Those of you who have read the full race report on the Rat Race website will know that we missed out the section where we would have had to slide down Hillend (an artificial ski slope) in inner tubes. Too bad! It looked like a lot of fun, and we could have used the ski-lift to cut out some climbing too...
But if you want to check out someone taking on a real challenge, take a look at what Jamie Andrew is up to. An acquaintance of Al's, he's taking on the equivalent of an iron man: a full on triathlon, including a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile cycle and 26.2 mile marathon-length run. A tough race for anyone.
Now imagine doing it with no hands or feet.
Now go to Jamie's fundraising site to sponsor his amputees' charity, 500 Miles.
Wednesday 25 July 2007
Tuesday 24 July 2007
Results
Just to say, the official results are out. We came a fairly inglorious 133rd out of 183 teams, or 9th out of 13 all-female teams. Something to better next year, anyway! Can't find any photos of our team, though there were lots of photographers around the course. So if anyone comes across some, do let me know. We were team number 172 and had big yellow feathers on our bags. I was wearing a pink cycling helmet.
Spent a quiet week relaxing and not being sure what to do with myself now that I have nothing to train for. There was no surf and plenty of rain. Went out to dinner on Saturday at Daniel's in Leith, which I'd been meaning to go to for ages. Unfortunately it was a bit of a disappointment. I choose poorly from the menu (on the grounds that I could make tartiflette myself at home) and ended up with a cassoulet so salty that I was gulping water and couldn't finish it. A shame as the meat itself was beautifully cooked. Luckily Al was there to polish it off. And then my floating island was clearly cut from a big block and spongy with gelatin. Not really worth £40 a head.
More interesting was the film we went to see beforehand, 'Shut Up and Sing'. This was a documentary about country rock band the Dixie Chicks and the reaction in the States after they spoke out about the war in Iraq. The Chicks came over very well: intelligent, articulate and with great eye make-up. It also gave an insight into what life in a band is like and the sort of business decisions they had to make.
Had a good stretch out at aquafit yesterday with a new French instructor (or at least, she sounded French) which was good for the arms as we did lots of work wearing big webbed gloves to increase resistance in the water. If the weather holds tonight I'm hoping to persuade Hilary to walk up Arthur's Seat with me - we've done no training for Skye since the Pentlands walk weeks ago.
Spent a quiet week relaxing and not being sure what to do with myself now that I have nothing to train for. There was no surf and plenty of rain. Went out to dinner on Saturday at Daniel's in Leith, which I'd been meaning to go to for ages. Unfortunately it was a bit of a disappointment. I choose poorly from the menu (on the grounds that I could make tartiflette myself at home) and ended up with a cassoulet so salty that I was gulping water and couldn't finish it. A shame as the meat itself was beautifully cooked. Luckily Al was there to polish it off. And then my floating island was clearly cut from a big block and spongy with gelatin. Not really worth £40 a head.
More interesting was the film we went to see beforehand, 'Shut Up and Sing'. This was a documentary about country rock band the Dixie Chicks and the reaction in the States after they spoke out about the war in Iraq. The Chicks came over very well: intelligent, articulate and with great eye make-up. It also gave an insight into what life in a band is like and the sort of business decisions they had to make.
Had a good stretch out at aquafit yesterday with a new French instructor (or at least, she sounded French) which was good for the arms as we did lots of work wearing big webbed gloves to increase resistance in the water. If the weather holds tonight I'm hoping to persuade Hilary to walk up Arthur's Seat with me - we've done no training for Skye since the Pentlands walk weeks ago.
Thursday 19 July 2007
Rat Race Part III
Where was I? Oh yes, heading back across the Cramond causeway. Well we picked up our bikes and cycled east along the Forth to a spot where we had a challenge of burying one of our rucksacks in the wet sand - mine being nominated as the smallest it survived the experience surprisingly well, though my whistle, which was hanging on the outside, did end up a bit gritty.
Then it was further on to the lighthouse on Shore Road, behind which lurked a ropes and climbing gear warehouse we'd never known about, despite running past there regularly. There was a massive queue for the climbing challenge, the result of our position at the back of the field, and it was moving slowly as only two ropes were set up. The challenge was to climb a climbing wall of about 30 feet - but using ice axes instead of handholds. Lee bravely volunteered and I reassured her that it looked quite straightforward while secretly thinking it looked hideous. We ended up waiting for a hour, and should really have skipped this section to get further round the course. But eventually Lee got to the front and womanfully made it up the wall, despite a couple of hairy moments. You could really see the effort climbers were putting in, with lots of wobbly arms and legs on display.
Next stop was Granton Harbour - or it might have been Newhaven, I'm not sure. Maybe they're the same place. Anyway, the climbing queue had thinned people out so there was no queue for the kayaks and we duly launched two of the plastic beasts. Jo took one alone and promptly steamed off ahead and became a small speck in the distance while Lee and I cruised gently behind, having a discussion about nail polish. I've no idea how far it was, but I think it took us about half an hour of continuous, if not particularly strenuous, paddling. Towards the end, the wind picked up and created some interesting cross waves, so we were glad to be back on the beach, where Jo had already landed, got her trainers back on and persuaded some blokes to carry her kayak back to the pile for her. The fact that the marshalls were loading kayaks back on to their trailers as we left shows how far behind we were now!
We were directed up yet more steps (I was beginning to wish I had borrowed Rachel's folding bike) and back along the coast to Pilton. The previous night I had been amused by the instructions to navigate through Pilton and Muirhouse - some of the less scenic areas of Edinburgh where I'd spent my Telford College days trying to persuade wee schemies to sign up to plumbing courses. Now the idea seemed less amusing as we got lost in the maze of residential streets. The instructions said we weren't to use Muirhouse Parkway or Silverknowles Road - whether to prevent them being congested by hundreds of bikes or because that would make navigation too easy I don't know. In the end, we were directed by some kids who surrounded Jo when we stopped in a slightly unnerving but ultimately friendly fashion. Another couple of blokes pointed us the right way too - so never let it be said that the folk of Muirhouse are not good-hearted. We also cheated a bit and used part of Muirhouse Parkway.
Finally we found our clock in point attached to a lamp post and headed west to Davidson Mains and Corstophine Hill. Thank goodness Jo was navigating here as I blindly followed where she led, able to see little beyond the handlebars of my bike as I pushed it up a series of vertical mud banks. If nothing else, I have to make sure the lower gears are working next year. We also passed another team! Hurrah! They looked even more useless than us! Jo's prowess led us to a particular bench and another clock in point before a steep descent. It was becoming clear that every one line of the nine pages of instructions took about an hour to complete on the ground and we were discussing possibilities for cutting the route short.
But first we had to finish at least the first half of the course. We headed for Ravelston Dykes and joined the same cycle path we'd been on that morning, stopping for me to abseil off a bridge into the Water of Leith. I didn't really get time to think about this and it was only when I screeched (well, swung) to a halt a few feet from a soggy landing that I realised.
'You mean I have to land actually in the water?'
'Yup.'
Well there wasn't much I could do about it by that point so I completed my inelegant descent with a gentle splosh. So much for keeping my trainers dry after the swim. (Incidentally, Jo, a freshwater biologist, informed me afterwards that the River Almond is 75% treated sewage effluent. Nice). My hard-working team mates had again had to carry my bike down to the river for me - I was getting good at choosing challenges that exempted me from hard work. Although the lackadaisical attitude of the marshall had been a little worrying. He'd asked if I'd abseiled before and when I told him not since I was about 13 his instruction consisted of 'Hold on to this rope with your right hand.' Hardly comprehensive.
