serf goes off into the wood finds nothing of course - comes back and to shut up the villagers, reassures them that the dragon is dead, (making light of his role in its death). Now they can all get on with daily life as normal, and there won't be any need to bother him again. However St Serf has made a rod for his own back and it's not long before he gets a call about another different Dragon problem... and so the legend grew amongst the people.
8th December. Dance To The Sound of The Band 'SOUND CHECK' at Ruth's 40th.
The two bands (which later proved to be one band twice over) set up and carry out all the necessary sound checks commensurate with playing Shea Stadium, this takes about 2 to 3 hours - it's going to be a late night. Children carriere around on skate boards in the festively lit steading, adults drift in then out to the fire in the yard, circulating back to the kitchen, becoming progressively inebriated. A rival acoustic set featuring some of the more musical guests plays inside the house, which is warmer. Then music starts issuing from the steading, "The bands started!" No, just another long 2 minute sound check.
At some point the Celtic band which is the warm-up, commences, the adults leap about and twirl around but it's all rather short-lived, as the instruments soon have to be packed up. The 2nd 'heavier' band start adjusting and fiddling about with microphone stands etc... I take the opportunity to join in the fun to be pushed around lying on a skateboard by an eight year old. When the rock band finally gets going they have to stop to retune again, something to do with the low ambient temperature. After a short set there is a 'break for drinks' then not long into the 2nd set there is an interlude when the drummer has to leave to go for a pee...
At some point the Celtic band which is the warm-up, commences, the adults leap about and twirl around but it's all rather short-lived, as the instruments soon have to be packed up. The 2nd 'heavier' band start adjusting and fiddling about with microphone stands etc... I take the opportunity to join in the fun to be pushed around lying on a skateboard by an eight year old. When the rock band finally gets going they have to stop to retune again, something to do with the low ambient temperature. After a short set there is a 'break for drinks' then not long into the 2nd set there is an interlude when the drummer has to leave to go for a pee...
7th December.The Knackered Front Prop Shaft.
Just a nonsense, rolling about in the rain, water dripping down the neck, everything siezed or rusted solid and now I'm so blind I can't read the sizes on the spanners. This is what always happens, you find something wrong, something satisfying, something that fits all the symptoms of 'the Noise' or whatever the problem happens to be, "Ah that's it! definitely found it, I'm absolutely certain of that" You remove or replace the offending article. In this case, well I won't bore you with the details, but what was a 4WD vehicle is now a 2WD. So everything's sorted out and makes perfect sense until you jump in and drive away and discover that the time and energy spent has made precisely no difference whatsoever.
The moral is that just about everything that hasn't actually been demonstrated or tested is wishful thinking.
The moral is that just about everything that hasn't actually been demonstrated or tested is wishful thinking.
6th December. I See My Future.
I was only saying the other day how reliable the Daihatsu has been, virtually no involvement rolling around underneath a vehicle for two years. I was congratulating myself on not having anything to do with Land Rover which although offering easily available spares has the disadvantage of always needing them.
However on the return journey tonight there was the beginings of a noise. A noise that sounds like a bearing in distress, an intermittent growling. I engaged four wheel drive to see what would happen, the result was much worse, it felt like the transfer box was filled with gravel rather than oil, that's assuming it ever had oil in it. I can see a spell of rolling around outside looming. The rain is on again and that will ensure that the drive is thoroughly wetted by tomorrow. As luck would have it, these problems nearly always crop up in winter, but then thanks to global warming it is mild for December. ("It's an ill wind that blows no good")
However on the return journey tonight there was the beginings of a noise. A noise that sounds like a bearing in distress, an intermittent growling. I engaged four wheel drive to see what would happen, the result was much worse, it felt like the transfer box was filled with gravel rather than oil, that's assuming it ever had oil in it. I can see a spell of rolling around outside looming. The rain is on again and that will ensure that the drive is thoroughly wetted by tomorrow. As luck would have it, these problems nearly always crop up in winter, but then thanks to global warming it is mild for December. ("It's an ill wind that blows no good")
5th December. An Open Door.
Things took rather a sinister turn tonight after repeated phone calls from one of the two single mum tenants, it was the one that had her arm in plaster when she moved in. Anyway, she had returned home to find the door to the flat unlocked, the hall light on, and a piece of paper with Isabelle's contact details on the mat outside. "Had Isabelle been in the flat today?" Well no, not unless there is an Etheric double in existence.
The prime suspect of course in these cases has to be the estranged husband. A changing of the doorlock seemed to be the obvious course and was duly authorised. 'Hell hath no fury like, errr... a person scorned'.
The prime suspect of course in these cases has to be the estranged husband. A changing of the doorlock seemed to be the obvious course and was duly authorised. 'Hell hath no fury like, errr... a person scorned'.
4th December. Formulating a General Rule From Flat Renovation.
It was said right at the begining, even before an offer had been made, that the flat in question "just needs a shower." I said that "maybe i didn't need to be involved at all, you could just get a plumber, I wouldn't even need to see the flat". Six months later a shower is half-installed, one of the last things in what has proved to be a long on-going list. As a general rule its safe to say that if anything "just needs.." you may find yourself straying into a fictional world where the Lion may as well lie down with the Lamb.
This also applies to "All you need is..." Such things as 'love', ' to be able to recognise a good compromise', ' a sense of humour', 'faith in yourself'. These are all certainly handy things to have but no closer to reality than "Just needs a shower."
This also applies to "All you need is..." Such things as 'love', ' to be able to recognise a good compromise', ' a sense of humour', 'faith in yourself'. These are all certainly handy things to have but no closer to reality than "Just needs a shower."
3rd December. Leisure Pool Soundtrack.
