Crafty manoeuvres

North by North West

2012-02-14T08:41:00.000Z

I'm currently heading back to Scotland after a(nother) great weekend in and around Manchester. As the TransPennine Express whisks me North, I thought I'd use the time productively to share my weekend.

Until I visited just after New Year, I really wasn't sure what I'd think of Manchester. It's a big city after all, one of England's 10 'core cities', and that means big. Being a bit of a hick, I don't always feel comfortable in big cities. London, for example, usually intimidates me – the buildings are so tall and close together, the crowds so thick and purposeful, the expressions on faces so focused.

I was prepared to feel that way in Manchester too – but it didn't happen. Instead I actually felt quite at home. Now that might in part be because I was being shown round by someone who knows the city well, but I'm not sure that's the whole reason. The city has (to me at least) a good vibe – an undercurrent of humour and humanity, a city where people live not just work or visit. It also was far less busy and crowded than I expected – although to be fair, we did avoid the main shopping drag.

It has some big buildings and some very modern ones, that's true. But it also has some more human scale ones, and a great combination of old mixed in with the new. The red brick definitely helps too. Less severe than London, or Edinburgh even. And stylish, very stylish!

In the city we visited many of the sites – the Town Hall with its Ford Madox Brown murals and opulent marble staircase, Old (or to be more accurate, not so old quite spanking new) Trafford, Rylands Library, Museum of Science andIndustry, Salford Quays, the Lowry Theatre, the People's HistoryMuseum. We even made a trip out to the mecca of Mammon that is the Trafford Centre. Sadly, Coronation Street is no more so the Granada Studio Tour wasn't on the itinerary.

But it wasn't all city life – and I confess I was amazed at what beautiful countryside there is within very easy reach of the city centre. Beautiful market towns and former mill towns with vibrant high streets and pretty cottages. Rolling moors and enticing country walks. Saturday morning'stea stop, for example, was a garden centre near Warrington boasting a tea room complete with outside booths, blankets and heaters, all with a great view of the fantastical ice sculptures created by the small fountain.

Admittedly the North West has its fair share of down at heel locations – mill towns that haven't survived the post industrial age that is modern Britain, areas of deprivation and poverty. A quick scan of the local council websites tell the story with regeneration schemes, anti poverty projects and youth employment initiatives commonplace.

But for all that, you know what? I liked it – even the train journey through Dumfries & Galloway, the Lake District and Lancashire is a pleasure. Apart from the damn Virgin Pendolino trains that is, their travel sick inducing properties never cease to amaze me. This morning's alternative of the TransPennine Express is a joy by comparison, even if it is just a glorified Sprinter train!

PS Best of all was the company, but that's a whole different story for another day...

Random Thoughts: Wealth

2012-02-10T15:39:00.000Z

I blogged earlier this week that I've taken up a new blogging challenge - the Random Thoughts challenge set by my partner in crime, the awesome Just Frances. So here goes with my first one...

I am challenged to write for you about Cooking up my own 'Get Rich Quick' scheme. Now this is a bit of a hard one for me, in part because I've never yet managed to do it, and in part becauise I'm really not that interesting in getting rich. In fact the whole millionaire celebrity culture that we appear to have created in this country simply turns me off. Don't get me wrong, I like having cash. I like being able to afford to buy the pretty silly things I like, but if I'm honest, I'm really quite happy just being comfortable. I don't crave more, I'm content with what I've got - and I really don't know what I'd spend it on if I had more. Apart from shoes, that is - obviously. And travelling...

But back to the challenge. I've never really been an entrepreneur. As a child, I wasn't the one setting up car washing or gardening businesses. I did have an after school job doing ironing for one of the local shopowners, but that was the scale of my ambition.

My only foray into self employed-dom has been a fairly unsuccessful (financially at least) dabbling in handmade jewellery making. For a couple of years I spent most of my evenings creating 'unique' (ie unsellable) items that I would then spend most of my weekends at craft fairs not selling.

Overall I made a financial loss on the 'business'. Ironically, however, I did make a profit courtesy of HMRC - to keep on the right side of everything I opted to declare myself self employed and as a result was obliged to complete a tax return each year. It seems I was overpaying tax on other aspects of my earnings and as a result for the last few years I've received a rebate.

Not quite get rich, and certainly not very quick, but bizarrely it did bring in additional income. Ho hum, who'd have thought it.

Missing in inaction

2012-02-05T21:30:00.001Z

As regular readers will realise, I've been a bit absent this year so far. At least from my blog that is. Truth i,s I've hit a bit of a block. Not a 'can't write', writer's block kind of block, but a 'not really sure what to write' one.

The thing is, as you know, this is a personal self indulgent little blog, where I get to write about what's happening to me, what I'm thinking and how life is faring for me. I'm generally pretty open in it, and at times I've shared some deeply personal stuff. It's what seems right to do. But at the moment, for a variety of reasons that I'll no doubt share in due course, my personal life isn't something I'm comfortable sharing with the world at the moment.

Now don't worry, there's nothing wrong. I'm perfectly ok, no bad things are happening - it's just that I'm not ready to write publicly about some stuff and that's been blocking me from writing about anything. So it was with great pleasure today that Frances (the queen of awesomeness herself) and I agreed to our latest blog challenge. So for the next while, we're going to both post at least once a week on a random topic - and not just any random topic but one drawn completely at random from a creative writing prompt website with numbers generated digitally at random for us. To make sure we don't cheat, we're both going to select each other's number and therefore topic and then we will have until the following weekend to compose our ~~inane ramblings~~, sorry works of genius.

We'll be identifying our challenge posts with the title 'Random Thoughts' and I'll be tagging mine 'randomness' just in case you're ever daft enough to want to read them all.

Hopefully this will help me get back into my blogging groove. To be honest, I've missed it - you may not have done, but I definitely have. So here we go, let 2012 be the year of random!!

Through wind and rain...

2012-01-22T20:06:00.000Z

Well, yesterday saw me run my first race of the year, as predicted last time I posted. It was the first of my race a month challenge set by the awesome Just Frances. This will see us get through 2012 with a minimum of one organised race a month. We already have a few mapped out and a few gaps in the schedule, but yesterday was the day we got it all kicked off.

And, to be honest, weather-wise, we would have struggled to get a worse day - short of blizzard conditions, that is! As Frances tells me, she's run in colder conditions, but yesterday was the whole package of yukky conditions - rain, strong headwind, bitingly cold, with muddy and uneven conditions underfoot. Added to our combined lack of training, we were fearing the worst. To be honest, I was convinced I was likely to come last having looked at last year's results. And while I'm not running to win, if I'm entirely honest, I find coming last a real problem.

But as it turns out, I did ok. My time wasn't the best (1:04:51 - my slowest yet for a 10k), and my running certainly wasn't elegant. But I didn't disgrace myself - I wasn't last, I managed to run the whole race without stopping and I crossed the finish line with some (but not a lot) of puff left. And while I was shattered afterwards and in my bed by 9pm last night, today I'm not feeling too bad at all. A few twinges but no crippling muscle strains or aching joints.

And surprising amounts of energy - must be all those endolphins. Either that or my post race nutrition - it's all about eating and drinking the right things after all...

Racing ahead of myself

2012-01-13T17:52:00.000Z

Regular readers of this blog will know that last year saw me taking on perhaps my biggest challenge yet - running a marathon with my awesome partner in crime. It was, I confess, a hard slog - not all of the time but as the distances got longer and the race got nearer, it became a real trial.

I can't say that I enjoyed it but I am exceptionally proud of myself that I completed it. Before, during and after the race I was firm in my conviction that I wouldn't do another one. The pain - physical and psychological - was just too much for me, and having done it once I didn't feel any great compulsion to do it again. I can safely say I really didn't understand how people could become addicted to such a god awful experience.

Just over 3 months on, has my view changed? Not really. I'm not quite so anti trying another marathon 'in due course' now, but it's still not something I feel compelled to rush out and do straight away. I haven't given up the running however.

Or to be more accurate, I won't be giving up the running. I have rather given it up over the winter but that's starting to change. I got out on my first run in 2 months at the weekend and while my time wasn't great and I felt pretty sore for a few days afterwards, it's also true to say that I felt good afterwards. It was great to get the air in my lungs again, to stretch my legs out and to stomp round my 4 mile running route.

Which is just as well really, since the aforementioned Frances has challenged me to a race a month for 2012 and we have our first one lined up for next weekend. Luckily it's just (!?) a 10k so I've got half a chance of surviving it with only minimal training.

However, for minimal read 'No' training. And if I'm not careful that might be the way it is this year. For a variety of reasons I'm expecting to find my personal time under pressure this year. I'm not unhappy about that but it does mean I'm going to have to be much more disciplined about my training schedule. Before work runs might need to start happening once the mornings get light enough. Weekend runs will need to be squeezed in as and when to get some longer distances under my belt.

I'm looking forward to it. No, really I am. I'm particularly looking forward to enjoying my running again, without the fear of 26.2 miles hanging over me as it did for large parts of last year. But knowing me and my competitive streak, I'll just replace the challenge of endurance with one of speed and will spend my year obsessing about PBs.

Still, there are worse things to obsess about...