But we were back on the bikes in one, or rather three, pieces. And from there via Haymarket (yay! the steepest set of steps yet!) back to Princes Street Gardens. There we were asked to deflate and reflate the tyres of one bike - at last! A chance to pump up that back tyre of mine! Jo was shocked at the state of my 'walls' - the sides of my tyres. Apparently you're not supposed to be able to see the stringy stuff.
Finally we were allowed to download all our hard won points and to go to the loo. Not that going to the loo had been forbidden before, we just hadn't really had an opportunity. I also got to change my contact lenses, which were getting a bit dry as I'd worn disposables in case the swimming was in the sea. We had a quick confab about the rest of the course. We'd already passed the cut off time for most of it - even if we'd cycled flat out we would have been turned back at the first challenge. And none of us had been looking forward to cycling up the Pentlands.
So we decided instead to head for the last challenge, which was at Tynecastle Stadium - enemy Hearts territory. Jo was hoping for something football related, but to my relief we were asked first to make our bikes stand up on their own (no problem: I had grown increasingly incensed at my bikes inability to be carried up steps without its front tyre swinging right round and whacking me in the face so I knew that I could turn the wheel perpendicular to the body of the bike and prop Jo's and Lee's on either side). Then two team members were to climb up an inside strut of the stadium and one to abseil down the outside. I gave the others but the briefest of chances to pick the abseil before claiming it as my own. It was quite a dull abseil as the back of the roof was curved so you only needed to walk down.
Then we had a sit down in the car park. We thought about going back to some more challenges (it was about 5pm at this point and we had to be back by 7). But another team revealed that you couldn't collect points for challenges completed out of sequence, and of course we'd just done the last one. So instead we pedalled back to Princes Street where we somewhat embarrassedly ran through the 'event village' to shouts of encouragement from spectators. I felt a bit of a fraud. One final challenge - to score a basketball basket each, which, amazingly, I managed on only my third attempt - and we were done.
We felt surprisingly ok, possibly because we'd missed out about half the course...Saw Graham the Friendly Physio giving massages to competitors and said hello. Lee and I have both seen him with the same penguin-toed problem which causes knee pain. Neither of us had been doing the exercises we were supposed to so we kept him off the subject - instead he professed that he'd like to enter the Rat Race himself next year! The next day I met Colin in Sainsbury's and he suggested getting his brother involved. The more the merrier, for if there are boys teams to compete against each other then it will leave us girls to concentrate on just getting round the whole course - a challenge in itself.
The aftermath? We met up for lunch on Monday and although we were all a bit stiff we also all felt we could have pushed ourselves more. the problem, we decided, was that we didn't like doing things that hurt. The solution would of course be to train much harder so that it didn't hurt as much. Hmm. We shall see.
Then it was further on to the lighthouse on Shore Road, behind which lurked a ropes and climbing gear warehouse we'd never known about, despite running past there regularly. There was a massive queue for the climbing challenge, the result of our position at the back of the field, and it was moving slowly as only two ropes were set up. The challenge was to climb a climbing wall of about 30 feet - but using ice axes instead of handholds. Lee bravely volunteered and I reassured her that it looked quite straightforward while secretly thinking it looked hideous. We ended up waiting for a hour, and should really have skipped this section to get further round the course. But eventually Lee got to the front and womanfully made it up the wall, despite a couple of hairy moments. You could really see the effort climbers were putting in, with lots of wobbly arms and legs on display.
Next stop was Granton Harbour - or it might have been Newhaven, I'm not sure. Maybe they're the same place. Anyway, the climbing queue had thinned people out so there was no queue for the kayaks and we duly launched two of the plastic beasts. Jo took one alone and promptly steamed off ahead and became a small speck in the distance while Lee and I cruised gently behind, having a discussion about nail polish. I've no idea how far it was, but I think it took us about half an hour of continuous, if not particularly strenuous, paddling. Towards the end, the wind picked up and created some interesting cross waves, so we were glad to be back on the beach, where Jo had already landed, got her trainers back on and persuaded some blokes to carry her kayak back to the pile for her. The fact that the marshalls were loading kayaks back on to their trailers as we left shows how far behind we were now!
We were directed up yet more steps (I was beginning to wish I had borrowed Rachel's folding bike) and back along the coast to Pilton. The previous night I had been amused by the instructions to navigate through Pilton and Muirhouse - some of the less scenic areas of Edinburgh where I'd spent my Telford College days trying to persuade wee schemies to sign up to plumbing courses. Now the idea seemed less amusing as we got lost in the maze of residential streets. The instructions said we weren't to use Muirhouse Parkway or Silverknowles Road - whether to prevent them being congested by hundreds of bikes or because that would make navigation too easy I don't know. In the end, we were directed by some kids who surrounded Jo when we stopped in a slightly unnerving but ultimately friendly fashion. Another couple of blokes pointed us the right way too - so never let it be said that the folk of Muirhouse are not good-hearted. We also cheated a bit and used part of Muirhouse Parkway.
Finally we found our clock in point attached to a lamp post and headed west to Davidson Mains and Corstophine Hill. Thank goodness Jo was navigating here as I blindly followed where she led, able to see little beyond the handlebars of my bike as I pushed it up a series of vertical mud banks. If nothing else, I have to make sure the lower gears are working next year. We also passed another team! Hurrah! They looked even more useless than us! Jo's prowess led us to a particular bench and another clock in point before a steep descent. It was becoming clear that every one line of the nine pages of instructions took about an hour to complete on the ground and we were discussing possibilities for cutting the route short.
But first we had to finish at least the first half of the course. We headed for Ravelston Dykes and joined the same cycle path we'd been on that morning, stopping for me to abseil off a bridge into the Water of Leith. I didn't really get time to think about this and it was only when I screeched (well, swung) to a halt a few feet from a soggy landing that I realised.
'You mean I have to land actually in the water?'
'Yup.'
Well there wasn't much I could do about it by that point so I completed my inelegant descent with a gentle splosh. So much for keeping my trainers dry after the swim. (Incidentally, Jo, a freshwater biologist, informed me afterwards that the River Almond is 75% treated sewage effluent. Nice). My hard-working team mates had again had to carry my bike down to the river for me - I was getting good at choosing challenges that exempted me from hard work. Although the lackadaisical attitude of the marshall had been a little worrying. He'd asked if I'd abseiled before and when I told him not since I was about 13 his instruction consisted of 'Hold on to this rope with your right hand.' Hardly comprehensive.
But we were back on the bikes in one, or rather three, pieces. And from there via Haymarket (yay! the steepest set of steps yet!) back to Princes Street Gardens. There we were asked to deflate and reflate the tyres of one bike - at last! A chance to pump up that back tyre of mine! Jo was shocked at the state of my 'walls' - the sides of my tyres. Apparently you're not supposed to be able to see the stringy stuff.
Finally we were allowed to download all our hard won points and to go to the loo. Not that going to the loo had been forbidden before, we just hadn't really had an opportunity. I also got to change my contact lenses, which were getting a bit dry as I'd worn disposables in case the swimming was in the sea. We had a quick confab about the rest of the course. We'd already passed the cut off time for most of it - even if we'd cycled flat out we would have been turned back at the first challenge. And none of us had been looking forward to cycling up the Pentlands.
