Nedding

I can't do justice to it, I really can't. So just the highlights:

• Seeing the girls head off to the registry office in a state of high excitement and return (about 30 seconds later) officially nedded: it brought a tear to my eye (in a good way).
• The first sight of the secret location, the glorious Ardanaiseig Hotel, and Fi's particular excitement at showing us all to our specially selected rooms (ours chosen for the short bed (as Official Shortest Couple) and fabulous freestanding bath).
• Trying out the bath - mmm, hot water!
• Seeing the boys draw up in their Inspector Morse car.
• Walking into a timewarp before dinner when everyone had dressed up beautifully for the 1920s theme and the venue was perfect for it.
• Venison.
• Poker with a professional dealer.
• Music and dancing and Fi and Ailsa looking really happy.
• Messing about quietly with arty stuff in a comfy yurt.
• Swimming in the loch, thinking all swimming should be done in fresh water, under the open sky.
• Lying on short grass in warm sun.
• Talking to Archie about dinosaurs.
  
• Feeling pretty in my hippy dress.
  
• Steak.
• Ceilidhing with Simon and Morag like old times.
• Al winning the Fantastic Prize.
• Mulling it all over with the cheeseboard on the way home.

That's quite a lot of highlights. And the bits in between were great too. It really was lovely to see Simon, as well as others old and new faces. It was the perfect location not only for our own brand of crazy competitiveness but also for all the party, young and less young, to keep entertained.

Can't wait to run another Mouse Race next year! I'm already planning on asking the neighbours if we can borrow their tennis court and wondering if you're allowed to swim in Gartmorn Dam.

Back down to earth: Fi's sister caught me in a weakened hungover state and signed me up for the Coll half marathon in (gulp) five weeks. I'm going to try and run 100 miles before then: averaging 20 miles a week. So far I have done two gym trips, one 4 miles and one 4 and a half, at just quicker than 6 mph. It was horrendous: so depressing that what would have been a mild warm up three months ago is now a real workout. But if all else fails I can do the 5km race instead.

Friendly weekends and a political rant

Long time no blog, what with two delightful weekends full of friends to keep me busy.

First there was the long-awaited hag do for Fiona and Ailsa: a fantastic event over three days organised with precision by Barry, Colin, Hils and Helen. There was a meal in the intimacy of a private room at Channings, where we could get all loud and annoying without worrying that we were bothering other people. Then on Saturday were split into two teams (I was on Fi's) and set on a series of challenges including golf, cryptic clues, rounders, tug of war, a beer mat collecting exercise and cheese and wine tasting. I was mediocre at all of these but nevertheless our team triumphed overall.

That evening we had a two round poker tournament, playing for actual money: £10 in the pot from each of 14 of us made it a prize worth winning and really very exciting. I made it to the second round on the back of extreme luck, including being dealt a natural full house, but Barry proceeded to amass a heap of chips so huge you could barely see his eyebrows. I went all in on the last hand - three threes - and won most of Al's stash (he claims, in the misguided belief that I would have done likewise, that he 'donated' them to me knowing I had the better hand) but even that was not enough to overcome Barry's hoard and he was declared a worthy winner.

Humph.

Sunday found us at the Sheep's Heid in Duddingston, a pub I've been meaning to go to for years but never got around to. It claims to be the oldest pub in Edinburgh, with a tavern on the site for the last squillion years, and boasts an old-fashioned skittles alley. To be honest I was hoping for a little non-competitive, genteel, ad hoc skittle action, but being us we once again organised into teams. Luckily a round of sausage sandwiches from the pub barbecue revived us enough to not lose every single round, but not enough to deny Ailsa the chance to claim a victory.

Last weekend Mo and Ray came up to visit, seeing the cottage for the first time. It is, at least, just about habitable for visitors now, though we still need a new spare bed. The current one is nailed together with planks and the mattress is too big and hangs over the edge. I have booked Al in for a trip to Ikea before my mum arrives. Anyway, Morag and Ray were most patient with it, and apart from the study, which still looks as a bit empty and seems to get covered in muddy paw prints as fast as I can hoover them up, the rest of the place cleaned up nicely after a two hour frenzy with the vacuum and duster.