Comfort for the soul

2012-01-08T14:42:00.001Z

...and for the body.

You know, there's nothing like home cooked food to make you feel good. And, for me at least, nothing like making home cooked food to make me feel good. Honestly, I love it. Cooking really relaxes me. Wait a minute, let me qualify that. Cooking, when there isn't a time pressure really relaxes me. I'm not sure I'd feel the same way if I was having to churn out meal after meal to a schedule, particularly if the diners were fussy or unappreciative. I really do take my hat off to working mums (or dads, for that matter) who manage that particular miracle day in, day out.

But for me, I'm lucky. Generally the only person I have to please is myself - and I'm always appreciative of my efforts! I can pick and choose when I cook, or when I just snack. I can opt to eat in the middle of the day from the canteen at work and just have toast or something similar when I get in at night. My only deadlines are the ones I set myself, and if I'm too tired to cook but am hungry, there's usually something in the freezer that can just be heated up from one of my earlier cooking sessions. (I always make way more than I need with the express intention of freezing the rest for a later date. I know my work/life [im]balance, after all!)

So, last night, after a great day out in Edinburgh exploring what was left of the sales, my relaxation method of choice for a fun Saturday evening was to raid the fridge and get cooking. I confess that I'm not organised enough to plan menus out - unless for special occasions - and my dishes tend to be combinations of what's in the fridge/cupboard and needing to be used up. Years of Protect and Survive from my Mum have left me with a 'nuclear store cupboard' mentality to food shopping, so it's not usually too hard to whip something up from what I can find around and about of an evening.

I'll sometimes buy ingredients with the intention of making a particular dish, but more often I buy things because they look interesting, or I like the taste and know that I'll find something to do with them. As a result, I don't often follow recipes. Generally my dishes are made up, sometimes loosely based on a recipe from a book, but more often just guess work about what flavours and textures will work well together.

Don't get me wrong, I own tons of cookery books, and I love reading them. They generally make my mouth water. I also have a subscription to the ever enticing Delicious magazine. And I wouldn't be without any of them. But they're pretty much just for ideas. My true passion is creating!

And this little lot? Well, it was 2 (3 minus 1 because I had no kidney beans!) and mushroom chilli, and stuffed portobello mushrooms. I ate some of the chilli, which was very good if I say so myself, and the mushrooms have gone into the freezer for another day - probably to be eaten either on their on with a salad of some description, or as a side dish to another main meal. Can't wait!

OK, I did promise the recipes to some friends so here they are - or as close as you get to recipes from me!

Chilli - sweat off some onions and peppers, add chilli flakes and powder, cook off a bit and then add a tin or so of chopped tomatoes (plus any whole ones left in the fridge!). Throw in some quartered button mushrooms and tins of whatever beans you have handy. Cook for about 30 mins to let the juices out and flavours in. My secret additional ingredient for last night was a dash of Jerk Molasses Barbeque sauce, which added a fabulous hint of smokiness.

A tip from a friend was to make corn bread to go with it. That's a definite for me when the remains come out of the freezer next time!

Stuffed mushrooms - take however many portobello or breakfast mushrooms you have, brush them with olive oil and put in the oven on a baking tray for 4 mins. Meanwhile chop up onions - or in this case, leeks - and sweat in butter. Add garlic if you like, I didn't but I'm sure it would taste good. I had some thyme - which is great with mushrooms - so that went in after the sweating. I also added the stalks from the mushrooms for some extra flavour and to avoid wasting them. Crumble up some cheese, add to the pan together with some breadcrumbs and an egg. Season and then pack on top of the part cooked mushrooms. Put the whole lot back in the oven and cook for another 6 mins or so. Remove, eat, enjoy!

Storms

2012-01-05T11:25:00.002Z

We often talk about the still before the storm, but what about the peace that comes after it?

As with this week's weather, there's often damage and daily lives can be thrown out of kilter. Things that have been around for a long time can be uprooted and over-turned. It can be difficult to come to terms with sometimes, and the change can be hard.

But sometimes the new perspective can be liberating - not necessarily straight away, but in time you can come to appreciate the new view that you have, the space that wasn't there before, the fresh light in your surroundings.

And just sometimes, that new light and space can allow something really wonderful to grow.

Me? Well, I survived the storm. There was some damage and things have changed, but I found my way through - and found myself at the same time. Now it's time for my something wonderful...

2012 - here I come!

TWTYTW

2011-12-31T15:11:00.000Z

Well, it's that time of year again when I look back at the year that's been, and try to make sense of it all. And it really depends where you look what the year appears to have been.

Looking at my Facebook status updates randomly captured by the Facebook bot and collaged above, I appear to have the most banal of existences. I'm not sure what that tells me - I don't think I'm as shallow as this little selection implies, but who knows! There are a few highlights in there - my continuing search for a permanent residence, my awesome friends, the usual niggles from work, my weakness for the guilty pleasures of idoitic TV, and hints of my new found partner-in-crime. But the real highs (and lows) of the year aren't captured, other than obliquely.

There's nothing, for example, about my running challenge - which is strange because I'm pretty sure I bored my online friends senseless with it this year. Who knows, perhaps even the bot was bored! There's also precious little about my life goals for the year - which is interesting, since they don't really appear to have been central to my day to day musings. And there's also not much about my great adventure to Sicily, surely one of the highlights of my year - not so much for the travelling, which was great, but for the sense of freedom, independence and confidence that it brought me, finally!

So, when I look back (personally*) on 2011 that's probably what stands out the most for me. 2011 as the year when I finally came to terms with who and what I am, and learned to love it. Work-in-progress me has come a long way over the last 12 months, and you know what? I'm pretty proud of myself for it.

And what about 2012**? What's it going to be like? Well, I have a feeling it's going to be a good year, perhaps one of the best. I'm in a great place personally, good things are happening, and I feel ready to make the most of them. I have awesome family and friends, I'm healthy, happy, safe, secure. Life is good. What else is there?

*As I say above, this is a personal reflection on the year. Self indulgent, I know, but that's what this blog is about! If you want a political or news review, try here for just one perspective on 2011 on a less insular scale.

** And if you want to know the real stock take on my 2011 goals, tune in tomorrow (or so!) for a round up and preview of my resolutions and goals for 2012.

Christmas traditions

2011-12-25T12:39:00.000Z

At a time when the rest of the country seems to have finished Christmas, here in chez Maxwell it's hardly begun yet. And no, it's not that we've been lying about in bed all morning. We've been up since 8am (well some of us have, others managed a long lie) and there's been lots happening, but Christmas itself as others know it - well, it's not really started yet.

I'm not sure when it dawned on me that the way we did Christmas at home was different from the way most other people did. We did the whole Santa thing, with stockings hung up, filled overnight and then opened with great excitement in the morning. And we did the Christmas lunch thing - the bird, the vegetables and all the trimmings. But that's pretty much where the similarities ended.

For one thing, present opening didn't (and still doesn't) start until after lunch. Present opening itself is a very civilised affair, with no paper wrapping frenzy, pauses between gifts to explore and appreciate (and thank the donor) and organised lists of who gave what made. While it might sound boring and sedate, I confess I enjoy it. It is much more of a family event, with true appreciation for what's given and received. And it makes Christmas last waaaay longer!

When I spoke to friends, of course, I noticed that they did things differently but it wasn't really until I started spending Christmas with other people that I realised just how different it was from the norm. And I've been reminded again this Christmas with a guest in the house, to whom I'm having to explain our idiosyncrasies. Luckily she's a flexible sort and is quite happy to go with the flow. Just as well really.

And with that, I need to go finish making my bread sauce... Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you're having a great day, whatever your traditions are.

Stripped bare

2011-12-23T09:02:00.000Z

I was thinking the other day, it's been a while since I spent a day naked in public. I mean, if I know I'm not leaving the flat, I'll do it. But outside? With nothing on? No, not for quite some time.

If you haven't clicked on the link above yet, by now you may well be wondering what on earth I'm on about - or just what kind of place Stirling is these days! If you have clicked (digitally or metaphorically), you'll know I'm talking about having a make-up free day. Perhaps not quite as daring as the full Lady Godiva, but in some ways no less scary.

The good news is that my skin is so much better these days, and the thought of braving the outside without make-up is therefore much less daunting. I put that down to a couple of things - wearing less, and better, make up on a day to day basis, and a more consistent skin care regime. I only have to look at my friends who don't wear make up to realise that if I'm probably on the right track with that.

But I'm convinced it's also due to a more stable, content and positive me. Less stress and angst really does seem to benefit my skin.

The bad news? Well, I'm not sure there is any, to be honest. Other than me still feeling the need to disguise my flaws and imperfections on a daily basis. Is that a bad thing? Yes and no, I guess. The make up I tend to wear is so light that it doesn't do much more than just smooth things out. It certainly doesn't change my face to the degree that I see some women trying to. But the fact that I feel the need for cover-up probably says something about my (lack of) confidence.

I don't think I'm vain, but I am conscious of how I look. Right or wrong, I feel people will judge me by how I look as much as by what I do or say. Part of me is bound up in how I look, perhaps too much. Not all of me, but hiding my imperfections is still something I feel the need to do to bolster my courage. Maybe that's what I need to work on next...