So we decided instead to head for the last challenge, which was at Tynecastle Stadium - enemy Hearts territory. Jo was hoping for something football related, but to my relief we were asked first to make our bikes stand up on their own (no problem: I had grown increasingly incensed at my bikes inability to be carried up steps without its front tyre swinging right round and whacking me in the face so I knew that I could turn the wheel perpendicular to the body of the bike and prop Jo's and Lee's on either side). Then two team members were to climb up an inside strut of the stadium and one to abseil down the outside. I gave the others but the briefest of chances to pick the abseil before claiming it as my own. It was quite a dull abseil as the back of the roof was curved so you only needed to walk down.
Then we had a sit down in the car park. We thought about going back to some more challenges (it was about 5pm at this point and we had to be back by 7). But another team revealed that you couldn't collect points for challenges completed out of sequence, and of course we'd just done the last one. So instead we pedalled back to Princes Street where we somewhat embarrassedly ran through the 'event village' to shouts of encouragement from spectators. I felt a bit of a fraud. One final challenge - to score a basketball basket each, which, amazingly, I managed on only my third attempt - and we were done.
We felt surprisingly ok, possibly because we'd missed out about half the course...Saw Graham the Friendly Physio giving massages to competitors and said hello. Lee and I have both seen him with the same penguin-toed problem which causes knee pain. Neither of us had been doing the exercises we were supposed to so we kept him off the subject - instead he professed that he'd like to enter the Rat Race himself next year! The next day I met Colin in Sainsbury's and he suggested getting his brother involved. The more the merrier, for if there are boys teams to compete against each other then it will leave us girls to concentrate on just getting round the whole course - a challenge in itself.
The aftermath? We met up for lunch on Monday and although we were all a bit stiff we also all felt we could have pushed ourselves more. the problem, we decided, was that we didn't like doing things that hurt. The solution would of course be to train much harder so that it didn't hurt as much. Hmm. We shall see.
Wednesday 18 July 2007
Rat Race Part II
Sunday dawned bright and, yes, actually sunny! I discarded my sweatshirt and waterproof as excess weight and headed out of the door with only my official race shirt between me and the elements. And a bra and pants, of course. And leggings.
Actually, a lot of thought had gone into the pants as the race website had warned that one team member would have to swim 100 metres. Neither Lee not Jo was particularly keen on this idea, especially as the swim was described as 'full of beasties' (or so I thought: in retrospect it seems they just didn't fancy stripping off in public). I had therefore dressed in the expectation of having to strip off, in my best big pants. Even bigger pants, with built in padding - as purchased from the bike shop where such items are considered desirable - were packed as spares in my rucksack. Along with climbing helmet and harness, emergency blanket, water, ibuprofen, compass, whistle, Lucozade, cereal bars, chocolate and oatcakes. I also carried three bright yellow ostrich feathers which I'd bought as Lee had said it was difficult to tell everyone apart in matching race shirts and helmets, and as team mates we had to stay within 100 metres of each other.
So off I set at five to 7, pausing only briefly to force down some cereal and a banana and consider deliberately setting off my smoke alarm to punish my noisy neighbours who had kept their party up until 5am. But I am too nice, and considered the feelings of my much better behaved neighbour upstairs and so refrained. I didn't even kick their front door as I cycled past.
Cycling to Princes Street I was overtaken by a fellow Rat Racer who called a cheery 'Good morning!'. Shit - the day hadn't even started and already I was being falling behind.
I rendezvoused with Lee and Jo and distributed the feathers, which we attached to our rucksacks. There was a quick briefing and then it was straight into the 'dispersal exercise'. This was the organisers' way of splitting us up so that Edinburgh was not forced to take the full brunt of 600 Rat Racers hitting the streets simultaneously. First we set off in a circular run that squeezed us through a narrow gate back into Princes Street Gardens - this pushed Team XX back to the last third. Then we had to get a look at a map of where four clues had been distributed around the gardens and split up to retrieve them. As Chief Runner I was assigned two of the four, which were luckily quite close to each other. Jo fetched hers ok. But Lee had volunteered to fetch the furthest away and as all the other teams streamed out of the gardens and we were left without her, Jo and I started to worry that she'd fallen down a well or broken an ankle. Luckily she'd merely been waylaid by a locked gate, but this mishap left us at the back of the field as we headed out on foot to the New Town, where we had to collect points from four different sockets. Some teams were back and collecting their bikes before we'd even left the gardens! And to add insult to injury we didn't even need Lee's clue: the clues were parts of an aerial photo of the New Town and the nearest points were on other bits.
Points duly collected we were allowed to pick up our bikes and set out on the 'proper' part of the day - exhausted already! Running with a rucksack with all that kit is my least favourite thing in the world.
We headed for the Grassmarket and then Chambers Street, where we had a choice of riding our bikes down a steep set of steps or carrying them. Having heard from my work pal Julia, also in a team, about her unsuccessful attempts to practice riding down steps, we took the walking option. From there it was the steep uphill of Old Fishmarket Close that provided another technical difficulty as Lee's chain decided it didn't like low gears and promptly fell off. She valiantly hoicked it on again and spent the rest of the day not going below 3rd gear (as did I, since my bike didn't seem too keen on the idea either).
Shortly after this I witnessed a girl from another team get a spectacular puncture with a loud pop and thought 'I'm glad that's not me'. Ah, the karma as, having carried the bikes down the steps of Warriston Close and cycled on to George Street, my front tyre went 'phssst'. Well, we were already about the last team out there, so we decided to regard this as God's way of telling us to take it easy. I watched in awe as Jo did a Formula One pit stop act on my inner tube, replacing it in about three minutes while I said helpful things like 'Is it supposed to look like that?'. Just as we were ready to set off again a bloke on a racing bike stopped by to see if we needed any help.
'No thank, we've just changed the inner tube.'
'I've got a racing inner but not a mountain bike one I'm afraid.'
'It's ok - we've already changed it.'
'Your back tyre could do with pumping up too - I've got a pump.'
'Really, it's fine, we've got one, we'll do it at the first queue.'
He seemed almost put out that we didn't require his services. But at least we were back on the move.
So to Haymarket and on to - ah bliss! - a cycle path. We toddled along, enjoying the shady trees and counting the bridges we passed under as the instructions demanded. After eight bridges we hauled the bikes up a steep bank to clock in for some points and then continue along the top of the overgrown path. We were right at the back so most of the vegetation had been trampled, but there were still nettles and brambles enough to snag Lee's bike and cause her to fall in dramatic slow motion into a spiky bush.
We joined a path alongside the River Almond - it was time for my dip. Luckily it was turning into a hot day and I was nice and sweaty and about ready for a wash. The water was chilly but a bit of energetic kicking kept me warm until I reached the lovely slippery muddy bank downstream where we emerged. In the meantime, my teammates had to carry all three bikes up some hideously steep wooden steps - as I swam round the bottom of a cliff, they were hiking over the top. I think I definitely got the better deal on this one, even if I did have to stand around on the river bank in my wet undies for a bit. I'd worried about my lack of specialist skills to bring to the team (Lee and Jo both being better climbers and kayakers than me) but it seemed that the ability to get changed in public, as honed in dozens of surf trip car parks, was in fact a key skill.