They certainly play all the hits at the Leisure Pool... of the 1980's. When the place opened in about 1986, it was the hits of the 1960's. I distinctly remember weekday pensioners bobbing around to the sound of 'My Generation' which seemed wildly incongruous at the time but not so much now, if we're talkin' 'bout that particular generation. 'Just because we g-get around' must refer to getting around with a zimmer frame or battery powered trike and they'll be little hope of 'dying before I get old', or indeed causing much of a s-s-senation for that g-g-generation, baby.
I'd like to propose another verse:
It's all just a chemical process (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And when I die no one 'll notice (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
I'd like to propose another verse:
It's all just a chemical process (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
And when I die no one 'll notice (Talkin' 'bout my generation)
2nd December. Audio Phases.
Haven't been to the library for over a year now, it's another phase that comes and goes, taking out cd's that I've never heard of. There's a point when I'd heard of most of them and you have to wait another couple of years until there's some new stock come in. Isabelle stopped the strumming-at-a-guitar-with-a-delay-pedal phase as it was 'repetitive' but the trance-like state that the very repetition and echo provided was the main attraction. Then there was the violin, remarkable progress was made in a short time during that particular era but once enrolled at Perth College something about being 'taught' killed it dead. The same thing happened with the speech therapy phase when the speech therapy woman asked me if I could move a radiator in their house. I bought this pipe freezing kit which worked quite well, sawed through the frozen central heating pipe, then there was some problem with the size of pipe olives or something. Time slipped by, during which the frozen pipe melted and a fountain of hot water started to play on the floorboards. The speech therapist was moving house the next day and a bit uptight, I folded the pipe over with pliers several times which never quite staunched the flow, then made my excuses,,, and that was the end of that particular phase.
1st December. A TARDIS* in The Garden.
The Hen House is scheduled, not for demolition, but conversion into a studio/summerhouse/TARDIS. There's even talk of a kitchen sink (as in everything and...), a three seater setee, a french style glass fronted armoire, an HD ready flat screen TV, shelves carrying every Vogue back to the mid 90's, a fridge, a microwave, and reputedly, enough cushions to soften any reality, including the interior dimensions. "Have you ever tried swinging a cat in there? I'm not sure it's possible" was my comment.
*Time And Relative Dimension (or Dimensions) In Space.
*Time And Relative Dimension (or Dimensions) In Space.
30th November. A Very Merry Cluttermas.
When I came back I first of all banged into the wreath on the porch door and then the glass of the inner door was adorned with stick on snowflakes. It's that festive time of year again, Cluttermas. It didn't take long to decorate the tree this year, Isabelle tells me, since it was pre-decorated from last year and only had to be moved inside from the 30ft container. In fact it was July before it moved out of the lounge room to the container in the first place, so Cluttermas 2005 lasted, by that reckoning, over six months. There were attenuating circumstances involving an intervertebral disc, it has to be admitted; Cluttermas normally only lasts from about November to February. I go to make a cup of tea and the noise of putting the caddy on the shelf sets off the sound activated singing robin (made in china) which is now stationed in the vicinity, presumably for the duration?
29th November. "Are You on Drugs?"
Well I offered a hand to move the piano over the back doorstep, it had arrived in the back of the local builders Transit. I said something about the sound being not bad despite the fact it was a bit out of tune. It was then that 'John the builder' said "Are you on drugs?" which almost didn't register but then I thought what is he on about?
It was only afterwards I realised that J the builder, lacking or unwilling to play within the accepted boundaries of social decorum, was probably only voicing what the majority think but keep to themselves. To be honest I'd practically forgotten that I sound like I'm recovering from a stroke, (which was someone else's interpretation). Personally I think its all down to falling off a bicycle at age 8. Was the builders interpretation based on real life experience or was it just the idea of what 'being on drugs' is like in the public imagination?
It was only afterwards I realised that J the builder, lacking or unwilling to play within the accepted boundaries of social decorum, was probably only voicing what the majority think but keep to themselves. To be honest I'd practically forgotten that I sound like I'm recovering from a stroke, (which was someone else's interpretation). Personally I think its all down to falling off a bicycle at age 8. Was the builders interpretation based on real life experience or was it just the idea of what 'being on drugs' is like in the public imagination?
28th November. Death of a PC
Isabelle phoned the clinic first thing for a progress report, then relayed the news to me; it was dead, 'nothing recoverable'. A lifeless corpse, still intact, but with all the memories and skills gone forever together with the accounts for the year ending 4th April 2006. 'Did we want to come in and pick up the body or would they dispose of it?' We could take it to the 'recycling', then it'll end up in Nigeria where any financial information can somehow be retrieved by a crime syndicate or anyone else creating a false identity. Would you really want to be me though? I'm not too sure myself?
27th November. Struggling For Consciousness
Tammy Wynette blasts out above the clatter of dishes here at the Motor Grill. In the U.S. the Motor Grill would be, I suppose, a Truck Stop. For some reason Lorries, high chloresterol and country & western seem to hang together on both sides of the Atlantic, is it because C&W is the only musical genre to encompass songs about truck driving? I order "Double egg, chips & beans with bread & butter and a cup of tea", quickly I find that I've over eaten, then before I can stagger outside I have to buy a Mars bar in addition because they don't take debit cards for anything less than a fiver.
As I progress down the A9 I can feel all available oxygen in the blood being diverted away from the brain to digestive duties, so the food at the Motor Grill does pose something of a health risk.
As I progress down the A9 I can feel all available oxygen in the blood being diverted away from the brain to digestive duties, so the food at the Motor Grill does pose something of a health risk.
26th November. The Moon and Jimmy Hill.