Obscenity

2011-12-18T19:18:00.000Z

As some of my online friends already know, I settled down this afternoon for a lazy pre Christmas Sunday afternoon - all my present buying is pretty much done, I've had a couple of lovely Christmas nights out already and have at least one more feast to look forward to before the big day itself. Not to mention another trip out for festive cocktails at my favourite watering hole.

Recovering from the pre-season festivities as I was, I thought I'd throw on a DVD as I lounged on the sofa in my (for a change) cosy living room with the heating on full blast. I was in the mood for some music, so I opted for the Live Aid DVD set I got a few Christmases back. Since I was in for the long haul, instead of flicking through and finding the artists I most wanted to see, I let it run from the beginning - including the original news report from Michael Buerk that kick started the whole Band Aid/Live Aid thing.

It's a while since I've seen the footage - and believe me, it's still as heart rending now as it was then. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried as I watched it again. And while I watched the Band Aid video. And again, when *that* Cars track came on. It is shocking and I defy anyone not to be moved. Disgusted. Appalled.

But do you know what makes me cry even more? The fact that it's still happening. All over the world. In this so called modern world of ours, even today, there are millions who go hungry - in fact, more than the combined populations of USA, Canada and the European Union put together. Hunger is a far bigger killer than AIDS, than malaria or than TB. 25% of children in the developing world are under-nourished.

At the same time, we throw away far more food EVERY DAY than it would take to feed those starving people. There are more obese people on the planet than there are starving ones - about 50% more. And that's a big number when you consider there are nearly 1 billion starving people.

Now, to me - that's real obscenity!

So, at this time of year when we prepare to tuck into our Christmas dinners, containing upwards of 3,000 calories in one meal - about 3 or 4 times what we actually NEED, I'm spending a bit of time finding out what I can do to help.

There's the obvious one about donating to organisations trying to help - people like the UN Food Programme, the Disasters Emergency Committee, Save the Children and many many more. And while it's nowhere near as extreme in the UK, far too many children here grow up in poverty too - approximately 4 million according to some sources. 4 million! In our 'civilised' society. Ok, they're probably not starving but they are still suffering. And their life chances are significantly worse as a result.

Giving money is the easy bit to be honest, my real challenge is to work out what else I can do to make a difference. I'm lucky that there are small things I can do through my job to try to change some of the conditions - but it feels like nowhere near enough. I need to do some serious thinking.

And as I look around at my life - my comfortable, luxurious, safe life - I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed at thinking that sometimes it's hard. Embarrassed at worrying about the silly things I worry about, getting annoyed at trivia. And embarrassed about the excesses that even my relatively low key life allows me.

Obscene - you bet it is! Funny, you never heard Mary Whitehouse complaining about that...

TMI?

2011-12-17T13:37:00.000Z

Too much information? In these days of hyper digital connectivity, it's a question I often find myself asking. Finding and providing information, communicating and researching are just all so easy these days that I'm surprised we aren't all suffering from complete information overload.

It's a question, kind of, that my friend Frances is going to be grappling with next semester as she starts researching her Masters dissertation. Just how do we work out where to get our news and information from? There is just so much of it...

Which brings me to the other side of it - just how easy it is to share (often personal) information with the world. It never ceases to amaze me just how much some people are willing to share. I know I share a fair amount on this blog and through my Facebook profile, but I do censor - honest.

There are some things I wouldn't share. No, really - there are! And I don't just mean stuff I write. I also try to keep certain information completely private. I've been joking with a friend about stalking, but sadly it's not a joking matter for some people and these days of online lives can make it all too easy I suspect.

So, do yourself a favour - check out how secure your privacy settings are. Take the time to do that little check on Facebook, LinkdIn, wherever to see what can be seen about you. Google yourself a few different ways to check that you're only sharing what you want to share. It's not just about fraud, although that is made much easier by social networking than it ever used to be, it's can also be about your own personal safety. Time worth taking, if you ask me!

It's Christmas time...

2011-12-11T12:25:00.000Z

Yes, really, it is finally almost upon us. The shops may have been telling us since September, but with 2 weeks to go, I think it's reasonable to say now that it's very nearly Christmas.

As they say, Christmas comes but once a year, and I'm sure I'm not the only one that is thinking, thank heavens for that. For me, it's the fact that I haven't got my Christmas shopping under control yet that's panicking me. For others, I know it's the whole family/work/life juggling to get ready for the Christmas festivities that causes no end of stress. Sadly, for still others, it's the loneliness of loss or the fear of violence that can make this time of year hard to bear.

We all rush around at this time of year - visiting family, seeing friends, buying gifts, making and eating delicious food,going to church, giving thanks - just to make the holiday perfect. It does make me wonder why we have to save it all up - why don't we make more effort to keep in touch throughout the year, why do we need special occasions to tell people we love and care about them? Why can't we do that every day?

And with that, I'm off to brave Stirling shops again to see if I can break the back of my own personal Christmas stress factor. Yesterday's Farmers Market got me some of the way there, off to see if the independent traders are open today for round two!! I may not be managing to keep away from the big corporate fraud completely, but I'm doing my best to shop local, shop small, and when I can, shop handmade.

Whether the weather...

2011-12-10T13:20:00.001Z

Whether the weather be fine,
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not!

                                    Traditional children's rhyme

Well, it's been a strange couple of weeks weather-wise round here. Last week we had torrential rain and flooding, on Monday the snow arrived briefly, then it got warmer again.

And then on Thursday, Hurricane Bawbag hit - with a vengeance! Not only did it cause a weather storm, it's also creating an academic/geek storm over on Wikipedia as they try to decide whether to use the commonly known name or the official one for the Wiki entry. Go on, I challenge you - without looking it up - what's the official name?

As a slight digression, the whole naming of storms thing is quite interesting. Until relatively recently, storms were always given female names but that changed in 1979 - to go along with the times, apparently?? - since when names have alternated between male and female. And yes, before you ask, there has been a Hurricane Rebecca!! It does beg the question of why on earth name storms in the first place though?

Anyway, to get back to the point - in amongst all the humour, there is a serious side to this weather. We got off pretty lightly really. It could have been so much worse. As far as I know there have been no serious incidents but there are still thousands of households without power and struggling to cope in our now wintry temperatures.

But for all their current troubles, those families are still the lucky ones really. Spare a thought (again) for those without homes this winter, and maybe make one of your Christmas presents a donation to agencies that help at this happiest time of the year?

Home is...

2011-12-06T20:46:00.000Z

Usually we say, home is where the heart is. But for the purposes of this post, it's something we take for granted - and probably shouldn't.

What's brought this on? A couple of things at work, that's what. I've spent most of the day preparing for a discussion on Homelessness tomorrow. I've been reminding myself of the legal aspects and learning up on the challenges that face agencies in trying to respond and prevent homelessness. It's easy to see it as a technical debate about supply of houses, housing demand and budgets.

But when you stop to think about it, you realise it's all about people. And people not lucky enough to have the one thing most of us just take for granted, a safe, secure, watertight roof over our heads. In 2010/11, there were just over 55,000 of them in Scotland alone - and that's a reduction of 5,000 since 2005/06. Actually, it's probably more people than that since those figures relate to applications, which can include families, as well as individuals.It's a scary statistic. In Scotland, if my maths is right, that means we have a 1 in 100 chance of becoming homeless.

Of course it's not that evenly spread. The majority of people who experience homelessness do so because of a variety of life circumstances - unemployment, relationship breakdown, violence and abuse, drug or alcohol problems, or offending behaviour. Many of them will have experienced tough lives already, and the homelessness is just one more kick in the guts from the life that they have. It's also true, however, that most of us are only ever a couple or three pay cheques from homelessness ourselves - just think how quickly rent arrears or mortgage payments can mount up, and if you don't have a good family support network in place, well those life changes are even less possible to weather.

So, what was the other thing? I had the great pleasure this morning of visiting a new social rented housing development in the area. It was the official opening and after the speeches and glad-handing was done, we were lucky enough to be invited in to see one of the new homes. It was lovely, a real quality development - both the houses and the street, and what was best about it was the space. The rooms were all well sized, the garden was more than just a postage stamp and the houses had gaps between them that you'd have been hard pressed to span with three, let alone one set of outstretched arms. In short, they were houses and an estate built the way we used before we all got greedy and saw houses as investments to make a fat profit from- either personally or commercially - rather than first and foremost as homes and places to live.

That was the good bit, the fun bit. The sobering bit was when the tenant showing us round was heaping praise on the design and thermal efficiency of the building. Why was that sobering? Because she said it was just as well it was such a well designed and well insulated house because she could only afford to spend £10 a week on heating and electricity and otherwise she and her two young children would have had to go cold.

Now, I complain about how cold my flat is, and how I wish it were warmer - but that's because the heating isn't very effective, not because I can't afford to use it. Again, something that I'm lucky enough to be able to take for granted. As I said, sobering!

So tomorrow, when I'm debating what we need to do to meet the 2012 Homelessness target, while I'll be talking for some of the time about supply of houses and numbers of applicants, I'll also be reminding everyone that it's about people and delivering positive outcomes. Tackling homelessness in a meaningful way is more than just putting people in houses. It's about understanding their needs, finding ways to support them, helping them with the stresses and strains of life that bring up the risk of homelessness in the first place, and by far, far the most effective and preferable response - doing all that we can to prevent homelessness happening in the first place.

