It’s not something I want to promote about myself. But a little bit of virtual aggro, via the Heroes application on Facebook, does seem to help when winding down for the day. (I can at this point blame David Wilson, who invited me to try this application. It all started with fast cars, too. It’s a slippery slope.)
Something funny seems to happen in your thirties, when it comes to letting go of what’s happening in the day. There’s not much of the day left to disconnect from, by the time you get home. How do you do it, without taking the evening over it?
Not being much of a drinker, alcohol got left out of the picture as a way to unwind, for a long time, but I think it’s trying to make more of an appearance on my weekends. That sense of ‘phew, got to the end of the week’ seems to need more celebration as I go on. (Food is clearly enough of a companion to my days, as you already know, so it’s not necessarily helping me hit the ’stop’ button in the same way.) Let’s say I appreciate the treat when it comes.
Gardening started trying to enter the race this year. And yes, coming home from work, and saying hello to the plants (watering them too, on occasion) was a good option. But now it’s wet, or cold, or both, and the garden is back into that phase of being left to its own survival mechanisms for the next few months.
There is blog writing - though perhaps I need a new injection of ideas. Perhaps time to start listening into other people’s mobile phone conversations a bit more. (As if. I could probably write a new radio show a week on what I ‘overhead’ (without trying) on the bus each day.)
And for points of trying to make mind and body agree to slow down in the adrenaline rush, there can be su doku. A nice long bath is a winner in this department.
Recently, I have been feeling more and more that my earlier ambitions to make a difference in the world, to contribute, are getting worn away in the need to keep up - and then recover afterwards - day by day. No claims of special workplace trauma - we all have it, in fairly intense ways for many.
Is the solution to find a ‘quicker’ way to unwind, so that I can make the most of time outside of work? I’m coming to the conclusion that letting go of one set of lists at work, only to pick up another at home, doesn’t seem that attractive.
Probably the thing that cheers me up, and therefore helps me let go of work, is finding out how other people are doing. Ergo Facebook in general. I might even finally put up some photos of my own, given how much I like seeing other people’s.
Perhaps it comes down to holding on, rather than just letting go - holding on to what is important to you, day by day. And on that note, I’m off to hug the hugsband.
October 6th, 2008
Off to Peebles last weekend to see my parents - and go to part of Peebles’ second ever autumn food fair. Not quite the highlight of the social calendar that the spring book fair is, but a good enough excuse to go and support a local event.
What I hadn’t quite bargained on was that there would be quite so much emphasis on meat. Fair enough in some ways, given that there’s farms around, proper butchers and the like. But if you were a veggie and/or had problems seeing meat, you would probably have had to avert your eyes for about a third of the stands…
Other friends have done the farm shop thing, and shared out half animals, that kind of thing. I must admit I thought it would hard to fit e.g. half a lamb in a freezer - and which end would you get? But then we saw what that looked like, which was certainly a lot of meat. We’re even thinking about splitting a half lamb order with my parents to make it a bit more affordable (at least, spending money on meat rather than a second freezer). Except I have to eat some more brambles first. Or maybe make rather a lot of risotto to clear out some stock. Etc.
It’s all nice and green and Guardian reading of me to want to get local produce - which I do. And help farms in Scotland keep going - which I do. But then I see the prices of the food and baulk a bit. Even the veg boxes are more than I’m prepared to spend, it seems, which is a shame for one who really likes fruit and veg.
So, as ever, we bought little things - though this does allow me to plug the Chocolate Tree, based (I think) in Gifford, East Lothian. Not only do they do the dark chocolate with interesting flavours thang, they also do a proper Nutella alternative. They even boast that you’ll never go back to Nutella after you’ve tried it. Now the difficulty is whether to open the jar - and fulfil their promise - or inflict that on someone else by passing it on as a present…Food for thought, one way or another, if not as much food for the plate.
October 2nd, 2008
Sometimes it seems I’m at my happiest when heading from A to B, with space to think up titles for blog posts, or the like. After much deliberation for this one, I settled on black gold.