I veered about a bit on the road trying to get the number on the mobile, I wanted to tell Isabelle that tonight the moon was like one out of a story book, and to take a look outside. The crescent had the familar profile of Jimmy Hill; long chin, nose, mouth, even an eye. I phoned Fergus so as wee Whats-her-name could take a look at the Man in The Moon too. However there was no answer, and really in all fairness they should be telling that child that the moon is a lifeless ball of rock in orbit around the Earth. However without it life on earth would be pretty freaky if there was any life at all. As I understand it, the Earth would be kind of like an overloaded washing machine on the spin cycle. That is, minus the block of concrete bolted inside that smooths out most of the wobble and judder...
25th November. The Vanishing.
Course I know what it's like, being a fully trained Bereavement Counsellor, that's why I was able to give Isabelle the space required for the grieving process. I had to take my tea downstairs as I was in too bouyant a mood and not downcast enough after recent events. A young chicklet has disappeared without trace somewhere in the Bermudan triangle area of the Beech hedge, scene of another mysterious vanishing a while back. An elderly hen had been a bit too casual in its habit of roosting in the top of the hedge.
The death of a younger individual on the threshold of lifes potential is always hard to come to terms with. The lack of a body and an unsolved crime leave questions forever unanswered, this can weigh heavily on the mind of the bereaved. I don't think any of the nine siblings or the Mother have actually noticed though.
The death of a younger individual on the threshold of lifes potential is always hard to come to terms with. The lack of a body and an unsolved crime leave questions forever unanswered, this can weigh heavily on the mind of the bereaved. I don't think any of the nine siblings or the Mother have actually noticed though.
24th November. A Third of a Fish Supper.
I'd only had a ham salad roll from that shop recently reopened as 'The EarlyBird' a change from 'Cammys' Bellybusters', (obviously moving more upmarket with the addition of net curtains). So by the time I was on the return journey in the dark and wet, I thought I'd pull over at the Fish & Chip shop, (under new management). Under new management is a euphemism for now offering a chinese menu in addition to the traditional fried fare. This brings the total of Chinese Takeaways in what is basically a provincial backwater to something approaching double figures. I could tell by the extreme weight of the box I was handed that something had gone far wrong in the cooking process...
Chip shops staffed by young girls may be pleasant enough but the results invariably take some beating in terms of cooking oil absorption. More often than not I usually think I'll never stomach another fish supper or in this case only a third of a fish supper.
Chip shops staffed by young girls may be pleasant enough but the results invariably take some beating in terms of cooking oil absorption. More often than not I usually think I'll never stomach another fish supper or in this case only a third of a fish supper.
23rd November. Cumberland Sausage with Chlorine.
I'd picked up two packs of Tescos' Finest, both with yellow labels. I've been eating my way through them the last couple of days. The last of them were a wee bit past the date but these dates are for guidance only? They say don't eat an hour before swimming but there's no variance in that formula to allow for what exactly you've eaten. Well an hour's not nearly enough in the case of the cumberland sausage.
Mr Whatsisname certainly was putting us through our paces, imagine trying to swim front crawl lying sideways one hand outstretched and the other creating a wave of chlorinated pool water directly into your open gullet. Goggles misting over as you alternate between burping up sausage and gulping in Cryptosporidium. The result had me reaching for the Bisodol as soon as I was driving out of the car park, to at least neutralise the sausage, if nothing else.
Mr Whatsisname certainly was putting us through our paces, imagine trying to swim front crawl lying sideways one hand outstretched and the other creating a wave of chlorinated pool water directly into your open gullet. Goggles misting over as you alternate between burping up sausage and gulping in Cryptosporidium. The result had me reaching for the Bisodol as soon as I was driving out of the car park, to at least neutralise the sausage, if nothing else.
22nd November. Teaching Chickens.
The Hypothermic Hen is still 'staying over' at night and with the recent wet weather has come to prefer indoors to outdoors during daylight hours too. There is really only one drawback with this arrangement and this centres on the learning abilities of birds in general. Although by poultry standards 'Hettie' has a remarkably high IQ, all the resident cats here are intellectual giants in comparison. To be able to grasp the concept of a litter tray takes even the averagely developing Hominid a couple of years to come to terms with. What chance is there of training up a chicken? Even an egghead like Harold the budgie (now sadly deceased) who might have been on the threshold of mimicry would never have 'understood', just merely repeated parrot fashion.
Rebuking the Hen for its inability to handle a concept as abstract as pooing in one place would be like belting a Dyslexic pupil for putting his letter y the wrong way round and we've all moved on a long way since those days.
Rebuking the Hen for its inability to handle a concept as abstract as pooing in one place would be like belting a Dyslexic pupil for putting his letter y the wrong way round and we've all moved on a long way since those days.
21st November. Everyday Electronics Revisited.
The PC was on the blink, well it kept cutting out when I was halfway through doing peoples invoices, causing a deal of frustration. A small squirt of WD 40 into the end of the power supply lead did little to improve matters and shortly after, all vital signs had flatlined. I started pulling the various leads out of the back, "You'll need to make a note of those" chimed Isabelle. I carted the grey box downstairs to the kitchen table and set about it with a phillips screwdriver.
Another grey box within the grey box said power supply on it so I removed that with its entrails attached and took the electric soldering iron to it. Having isolated the problem to complicated things I know nothing about, it was simply a matter of ordering a replacement small grey box from e-bay. That's the beauty of the PC format-cheap easily fitted spare parts.
When I came home tonight I said "Is there any post for me?"
"No but there's a parcel outside". This was the new small grey box. It looked the same but had a few more wires than the original, still the wires had the same sort of colours. It all plugged in easily enough, so I was ready to get down to the overdue quotations. I switched on, the drawer you put CDs in opened ominously and the screen didn't get beyond that first bit with all that guff about megatrends. Now what?
This is just like those projects that never worked out of Everyday Electronics circa 1973. I can't very well chuck the thing under the bench this time, we'll starve within a fortnight.