We continued, with me in nice dry padded pants but a damp bra, to Cramond. Here we left the bikes and walked (swiftly, but nowhere near running speed) across the causeway to Cramond Island. The island has various old bunkers on it left over from the war (the causeway itself runs alongside old submarine defences) and our first task was to don climbing helmets and 'storm the fort' by climbing up dangling ropes to a concrete balcony while enthusiastic marshalls threw eggs, bananas and flour at us. What a great job! I want to be a marshall next year! Luckily they had almost run out by the time we got there and apart from a near miss with an egg we were unscathed.
We headed for the north east corner of the island to find a 'prisoner' who, when we found him, looked cold and bored but gave us points and a clue which allowed us access to the next challenge: one team member had to climb a section of cliff. Jo volunteered for what she later described as 'an easy traverse'. I think this means a sort of sideways climb. Lee and I sat at the top and ate cereal bars. Julia's team had also reached this point and we had a quick chat before heading back to the mainland.
It was only about 11am!
Actually, a lot of thought had gone into the pants as the race website had warned that one team member would have to swim 100 metres. Neither Lee not Jo was particularly keen on this idea, especially as the swim was described as 'full of beasties' (or so I thought: in retrospect it seems they just didn't fancy stripping off in public). I had therefore dressed in the expectation of having to strip off, in my best big pants. Even bigger pants, with built in padding - as purchased from the bike shop where such items are considered desirable - were packed as spares in my rucksack. Along with climbing helmet and harness, emergency blanket, water, ibuprofen, compass, whistle, Lucozade, cereal bars, chocolate and oatcakes. I also carried three bright yellow ostrich feathers which I'd bought as Lee had said it was difficult to tell everyone apart in matching race shirts and helmets, and as team mates we had to stay within 100 metres of each other.
So off I set at five to 7, pausing only briefly to force down some cereal and a banana and consider deliberately setting off my smoke alarm to punish my noisy neighbours who had kept their party up until 5am. But I am too nice, and considered the feelings of my much better behaved neighbour upstairs and so refrained. I didn't even kick their front door as I cycled past.
Cycling to Princes Street I was overtaken by a fellow Rat Racer who called a cheery 'Good morning!'. Shit - the day hadn't even started and already I was being falling behind.
I rendezvoused with Lee and Jo and distributed the feathers, which we attached to our rucksacks. There was a quick briefing and then it was straight into the 'dispersal exercise'. This was the organisers' way of splitting us up so that Edinburgh was not forced to take the full brunt of 600 Rat Racers hitting the streets simultaneously. First we set off in a circular run that squeezed us through a narrow gate back into Princes Street Gardens - this pushed Team XX back to the last third. Then we had to get a look at a map of where four clues had been distributed around the gardens and split up to retrieve them. As Chief Runner I was assigned two of the four, which were luckily quite close to each other. Jo fetched hers ok. But Lee had volunteered to fetch the furthest away and as all the other teams streamed out of the gardens and we were left without her, Jo and I started to worry that she'd fallen down a well or broken an ankle. Luckily she'd merely been waylaid by a locked gate, but this mishap left us at the back of the field as we headed out on foot to the New Town, where we had to collect points from four different sockets. Some teams were back and collecting their bikes before we'd even left the gardens! And to add insult to injury we didn't even need Lee's clue: the clues were parts of an aerial photo of the New Town and the nearest points were on other bits.
Points duly collected we were allowed to pick up our bikes and set out on the 'proper' part of the day - exhausted already! Running with a rucksack with all that kit is my least favourite thing in the world.
We headed for the Grassmarket and then Chambers Street, where we had a choice of riding our bikes down a steep set of steps or carrying them. Having heard from my work pal Julia, also in a team, about her unsuccessful attempts to practice riding down steps, we took the walking option. From there it was the steep uphill of Old Fishmarket Close that provided another technical difficulty as Lee's chain decided it didn't like low gears and promptly fell off. She valiantly hoicked it on again and spent the rest of the day not going below 3rd gear (as did I, since my bike didn't seem too keen on the idea either).
Shortly after this I witnessed a girl from another team get a spectacular puncture with a loud pop and thought 'I'm glad that's not me'. Ah, the karma as, having carried the bikes down the steps of Warriston Close and cycled on to George Street, my front tyre went 'phssst'. Well, we were already about the last team out there, so we decided to regard this as God's way of telling us to take it easy. I watched in awe as Jo did a Formula One pit stop act on my inner tube, replacing it in about three minutes while I said helpful things like 'Is it supposed to look like that?'. Just as we were ready to set off again a bloke on a racing bike stopped by to see if we needed any help.
'No thank, we've just changed the inner tube.'
'I've got a racing inner but not a mountain bike one I'm afraid.'
'It's ok - we've already changed it.'
'Your back tyre could do with pumping up too - I've got a pump.'
'Really, it's fine, we've got one, we'll do it at the first queue.'
He seemed almost put out that we didn't require his services. But at least we were back on the move.
So to Haymarket and on to - ah bliss! - a cycle path. We toddled along, enjoying the shady trees and counting the bridges we passed under as the instructions demanded. After eight bridges we hauled the bikes up a steep bank to clock in for some points and then continue along the top of the overgrown path. We were right at the back so most of the vegetation had been trampled, but there were still nettles and brambles enough to snag Lee's bike and cause her to fall in dramatic slow motion into a spiky bush.
We joined a path alongside the River Almond - it was time for my dip. Luckily it was turning into a hot day and I was nice and sweaty and about ready for a wash. The water was chilly but a bit of energetic kicking kept me warm until I reached the lovely slippery muddy bank downstream where we emerged. In the meantime, my teammates had to carry all three bikes up some hideously steep wooden steps - as I swam round the bottom of a cliff, they were hiking over the top. I think I definitely got the better deal on this one, even if I did have to stand around on the river bank in my wet undies for a bit. I'd worried about my lack of specialist skills to bring to the team (Lee and Jo both being better climbers and kayakers than me) but it seemed that the ability to get changed in public, as honed in dozens of surf trip car parks, was in fact a key skill.
We continued, with me in nice dry padded pants but a damp bra, to Cramond. Here we left the bikes and walked (swiftly, but nowhere near running speed) across the causeway to Cramond Island. The island has various old bunkers on it left over from the war (the causeway itself runs alongside old submarine defences) and our first task was to don climbing helmets and 'storm the fort' by climbing up dangling ropes to a concrete balcony while enthusiastic marshalls threw eggs, bananas and flour at us. What a great job! I want to be a marshall next year! Luckily they had almost run out by the time we got there and apart from a near miss with an egg we were unscathed.
We headed for the north east corner of the island to find a 'prisoner' who, when we found him, looked cold and bored but gave us points and a clue which allowed us access to the next challenge: one team member had to climb a section of cliff. Jo volunteered for what she later described as 'an easy traverse'. I think this means a sort of sideways climb. Lee and I sat at the top and ate cereal bars. Julia's team had also reached this point and we had a quick chat before heading back to the mainland.
It was only about 11am!
Tuesday 17 July 2007
Rat Race Part I
So Saturday dawned, bright and, well, slightly rainy actually. My first task was to return to the bike shop clutching my inner tube to complain that they had sold me one labelled 'kids bikes'. They only slightly patronisingly told me that inner tubes are all the same and I could use it on any bike. Then the girls arrived for our last kit check at12 and Jo told me I'd got one with the wrong sort of valve.