Would it be a hard-hitting commentary on oil over-dependence? Not really. An oblique Asterix book reference? Closer territory, though as I recall, that was about oil too. What is far more important to the world economy at the moment, is free stuff. And the black gold of the article is all about the joy of brambling.
Had a half day off, after my time on the exhibition stand, and by five o’clock or so on Friday, decided that a good use of time would be to head off to the cycle path, not far from our flat, and pick some brambles. Usually we’re off doing this earlier in September, but one way or another (ie rain), bramble plans had been delayed.
Life along the cycle path is quite pleasant. Cyclists were heading home from work, or on early weekend excursions. One chap stopped me to ask where my rucksack came from - this turned out to be a lament on the fact that he couldn’t replace his current one with a similar kind, and hoped that mine (which looked like his) might be a new one. There were a few dogs to say hello to, but mainly there was the fun of filling tubs with brambles.
When I was little, brambles tended to get used up in crumbles. Any juice left over from stewing the fruit would be kept as a sauce to pour over ice cream - this was known as ‘blood’. Very satisfying when you’re 8, and the attraction of it still remains. Equally, I had a birthday book, and on the page opposite the start of September (and my granny’s birthday) was a picture of the Flopsy Bunnies out picking brambles. (I think Beatrix Potter called them blackberries, but obviously you can’t be good at everything.) Being a bit of an afficionado of autumn, the conjuncture of all these things on adjoining pages seemed to suggest the essential importance of brambles.
I’m sure that if I kept brambling enough, I would be able to come up with some kind of complicated metaphor for what it teaches you about life, given the twin perils of nettles and bramble thorns that you have to overcome. It is true that the fattest brambles seem to grow behind nettles. Equally, turning slightly around from where you’ve been picking shows further drifts of fruit that you didn’t spot first time.
Like many things in life, the ultimate bramble patch is the one just further along the path from where you are…where all fruit will be large, juicy and easy to pick without getting skewered by the nettles again. But perhaps another, deeper appeal of all this is filling one’s storehouse with good things - and only for the cost of looking, and a few stings. Some entertainment comes without batteries, and some food is not vacuum packed within an inch of its life.
For both these things, and for switching off most of your brain for an hour or so, three cheers. Next stop, elderberries - perhaps in a couple of weeks or so.
September 28th, 2008
…Post-it note?
But of course there is. A free pen. A free cotton bag. A free jute carbon neutral bag. In fact, a free policy booklet that you hadn’t planned on reading in the first place.
Despite Scotland’s happy insistence on state schooling for the majority of its pupils, there’s clearly no such thing as a free education either, if you’re running an exhibition stand. I was struck by the number of IT exhibitors whose products started at a couple of grand upwards. Struck equally by the teachers I spoke to who were enjoying the seminars and the buzz, but had no money really available to spend on their department.
Having just come back from two days on an exhibition stand, at a Scottish schools event, one thing that struck me particularly was the waste that comes with a large exhibition. I was heartened by seeing one company retrieve their quantities of bubble wrap, and rewrap the materials they brought, but they did seem to be an exception.
The talk, however, was free - and teachers enjoy a good talk, so there was plenty of chatting. After two seminars with very low numbers, I was pleased to be in one where a teacher name checked half a dozen opportunities my organisation offers, AND got that response we all long for: the immediate “Wow, how can I get some of that?” That’s the kind of response, from speaker and audience, that you can’t buy.
Thankfully, smiling is free. Encouraging teachers in celebrating their successes. But I discovered that saying thank you to the organisers, when leaving, was in fact priceless - one person in the site office commented “No one ever stops to say thank you…”
Results: one heart at ease; one pair of feet waiting to be freed from their shoes.
September 25th, 2008
Shock and amazement - sunshine two days running! Pretty much sun all day today! Any time now someone’ll suggest it’s a Scottish summer (apart from the normal three-days-in-May kind of summer we come to hope for).