Another grey box within the grey box said power supply on it so I removed that with its entrails attached and took the electric soldering iron to it. Having isolated the problem to complicated things I know nothing about, it was simply a matter of ordering a replacement small grey box from e-bay. That's the beauty of the PC format-cheap easily fitted spare parts.
When I came home tonight I said "Is there any post for me?"
"No but there's a parcel outside". This was the new small grey box. It looked the same but had a few more wires than the original, still the wires had the same sort of colours. It all plugged in easily enough, so I was ready to get down to the overdue quotations. I switched on, the drawer you put CDs in opened ominously and the screen didn't get beyond that first bit with all that guff about megatrends. Now what?
This is just like those projects that never worked out of Everyday Electronics circa 1973. I can't very well chuck the thing under the bench this time, we'll starve within a fortnight.
20th November. Another Enid.
I don't think I've actually met an Enid before, only as the author of approximately 800 childrens books. A name slightly dated today, perhaps like the attitudes in 'The Famous Five' but not quite as passe as say, Dick and Fanny.
Anyway they said there was no progression for a child fed exclusively on a diet of Enid Blyton. That young mind could be trapped for life on a veritable hamster wheel of Noddy and Big Ears. I remember pleading with the Old Man when he came in from work to buy me a copy of 'Shadow The Sheepdog' because the one from the library was due back. Somehow that particular volume had been accorded the status of a holy book. Which only goes to show how susceptible the nascent intellect can be.
Anyway they said there was no progression for a child fed exclusively on a diet of Enid Blyton. That young mind could be trapped for life on a veritable hamster wheel of Noddy and Big Ears. I remember pleading with the Old Man when he came in from work to buy me a copy of 'Shadow The Sheepdog' because the one from the library was due back. Somehow that particular volume had been accorded the status of a holy book. Which only goes to show how susceptible the nascent intellect can be.
19th November. Cold Chicken.
Awoke this Sunday to a medical emergency. Hettie the Intelligent Hen seemed to be suffering from hypothermia, so I suggested that the chicken could be placed in the oven with the door open to restore its circulation, Isabelle readily assented and soon had the bird installed in the Esse cooker. I made some comment about long slow cooking, but Isabelle was in medical emergency mode. An out of hours call to the vet revealed that Hettie most likely had a chill, the treatment comme d'habitude was a dose of the universal antibiotic (see previous).
The next time I went in the kitchen the hen had been repositioned in front of the grill and was receiving the benefit of a more radiant heat. The Universal antbiotic from the vet had a more or less miraculous effect and Hettie was able to continue on in the Daihatsu out to Crieff. She seemed un-phased by the movement of the windscreen wipers and showed a keen interest in the passing scenery as any intelligent creature would.
The next time I went in the kitchen the hen had been repositioned in front of the grill and was receiving the benefit of a more radiant heat. The Universal antbiotic from the vet had a more or less miraculous effect and Hettie was able to continue on in the Daihatsu out to Crieff. She seemed un-phased by the movement of the windscreen wipers and showed a keen interest in the passing scenery as any intelligent creature would.
18th November. 007 Risk Averse
Rendez-voused with Stuart at 'The Foundry'. I had a pint of Guinness which I was to regret later. About halfway through the film I thought I'll just hang on now, it's too much hassle to go out to the toilets, besides something else is bound to happen soon? . That is something else after the opening chase we've all come to expect. This free running scene represented part of the continuing update of the Bond genre.
However Bond and MI6 studiously avoided any contact with characters that could be mistaken for being Arabic. Bond also stayed well clear of any of the worlds hot spots, sub-saharan Africa being a safer bet. There was one chap who unwittingly became a suicide bomber but that wasn't his intention, although to be fair he did press a button and blow himself up. Overall there just wasn't enough explosions for my money, of any description. Bond is supposed to be more real as a character but ends up on another planet as far as present day international terrorism goes.
However Bond and MI6 studiously avoided any contact with characters that could be mistaken for being Arabic. Bond also stayed well clear of any of the worlds hot spots, sub-saharan Africa being a safer bet. There was one chap who unwittingly became a suicide bomber but that wasn't his intention, although to be fair he did press a button and blow himself up. Overall there just wasn't enough explosions for my money, of any description. Bond is supposed to be more real as a character but ends up on another planet as far as present day international terrorism goes.
17th November. Pigeon Round-Up
Isabelle informed me that I had drawn the short straw with regard to pigeon duty tonight. The round up takes place after any flying day as the pair like to roost in the hen house. However the coming daylight would leave them vulnerable to predation by the likes of Tigger or Jiminy. Night vision of the pigeon is mildly more limited than a Human but their capture still provides a degree of challenge, I find.
I drag myself from Alien 3 to face the onerous task (not that I was really watching it). I find myself staring up with a torch at a mixture of various sizes of hens bottoms. 'Whistle' the smaller pigeon, sitting above the door, coos with an annoyed tone but is trapped first time with a tea towel over the head and returned safely. 'Donnie' the larger and more wily senses the impending capture, orange eyes glinting at the far wall on top of an old wardrobe. The torch is balanced on top of a bag of open cement which is balanced on top of a non-working clothes dryer (another task that's waiting). Too much light and the game will go on for long enough, patience will be lost; too little and although he can't see me, I can't see him either.
The pigeon shifts position, I miss, he's flapping about and thinking about taking off but then thinks better of it due to the lighting levels. I've half grabbed him now, one wing is out and flapping, I knock the torch over, the bulb goes out. I slide about on layers of chicken poo stumbling into the clothes dryer before making it to the outside. Donnie is not happy and makes a strenuous effort with the one free wing to resist being put back in his own house. There! Godammit! Game Over!