And I'll be giving thanks that I don't have to worry about where I'm going to sleep that night.

Wonderland

2011-12-04T13:59:00.002Z

Yesterday turned out to be a wonderland in so many ways - a trip to Edinburgh, pampering, shopping, fun, culture, coffee, wine, great company. What's not to like?

I was due in town for a haircut and as luck would have it I was able to persuade my partner in crime to accompany me. We did some shopping - yes, I even managed to get my Christmas gift buying started - and then explored the Christmas markets before heading on to the newly re-opened National Portrait Gallery for a quick look. After that it was the hairdresser's for me and more shopping for Frances, followed by more coffee, a quick file and polish and some wine before heading back home to Stirling.

I even managed to get closer to confirming arrangements to meet up with a friend at Christmas, so happy day all round really. The only fly in the ointment was that our other friend wasn't able to join us in our crimes. Maybe next time?

Jack Frost nipping at your nose

2011-12-02T23:23:00.001Z

So, it's finally decided to get cold. Not cold like this time last year, but certainly colder than this time last week. Last night when we finally got out of work after yet another evening meeting, the ground was shiny, the sky was clear and our breath hung in the air, frozen in time and space.

It was really beautiful, but it was also incredibly slippy. After all the heavy rain we've been having, and with the temperature plummeting so suddenly, everywhere there were patches of black ice, just waiting to catch the unsuspecting evening homeward stroller.

Luckily I got home without mishap but with one or two near misses. And then again this morning, it was the same. Wet ground was actually ice, frozen leaves recently blown late from the trees adding to nature's treachery.

During the day the skies closed in that way they only do in winter, when the light turns them a shade of yellow grey you don't see at any other time of the year. It wasn't quite cold enough yet for snow, but we had a smattering of sleet instead.

Tonight it's warming up slightly again, not enough to stop the rain/sleet but enough to thaw the ice. The walk home from cocktails was wet but non slippery. To be honest I think I prefer the ice, but I'd really rather stay in one piece. My track record for health at this time of year is a bit delicate after all.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Identity crisis?

2011-11-30T22:35:00.000Z

Yesterday I blogged about my many alter egos I could find in the virtual world. Tonight's post is more about the identity crises we can all face in our real lives.

It was the fact that today is St Andrew's Day that got me thinking about it - you know, St Andrew, patron saint of Scotland. Do I consider myself to be Scottish or British - or even European or a global citizen? My nationality is British - it's a British passport I hold, but my national identity is probably Scottish. I was born in Edinburgh but I consider myself a Fifer. But I currently live in Stirling and have a strong sense of pride in this great little city.

Am I my job? Or my marital status? Am I defined by my religion? Or which team I support? I'm a sister and daughter - is that who I am?

Or am I just me? Unique and special in every way, and like no-one else on this planet.

One things for sure, however, I am my cat's feeder - and just now he's hungry so I'd better go pay him some attention!!

Infamy

2011-11-29T21:07:00.001Z

Now, be honest - have you ever googled yourself? And if so, what did you find?

According to Google, I am variously:

I would also appear to be at least 164 years old. I reckon I'm wearing pretty well!!

Ok, so they're not all me - but it's fun finding your alter egos. But what happens when you do search for yourself, your real self, what do you find?

Me? I find that I talk a lot about post offices, about schools, occasionally about hospitals, about carbon reduction, green networks and superfast broadband. Topically for this week, I've also spoken about forced marrianges. And I attend lots and lots and lots of meetings!

You'll also find this blog, my Facebook page and even my former beaded jewellery craft business.

But just this week I reached a new level of fame - or perhaps, infamy. I am now a character in a crime book. Sadly I'm not the villain of the piece, nor am I the heroine. I am instead a bit part player, a WPC CCTV operator who appears for a chapter in the latest novel by local author, Craig Robertson. Am I sure it's me? Yes, absolutely - I bought my appearance by way of a donation at a charity event.

And I confess it's a giggle, well worth the donation if you ask me!! Still, I think I'd rather have been the one-legged lesbian coal miner from Lochgelly that Craig promised I'd be...

This time last year

2011-11-28T23:21:00.001Z

This time last year, things were very different. For a start it was a damn sight colder, snow had started falling and didn't really stop until pretty much Christmas Eve. For another thing, I caught the 'flu - not the sniffle nose, bad cough and choked up head cold kind of (man) 'flu, but the real she-bang type. Sweats, exhaustion, shivering, aches and pains, nausea, can't drag yourself out of bed, let alone out of the house kind of 'flu.

This time last year I was helped down to my flat by a very kind friend from work when I couldn't speak I was shivering so much. This time last year, my friends all rallied round, despite the snow fall, to check up I was ok, bring me food, clear the snow from my steps and just plain visit me to make sure I was still alive.

This year, the weather is much milder - it's raining like there's no tomorrow, but it's not cold and there's no chance, at least tonight, that it's turning to snow. This year, I'm feeling much healthier. I've had my 'flu jab and more to the point I'm being a bit kinder to myself - I'm taking my vitamins regularly, I'm eating a (fairly) healthy diet and I'm trying to work out how to stress less.

So far it seems to be working - *reaches to touch every nearby piece of wood simultaneously* - I don't actually think I've been ill since then. A migraine here and there, and the usual end of the week tiredness, but on the whole, I've been doing ok.

In part that is due to my healthier lifestyle. But in part it's also due to being happier. I've rediscovered a social life. I have confidence in me again. I am, for the most part, happy. And it's much longer than a year ago since I've been able to say that...

Missing

2011-11-27T15:48:00.001Z

Regular readers may have wondered what happened to me yesterday. No, it wasn't the inescapable lure of my new Smartphone. And it wasn't an almighty hangover from Friday night out with my awesome partner in crime either - although I confess I was a bit on the delicate side after a yummy meal at Hermann's, Stirling's own Scottish-Austrian gourmet eatery followed by cocktails at our favourite hang-out.

No, the reason for my radio silence has been participation in my first ever Thanksgiving dinner. My main contribution, other than eating way too much, was providing a deal of the crockery, cutlery and moral support to Frances. We badged it as a jointly hosted party, but the reality is that she did most of the cooking and my involvement was pretty much limited to turning up, eating and being sociable.

The more observant will realise it's the first time since almost the beginning of October that I've missed a day's blog post. I set myself the challenge at the start of the year to blog more regularly and for a while I was doing ok, and then I hit a slump and got out of the habit. I got back into it when I headed off to Italy in October and I've managed to keep it up since then.

I confess I really enjoy my daily blogging. It helps me sort my thoughts out. I get to indulge my passion for writing and it also allows me to say some stuff that I might not get round to saying face to face. Hopefully you enjoy reading it too - but if not, what are you still doing checking in?!

Just changing tack a bit, the other thing that's missing today, sadly, is my old friend and Frances' much loved husband, Paul. He would have been 50 today but tragically he died well before his time. It was for Paul that we ran the Loch Ness Marathon and he's been in our thoughts all weekend.

This one's for you, mate. Happy birthday, Paul x

*All photos courtesy of JustFrances.

And in case you're wondering, the opening photo - well, apparently it's traditional at Thanksgiving to put olives on your fingers. Never one to miss the opportunity to be silly, I thought it would be rude not to participate. When in Rome, after all...

Making do

2011-11-25T14:47:00.000Z

For quite some time, I haven't realised it but I have been making do. I've been denying myself. I've been having less than I could.

What on earth am I talking about? My phone, that's what. According to Ms Gadget herself, what I've been lacking in my life is a Smartphone. Or a stalker phone as I prefer to call it. But that's all in the past now. Today I became the owner of a shiny new no expense spared, packed full of extras gadget phone.

An HTC Sensation since you ask and it does....lots of stuff. It's charging at the moment so I don't really know exactly what yet, but apparently I can now download Apps (whatever they are!) and can Facebook fully whilst on the move. Even better it can operate as a WiFi Hotspot, so once I've proved that to myself I can dispense with my mobile broadband contract and I'll be spending more or less what I'm paying out at the moment on phone and broadband, and will have myself a shiny new super dooper toy into the bargain!!

Can't wait. Let's hope it's as painless and straightforward as it claims to be. Watch this space to find out...

Romantic notions

2011-11-24T20:24:00.001Z

As a great philosopher once said, What's love got to do with it?

This blog post has been in my head for a few days now but there's been so much going on that it kept getting pushed out. But now, I'm back in the flat at a reasonable time for a change and I can finally sit down to write it.

It's a strange word and concept, romance. Mention it and most people will think of the Mills & Boon, roses and chocolates version. Love, coupledom, moonlight and flowers.

But that's not what prompted me to think about it. No, it was other meanings that lead me to this post. I was listening to the radio and they were announcing the fixtures for the next round of the Scottish cup. One of the presenters commented, Ah yes, the romance of the Cup - meaning the time when the smaller clubs get the chance to play and win against the 'big boys'.

And seeing as I've been spending much of my time in Callander this week, I was reminded of another version - the Trossachs being the birthplace of modern tourism, spurred on by Sir Walter Scott and his romanticisation of the Scottish highlands 200 years ago.