At any rate, it allowed for a bit of gardening yesterday, aided by my parents. With all the rain of late, I had pretty much given it over to snails, but lo and behold, there were some potatoes to crop, and a new plant to put in the side border. We may even be able to gather a whole three beetroot, and perhaps the odd carrot or two…
Back in May, I had a bit of a garden breakthrough. I got into planting vegetables from seeds, and tried lots of different types. Perhaps not the full Good Life - still had to be in the office during the week - but a bit more sense of progress in the garden.
Sadly, the slugs and snails appeared to have eaten more than their fair share. My pea and bean seedlings were completely nobbled. Lettuces did OK, but sweet peas (a favourite) also got eaten, and as a result, the borders remained good on leaf, but not much on flower.
Perhaps I have to take heart on what worked. I learned that I can raise plants from seed. I just need to work on helping them to survive…I also discovered that the attic is pretty good as a greenhouse, as long as I can keep watering things enough. We sat outside more than before. I learned how to make elderflower cordial, which worked fine with elderflowers hanging over the back of the garden. These are steps forward.
It’s the creatures great and small that are needing taking in hand - both the cats which pursue any bare earth, and the smaller beasties that can clearly identify flourishing seedlings much faster than I can.
Hopefully, my rhubarb cuttings and I can fight back a bit next year. And perhaps there will still be some brambles left, if the sun remains, and I can manage a walk down the cycle paths near to home.
September 22nd, 2008
Not yet out and about, but the plan is to be out and about, as I’ve finally bitten the bullet and booked refresher driving lessons. Been looking at driving school websites, and for all that they say about refresher lessons, most of them don’t seem to be thinking of someone who’s basically been avoiding driving for 15 years.
My standard preamble is that I took my test in my gap year, and later the same week, went to Poland. I wasn’t insured to drive there, and all I could have driven, realistically, would have been a tractor or a 12 seater minibus. Returning from Poland, I was soon off to university where a) there was no money to drive and b) not much parking either.
And so it went on. Edinburgh is a city where you really can resist driving, given a good bus service (well I think so anyway), and lots that is walkable. Dan hadn’t had driving lessons, which made it easier to continue driving avoidance. I had learned in a medium sized town, I was a bit scared of city driving. And so on.
We’ve got good at arranging holidays that rely on public transport. And far too good at cadging lifts from others. As friends move further out of town, it is starting to get harder to see people as easily - or it takes a lot longer to do so. My trip to Dunfermline probably took two hours, door to door, allowing for bus and train connections, when you can do that in 30 mins by car? (I think. Travelling by public transport means that estimations of travel time by car are not one of my strong points.)
Main shift has come from Mum offering to pass on her car to me. I think she still wants to…and Mum and Dad in particular continue to drive to see us from Peebles, whereas we get the bus to Penicuik, and cadge a lift from there. It’s not really fair, and despite the fuel increases, at least having the ability to do this driving thing would be a big step forward.
So, you can either run screaming from the pavements after October 13, or pray for skills, and confidence, to follow suit.
September 20th, 2008
Off to Dunfermline today, to give a hand to Alison W and her kids. With the eldest now in school, a visitor to the house allows Donn, no. 2, to up the vehicular ante, and fit as many transport books as he can.
Donn’s specialist subject is tractors, for which he will happily count up to 10, identify colours, and whether wheels or caterpillar tracks are in evidence. Multitasking, he will also take in trucks, cars, and trains. Certainly he know more of the Thomas engines than I do, and is quick to see when they are being threatened by falling sandbags, rocks and the like.
It does seem to me that boys tend be conversant with a range of vehicles but like to choose a favourite too. Thomas in Italy has a clear and easy choice for trains, conveniently having a major player named after him. Dan started talking with ‘taxi’, and moved on to cars.
Donn’s commitment to tractors is clear, but what of other options? Who is championing milk floats? Sit on lawnmowers? Snow ploughs? Fire engines, dustmen’s trucks, they get all the glamour, given the option to both drive a large vehicle and have defined activities.
I myself have a liking for trains, but more really for getting to travel through scenery that I might otherwise not get to see. I like walking, too. But small boys have less incentive to wave at pedestrians - short of gaining bionic legs, they’re just not dynamic enough.