We'd planned to do very little and enjoyed a leisurely lunch followed by a two and a half hour walk along the back roads to Tillicoultry, where ice creams were purchased, and back along the railway. It was the first time Al had done this route, which is familiar to me from running. It's a lovely walk with hardly any roads and Dougal loved it, romping happily with passing hounds. Back home he summoned just enough energy to eat his dinner before curling up on my lap and sleeping - the first time we've managed to tire him out!

I made a lasagna while Morag and Ray erected a massive Leaning Tower of Cake from the sponges I'd made earlier. Well, Morag mostly made it while Ray provided helpful comments, took photos and prevented Dougal from eating things. The shelves inside the oven have slipped so cakes come out a bit squinty, but my assistants managed to match the layers of sponge beautifully. Held together with whipped cream and an entire punnet of strawberries, it was a sight to behold.

After the previous weekend, Al had the poker bug and we had requested that our guests bring cards and chips. Fortified by cake and whisky, we pokered away until Al had won everything and then we went to bed.

I dragged myself up at 9.30 to let Dougal out. Having done so, I went to the loo and returned to the kitchen to find Al letting a rather confused Dougal out again. He (Al, not Dougal) had mistaken a pile of duvet for my sleeping form and was sleepily surprised to find me downstairs as well as still in bed.

While not exactly sunny, the weather was at least making some attempt at warmth and we spent a pleasant morning in and around the hammock with the papers before tootling off to find a pub for lunch. We tried to track down one in Powmill, which Al's parents had recommended, but we couldn't find it and returned to the Muckhart Inn instead. Al and I were on the bike, so Mo and Ray headed home after lunch and we motored back to the hound and more hammock time.

I took another look at my courgettes. They still haven't grown, even though I've watered them and been stung by nettles weeding them. Expert opinion (ie my mum) suggests that they are now goners. How ungrateful of them. At least my herbs are making a brave showing, proving that I am not a complete plant Jonah. The basil is even recognisable as basil already.

Back to work for a short week - Friday to be spent at a Secret Location for the non-wedding of the year. Took Dougal to the vet yesterday as he has an eye infection - probably from running through acres of eye-height grass. I was much more nervous than him. When the vet picked him up to put him on the table he thought he was getting a cuddle, and then he kept trying to lick the torch used to look in his eye. Now we have eye drops to administer, which takes a while as Dougal thinks they'd be much better taken orally.

Otherwise, I've been kept occupied following the Glasgow East by election. As Ray noted over the Sunday papers, the Sunday Times seems to be under the impression that the Tories could win this seat. Possibly their thinking goes: Labour not looking good, therefore Conservatives not looking bad. But I'm pretty sure that, in their desperate search for a way to show Gordon Brown where to stick his 10p tax band, the people of Glasgow East are not clinging to the legs of Tory politicians and pleading for forgiveness for the crime of never having voted for them before.

Oh no. I think the SNP will probably do quite well.

Especially if Labour keep coming out with stuff like this, from Labour minister David Cairns: "Councillor Mason [the SNP candidate] has finally let the cat out of the bag. He has admitted what we knew all along – he is a hard-line Nationalist who sees his role at Westminster to bring about independence."

Um, am I the only one who thinks that possibly the cat was never in the bag in the first place? That, in fact, the cat was sitting some distance away from the bag, sunning itself and opening flaunting a yellow SNP badge? Hello - it's called the 'Scottish National Party'. The clue is in the name.

Now I don't support Scottish nationalism (yet). I'm not quite convinced it's in Scotland's interests to go it alone, or that the rest of the UK will ever let go of all that lovely oil that Alex's relying on. But I do support democracy. And if the people of Scotland vote for an independent Scotland then that is what they should get.

David Cairns seems to think that if you support nationalism, you shouldn't be allowed to express that support democratically by electing someone to bring about such a state of affairs by peaceful political means. He's out of touch if he thinks that wanting an independent Scotland makes Mason an unacceptable representative to most Scots.