Despite this inauspicious start, we had between us all the necessary paraphernalia and walked with it into town to register. Our climbing harnesses were checked with Jo's being taken off for a special inspection because, being the one Al gave her 10 years ago when he bought a new one, it looked a little the worse for wear. Luckily it was pronounced serviceable and we filled in lots of forms promising not to sue the organisers if we fell off a rock or drowned and telling them who to call if we did fall off a rock or drown. Then we carried all our kit back to my house and returned to Princes Street Gardens by bus with nowt but Lucozade Sport to sustain us.
At 3.30 we were given our instructions and map of Edinburgh, and we spent the next hour marking up the points we had to visit. The idea is that you run to various places and perform tasks to collect points. The number of points per task isn't released until the run starts at 5pm, but we decided on a strategy of heading quickly out of town to Leith, performing lots of tasks there, and then working our way back into town. There was a new time penalty system in place whereby if you took more than 2 and a half hours you got points taken off. The longer you took, the more points per minute you lost. It was all very complicated. Oh, and you get a wrist band with an electronic widget on it which you stick in socket at each place to collect your points.
At 5 o'clock Team XX were off! We headed straight for Calton Hill, and frankly I was knackered by the time we were half way up. At the top our task was to jump along a series of rocks without falling off (and suing the organisers). This we accomplished, but a very rude team of girls behind us were yelling 'Come on!' and 'Hurry up!'. Silly bints - if they wanted us to hurry up they should have got there first. The same team later nearly knocked Jo over running round a corner without apology. We did not take to them. In fact, I will name and shame them: they were team number 22. No team spirit prize for them.
We charged down the hill to Gayfield square, where all we had to do was stick our widgets in the socket for 10 points, then down Leith Walk to Pilrig. Here there was a short queue for the children's playpark challenge where each team of three had to work their way around the inside of a rope climbing frame while sadistic marshalls twirled it around. We did this, collected points and, with Lee feeling a bit sick, set off down Broughton Street to Tiso in Leith. Jo was navigating, Team XX style: 'Left here past Al's flat! Then cut through Ben's car park!'. Thank goodness there were lots of points in Leith and we hadn't been forced to venture into the alien territory of the west end.
At Tiso we successfully located the points socket in one of a series of tents and headed for Ocean Terminal. Here one team member had to climb up the totem - a series of ropes, ladders and beams two storeys high. Lee volunteered and completed in double quick time, like a little monkey (only better looking). Whilst watching her, I noticed another team sporting ridiculously shorn hair. One of the nearby points was a barber shop and I feared I remembered Al telling me of a previous Rat Race where a team member had to have their head shaved to collect points. Interrogating the newly-punked individual proved my theory. Hmm. Head shaving was not a usual part of Team XX's grooming routine. But it was worth 30 points. We resolved to drop in, since it was nearby, and see what deal we could wrangle.
With Lee safely back on the ground, we headed to the lift (10 points from the marshall in the lift) to the top floor of the shopping centre to the boxing gym where we did 20 push-ups, 150 punches to a punch bag and 20 lifts of the medicine ball each to collect our points, then scarpered down the stairs and out through the car park to the barbers. Lee and I explained to the guy wielding the clippers that we would rugby tackle him to the ground if he took more than a tiny amount from Jo's hair at the back. He barely touched the clippers to her neck before we squealed 'That's enough!' so shrilly that he capitulated to save his eardrums. Nice work: 30 points and you couldn't even see the mark. Bearing in mind that we saw guys with full on mohicans, wiggly lines and one with a saltire shaved into the back of his hair.
And so we were off to Newhaven, where we searched out a lobster pot on the sea wall and then climbed seven flights of stairs to a new apartment to answer a questionnaire. This was followed by what should have been riding chopper bikes along the cobbled and sloping sea wall, but the bikes were so knackered by then that we just pushed them.
Time was flying by and we headed for a chip shop where the consumption of a deep fried Mars Bar could have gained us 25 points, but we were too late - some places were only operating for a limited time. Thence to the cycle path under Ferry Road and a tunnel where it took us an excruciating five minutes to find the socket to collect our points. We'd actually been on this route on our last practice run and knew it was a fair way back to town so from there we legged it back along the cycle path to Broughton and then up Dundas Street where even doggedly-determined Jo overtook one red-faced Rat Racer who looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. I'd never really thought about it before, but Dundas Street is really quite steep.
We'd been much slower than we anticipated and didn't have time to collect any points in town - we were already collecting time penalties. So it was a last sprint along Princes Street to the Gardens, to clock in and download out points. They were pretty pathetic - 208 (including 57 minus points for time penalties) compared to over 400 points from Lee, Al and Colin's team last year. We'd reached just 12 of a possible 30 places. But it seemed that quite a few other teams had struggled with timing and we ended up 148th (ish) out of 300 teams after the first day.
Pasta, rice and flapjacks were provided and consumed before we headed back to mine with the route for Sunday, which had just been given out. Luckily the Saturday event finished earlier this year, so we had mapped the next day's route and I was showered and in bed by 11, rather than the 2am Al managed last year. If only my neighbours had had the decency to keep the music down: a pair of earplugs left over from a clay pigeon shooting trip did the trick and I slept till 4am, when I woke up and worried about my alarm going off until it did at 6.30. It was time for the next stage.
Despite this inauspicious start, we had between us all the necessary paraphernalia and walked with it into town to register. Our climbing harnesses were checked with Jo's being taken off for a special inspection because, being the one Al gave her 10 years ago when he bought a new one, it looked a little the worse for wear. Luckily it was pronounced serviceable and we filled in lots of forms promising not to sue the organisers if we fell off a rock or drowned and telling them who to call if we did fall off a rock or drown. Then we carried all our kit back to my house and returned to Princes Street Gardens by bus with nowt but Lucozade Sport to sustain us.
At 3.30 we were given our instructions and map of Edinburgh, and we spent the next hour marking up the points we had to visit. The idea is that you run to various places and perform tasks to collect points. The number of points per task isn't released until the run starts at 5pm, but we decided on a strategy of heading quickly out of town to Leith, performing lots of tasks there, and then working our way back into town. There was a new time penalty system in place whereby if you took more than 2 and a half hours you got points taken off. The longer you took, the more points per minute you lost. It was all very complicated. Oh, and you get a wrist band with an electronic widget on it which you stick in socket at each place to collect your points.
At 5 o'clock Team XX were off! We headed straight for Calton Hill, and frankly I was knackered by the time we were half way up. At the top our task was to jump along a series of rocks without falling off (and suing the organisers). This we accomplished, but a very rude team of girls behind us were yelling 'Come on!' and 'Hurry up!'. Silly bints - if they wanted us to hurry up they should have got there first. The same team later nearly knocked Jo over running round a corner without apology. We did not take to them. In fact, I will name and shame them: they were team number 22. No team spirit prize for them.
We charged down the hill to Gayfield square, where all we had to do was stick our widgets in the socket for 10 points, then down Leith Walk to Pilrig. Here there was a short queue for the children's playpark challenge where each team of three had to work their way around the inside of a rope climbing frame while sadistic marshalls twirled it around. We did this, collected points and, with Lee feeling a bit sick, set off down Broughton Street to Tiso in Leith. Jo was navigating, Team XX style: 'Left here past Al's flat! Then cut through Ben's car park!'. Thank goodness there were lots of points in Leith and we hadn't been forced to venture into the alien territory of the west end.