Meanwhile, if anyone can trace a copy of “Cars and Trucks and Things that Go” (Richard Scarry), do let me know - someone’s birthday coming up, and all that.
September 19th, 2008
Overwhelmed as I am with five comments on one post, I know that what you really wanted to read about was Cremola Foam.
I have a Useful Notebook that gets carried around, partly so I can work out which children’s book to buy for which new arrival and that kind of thing, but it’s useful for ideas about blog posts too. Sometimes it’s as good to think about writing as it is to do it - like food in that respect.
Topping the list of items to write about is Cremola Foam. Going to wikipedia, fount of all immediately accessible information, I discover that I have the name wrong - it is in fact Creamola Foam: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creamola_Foam
Growing up as a Mackenzie, a big part of family tradition was going on holiday to the Isle of Jura. It’s a few generations since we had direct relatives living there, but there’s a family cottage, and a lot of shared history. It’s where my dad spent his summer holidays too, and part of those holidays, for both of us, was creamola foam.
Part of the mystique of creamola foam was the buying it en route to Jura. We’d drive up from the north of England or central England, according to where we were living at that point, and stay over with my great aunts in Greenock. (Greenock is indeed the place to live if you are an aunt.) We would then drive to Gourock, just up the coast, and get the ferry to Dunoon, to continue the journey.
And once we arrived in Gourock, anticipating the first ferry of the journey, it was time to buy the small pot of creamola foam to induce the holiday mood. In Dad’s day, it was mostly lemon flavour, in mine, orange. But mainly really it allows you to have an absurdly fizzy drink and a huge amount of happiness (and no doubt sugar), combined.
Creamola foam was also available in the shop on Islay, after the second ferry, and before the third, over to Jura itself. Should you run out on the holiday, there would usually be a day trip to Islay, and an opportunity to stock up again.
One year, I attempted the impossible. I brought a full pot of it home with me. Now I could continue the holiday feeling. But then, it being precious, it was hard to make a move to start it. A month or two down the line, and it was already hardening into a lump. And somehow, it didn’t taste the same at home.
Reading wikipedia, I discover the advertising boast that creamola foam was ‘fully sweetened’. You bet. This is a Scottish foodstuff, after all. Needless to say, they don’t write advertising copy like that these days - or perhaps, they just hide the fact that something is fully sweetened.
Tastes of childhood. Perhaps sometimes it’s best for some things to remain at a distance. Worse, perhaps, to discover now that I didn’t like it - although again, wikipedia indicates that there’s a bit of an attempt going on to bring it back.
With rain on the menu most days at the moment, it’s good to think about summer at times, even distant summers. Next stop, soda streams, I feel.
September 18th, 2008
I’m sure you don’t need me to apologise to you - and indeed, why am I apologising to an audience I think I may have? Or am I apologising to the laptop, which is perhaps a little over familiar with hitting other people on Facebook (Heroes application) and wants to do something a little higher minded?
But in the last flurry of writing, I did discover I had a small readership at least, so I thought I’d give an idea of what Dan and I have been up to since early April, which is when the blog fizzled.
April: time of work trips to Germany and London, combined with cold/flu. I’d not had to do work trips while feeling ill before, and I do not want to repeat the experience. Laptop came up trumps in occupying me while lying in my hotel room in Bonn feeling sorry for myself, but it’s not fun being unable to go home until not one but two trips are complete. Hurrah for a bit of rest time at Dan’s mum’s between the two sets of meetings.
April also brought a halt to my knocking back the coffee quite so much. I still love strong coffee, but sadly it doesn’t love me back any more. I know that caffeine lovers never want to hear that life is possible without quite so much of it…and it is. And I feel better for it. (But I still miss it.)
May: An opportunity to change my working hours. It took a while to kick in, but I now have a Friday off every second week, and work slightly longer hours for the remaining time, to keep the pay level the same. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner - makes a difference, having a long weekend every second week.
Weather improves - and I start a bit more gardening, which includes lots of planting lettuce seeds and the like. I think there’ll be a separate post on this.
New arrivals for friends’ kids - and another colleague at work. A great day seminar on God and money, and a little course in our regular church group, exploring money management - timely, given the growing gloom in financial circles.