Quite apart from the fact that independence is not, north of the border, viewed with the antipathy it is in London, the SNP has managed over the last year and a bit to establish itself as more than a one issue party. I didn't want to like them. But they keep doing things I agree with.

I want Labour to win Glasgow East because I want Gordon Brown to stay prime minister. So my advice to Margaret Curran (who seems a lot more on the ball and is a proper Weegie to boot) is to ignore Cairns. Don't try and denigrate the SNP for being what they are, when what they are is popular. Instead, Labour might do well to consider why they're not so popular themselves right now.

Busy evenings

Been unusually busy through the week with a delightful last minute dinner at Holly Cottage on Monday so Al could get his massage as he is a guinea pig for Fi. Of course he was late and as usual took 20 minutes to get ready so I drove like a demon until we got stuck behind a tow truck and had to crawl anyway. I was berating him the other day for his inability to leave the house in under half an hour and he pointed out that he often manages to leave very quickly...but then has to go back again for whatever he's forgotten. How hard can it be - it's not like he has to brush his hair or anything.

I suppose everyone has to have one annoying habit. Callum always leaves empty packets in the cupboards and fridge when he's taken the last of something, which drives Al crazy. I told him to think of the day when Cal leaves home and eventually opens his fridge to find nothing but empty packets taking up all the room.

Anyway, as soon as I walked through the door of HC I felt instantly relaxed, as is always the way, and was plied with wine and nibbles by Ailsa, followed by tasty roast (yes, Morag, I got your roast! Mwa ha ha!) Al too looked chilled out following his treatment. He is very complimentary of Fi's talents and has been persuaded to possibly go back to the doctor about his back, which is good.

Yesterday we'd invited the neighbours round as they'd had us over for drinks and had introduced Al to some cycling friends. We had a nice chat and some wine. they were amazed we had the fire on - 'But it's the middle of summer!' Oh yes, I am trying to avoid thinking about possible indoor temperatures come winter.

Tonight is a free night, phew. Then a public meeting for work tomorrow night and the hag weekend starts Friday.

Nice to have some time to myself but I am missing the jingle of little Dougal's collar as he potters around the house. We have turned into sickeningly doting dog owners. Gazing adoringly at Dougal and gently stroking his paw as he slept, Al announced that he loved him. I was slightly put out, pointing out that it had taken Al nine months to say that he loved me, and only then after I'd said it first.

'Has Dougal ever told you he loves you, eh?'
'Ooh yes, he says that whenever he licks my ear.'
'That's not him saying he loves you. That's him trying to get you to regurgitate food for him.'

First surf for ages

I was about to write a moany blog about how I had finished all the chocolate buttons and fingers of fudge in Clackmannanshire and moved on to Crunchies and Cadbury's fruit and nut (which I have) while Ailsa keeps writing perky blogs about what lovely runs she's been on (which she has). Motivation keeps failing to raise its head for me. Despite nice-ish weather last night I put together half an Ikea chest instead of running.

But! I remembered that I had done some form of exercise after all - I went surfing on Sunday. Yep, first one since the crap session at Lunan on our hot tub long weekend in Angus back in January. It was a welcome hour's remarkably sunny interlude in a day otherwise spent hunting for lost keys of various types, (a tale with which I will not bore you, other than to say it was frustrating and climaxed in me shouting at a neighbour's child until he returned the roof-rack straps he had nicked from under my very nose! Tch, the youth of today...)

Back to the surf. It was at Pease Bay and it was good - long intervals and not too ginormous. Hard to get out due to complete lack of upper body fitness and I only caught one wave but it was just good to be bobbing up and down on the water again. Al pulled the muscle in his back he always pulls when surfing and I pulled my wrist as I always do when surfing - it was almost nostalgic after all those running injuries had made me forget the many other ways there are to crock myself. Al won though, by dropping a board on his head back in Leith while putting it away in the shed and getting a perfect fin-stick injury in the exact middle of his forehead - whilst dressed in full motorbike gear. For some reason he was not impressed by my observation that he should have kept the helmet on.