Thinking about what do these two different meanings have in common? Well, they're both about fantastical or unrealistic views of the world and life. And is that what we do when we get into all that love stuff? Do we just leave our common sense at the door and allow ourselves to get carried away with non-sensical notions?

Or am I just a bit jaded by my not particularly successful attempts at it so far? Much as it terrifies me (no, really, it does!), and despite my crippling lack of success so far, fool that I am, I'd quite like the opportunity to find out the answer to that question. Who knows, maybe, just maybe, sometime soon I'll find a frog to kiss. Or maybe even a dolphin!

Countdown

2011-11-23T23:37:00.000Z

I was going to blog today about how we're now firmly in the countdown to Christmas (unless you're Frances, of course, who - rightly - refuses to contemplate Christmas until Thanksgiving is over with). I was going to complain about how busy I am and how I'm panicking about being behind the curve with my Christmas preparations.

But I did enough complaining last night.

Instead, I want to blog about what happened to me today. Or this evening to be more accurate. And not to me, but to one of our local communities - Callander.

I blogged at the weekend that I was spending the next few days working with Callander on a Charrette approach to masterplanning. Well, 120 hours and lots of talking, arguing, debating and refining later, the project has ended and tonight the Masterplan proposals were handed over to the community to take forward. We've counted down to hour zero. A vision has been developed that will see everyone pulling together to make Callander a vibrant and successful town that harnesses the benefits of tourism without being swamped by it, that transforms itself from faded grandeur to outdoor capital, and that pulls its community back together at the same time.

It was a great night tonight and genuinely inspiring. I had, and still have, a huge grin on my face that won't wipe off. A few of us have been working for some time to make this a reality, to help the town and its residents work out what it is they want, how they can make the best of the truly stunning place that they live - and tonight it all came together.

Sometimes, just sometimes, those long hours and head numbing frustrations are worth it. And tonight was one of those. Well done, guys - here's to you. Thanks for letting me share the ride...

Getting the balance right

2011-11-22T23:27:00.000Z

The work-life balance that is. Or, to be more accurate, the work-sleep balance.

As many friends will know, I've never been particularly good at keeping my workload within sensible limits or my job within a reasonable boundary. I am renowned for putting my work first and the rest of my life second, and not without just cause. I've joked that swine flu wrecked my marriage, but the point at which I let a phone call about Scotland's first swine flu case disrupt the 'make or break' discussion I was having with my now ex-husband probably was a bit of a tipping point.

So, I guess it's been no surprise that after a busy few days, or rather week, or make that fortnight - Heck, busy time since I came back from holiday - I find myself absolutely exhausted, with that scarey sick feeling in my stomach when I think about all the things I need to do this week, and how little time there actually is to do any of them.

I'm frequently heard to say that the seat of my pants is wearing very thin from all the flying they get. One answer may be, as suggested by an online friend, to buy thicker pants. Alternatively, I could try to manage my workload more successfully - but that isn't going to happen any time soon. I've been trying for years and haven't found the solution yet. I could try saying No to a few things, and I manage for a while but then my conscience and sense of responsibility get the better of me and I cave to the next request for 'just a little help'.

I could try changing my job for something less pressured, and believe me I seriously think about it on a regular basis. But I know that realistically I'm just likely to make my next job as full on as the one I have now - it's just in my nature.

So I'm left with me, and how I react to it all. Maybe I just need to try thinking myself calm and happy. Thinking myself not tired, enthused and energised instead. I tried it for a while today, and for a while it worked. I was able to see myself pleased with the challenges that lay ahead, excited about the important things we were doing. But keeping that going as I started the return 30 minute return journey home at 10pm, with my stomach thinking my throat had been cut and not an open fish and chip shop to be seen was more than I could manage.

I am dog tired. I have more work to do tomorrow than could reasonably be expected to be completed in a week. I have back to back meetings all day, including 2 off site and 30 minutes away from base. I will be shattered by the end of it, when I finish at 10 pm again tomorrow. And then I'll get up and do it all again on Thursday.

I need to learn how to pace myself, how to prioritise, how to say No, how to care less, how not to be the mug that always takes it on. Except, at the end of it all, I don't want to be that person. I care too much about what I do. It's important that it's done well and I'm not prepared to walk away with a job half done. So maybe my tactic of coping with it is the only realistic one. I just wish I could work out how...

Warming up

2011-11-21T22:12:00.000Z

Now, I know the picture looks fairly autumnal and about right for this time of year, but heck, it's nearly the end of November and there are still leaves on the trees. What's more, it's still warm enough for me to be wearing my summer mac and the days when I can see my breath in the morning have been few and far between.

To summarise, it's unseasonably warm for the time of year!! Now, don't get me wrong. Warmer weather is not necessarily a curse. It's nice not to have to bundle up in umpteen layers just to poke your nose outside the front door. It's good that I don't have to put extra duvets on the bed at night just to keep me warm (and that's even with a hot water bottle!). It's great that I haven't had to shovel the snow off my steps yet.

But, at the same time, it is a worry. There are reports that midges are still out and about (and biting) in Scotland. Flowers are flowering out of season. Nature is out of balance. More worryingly, weather patterns across the world are out of whack - droughts, floods, monsoons, storms are happening with greater frequency, and all with devastating effect. And it's not all coincidental that our greenhouse gas emissions are continuing to rise.

To me that's a far more worrying piece of news than whether or not some journalist hacked a celebrity's mobile phone, but I guess it's not as exciting for the headline makers. I really do wonder when we're all finally going to wake up and smell the coffee, and realise that we seriously need to rethink our way of life. It doesn't necessarily need to be for the worse (as we see it), and who knows we might just find that we like a less consumerist, more equal, less hectic, more balanced lifestyle.

What next?

2011-11-20T20:46:00.000Z

Well, it's been a busy weekend - after a busy week - and I'm shattered. I'm also quite excited too, however. You see - as well as cocktails and live music - I've spent this weekend working with one of our local communities to help work out a town masterplan and a community action plan.

We're using a Charrette process to do that and it has been really full on. It means lots of intense discussions, ideas, debates, arguments, opportunities, and lots and lots of hard work. So far we're 2/5 of the way through. The team have another 3 days to pull together all the ideas and issues that have been raised so far. Then on Wednesday, the team leave and it's over to all of us to deliver the plan.

There have been some really great ideas so far, and some really knotty issues to deal with. Some of them we were already aware of, others we weren't. Some of the suggestions are things we've been looking at for a while, others were new. We're all hoping that the design team we're working with will be able to turn it all round and give us a fresh perspective and some innovative solutions, plus some very clear things we can start work on right away.

Meantime, I'm off to enjoy what's left of my weekend - a glass of wine, the couch and last night's Strictly Come Dancing will do me nicely thank you very much...

Live (and decidedly kicking) music

2011-11-20T00:35:00.000Z

Tonight was spent in Glasgow at the O2 Academy, watching the fabulous Death Cab for Cutie. At the start of the concert, as I suffered the usual fate of short people in crowds and was unable to see the stage, I confess I did ask myself why I bother going to live gigs. It's usually a hassle to get there (or get back if you rely on public transport), the venue is rarely enticing and more often than not, I can't see a thing. Why don't I just save myself the bother (and expense) and listen to the CD at home.

And then the band erupted on the stage and I remembered... The sound of the live music, the feeling of the bass deep in your bones, the beat travelling up from your feet, through your legs to your body and the immersion into the experience.

There's nothing to beat good live music, and tonight's concert was just that. From the opening track, which also just happens to be my favourite of theirs, right through to the end, it was mesmerising, exhilirating, fantastic. I had worried a bit how they would be live - the 2 albums I have of theirs are fairly mellow. But the performance tonight rocked - lyrical and melodic, occasionally soulful, but lacklustre, restrained, down-beat? Never.

I am hooked. I want more. I need to start checking out the listings and getting back into live music. I may not be a spring chicken any more, but I still know how to enjoy good music and rock it with the best of them - or at least I like to think so and that's all that counts, right?

A cunning plan

2011-11-19T11:49:00.000Z

I've been back from my great Italian train and boat sized adventure for just about a month now, and I confess I'm getting itchy feet again. It doesn't help that an online friend is away in exotic climes at the moment and posting tantalising photographs of unfamiliar sights. If that's not enough to raise the wunderlust, I don't know what is.

I've always enjoyed travelling. For my early years, travelling was restricted to the UK only. Restricted makes it sound like it was something 'less than', which certainly wasn't the case. There are some truly beautiful places in this dear Kingdom of ours and I would strongly recommend some in UK exploring if you haven't already done it. My childhood was spent in various parts of the Highlands, Argyll, Yorkshire, Devon & the Lake District, and I loved it.

I had my first overseas adventure on a school trip to Northern Germany, in the days before the country was reunified and you could still stare across the border line at the East German soldiers. After that my best friend's family took me with them for a 3 week holiday in France (the Loire Valley and Brittany), and I think that's when my love of European travel started.

And then I started venturing further afield. First, a holiday in California and then for my 30th birthday present to myself, I booked a holiday to Goa. Since then I've also visited Tunisia and, possibly most exotically (so far) Madagascar. Since my big sister moved to Canada, Vancouver has been a fairly regular destination for me.