May also brings an opportunity to experience the bright lights of Dunfermline on a Friday night, for a birthday party of a friend in the same group. If you want to add razzmatazz to a cake, I can highly recommend wrapping a pink feather boa around it!
And back to another set of departures at work. One team had to wait until late summer to find out if they had won their contract - and some of them decided to look at pastures new. A reminder that even in an office of only 60, staffing never seems to stay still for very long. Meanwhile I notch up 8 years here…
June: a work trip to Switzerland! I have a day or so in Zurich, just before Euro 2008 kicks off. Another city I would like to live in - and which has a correspondingly high cost of living to match its high quality of life.
I finish up by taking the train over to Geneva - and meet up with Dan and other friends for a week’s holiday in the Burgundy area. Dan provides the contact for a free week’s stay, others provide the driving skills and the board games, others still take care of the chocolate rations. I cook two roast chickens simultaneously, and spend a happy time mostly focused around planning the next meal.
Another trip shortly after, to London for a friend’s wedding - and I don’t even make it out the door, due to a combination of high heels, trouser turn ups and a short flight of stairs. Lots of pain, lots of annoyance in being so near and yet so far. I also get a trip to the Minor Injuries Unit at the Western General on return, which is a more positive experience, particularly when I get advice from a colleague who had a recent leg wound and knows exactly what to do to get it looked at.
July: the Friday day off begins, and our plans to get some home improvements get a bit further. We spend much of the rest of July moving stuff out of sitting room, study and kitchen, and pulling really grungy woodchip off ceilings, in order to let two guys in to replaster and paint. My parents help us pick some new carpet, and we get a new fridge freezer. It’s all very domestic, but given that some bits of the flat really need replacing, nearly 4 years on from buying, it’s a good chance to have things as we want.
I also manage to work mornings only, for a week each in July and August, which includes time for charity shop visits, coffees out with mums, and a few practical things like finally finding a dentist near to home.
August: another trip to London for the weekend, this time to see Yasuko and Tatsuya, over from Japan. Yasuko was in the same halls of residence as Dan in his first year at university, and she’s kept coming back over to the UK when she could. This trip brought her husband, who took to life here very well, including his first trip to the Proms…and a certain liking for hummus.
Mum had a significant birthday - and we managed our usual August Mackenzies reunion to coincide with this and two other family birthdays. My brother John and his fiance Sarah were also up, with pics of their first home, in the town where John was born - a nice circularity there.
Dan’s mum Jen came up for her usual August holiday, and we managed a long weekend all together, including a wonderful walk to Cramond where the sun actually shone!
And we lost a staff member in our immediate team - again. Back to hauling some additional workload.
September: the students I’ve been preparing for arrive in Scotland, and I spend a week and a half travelling hither and yon meeting them and doing my exciting talks about tax and the like. This year’s group includes one from Senegal, for the first time. Limited opportunities for West Coast scones (usually a highlight of these kind of trips), but plenty of local authority sandwiches.
The carpet is down, and we begin the slow task of moving everything back. Despite a big clear out before all the furniture moving, we come to put things back, and I find myself wondering why we have some of it…
That’s quite enough overview - on to some of the quirky things, in other posts.
September 16th, 2008
It seems that blogs could be seasonal. A bit like soup. It gets a little darker, the need for stodgy food reappears on the shopping list…and for words, that familiar comfort, to make an appearance.
Or maybe they’re seasonal creatures, like birds. Come the spring, blog words need to go to warmer climes (warmer than Scotland anyway), and desert me. Maybe they lie on beaches and actually go quiet. Maybe they take a vow of silence and sit in a secluded monastery for a few months.
At any rate, words, ideas for the blog have been clustering about me again. It’s the inverse of that quote I’m sure I’ve used before - words vs digging ditches. In the spring, I did actually dig some ditches for a change - or at least, put seed into pots, and attempted some gardening.
Now the writer says to hell with digging ditches (too wet, too cold) and longs to write words. And perhaps you, who are her friends, write back…
September 16th, 2008
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