Where all my money goes

Today all my money was supposed to go on curtains, but instead it has gone on something even less exciting: contact lenses and glasses. Every two or three years I walk into an optician and spend half a month's wages on being able to see. Surely this isn't fair? Do deaf people have to pay for hearing aids? I suspect, like glasses, you can get the horrible cheap ones on the NHS if you're poor enough but have to shell out for anything half way decent.

Luckily my optician has cottoned on to the massive rip off that is eye care in the UK and set up a scheme where you pay £3 a month and get 20% off contacts, glasses and that contact lens bit of the sight test not covered for free (non-Scottish readers, note that regular eye tests are free up here! Yes, free I tell you! Not that you'd know from listening to the BBC). So I signed up for that and claimed my £13 from the NHS for being really, really blind. They don't give me an extra £13 for last year though, even though I didn't buy any lenses in 2007.

Even with all the discounts it still came to £400. Most of that, as always, was on the lenses to go in the glasses. I chose a plastic option that was slightly cheaper but they might be too thick, in which case I'll have to have glass for an extra £50. I could have got loads of curtains for that.

Afterwards, I took that black dress back to TKs and swapped it for a log basket. I may have to wear the log basket if I keep spending money on boring things. But at least I can accessorise it with beautiful glasses.*

I haven't done any exercise since the last blog, and have eaten vast amounts of chocolate buttons and fingers of fudge. I'm in Edinburgh tonight though, and once I'd thrown everything visibly mouldy out of Al's fridge there was only a pitta bread and some organic vegetable soup left, so I ate that and felt a bit healthier. I think it's time to get back to my usual summer eating of veggies and salad. Unfortunately, despite its many other fine attributes, the cottage is absolutely freezing in even the warmest weather, which doesn't encourage me to eat lettuce and the like.

Fi and Ailsa are coming for dinner tomorrow though and I'm quite excited about the dessert (which I have already made and left in the freezer - I hope it turns out ok) and a starter recipe I found for sweet potato, mozzarella and parma ham stacks. It will also be a chance for Dougal to meet his cousins Baffie and Bridie, who will probably at best ignore him.

*I have to admit they are nice glasses, with a hint of sexy secretary about them.

Summer break

Had an easy couple of weeks, dug a bit of garden, swung in the hammock with Dougal (nee Diesel), took Dougal for walks and met lots of new people and dogs. Al is astounded by the amount of female attention he gets when walking Dougal in town. He is just so cute! Dougal, that is. Well obviously Al is cute too. But not in the way that women run and and squeal and ask me if they can stroke him very often.

Anyway, the pooch and I had a hilarious walk down the Water of Leith where we met a rather boring man with a black lab; a friendly guy with another working cocker called Fergus (again, the dog, not the man); a scary looking, thick-necked but in fact quite friendly woman with a massive, thick-necked, but actually quite friendly rottweiler and a snooty thin woman with a saluki who looked down her nose and hurried past. Maybe it is true what they say about people being like their dogs. Callum and Dougal certainly hit it off. I think five months in dogs age must be about 11 for a human - they had a great weekend playing in the garden, building a den and a swing. Al banned the computer for the weekend though, and by Sunday Cal had had enough of the great outdoors and wanted his computer games back again. He is still a bit of a city boy.

Had a training course near York for three days this week, and it was pretty full on with the gorgeous sunny days spent closeted in a room with closed curtains looking at powerpoint presentations and doing emergency planning exercises. On the last day a BBC manager was invited to speak to us and spent an hour talking about how BBC local radio is the best place to get an emergency message out. When I pointed out that in Scotland we had to work with commercial radio because the BBC treats Scotland as one region and people in Glasgow don't care if Angus is flooded, she just said, 'Well, yes it obviously different in Scotland.'

I feel the Scottish chip on my shoulder growing with each trip to England these days. I like to think I started out prejudice-free and hope my feelings are based on experience rather than me having picked up a general Scottish malaise. I do hate the attitude that blames England for all of Scotland's woes: I think it's inaccurate and excuses apathy. But I've seen Scotland treated as an afterthought at best on all sorts of training courses and the like and it's getting irksome. The BBC has just promised to up its regional content in the news, anyway, so let's see if that helps remind people that it exists.