At Tiso we successfully located the points socket in one of a series of tents and headed for Ocean Terminal. Here one team member had to climb up the totem - a series of ropes, ladders and beams two storeys high. Lee volunteered and completed in double quick time, like a little monkey (only better looking). Whilst watching her, I noticed another team sporting ridiculously shorn hair. One of the nearby points was a barber shop and I feared I remembered Al telling me of a previous Rat Race where a team member had to have their head shaved to collect points. Interrogating the newly-punked individual proved my theory. Hmm. Head shaving was not a usual part of Team XX's grooming routine. But it was worth 30 points. We resolved to drop in, since it was nearby, and see what deal we could wrangle.
With Lee safely back on the ground, we headed to the lift (10 points from the marshall in the lift) to the top floor of the shopping centre to the boxing gym where we did 20 push-ups, 150 punches to a punch bag and 20 lifts of the medicine ball each to collect our points, then scarpered down the stairs and out through the car park to the barbers. Lee and I explained to the guy wielding the clippers that we would rugby tackle him to the ground if he took more than a tiny amount from Jo's hair at the back. He barely touched the clippers to her neck before we squealed 'That's enough!' so shrilly that he capitulated to save his eardrums. Nice work: 30 points and you couldn't even see the mark. Bearing in mind that we saw guys with full on mohicans, wiggly lines and one with a saltire shaved into the back of his hair.
And so we were off to Newhaven, where we searched out a lobster pot on the sea wall and then climbed seven flights of stairs to a new apartment to answer a questionnaire. This was followed by what should have been riding chopper bikes along the cobbled and sloping sea wall, but the bikes were so knackered by then that we just pushed them.
Time was flying by and we headed for a chip shop where the consumption of a deep fried Mars Bar could have gained us 25 points, but we were too late - some places were only operating for a limited time. Thence to the cycle path under Ferry Road and a tunnel where it took us an excruciating five minutes to find the socket to collect our points. We'd actually been on this route on our last practice run and knew it was a fair way back to town so from there we legged it back along the cycle path to Broughton and then up Dundas Street where even doggedly-determined Jo overtook one red-faced Rat Racer who looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. I'd never really thought about it before, but Dundas Street is really quite steep.
We'd been much slower than we anticipated and didn't have time to collect any points in town - we were already collecting time penalties. So it was a last sprint along Princes Street to the Gardens, to clock in and download out points. They were pretty pathetic - 208 (including 57 minus points for time penalties) compared to over 400 points from Lee, Al and Colin's team last year. We'd reached just 12 of a possible 30 places. But it seemed that quite a few other teams had struggled with timing and we ended up 148th (ish) out of 300 teams after the first day.
Pasta, rice and flapjacks were provided and consumed before we headed back to mine with the route for Sunday, which had just been given out. Luckily the Saturday event finished earlier this year, so we had mapped the next day's route and I was showered and in bed by 11, rather than the 2am Al managed last year. If only my neighbours had had the decency to keep the music down: a pair of earplugs left over from a clay pigeon shooting trip did the trick and I slept till 4am, when I woke up and worried about my alarm going off until it did at 6.30. It was time for the next stage.
Wednesday 11 July 2007
The Countdown Begins
We had our last Rat Race practice yesterday, running about eight miles round the water of Leith and a random bike path that I never knew existed but took us miles without any of that nasty traffic type stuff. Although I did have to leap out of the way of cyclists a couple of times. I'm happy enough with the running side of things as I'm probably the fittest of the three of us in that respect. However, I'm still bricking it about the cycling. Haven't been back on the bike since Dunfermline. (I keep telling you - it's not my fault - it's at Al's.)
So it was a great run, really enjoyable, even. Tomorrow we meeting for pasta and a kit run-through. The kit requirements are epic and you have to prove you have everything. So even if you could have run and cycled 100km in a weekend, they make it nice and difficult by making you hump a ton of kit around at the same time. We need helmets, climbing harnesses, head torches, whistles, a mobile phone in a waterproof case, a first aid kit and a kitchen sink. The first aid kit even specifies both paracetamol and ibuprofen. Though seeing as I will be having me period at the weekend, I may well be grateful for both.
What else? I went to aquafit on Monday and managed to sustain possibly the world's first aquarobis-related injury by being too energetic with my jogging on the spot and whacking my knee into the side of the pool (just a scratch though). Went to check out Mo's new place afterwards. It has a HUGE living room, so from now on all parties at at hers...
But other than that it's just a case of washing all my sports bras in preparation for the weekend. Then I will be free! Free I tell you! I need never exercise again!
Except Jo and Lee and I did decide to keep doing bits and pieces for fun. But nothing major. Till maybe next year's marathon. Or those Lake District trail runs. Maybe.
So it was a great run, really enjoyable, even. Tomorrow we meeting for pasta and a kit run-through. The kit requirements are epic and you have to prove you have everything. So even if you could have run and cycled 100km in a weekend, they make it nice and difficult by making you hump a ton of kit around at the same time. We need helmets, climbing harnesses, head torches, whistles, a mobile phone in a waterproof case, a first aid kit and a kitchen sink. The first aid kit even specifies both paracetamol and ibuprofen. Though seeing as I will be having me period at the weekend, I may well be grateful for both.
What else? I went to aquafit on Monday and managed to sustain possibly the world's first aquarobis-related injury by being too energetic with my jogging on the spot and whacking my knee into the side of the pool (just a scratch though). Went to check out Mo's new place afterwards. It has a HUGE living room, so from now on all parties at at hers...
But other than that it's just a case of washing all my sports bras in preparation for the weekend. Then I will be free! Free I tell you! I need never exercise again!
Except Jo and Lee and I did decide to keep doing bits and pieces for fun. But nothing major. Till maybe next year's marathon. Or those Lake District trail runs. Maybe.
Monday 9 July 2007
Bonding experiences
Went to Morag, Rob and Rachel's James Bond themed barbecue on Saturday. Their last before they all go their separate ways. I'm excited to see Morag and Ray's new place, but there's no denying it's the end of an era at Brunton Terrace. Soon there will be strange people living there. Pah.
An excellent barbie, of course, with tasty kebabs and swing music and much dressing up. Guests at Brunton Terrace parties always go all out on the fancy dress front! Hils dropped by before leaving early to do interview prep, but Barry stayed and was on good form, having had a week to recover since the end of term. Al turned up late after the usual work crisis, but was impressed, he later said, by the fact that a barbecue which officially started at 5.30 was still going strong at midnight.
He still had work to go when I'd collapsed into bed at 2 - he was up till 5, I think. I eventually woke up to find him lying next to me wearing nothing but an old fleece he'd given me - obviously having gotten cold and sought something that would fit! Mmm...furry.
I had to rush off the next day for a Cheese Board bonding experience of our own: a pilgrimage to the newly-opened Cheese Bar in Glasgow. This proved worth the trip and we lived up to our 'ladies who lunch' aspirations with champagne and fondue of both the cheesy and the chocolaty variety. Now if only they could open a branch in Edinburgh. Preferably on our street.