I've travelled solo, as a couple, with friends, as part of a group and even as part of someone else's family. I've flown, sailed, travelled by train, driven - on planned itineraries and in freeform modes. I love travelling. I love discovering new places. I love pushing my boundaries - adventuring, exploring new cultures, learning new languages, trying new foods, testing the local experiences.

So, what next? Well, that's where the cunning plan comes in. For a while now, I've had a silly challenge for myself - to visit every continent of the world, and to fill up as much of a country A-Z as I can. I'm not doing too badly so far with Europe, North America, Asia and Africa all ticked off, and a fair smattering of countries across the alphabet under my belt. But I'm hungry for more.

My solo adventures have definitely reawakened the challenge for me and now, as the darker winter evenings draw in, I find myself dreaming about where to visit next. Will it be Argentina (to tango in Buenos Aires)? Or Japan (to see the cherry blossom)? Or New Zealand (to visit friends)? Or will it be another European adventure - to a country I haven't visited yet? Or one I know well but want to see differently? Or will it be a new type of holiday - walking perhaps, or learning a new skill, or maybe trying a cruise?

So many options, it's hard to choose. But, it's going to be fun deciding...!

Old dog, new tricks

2011-11-18T23:32:00.000Z

One of the things I found hardest when I started my new single life was breaking old habits and starting new ones. Before my singledom, I used to look forward to every Friday evening. It was when we would celebrate the end of the week and head out to our local pub for a lovely meal and a drink. We had our own table, we were regulars and we had a great time. I loved the feeling of belonging I got from our regular weekly visit, and - unusually for me, someone who hates routine - I found a sense of stability in that regular weekly fixture.

So when I struck out on my own, it was one of the things I really missed. At the end of the week, I no longer had something to look forward to. Nothing to mark the end of the weekly grind and slide gently into the rest and relaxation of the weekend. Instead I used to dread the weekend. The time when I would leave my friends and the company of my workplace for 2 days and 3 nights of my own company.

I used to dread it in those first few months. I used to be terrified of the feeling when I shut the door when I got home and know that unless I made the effort, chances were I wouldn't speak to anyone until Monday morning. Gradually I got used to it, and found ways to cope, and even sometimes enjoy the peace and solitude. But on the whole it was a trial.

But now, while we don't necessarily stick rigidly to a Friday evening, with my partner in crime, we've created a new habit of weekend cocktaiils. Ideally, but not exclusively on a Friday night. Always at the Junk Rooms. We're starting to become regulars. The staff recognise us. The owner chats to us. Tonight we got soup and chocolates as well as our chocolates.

It's a great, if a little extravagant, way to celebrate the end of the week - but heck, we don't have many other vices, so I think we're ok with this one.

Thanks to Frances, now I look forward to my weekends. It's great to be back at that place again!

Connect the dots

2011-11-17T21:03:00.000Z

So Bristol? Next Gen? What was all that about then?

As I blogged yesterday, I spent the last couple of days down in Bristol attending the Next Gen 11 conference - a gathering dedicated to bringing about faster deployment of Next Generation or Superfast broadband across the UK, and particularly in remote and rural communities that risk being left behind by the commercial market.

On the whole it was attended by techno-types and their supply chain. Much of the time it was a complete alphabet soup of three letter acronyms, purposely designed by the high priesthood of technology to bamboozle and baffle the uninitiated. I struggled at times to understand what was being discussed, and had to work hard to keep my brain up with the topics. But it was worth it. I did learn a huge amount, if only that many people, even those who appear to understand it, are as confused as me on some of the issues.

I had been asked to participate in a Panel debate on the leadership challenges of deploying Superfast. The obvious one is how much it will cost, with figures into the multi-millions often quoted. But then when you compare that with the hundreds of millions we are happy to spend on roads and other dubious transport projects, it's not really that much after all.

Much of the cost comes from digging the holes to lay the fibre, rather than the fibre or other network infrastructure itself. If we could find a way of doing that more cheaply - using existing ducts perhaps, or finding less costly ways to dig holes - then that would help with the commercial equations.

Part of the challenge too is in understanding what it is, why it's needed and what benefits it will bring. At the moment, on the whole, we benefit from fairly good internet connections. Often times not as fast as we would like, but certainly nowhere near as absent as many parts of the globe. But the trouble is that our lifestyles and our business developments are requiring ever faster speeds, and more and more of us are wanting to use the networks, and these combine to collapse the system. Contention rates on the existing copper network mean that advertised download speeds are rarely achievable, even in our major cities. Increasingly, fibre optic networks will be required to deliver the superfast speeds that tomorrow's internet will require.

Heck, it's not even tomorrow's internet, to get the most out of it, fibre is needed today. For businesses, it can be the difference between getting to customers or not. For public services, it can be the difference between providing expertise to remote and rural areas or not. For workers, it can be what allows home, remote or flexible working. For families, it can be what adds value to their entertainment.

While the last point may seem glib, in our increasingly globalised and technology dependent world, some families may well start making decisions about where to live based on what internet services, and therefore what lifestyle services, they can access. And those areas without good connections risk being left behind. The painful truth of that is that it will probably be the very same communities that are socially excluded now that will be digitally excluded in the future.

So, what can be done? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. What I'll be doing is a heck of a lot more research. I'll also be talking about it a lot with the decision makers that I work with, telling the story and describing the need and the benefits. I'll be encouraging peope to think about different funding models, and pushing for innovation about building the networks. I'll also be getting people to look at the community led projects that are out there - in Cumbria, in Argyll, in East Lothian and in Sweden - for examples of different ways of doing it. I'll be hoping that people see this as a societal investment and not merely a retail proposition - a way of ensuring our continued economic success, of delivering high quality public services to remote and rural services, of driving technological efficiency, of sustaining rural communities and of addressing our carbon footprints.

if we really are to connect the dots across all of society, and not just those that are lucky enough to already live in areas seen as commercially lucrative for the market to want, this is an issue that requires leadership at all levels, not just by those we assume are normally 'in charge'.

So what about you - what will you be doing?

Facing demons

2011-11-17T00:00:00.000Z

I've just spent an amazing couple of days at the NextGen Broadband conference in Bristol, of which more tomorrow once I've had time to reflect on and digest all that I've heard. But for now, I wanted to share with you how fantastic I'm feeling about having faced down another demon, and achieved another first at the same time.

I've blogged before thatI don't always feel as confident as I can appear, and that putting myself out there in public is not necessarily something I look forward to. I was going to say, not something I find easy but the truth is, that while I don't like it, these days I don't actually find it that hard. Frequent forays into the limelight mean that I seem to have found a way of dealing with it and I've learned the things I need to do to come across well - how to project my voice, how to pad for time whilst thinking about what to say next, now to calm and centre myself before starting. All of which now helps with the swan* impression I have become adept at.

But none of that means I actually enjoy it. Admittedly there are some circumstances that are easier than others - smaller groups, familiar faces, a well kent subject - but for the rest? Well, it's just scary. Last week I did my first national conference plenary presentation. This week I went one step further and was a panelist on an 'expert debate' at the Next Gen conference. And although I was nervous, this week I decided not to let the nerves get the better of me, and with the help of my fellow panelists I actually managed to enjoy myself.

Apparently I was quite good too, earning lots of positive feedback and almost groupie-like attention afterwards. (These were IT boffs remember before you get too excited!) I was told I was a breath of fresh air (for which read, didn't know the detail) and willing to be controversial (for which read, didn't realise the sensitivities). But the comment I liked best was from the young female conference attendee, who thanked me for saying that the debates were too technical and virtually unintelligible to the lay person, and that if they wanted to make progress they would need to find a way to speak in plain English. She told me she had spent the conference wondering if she 'got it', but now she had the confidence to tell them just to explain it better. Result! I confess, that made my day.

And now, as I'm still buzzing with adrenalin at almost midnight, I can strongly recommend facing your own demons. The sense of achievement is immense. Knowing that you have done it will give you so much confidence. And if you're lucky, you might get the added bonus of being an inspiration to others.

What are you waiting for???

Gorillas and cheese

2011-11-15T18:02:00.000Z

Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis

It was a dream I had last week

And some kind of record seemed vital

I knew it wouldn't be much of a poem

But I love the title.

Wendy Cope

Now that I start this post, I find I'm really not quite sure what to write about. You see I had a bit of a Wendy Cope moment the other day while I was talking to a friend. The post title came to me and it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. But now I'm not really sure what to use it for.

I guess I could write about mis-heard lyrics - although what Gorillias and Cheese could have been mis-heard from I don't know. But then again, I don't think I could ever got 'a ship called Christmas Day' from Deacon Blue's Dignity either!

Or maybe the post could be about made up band names - a game I used to play with an old friend. But now I come to think about that, most of the ones I can remember were only really appropriate for death metal/punk bands and therefore not suitable for family viewing on this little blog.

Incidentally, hats off to the nephew of my partner in crime, the awesome Just Frances. He's had a band called the Blast-ended Skrewts for a number of years now, and he's not even left his teens yet. Way to go, boy - seems like awesomeness runs in the family!