I drag myself from Alien 3 to face the onerous task (not that I was really watching it). I find myself staring up with a torch at a mixture of various sizes of hens bottoms. 'Whistle' the smaller pigeon, sitting above the door, coos with an annoyed tone but is trapped first time with a tea towel over the head and returned safely. 'Donnie' the larger and more wily senses the impending capture, orange eyes glinting at the far wall on top of an old wardrobe. The torch is balanced on top of a bag of open cement which is balanced on top of a non-working clothes dryer (another task that's waiting). Too much light and the game will go on for long enough, patience will be lost; too little and although he can't see me, I can't see him either.
The pigeon shifts position, I miss, he's flapping about and thinking about taking off but then thinks better of it due to the lighting levels. I've half grabbed him now, one wing is out and flapping, I knock the torch over, the bulb goes out. I slide about on layers of chicken poo stumbling into the clothes dryer before making it to the outside. Donnie is not happy and makes a strenuous effort with the one free wing to resist being put back in his own house. There! Godammit! Game Over!
16th November. Belief/Doubt...Whatever.
I was absent from this armchair for two hours to undergo another round of Thursday night swim club (£1.00). Frequency of going to the leisure pool has increased to three times a week, (as if there weren't more important things to do). Mr Whatsisname the trainer has promised me that three sessions a week for two months should result in the ability to swim 1.5 km and not be the last. Tonight though he was bandying around a figure of four months.
On other nights, members of the public adopt a far more relaxed attitude to lane swimming compared with the punishing regime imposed by Mr Whatsisname on the club members. Wednesdays, for instance, sees the same three middle-aged men spending most of the time taking up the shallow end of lane one discussing things like interest rates for deposit accounts at the Alliance & Leicester, before putting in a few more leisurely lengths. They are never going to manage 1.5km in a river. Unlike me, I tell myself. According to some schools of Psychological thought whether or not one believes what one tells oneself doesn't actually matter... I tell myself.
On other nights, members of the public adopt a far more relaxed attitude to lane swimming compared with the punishing regime imposed by Mr Whatsisname on the club members. Wednesdays, for instance, sees the same three middle-aged men spending most of the time taking up the shallow end of lane one discussing things like interest rates for deposit accounts at the Alliance & Leicester, before putting in a few more leisurely lengths. They are never going to manage 1.5km in a river. Unlike me, I tell myself. According to some schools of Psychological thought whether or not one believes what one tells oneself doesn't actually matter... I tell myself.
15th November. Drilling Through to Next Door.
You've got to be very careful when drilling through a kitchen wall that's only one brick thick when there's a flat on the other side containing a middle-aged woman.
Can you imagine the abuse? I had no desire to witness such a reaction first hand, but at the same time the plastic rawlplugs needed a sufficient depth of hole. Unfortunately half the wall thickness had already been lost to the cooker outlet box. The delicate procedure was not unlike trepanning through a patients skull, the surgeon must keep a careful watch on the colour of the brick dust coming out of the hole. As soon as the bit breaks through to the grey matter of the plaster on the other side he must pull up short before there is irreparable damage with a strong possiblity of some kind of fit or seizure.
Can you imagine the abuse? I had no desire to witness such a reaction first hand, but at the same time the plastic rawlplugs needed a sufficient depth of hole. Unfortunately half the wall thickness had already been lost to the cooker outlet box. The delicate procedure was not unlike trepanning through a patients skull, the surgeon must keep a careful watch on the colour of the brick dust coming out of the hole. As soon as the bit breaks through to the grey matter of the plaster on the other side he must pull up short before there is irreparable damage with a strong possiblity of some kind of fit or seizure.
14th November. IKEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
By about 3pm I've worked myself up to the point of cursing the worlds richest man or 4th richest man depending on what you consider a controlling interest in your own company. That's because the centre panel of the wardrobe is in upside down and with all those 47, or whatever, panel pins nailed in the back of it, well it's there for good. Yes old Ingvar Kamprad backed a loser when he gave money to the Swedish Nazi party but then he came good with the flatpack furniture thing (net worth $28 Billion.)
There must be people scratching their heads and muttering expletives in every native tongue of Europe not to mention the Far-East. So if Hitler had triumphed in Europe the only possible difference is the cursing of IK this afternoon might have been in German instead of English.
There must be people scratching their heads and muttering expletives in every native tongue of Europe not to mention the Far-East. So if Hitler had triumphed in Europe the only possible difference is the cursing of IK this afternoon might have been in German instead of English.
13th November. Slime Fish.
"Do you want to grab a fish?" asked Isabelle whilst I was busy on my appointed task of de-sliming the aquarium filter. These two monsters of the deep are now nine years old and started off as fairground-sized goldfish. Originally there were three others, these have succumbed to various diseases, some probably stress related. The end game of which usually left the poor creature spending its last days swimming upside down.
The fish don't complain much but it's not everyone that can spend almost a decade with the same limited outlook. After de-sliming, the pair are definitely happier about having the view of the bedroom restored. In the morning when the alarm goes off, if I open one eye, there will be a fish in the corner of the tank mouthing stones and waiting for Goldfish food.
Tonight was pretty much a slime-fest, as the job had been put off and put off. I mean, if you were going to wait till you actually felt like a bit of slime removal work, the water would end up like Knorr Country Chicken and Leek.
The fish don't complain much but it's not everyone that can spend almost a decade with the same limited outlook. After de-sliming, the pair are definitely happier about having the view of the bedroom restored. In the morning when the alarm goes off, if I open one eye, there will be a fish in the corner of the tank mouthing stones and waiting for Goldfish food.
Tonight was pretty much a slime-fest, as the job had been put off and put off. I mean, if you were going to wait till you actually felt like a bit of slime removal work, the water would end up like Knorr Country Chicken and Leek.
12th November. Aspelund World.
An excellent time for once again assembling IKEA furniture now the weather's begining to turn disagreeable. The afternoon began cold with a certain moodiness but Isabelle took two Ibuprofens for her headache so we didn't, in the end, have any argument about curtain rail fitments. The bed ends had been propped against the bedroom wall so long that they were now slightly convex, but nonetheless I soon warmed to the task of following the Ikean hieroglyphs.