Wine at lunch time and the hottest train outside of India made me sleepy on the way home but the walk back from the station revived me and, as it was a lovely evening, I suggested a walk on the beach to Al to get him away from the computer. We had a pleasant stroll along Portobello and discovered some bits of it we'd never seen before, since we usually just run along the front. We discovered it also had a 'back' of little lanes, leafy parks and posh houses. Al had fish and chips but I was still recovering from the exertions of lunch so got baked potato with....you guessed it, cheese. The irony didn't even occur to me until later.
We did some people watching: groups of teenagers on the beach (actually playing football and the like, not drinking Buckfast), couples and dog walkers. One old bloke was shuffling slowly down the promenade with two sticks while his two dogs wandered on ahead and then patiently stopped and waited for him. One of the dogs came up to say hello to us - it was funny, he so obviously just though 'Ah, I'll talk to these people while I'm waiting', came up and sat down in front of us to have his ears stroked. Although you have to wonder at that British mentality that meant I could talk to the dog but not the old guy himself.
An excellent barbie, of course, with tasty kebabs and swing music and much dressing up. Guests at Brunton Terrace parties always go all out on the fancy dress front! Hils dropped by before leaving early to do interview prep, but Barry stayed and was on good form, having had a week to recover since the end of term. Al turned up late after the usual work crisis, but was impressed, he later said, by the fact that a barbecue which officially started at 5.30 was still going strong at midnight.
He still had work to go when I'd collapsed into bed at 2 - he was up till 5, I think. I eventually woke up to find him lying next to me wearing nothing but an old fleece he'd given me - obviously having gotten cold and sought something that would fit! Mmm...furry.
I had to rush off the next day for a Cheese Board bonding experience of our own: a pilgrimage to the newly-opened Cheese Bar in Glasgow. This proved worth the trip and we lived up to our 'ladies who lunch' aspirations with champagne and fondue of both the cheesy and the chocolaty variety. Now if only they could open a branch in Edinburgh. Preferably on our street.
Wine at lunch time and the hottest train outside of India made me sleepy on the way home but the walk back from the station revived me and, as it was a lovely evening, I suggested a walk on the beach to Al to get him away from the computer. We had a pleasant stroll along Portobello and discovered some bits of it we'd never seen before, since we usually just run along the front. We discovered it also had a 'back' of little lanes, leafy parks and posh houses. Al had fish and chips but I was still recovering from the exertions of lunch so got baked potato with....you guessed it, cheese. The irony didn't even occur to me until later.
We did some people watching: groups of teenagers on the beach (actually playing football and the like, not drinking Buckfast), couples and dog walkers. One old bloke was shuffling slowly down the promenade with two sticks while his two dogs wandered on ahead and then patiently stopped and waited for him. One of the dogs came up to say hello to us - it was funny, he so obviously just though 'Ah, I'll talk to these people while I'm waiting', came up and sat down in front of us to have his ears stroked. Although you have to wonder at that British mentality that meant I could talk to the dog but not the old guy himself.
Friday 6 July 2007
F chord blues
This week I decided to try a new tactic in my quest for guitar-goddess status. Instead of starting at the beginning of my 'teach yourself guitar' book, learning three chords and then not touching the instrument for months and starting back at the beginning again, I resolved to choose a song I actually wanted to learn how to play and then learn it. The idea was that I would be more inspired by my own selection than by an endless repetition of the chorus of Yellow Submarine.
So I picked 'Caeldonia', which has been stuck in my head since hearing it on Al's playlist at the weekend, and duly googled and downloaded the chords and lyrics for it. So far, so good. But unfortunately Caledonia relies heavily on the chord of F, which only some sort of mutant with 18 fingers and possibly an extra arm can hope to be able to play. Even leaving out the top couple of strings left me with my fingers in a knot.
It's shame because the other three chords are fairly straightforward. Al assures me that the trick is to play 'bar chords', whatever they may be. I must get him to show me next time I get my guitar out. In about three months' time.
So I picked 'Caeldonia', which has been stuck in my head since hearing it on Al's playlist at the weekend, and duly googled and downloaded the chords and lyrics for it. So far, so good. But unfortunately Caledonia relies heavily on the chord of F, which only some sort of mutant with 18 fingers and possibly an extra arm can hope to be able to play. Even leaving out the top couple of strings left me with my fingers in a knot.
It's shame because the other three chords are fairly straightforward. Al assures me that the trick is to play 'bar chords', whatever they may be. I must get him to show me next time I get my guitar out. In about three months' time.
Monday 2 July 2007
A productive weekend
Yes, I positively tore through my 'to do' list over the last couple of days. Al always calls it a 'todo' list, which makes me laugh. But then, he is dyslexic and I should not mock the afflicted.
Anyway, we got a surf during the only consecutive three hours without rain on Friday night. The waves were non-existent at Seacliff and looked utterly shite at Pease, but actually turned out to be quite good. I do like Pease, it is so mellow. The new short hair proved its worth by not getting in my eyes at all and while the half dozen or so blokes out there tackled clustered out the back I sat a little bit further in a picked off some great little waves from a reliable peak. I even remembered to cut back and stay in the pocket - possibly the first time I have ever had my wits about me to think anything more than 'Ooh ooh I'm on the waves! I'm on the wave! I'm....oh. Off the wave.'
Sadly my arm muscles cannot compete with my enthusiasm and I had to go in after two hours lest my entire arms break off at the increasingly frayed shoulder point. I wasn't cold though! I got changed and took a walk on the beach, meeting a guy who had got the bus from Edinburgh with his board(!). Turned out he was a student doing an internship with some friends of Al. He was from Shetland, which meant he was very friendly and talked to everyone - not a usual Scottish surfer trait. Al and I both agreed he reminded us of little Ant, our surf instructor in Fuerteventura.
At that point, Al came in and we were treated to a massive rainbow. It stretched right across the beach so you could see the whole arc and the fainter double rainbow outside. It was really quite spectacular. So then we went and ate some chips overlooking Belhaven and the sunset. How romantic.
All that, and the weekend not even properly begun!
As usual, surfing had tired me out and I passed out so deeply that when I woke up in the morning I was in exactly the same position I had fallen asleep in. Saturday dawned rainy and shite as usual, which was quite reassuring and also meant that I could concentrate on various boring tasks I'd been meaning to get done for months. In some case years, in fact. I took some dry cleaning in, including my lovely winter coat. I took my brown strapless dress to the little tailor man at the top of the road, who pinned it all up and agreed to take it in so it wouldn't fall down embarrassingly during a dance at Helen and Colin's wedding. I went to Sainsbury's and I called in at the TV aerial shop on the way back. Unfortunately this was closed, but since I was on a roll I called a few other places when I got home and left a message, as well as calling my upstairs neighbour to check whether we had a communal aerial and if he would let us in to the shared hallway to connect me up. I made and ate some potato salad. Finally, I cut to size and fixed in place the metal strip that covers the join between carpet and laminate in my kitchen doorway.
Then I had a little nap over Rebus.
I was awoken by the 'bing-bong' of my phone which makes a noise like a doorbell when I get a text and I can't figure out how to change it. 'Twas from Al, who was visiting friends who have just had a baby. I was invited to come and admire said baby. I duly drove to the wild west end and met the gorgeous Clova. I didn't have to lie about her being cute or anything. Maybe I am getting broody. We had pizza and took it in turns to hold Clova, who didn't throw up on anyone. She was particularly content on Al's lap, where she fell asleep on her back with her arms above her head, much as I had done the night before.