But none of them really work, if I'm honest. So instead I think I'll just follow Wendy Cope's advice and revel in the gloriousness of the title.

Of course, what I really need to know now, however, is which blasted gorillia ate my damned cheese?

Get on your dancing shoes

2011-11-15T00:31:00.000Z

What an amazingly fantastic evening I've had tonight! A great end to what has admittedly been an incredibly hectic day.

And what, I hear you ask, is the cause of this fantastic-ness? Only getting back out tango dancing, that's what!

One of the girls from my tango class had decided to arrange a milonga for tonight in my favourite Stirling watering hole, the Junk Rooms and so we all duly turned up and danced the night away. A much better way to end a Manic Monday than I usually manage.

There was a good crowd there, and to my utter relief, it seems I haven't completely forgotten how to dance. Not completely. Mostly, but not completely! Fortunately most of the guys in our group are very tolerant and were willing to put up with my mis-steps, and guide me round the dance floor. It wasn't as bad as my first ever milonga, but I did feel like I should have a pair of L plates and a big badge saying, "I used to know how to dance". I also suspect I should try harder to cultivate my moody Tango persona - bursting out laughing on the dance floor doesn't really fit with the image. But it is much more fun...

So, suffice to say, I don't think I made anyone feel like Fred Astaire tonight (and by the way, what a wonderful thing that would be to do!) but can I just say, I may have been doing the dance equivalent of fluffing my lines, but as Ginger said, I was doing it all backward and in heels.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Meantime, until I remember how to dance again, I guess I'll just have to go ahead and enjoy myself having fun instead.

Social conscience

2011-11-13T14:52:00.000Z

Amazingly, I find myself in possession of a reasonable social life at the moment. Last week I caught up with the lovely Diane and her hubby Jeff in Glasgow, next week I've got a gig in Glasgow with the awesome Just Frances, and tonight we're off to see Billy Bragg.

But that's not quite the point of this post, although it is prompted by an article the aforesaid Billy posted on Facebook last week. It made me think back to my days as a student, when I was much more politically active than I am now. I always thought I was quite thoughtful and someone who didn't just comply, who didn't just accept the status quo. Someone who was a bit 'right-on'.

But when I think back on it now, it feels a bit like we were just playing. What did I actually do to make a difference, to stake my claim, to prove my point? Did I ever go out of my way to protest? Or did I just sit around pontificating about it? We debated a lot, I remember. And we passed motions comdemning or supporting this, that and the next thing. We set up petitions, and we wrote letters. We wrote lots of letters. But was it in the slightest bit meaningful?

Maybe not as much as some of the great protests we've seen in the last year or so - the students, the anti-war/anti-capitalism marches, the Arab Spring, and further back, the Berlin Wall breakthrough. But I think it probably did do something. I may not have stopped the cuts in education by marching through various Scottish cities, but it kept the issue in the spotlight. Writing letters may not have changed the world, but I now understand that it can make a difference, and at the very least, does give hope to the people about whom the letters are written. Even just keeping the debate alive, railing against the inevitable, is worth something.

And now, what do I do now? Is my social conscience still intact? Well, yes it is. I have very deep values and principles. My job doesn't always allow me to express them, but they're still there all the same. In my private life, I can still support (including financially) my own personal campaigns. In my working life, I can make sure that what I do and how I behave is true to my value base. I may not have much spare time but I like to think I do what I can. My marathon in October was a personal challenge, and a personal triumph, but it also allowed me to raise just under £800 for Epilepsy UK. And, of course, I vote whenever I get the opportunity.

Do I do enough? Probably not. Is there more that I could do? Absolutely. Now, there's some food for thought for me...

And for now, I'm off to see Billy getting that Leftfield back in Motion.

Sacrifice

2011-11-12T16:22:00.000Z

At this time of year I confess I find myself doing a fair bit of soul searching. As I blogged last year , I have mixed feelings about Remembrance Day. Being a Quaker, I am philosophically opposed to violence and war. At least that's what the Peace Testimony is about.

But I do wonder sometimes if I'm being hypocritical. While I wouldn't take up arms against another, I have to admit that I do benefit from the fact that others have done it for me. That others have been willing to give up their lives so that I can have mine. So where does that leave me and my beliefs?

I guess it leaves me confused. As the years have gone by, and as I've thought more about it, I understand that Remembrance Day is not about the glorification of war, military and fighting, that it's a public atonement and thanksgiving for the sacrifices that have been made in our name so that we can continue to have the beliefs and freedoms that we do.

I've also grown to understand that war itself, while never a good or desirable thing, is sometimes necessary. Protection of a people against an aggressor is worthy. Fighting to overturn or resist oppression is right. Violence for its own sake, for land grabs or to impose your way of life on others isn't. I've come to understand that it's not the fighting or the war that's wrong, it's the reason behind it that matters.

So, this weekend when I have the great privilege and honour of laying a wreath at our local cenotaph, my heart will be easier than it's been in previous years My mind will be with those around the world who gave, and sadly still give, their all. And with their families too. We will remember them - all.

When you are standing at your hero’s grave,
Or near some homeless village where he died,
Remember, through your heart’s rekindling pride,
The German soldiers who were loyal and brave.

Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done;
And you have nourished hatred, harsh and blind.
But in that Golgotha perhaps you’ll find
The mothers of the men who killed your son.

Siegfried Sasson

Minor chord

2011-11-11T19:18:00.000Z

As more regular readers will know, after my fantastic holiday in Italy the other month, last week I suffered a bit of a slump. It caught me by surprise but it also gave me some time to think, and I realised a couple of things.

Firstly, I realised that the lows I feel now are more about a fear of falling back into the really sad times of the past couple of years, rather than actually feeling the sadness itself. A good friend helped me think that one through and gave me some tactics for keeping it at bay. One of which involved finding a happy memory to replace it with. And what I found worked best for me was to use music. I managed to find a happy song that I can now play in my head whenever I need it. For which, thanks xx

The other thing that got me to thinking about was how music plays (pardon the pun) in my life. In the last couple of years I think I've used music as my defence mechanism. It's been the bubble I can wrap myself in to keep the world out. My iPod has been great for that. With the earbuds in I can literally close myself off and not have to engage with anyone else.

When I thought about it, I realised I hadn't really been listening to my music much recently, apart from when I was running. I realised I hadn't needed to close myself off in the same way. That I was ok with being me and being in the moment, without the need for a shield or protection.

And then I realised how much I missed my music. While it had been protection, it had also been fun. I really enjoyed my A-Z challenge from a couple of summers ago, and I wanted to get back to that place again.

So I've dug out my iPod again, and I'm trawling iTunes and YouTube and I'm refinding my music. Only this time it's for celebration and enjoyment, not protection and escape. And, do you know what? I think it actually sounds better...

Privileges

2011-11-10T20:41:00.004Z

"What you see when you open your curtains in a morning determines everything..., how you feel about the place where you stay, how you feel about yourself, whether you have the self-confidence and motivation to go to work, whether you let the kids out to play; indeed, whether you even get up in the morning."

I had the great privilege today to talk to an audience, on a national platform, about a subject I feel passionate about - the right of every person to live in an environment that is good and makes them feel good. Too many of our communities, particularly here in Central Scotland where we've raped and pillaged the environment to support our modern lifestyles, have been left with degraded environments, derelicts sites and deprived lives.

It is no coincidence that our least successful communities are located in our worst areas. It is no coincidence that our areas of lowest health are in these areas. If people have access to good quality green space, they are 24% more likely to be physically active. 37% of coronary heart disease is coronary heart disease is linked with low levels of physical activity. 33% of businesses cite environmental quality as a key factor in relocation decisions. 80% of Scotland's vacant and derelict sites lie in Central Scotland. 9% of the population in Central Scotland is unemployed, compared with a Scottish average of 4%. 88% of Scotland's most deprived areas are in Central Scotland. You do the maths!

If that doesn't convince you of the need to do something, I don't know what will. I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to get involved and play my part. I get to talk about the issues and raise awareness. I get to argue and debate and seek to influence change. I may not have the physical time to do things myself, but I have the ability to make it easier for others.

I also have the responsibility. I've had the privileges. It's only fair that I use them to put something back in. I do the work I do because I think it's important to try to make a difference. I sometimes wonder if I'm really achieving anything. Days like today make it all worthwhile!

I spy...

2011-11-09T23:08:00.000Z

There were a couple of things I could have written about under tonight's blog post title, but the other one needs a bit more work and will need to wait for another day.

So, tonight. It never ceases to amaze me at how unobservant people can be. Even with things that are plain in front of them, some people just cannot see.

It's like when you get your hair cut and no-one notices for a week or two, and then someone says 'Have you changed your hair or something?' Only about a month ago! Or when my colleagues at work were amazed that photos of me as a child didn't have red hair - they thought the colour I am now was natural. Now, this might be a great compliment to my hairdresser, but it's not really a good advert for anyone's common sense. What hair do you know changes colour every 3 months? I mean, really....

And it's not just hair styles or colours. I don't know how many times I've pointed things out to people who've worked in and around Stirling far longer than I have, that they just haven't seen. Mainly because they've never lifted their eyes above head height. I've said before, Stirling is a fantastic place, jam packed with quirky details and magnificent buildings, if you only take the time to stop and stare.