How long will it be before the local populace is turfing IKEA bedroom furniture into the skips at the 'recycling' centre with the same gay abandon currently reserved for pine furniture of the 80's? In any case we'll be able to watch and say "Oh look there goes a complete Aspelund and a Hensvik."
How long will it be before the local populace is turfing IKEA bedroom furniture into the skips at the 'recycling' centre with the same gay abandon currently reserved for pine furniture of the 80's? In any case we'll be able to watch and say "Oh look there goes a complete Aspelund and a Hensvik."
11th November.'Puffson' Blows a Gasket.
'Puffson' the masturbating chicken appears to have suffered some kind of stroke. At least that was the conclusion of the vet this morning - another morning wasted, not to mention the consulting fee.
The treatment consisted of the universal antibiotic shot which, from past experience, seems to cover everything from a Gerbil to a Labrador; there was also a very general steroid based anti-inflammatory. It's a wonder that such a dim-witted bird could actually have a big enough brain to get a clot in at all. Still, having been squeezed into a cat box during the hours of darkness the creature seemed happy enough on the trip into town. However Puffson's gait had possibly suffered from being rather cramped in the said cat box, and following a short hobble round the consulting room the prognosis was 'not good'.
This physical deterioration has not gone unoticed by 'Mr Evil II', and on returning to the community 'Puffson' was subject to the laws of the playground just like any kid with a caliper or such like. Continuing and increased frustration is the most likely outcome of this debilitating health problem as it has done nothing to increase his chances with the ladies.
The treatment consisted of the universal antibiotic shot which, from past experience, seems to cover everything from a Gerbil to a Labrador; there was also a very general steroid based anti-inflammatory. It's a wonder that such a dim-witted bird could actually have a big enough brain to get a clot in at all. Still, having been squeezed into a cat box during the hours of darkness the creature seemed happy enough on the trip into town. However Puffson's gait had possibly suffered from being rather cramped in the said cat box, and following a short hobble round the consulting room the prognosis was 'not good'.
This physical deterioration has not gone unoticed by 'Mr Evil II', and on returning to the community 'Puffson' was subject to the laws of the playground just like any kid with a caliper or such like. Continuing and increased frustration is the most likely outcome of this debilitating health problem as it has done nothing to increase his chances with the ladies.
10th November. O.C.D. / C.C.A.
Contracted by a Mr R. to redo someone elses work. In other words sort out someone elses mistakes. (Yawn). The R's are a little bit OCD.* non stop hoovering on Mrs Rs' day off and a special request ftom Mr R. This involved dressing up with those elasticated blue bags on your boots following every re-entry into the living room "we only discovered how easily the floor is scratched after it was fitted" admitted Mr R. and by way of explanation volunteered "She does her f***ing nut!".
Tucking into my peanut butter sandwiches I noticed firewood stacked outside consisting of tell-tale green CCA treated fence posts (Copper, Chrome & Arsenic). The main health hazard from this is from burning it. If I mentioned anything it would only be cause for more worry, I thought,... Wait a minute though, aren't my hands black with condensed combustion products including vapourised heavy metals? Oh no!.. but I can use a Tesco carrier bag as a glove to hold my sliced bread, so long as no one sees me.
* Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Tucking into my peanut butter sandwiches I noticed firewood stacked outside consisting of tell-tale green CCA treated fence posts (Copper, Chrome & Arsenic). The main health hazard from this is from burning it. If I mentioned anything it would only be cause for more worry, I thought,... Wait a minute though, aren't my hands black with condensed combustion products including vapourised heavy metals? Oh no!.. but I can use a Tesco carrier bag as a glove to hold my sliced bread, so long as no one sees me.
* Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
9th November. The Dead Hand of Bureaucracy.
I'd not long left the ground on the 'cherry picker' this morning when a Green Meanie (parking attendant) appeared around the corner and started harrassing Mr B. who was trapped defenceless at ground level. Apparently the machine was about to be issued with two parking penalties, not only that I'd have to move the Daihatsu and the trailer off the pavement as this was a severe transgression. When the Meanie had wandered off, Mr B. telephoned me, as I was now out of earshot, to relay the news that we were in 'deep shit' with the council. The machine required a permit based on a full risk assessment and traffic management analysis. I had been ordered to stop work immediately until the paperwork was in order.
It was on another sickeningly wobbly descent that the battery which powered the hydraulics decided to go flat. Yesterday I remembered discussing whether the auxiliary diesel engine relied on this same battery to start itself? It didn't make any sense, so we happily concluded it must have a separate battery otherwise you'd just end up stuck in the air. Stuck in the air was exactly right, the starter for the diesel engine was dependent on the very same battery. It just made a few growling noises, and there was little sign of any starting. I then spent a few anxious minutes waiting for the battery to recover a bit for one last try. Luckily on this occasion the thing roared to life, thus avoiding any embarrassed calls to Martin Plant Hire.
Mr B. disappeared to the council offices and eventually came back clutching the requisite permit. This together with my operators course certificate issued yesterday by the man from Martin Plant Hire meant that we were now 'fully legal', as Mr B. put it. Perhaps this was just as well; now that the morning had been wasted, the proceedings were bedevilled by lunchtime pupils from the local school ducking by on the pavement so far below.
It was on another sickeningly wobbly descent that the battery which powered the hydraulics decided to go flat. Yesterday I remembered discussing whether the auxiliary diesel engine relied on this same battery to start itself? It didn't make any sense, so we happily concluded it must have a separate battery otherwise you'd just end up stuck in the air. Stuck in the air was exactly right, the starter for the diesel engine was dependent on the very same battery. It just made a few growling noises, and there was little sign of any starting. I then spent a few anxious minutes waiting for the battery to recover a bit for one last try. Luckily on this occasion the thing roared to life, thus avoiding any embarrassed calls to Martin Plant Hire.