I'm feeling very relaxed about it all now, since I had the great foresight to book two days off and continue my journey south from York to see the parents in Sussex. Jenny is also here having just started work in Burgess Hill, and I awoke on Thursday morning to hear her snoring five minutes before she had to catch her 7am bus, so had to wake her up. She missed the bus but made the train thanks to a lift from mum...she moves to a room in Brighton tomorrow, which I hope will suit her.

Spent yesterday reading (feel like I haven't had time to read for ages) and shopping. Bought a very bling handbag for Sam, who I'm meeting briefly before my flight tomorrow for a birthday brunch. Also a back dress for myself, but I think I might take it back as it's a bit big. I have an opticians appointment in Edinburgh next week that I can combine with a trip to TK Maxx in Meadowbank. Today I was indulged in a belated birthday present of pedicure and back massage. My first ever pedicure! It was perfectly timed for my post-marathon feet, which the lovely lady did not even wince at, and we picked a dark red polish to cover the black nails!

Went for a run round the rhododendron-infested grounds of the conference centre one night before dinner on my course, and another round Broadbridge Heath and Warnham this morning. Just half an hour each and about three miles, which was just what I needed. It felt a bit sweaty in the humid weather but not particularly hard. Maybe I'll aim for an October half marathon. Or maybe I'll just keep going for shorter runs when I feel like it.

Done and dusted

Yep, it's all over. I got a bad cold just in time for the marathon, and it also effected my stomach (as almost everything seems to do since I got food poisoning about 3 months ago. I fear my days of cast-iron stomach are gone forever) so I was fairly sure there was no point going for a PB. Marathon day dawning with a strong headwind further convinced me and I decided to run alongside Al, to have someone to chat to and prevent him hailing a cab half way round.

Good job he was there as despite a solid start that had us on track for 4.30, about 10 miles in my stomach ceased playing ball and the rest of the run was spent making it from one loo to another. Saw some pretty bits of East Lothian from behind various bushes, though, which was nice...Al was very supportive when I was feeling shit (more from frustration at knowing how much training was going to waste) and strangely at the points where I was feeling better he was also struck down, so we made it round together. Luckily it turned into a lovely sunny day, and if you ignored the sweaty people around you, you could pretend it was just a nice coastal walk. At least the roads were closed to traffic, unlike the North Berwick run when I kept thinking I was about to be squished by a lorry.

The other thing that got me round (apart from Al) was the truly top level support from the crew. Time and again they drag themselves up at ridiculously early hours of the weekend to shout and wave at us for a few vital seconds. Fi also had her bike which meant she could keep a flagging Al's energy up with food supplies and distract us from our pain with chat. One good thing about going so slowly was that I could actually enjoy her company instead of saving all energy for forward propulsion. Another was that I wasn't stiff afterwards. Other than an amusing patch of sunburn on the one bit I had missed when applied sunblock I was in better shape than after any marathon yet.

Haven't actually checked my final time yet, but it was about 5.16. Hang on...Yep, 5.15.54 for both me and Al. Although obviously I still have the better PB of the two of us...

This was in fact a personal worst, which is something I suppose! Definitely giving myself next year off and maybe the year after that. The next race I'm thinking about is next year's Alloa half marathon. Catherine and Danny gave me a subscription to Runner's World magazine so that's been inspiring me. But only from my rocking chair so far.

Otherwise, I'm enjoying not having too much planned for a bit. I poked some plants in the garden today and pulled up some dock leaves. Think I might buy a trowel and some gloves and clear at least the patch that might once have been a flower bed. Surf looks ok too.

Much more exciting is the news of an additional to the family! No - not like that. A canine one. Al and I went to see a working cocker spaniel in nearby Braco and have arranged to pick him up on Monday! He's gorgeous, five months old and black and white. Apparently working cockers are the same breed as show cockers but a different strain, with a broader head, soft mouth, and easy-to-train temperament. This guy is called Diesel at the moment, which is a terrible name for him. It might suit a staffie or rottweiler but he's far too friendly. He'll be a surprise for Cal come Tuesday evening though, so it's up to Cal to christen him. So excited!