We left Darren and Jane to it and headed back to Al's, where he had an article to write for his website before bed. As we turned in at 1 am, he pointed out that they would have just given Clova another feed...and would be up at 4 am for the next one. Suddenly, I felt less broody.
We had planned to either go for a bike ride or to the National Portrait Gallery yesterday, depending on the weather. We woke up to yet more torrential rain and I lost at paper, scissors, stone, so had to make the trip out to the corner shop for bacon and the paper. I was so busy moaning about this that it took Al to point out the front page of Scotland on Sunday featured a terrorist attack on Glasgow airport. As usual, the Scotsman had blown this out of all proportion with its hilariously Scotland-centric bias (the headline this morning revealed 'Terrorists were not Scots'), but it was still a shocking story. The fact that one of the attackers had been wrestled to the ground by a taxi marshall came as light relief - you don't mess with the Weegie taxi ranks and get away with it!
We read the papers and ate artery-clogging combinations of bacon and carbohydrate while the weather did strange things outside: rain, then hail, then bright sunshine, then a thunderstorm, then sunny again. We eventually ventured out to the portrait gallery to see the Naked Portrait exhibition, which I thought was rather good and quite thought provoking. There were a lot of portraits that were self-indulgently pretentious - especially photographs - but enough that were interesting and different. I liked a self portrait by Alice Neel, looking like a typical slightly grumpy old lady, complete with butterfly specs on a chain - but naked. And some simple monoprints by Tracey Emin: I am intrigued by the sort of talent that can with just a few brief lines create a picture that not only recognisably looks like something but also conveys some emotion. In general, the whole exhibition was a welcome reminder than we come in all shapes and sizes.
Back home, I finished off the edges of my kitchen floor. This involved cutting and sticking scotia over the ragged edges of my laminate. It's quite straightforward apart from the corners where, if you want a seamless join, you have to cut the scotia at an angle. Having managed to saw beautiful right angles completely the wrong way round not once but twice I decided that only two walls really needed edging and the rest looked neat enough already. I celebrated with warm coronation chicken - a recipe given to me by Hils that I was trying out myself for the first time - and a dvd of 'Walk the Line'. Both of which were very good.
At work this morning, I find a metal detector and extra security men installed in reception. It seems the terrorist threat has well and truly come to Scotland.
Anyway, we got a surf during the only consecutive three hours without rain on Friday night. The waves were non-existent at Seacliff and looked utterly shite at Pease, but actually turned out to be quite good. I do like Pease, it is so mellow. The new short hair proved its worth by not getting in my eyes at all and while the half dozen or so blokes out there tackled clustered out the back I sat a little bit further in a picked off some great little waves from a reliable peak. I even remembered to cut back and stay in the pocket - possibly the first time I have ever had my wits about me to think anything more than 'Ooh ooh I'm on the waves! I'm on the wave! I'm....oh. Off the wave.'
Sadly my arm muscles cannot compete with my enthusiasm and I had to go in after two hours lest my entire arms break off at the increasingly frayed shoulder point. I wasn't cold though! I got changed and took a walk on the beach, meeting a guy who had got the bus from Edinburgh with his board(!). Turned out he was a student doing an internship with some friends of Al. He was from Shetland, which meant he was very friendly and talked to everyone - not a usual Scottish surfer trait. Al and I both agreed he reminded us of little Ant, our surf instructor in Fuerteventura.
At that point, Al came in and we were treated to a massive rainbow. It stretched right across the beach so you could see the whole arc and the fainter double rainbow outside. It was really quite spectacular. So then we went and ate some chips overlooking Belhaven and the sunset. How romantic.
All that, and the weekend not even properly begun!
As usual, surfing had tired me out and I passed out so deeply that when I woke up in the morning I was in exactly the same position I had fallen asleep in. Saturday dawned rainy and shite as usual, which was quite reassuring and also meant that I could concentrate on various boring tasks I'd been meaning to get done for months. In some case years, in fact. I took some dry cleaning in, including my lovely winter coat. I took my brown strapless dress to the little tailor man at the top of the road, who pinned it all up and agreed to take it in so it wouldn't fall down embarrassingly during a dance at Helen and Colin's wedding. I went to Sainsbury's and I called in at the TV aerial shop on the way back. Unfortunately this was closed, but since I was on a roll I called a few other places when I got home and left a message, as well as calling my upstairs neighbour to check whether we had a communal aerial and if he would let us in to the shared hallway to connect me up. I made and ate some potato salad. Finally, I cut to size and fixed in place the metal strip that covers the join between carpet and laminate in my kitchen doorway.
Then I had a little nap over Rebus.
I was awoken by the 'bing-bong' of my phone which makes a noise like a doorbell when I get a text and I can't figure out how to change it. 'Twas from Al, who was visiting friends who have just had a baby. I was invited to come and admire said baby. I duly drove to the wild west end and met the gorgeous Clova. I didn't have to lie about her being cute or anything. Maybe I am getting broody. We had pizza and took it in turns to hold Clova, who didn't throw up on anyone. She was particularly content on Al's lap, where she fell asleep on her back with her arms above her head, much as I had done the night before.
We left Darren and Jane to it and headed back to Al's, where he had an article to write for his website before bed. As we turned in at 1 am, he pointed out that they would have just given Clova another feed...and would be up at 4 am for the next one. Suddenly, I felt less broody.
We had planned to either go for a bike ride or to the National Portrait Gallery yesterday, depending on the weather. We woke up to yet more torrential rain and I lost at paper, scissors, stone, so had to make the trip out to the corner shop for bacon and the paper. I was so busy moaning about this that it took Al to point out the front page of Scotland on Sunday featured a terrorist attack on Glasgow airport. As usual, the Scotsman had blown this out of all proportion with its hilariously Scotland-centric bias (the headline this morning revealed 'Terrorists were not Scots'), but it was still a shocking story. The fact that one of the attackers had been wrestled to the ground by a taxi marshall came as light relief - you don't mess with the Weegie taxi ranks and get away with it!
We read the papers and ate artery-clogging combinations of bacon and carbohydrate while the weather did strange things outside: rain, then hail, then bright sunshine, then a thunderstorm, then sunny again. We eventually ventured out to the portrait gallery to see the Naked Portrait exhibition, which I thought was rather good and quite thought provoking. There were a lot of portraits that were self-indulgently pretentious - especially photographs - but enough that were interesting and different. I liked a self portrait by Alice Neel, looking like a typical slightly grumpy old lady, complete with butterfly specs on a chain - but naked. And some simple monoprints by Tracey Emin: I am intrigued by the sort of talent that can with just a few brief lines create a picture that not only recognisably looks like something but also conveys some emotion. In general, the whole exhibition was a welcome reminder than we come in all shapes and sizes.
Back home, I finished off the edges of my kitchen floor. This involved cutting and sticking scotia over the ragged edges of my laminate. It's quite straightforward apart from the corners where, if you want a seamless join, you have to cut the scotia at an angle. Having managed to saw beautiful right angles completely the wrong way round not once but twice I decided that only two walls really needed edging and the rest looked neat enough already. I celebrated with warm coronation chicken - a recipe given to me by Hils that I was trying out myself for the first time - and a dvd of 'Walk the Line'. Both of which were very good.
At work this morning, I find a metal detector and extra security men installed in reception. It seems the terrorist threat has well and truly come to Scotland.
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