Mr B. disappeared to the council offices and eventually came back clutching the requisite permit. This together with my operators course certificate issued yesterday by the man from Martin Plant Hire meant that we were now 'fully legal', as Mr B. put it. Perhaps this was just as well; now that the morning had been wasted, the proceedings were bedevilled by lunchtime pupils from the local school ducking by on the pavement so far below.
8th November. Pure Fear.
Today was to provide perfect conditions for examining the nature of pure fear.
The man from Martin Plant Hire arrived first thing with the 'Cherry Picker' (mobile access platform), then immediately had to go away again. The machine was completely inadequate for the job as far as a height requirement of about 60 feet was concerned. Half-an-hour later another machine arrived. The man from Martin Plant gave me a briefing on the controls as we went up in the air, but only to the extent that his own personal comfort zone allowed, this was still well within mine, "Ha, I can see my house from here!" he quipped, nervously. The chimney stack only seemed marginally closer from this vantage point...
Once alone with the contraption I found that Pure Fear began at about the level of the 2nd storey, I kept the control lever up as the platform wobbled its way further from the ground. Looking down, the trailer unit with its hydraulic supports jutting into the morning traffic in Rose Terrace, looked about the size of a 50 pence piece. Mr B, down in the street, was now out of earshot and only contactable by mobile phone. This wasn't like abseiling or parachuting with one simple surrender and no further say in the matter. Fear increased in direct proportion to the height from the ground as did the sickening wobble caused by the play in the various moving parts. I could maintain complete control over the height but not my heart rate. This resulted in an interesting battle between rational thoughts and irrational ones.
"We've never had one topple over" had been the last words of the man from Martin Plant.
The man from Martin Plant Hire arrived first thing with the 'Cherry Picker' (mobile access platform), then immediately had to go away again. The machine was completely inadequate for the job as far as a height requirement of about 60 feet was concerned. Half-an-hour later another machine arrived. The man from Martin Plant gave me a briefing on the controls as we went up in the air, but only to the extent that his own personal comfort zone allowed, this was still well within mine, "Ha, I can see my house from here!" he quipped, nervously. The chimney stack only seemed marginally closer from this vantage point...
Once alone with the contraption I found that Pure Fear began at about the level of the 2nd storey, I kept the control lever up as the platform wobbled its way further from the ground. Looking down, the trailer unit with its hydraulic supports jutting into the morning traffic in Rose Terrace, looked about the size of a 50 pence piece. Mr B, down in the street, was now out of earshot and only contactable by mobile phone. This wasn't like abseiling or parachuting with one simple surrender and no further say in the matter. Fear increased in direct proportion to the height from the ground as did the sickening wobble caused by the play in the various moving parts. I could maintain complete control over the height but not my heart rate. This resulted in an interesting battle between rational thoughts and irrational ones.
"We've never had one topple over" had been the last words of the man from Martin Plant.
7th November. Extreme Right.
Mr B. hadn't actually noticed the discrepancy which came to light whilst being frisked before a recent flight departure. The airport secutity man was moved to pass comment whilst checking the lower half of Mr B's body. "Do you know your right leg is much wider than your left, sir?" "No" replied Mr B "No I didn't, actually."
This increase of right leg musculature is a long term result of not being much good at kicking a football with his left leg in earlier life. Similarly Mr B's passion for squash has ended up with the right forearm massively developed compared with the left and this has exacerbated the entire right handedness. A continuing imbalance hasn't been the best thing for back pain though and a physiiotherapist recommended some sort of activity with an equal use of both sides.
Mr B went out and bought a kayak. The initial paddling trials on Loch Alsh found Mr B's efforts to go straight ahead more or less describing a circle.
This increase of right leg musculature is a long term result of not being much good at kicking a football with his left leg in earlier life. Similarly Mr B's passion for squash has ended up with the right forearm massively developed compared with the left and this has exacerbated the entire right handedness. A continuing imbalance hasn't been the best thing for back pain though and a physiiotherapist recommended some sort of activity with an equal use of both sides.
Mr B went out and bought a kayak. The initial paddling trials on Loch Alsh found Mr B's efforts to go straight ahead more or less describing a circle.
6th November. Fantasy Exercise.
This morning there was rather a strange smell like the drains when I arrived at the G.D.s', both indoors and outdoors. Not exactly a stench, but not evocative of health and vitality either. I didn't feel it was really my place to raise the subject. Mr G.D. slept on through the odour and likewise the tennis on Sky Sports.
When I arrived home Isabelle was clutching the laptop and lying prone on the sofa bed, having folded it back into a sofa. Notification by e-mail had arrived confirming that her mother (60) had reached the roof of Africa yesterday (5895metres).
I finished the day half watching some fly-on-the-wall thing about fat people trying to walk from one end of the country to the other.
When I arrived home Isabelle was clutching the laptop and lying prone on the sofa bed, having folded it back into a sofa. Notification by e-mail had arrived confirming that her mother (60) had reached the roof of Africa yesterday (5895metres).
I finished the day half watching some fly-on-the-wall thing about fat people trying to walk from one end of the country to the other.
5th November. High (Calorie) Tea.
Clocked in at the local restaurant for the peculiarly Scottish phenomenon known as 'High Tea'. This traditional fare seems to be unique to Sundays. The event kicks off around 4pm, contestants are advised to bring an empty stomach. The first appearance on the table is about a gallon of tea, for everything else that follows to swim around in. Next up a rack of toast with jam like you're about to breakfast. Then the dinner arrives, usually good old-fashioned standards, I opted for close-to-extinction breaded haddock, 'Mrs Junior to be' had Growth hormone chicken curry with GM rice, Isabelle and Junior had steak and mushrooms with Creutzfeldt-Jakob fears and everyone must have chips. Then the tiered cake stand arrives with the ubiquitous selection of high calorie delicacies for the sweet tooth. These are all part of the set price, but what kind of constitution can stomach a fruit scone then maybe a meringue after a chicken curry?
4th November. Gar's Generous Big Bang.
In the end Fergus's dad was rescheduled for the Tour of Ostentation later in the week. That meant there was only four of us plus Pete the nominated driver that made the journey to the invite-only firework fest with free burger van and bar. The bonfire was a splendid affair of straw bails, old tyres,10 gallons of diesel and a mountain of pallets. Then John the ex-fireman and Ross, replete in fireproof suits, just ran around setting light to as many fireworks as possible in the shortest time. These had been lined up previous to the event. The effect of the 'display' was, I imagine, a bit like what would happen if a spark had jumped into a £3000 selection box. We all stood watching money burn at the rate of £400-a-minute.
3rd November. Review of the film Borat...Not!
Life goes on. During the afternoon Mr G.D. slumbered through the snooker on Sky Sports, which made a change from the cricket of the previous two days. It's a shame that this is all that happens when there's so little time left.
Tonight there was no fight at the cinema between young people similarly wasting their lives, which also represented a departure from any set pattern for fridays. This weekend we have visitors; 'Junior' and 'Mrs Junior to be', squashed into the back of the Daihatsu on top of various power tools "My leg has gone dead" (moan).
It's the first visit for exactly a year, it could be a mutual love of explosion? The main reason being the prospect of 'Gar's several thousand £'s of fireworks going off tomorrow night with a bang. Of course Father and son have a lot more in common; an over riding sense of futility, preoccupation with the shortness of life, that sort of thing. At this precise time, like two orbiting planets our transits cross at a unique point where I am exactly twice his age. I said, "I don't feel like you've already lived half my life. it doesn't seem that long since you came out in the labour suite."
Tonight there was no fight at the cinema between young people similarly wasting their lives, which also represented a departure from any set pattern for fridays. This weekend we have visitors; 'Junior' and 'Mrs Junior to be', squashed into the back of the Daihatsu on top of various power tools "My leg has gone dead" (moan).
It's the first visit for exactly a year, it could be a mutual love of explosion? The main reason being the prospect of 'Gar's several thousand £'s of fireworks going off tomorrow night with a bang. Of course Father and son have a lot more in common; an over riding sense of futility, preoccupation with the shortness of life, that sort of thing. At this precise time, like two orbiting planets our transits cross at a unique point where I am exactly twice his age. I said, "I don't feel like you've already lived half my life. it doesn't seem that long since you came out in the labour suite."
2nd November. Swim Club.
The first rule of Swim Club is, you do not talk about Swim Club...?
I wondered if I'd be the worst because some of the older men and women weren't exactly streamlined, although certainly buoyant. Once in the water, I was confirmed as the most inefficient swimmer, even though I was already relegated to the lane for the most in need of coaching. The training programme consisted of alternately gulping air or water and getting progressively more knackered as the hour went on; I was given special dispensation to rest up from the full quota of lengths.
Kicking legs only, stretched out with a float held in front, I found that the other end of the pool didn't seem to be getting any closer. I'm tempted to say "this is hopeless", but then it would certainly never get any better. Seems like I have to learn to "feel the water moving past me" amongst other things, more than enough to occupy the mind in between fighting for breath. I leave the inappropriately named "Leisure Pool" at 10.30pm. feeling like I may not wake up tomorrow.
I wondered if I'd be the worst because some of the older men and women weren't exactly streamlined, although certainly buoyant. Once in the water, I was confirmed as the most inefficient swimmer, even though I was already relegated to the lane for the most in need of coaching. The training programme consisted of alternately gulping air or water and getting progressively more knackered as the hour went on; I was given special dispensation to rest up from the full quota of lengths.
Kicking legs only, stretched out with a float held in front, I found that the other end of the pool didn't seem to be getting any closer. I'm tempted to say "this is hopeless", but then it would certainly never get any better. Seems like I have to learn to "feel the water moving past me" amongst other things, more than enough to occupy the mind in between fighting for breath. I leave the inappropriately named "Leisure Pool" at 10.30pm. feeling like I may not wake up tomorrow.
1st November. Maturity Plus.
Mr G.D. sat slumbering in front of the cricket on Sky Sports, next to the motorised wheelchair and surrounded by various medications. This was a remarkable feat considering I was bashing away with a hammer and bolster not six feet from his ear drums. Admittedly his hearing is a little impaired, as is mine, but I have the benefit of ear defenders.
Mrs G.D. is out visiting, an afternoons light relief from the duty of caring for an older husband. Marrying a younger woman possibly keeps a man younger but there comes a time, it's inevitable, when things take a... downturn. Quite a recent state of affairs judging by the numbers of retrievers and gun dogs all desperate for exercise and the plethora of fly fishing rods and waders.
The downstairs toilet interior charts past visits to both the Arctic and Antarctic, the Polar Bear and the Adelie Penguin; ironic now that the desired effect of fitting this multi-fuel stove is to more or less create a permanent equatorial heat.
Mrs G.D. is out visiting, an afternoons light relief from the duty of caring for an older husband. Marrying a younger woman possibly keeps a man younger but there comes a time, it's inevitable, when things take a... downturn. Quite a recent state of affairs judging by the numbers of retrievers and gun dogs all desperate for exercise and the plethora of fly fishing rods and waders.
The downstairs toilet interior charts past visits to both the Arctic and Antarctic, the Polar Bear and the Adelie Penguin; ironic now that the desired effect of fitting this multi-fuel stove is to more or less create a permanent equatorial heat.
31st October. The Greenhouse Effect.
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.
"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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)