So, tomorrow (or even tonight!), why not try looking twice at some of the things around you and in front of you, and see what you can see and read from them. You might be surprised!

Driven to distraction

2011-11-08T23:13:00.000Z

Today I got to indulge in something I don't do all that often any more - drive a car. Not my car. No, it's still sitting gathering dust (literally) outside the flat. This was a work car. Nowadays, the most driving I seem to do is for work, and helpfully we have a policy of only using pool cars for work journeys. So my little Honda Civic sits outside my flat from one week's end to the next, gathering dust, leaves and bird shit - and slowly flattening its battery.

I've been meaning all year to get rid of my car. I don't need it any more. I have the luxury of being able to walk to work. There are excellent public transport connections around here for wherever I choose to go on a regular basis, and my green conscience has increased during the 2+ years I've been in my current job. I don't have small children to move around. I can get my groceries delivered. I can even hire a car if I do need one on the odd occasion. So what is it that's stopping me from letting go?

It's a question I've been pondering for a few months now. First of all it was persuading myself that there was an alternative, a viable life without a car. Then it was persuading my family. Then it was whether I would need it for my sister's visit in the summer. Now, I think, it's just lack of organisation.

Well, that and a fear of losing my independence. For as long as I've been driving, I've equated having a car to having my freedom. The ability to jump into a vehicle that I control and just take off if I want/need to. When I lived outside the city, it was a necessity. There's no way I would be contemplating this if I still lived in my previous home, or the one before that. But where I am now...nope, a car isn't an essential.

But I confess I'm still finding it hard to make the break. And that's even with all the problems I've had with batteries going flat, brakes seizing up and the car just generally getting filthy through lack of use. Not to mention how much it costs to tax and insure the damn thing, just for it to sit looking pretty outside the flat.

Today was fun. I do like driving. I like the feeling of accelerating along the open road. I like being able to see places that public transport doesn't go. But I don't need a car of my own to do that. And if the worst comes to the worst, and I need a car again - well, I can just buy one can't I?!

So, is that enough to get me moving? Watch this space and I'll keep you posted.

Perhaps, as inspiration, I should remember that the car mirror photo was taken one evening when I'd had to get the RAC out (again!) to recharge my battery and I had to take a 90 minute drive out to top the battery back up. While it was a beautiful evening for a drive, it was also a complete hassle - and one that, to be honest, I could do without!

The race is on!

2011-11-07T23:53:00.000Z

I blogged on Friday that I was intending to get back out running again, and on Saturday I did with the awesome Just Frances. She acted as my conscience and I ensured I got out of bed after an unexpected late night, and then dragged me out on my first run since the dreaded 26.2 in October. And, do you know what? It was really good. It felt good to be stretching my legs again and although our time was really slow (48 minutes for a measly 4 miles), it reminded me how much I used to enjoy my running before I put myself through the physical and psychological torture that was my marathon challenge.

And it also made the decision I made to take up Frances' challenge of a race a month for the next year, seem like the right one. I'll not, however, be taking up her offer of doing the Loch Ness marathon again next year. I'm not quite that daft - almost, but not quite. Instead I think I'll stick to 10ks and half marathons. They're much more my distance.

Which is something that even a year ago I never thought I'd hear myself say. Sometimes I find it really quite amazing how far I've come in such a short space of time - and with my running too...

So, now it's time to knuckle down to train for our first post marathon race, which will be the Reindeer Run at Stirling University on 27th November. A nice little 10k run. Not a huge amount of training required. Unless, you're competitive like me (and Frances) that is. After all, I've got to try and beat her this time!!

So I think, given the time of year and weather, I need to get back into a gym routine to complement my running. Now that I don't have to spend time getting my distances up, it should be a bit easier to fit in some cross training, and hopefully it will help to improve my overall stamina and consequently my running times.

Oh my god, I've become a running bore. When did that happen...?

The road

2011-11-06T23:28:00.002Z

The road goes on forever
And its end is out of sight
Its twists and turns keep hidden
The way that lies ahead

I travel my road gladly
I do not seek to know
I take the path before me
I follow where I go

The beauty of this life I have
This journey that is mine
The joy and light and wonderment
The pleasure of my prize

I hope to find my happiness
I trust that I'll find joy
I leave my doubts beside the road
I face where I will go

Firsts

2011-11-06T08:11:00.000Z

It's been a weekend of firsts. Not entirely firsts throughout but certainly firsts for a while.

For a start, I got back out running with Frances yesterday morning - the first time since the great marathon adventure, and while our time might have been shockingly slow, it was good and I felt like I could have run further.

And then, I headed into the Burgh Coffee house for the first time since my holiday and reinstated my Saturday morning coffee and papers routine. Ok, it was after lunch by the time I got there, but you get my drift.

After that, Frances persuaded (oh, it took great persuasion) to go shoe shopping and, for the first time in a long time, I bought new, entirely frivolous, shoes. Well, boots. And quite sensible, but they're entirely frivolous in that I didn't need them, I just wanted them. Who said my shoe addiction was dead?

On Saturday evening, it was time to go to my first ever (or ever that I can remember at any rate) organised firework display. Very good it was too. Leading me to my 'first for a while' purchase of bright pink candy floss, which I later donated - much to Frances' amazement - to the owner of our last stop for the evening, the fabulous Junk Rooms, where we had cocktails. I'd like to say that those were our first for a while. I'd like to, but I'd be fibbing. But they were our first this week, so maybe that counts.

Now today, I'm having my first lazy Sunday morning since my holiday in my flat, and later on I'm planning to get back to my tango class for the first in a very long time - I wonder if I can actually remember any of the steps?

So, it's been a weekend of firsts. And, do you know what? I feel amazing for it. Full of happiness and light. Hopefully that will keep my batteries charged for the next few weeks. I like this life I have.

If the shoe fits...

2011-11-05T14:30:00.001Z

As regular readers and my close friends, ok most people who know me, know - I like shoes. No, that's not right - I LOVE shoes. I adore shoes. Shoes are my friends and my passion.

Or they were until recently, that is. This past year, my shoe addiction has been somewhat stifled - I've hardly bought any pairs, and those that I did buy have been (gasp!) flat! This is so entirely unlike me that I confess I've been a bit worried. Even more worried when the pair of shoes that I was most excited about buying were my first pair of proper running shoes. Clearly there was a purpose and a reason for investing in them, but they were still functional flat shoes, and effectively trainers.

What had I become?! Where was the shoe diva hiding?

To be honest, I'm still not entirely sure. She's not quite returned yet, but what I am finding is that some of the shoes that I used to wear with ease - well, maybe not ease, but without too much pain - are now virtually unwearable. It's as if my feet have grown and my shoes no longer fit. I'm not sure if this is real or imagined, it seems to happen to barefoot runners, but I can't find anything to say that it's a common complaint/effect for shoed runners.

But whatever the science of it, my shoes just don't seem to fit as well anymore. And a number of them are getting to the end of their natural lives. So, I guess that means I'll have to go shoe shopping again sometime soon - what a hardship!!

Woo hoo! I sense a return to addiction coming any time about .....NOW!

Week-end

2011-11-04T23:10:00.001Z

Well, it's been a bit of a long week. Definitely back into full-on work mode after my fabulous Italian adventure and I'm pleased it's now the end of the week. Some time for rest and relaxation hopefully.

One of my plans for the weekend is to get back out running. The awesome Just Frances has challenged me to a race a month for the next year. Looks like our next one will be the Reindeer Run at Stirling University so I suppose I'd better lace up my running shoes and get back out there.

But for now I think I'll just kick back, enjoy some good music and a glass of wine. Well, ok, it's G&T tonight, but you get the picture...

Have a great weekend, folks, whatever you've got planned.

Comfort zones

2011-11-03T23:32:00.000Z

It's been a long time since I lived or worked in my comfort zone. I still remember when I started my first job here in Stirling, my boss told me that he wasn't paying me to work within my comfort zone. I nearly laughed in his face. There was no part of the job that was familiar to me, and nothing that even remotely resembled a comfort zone.

And it's something I've carried on with pretty much ever since. Just when I seem to be getting to grips with a situation, it changes. Or I change it. Take the current job, for example. When I was appointed, what I really knew about my remit could be written on the back of a very small piece of paper, yet I was expected to lead on it for my organisation. Everything I do now, I have had to learn. And I have learned it, and to my credit I can now talk about it with a modicum of sense. Scarily people actually listen to me too. Idiots!

So, what have I done today? I've talked about broadband, city strategies, solar PV energy generation, Feed in Tariffs, economic theory, raising aspirations, charging policies and the elasticity of price, the value of open space and much much more. The down side is the volume and breadth of things I have to know about. The upside is...the volume and breadth of things I get to know about.

So, do I have a comfort zone at work? Not really. Do I mind? Sometimes, but not often. Most of the time I just love the challenge. Would I change it? Not for something safer, that's for sure!

Real or imaginary?

2011-11-02T20:05:00.001Z

It's a question I often ask - is the confidence, happiness, composure I feel real or imagined? Do I really feel that way or have I just got so good at faking it, that I can even fool myself?

When I was young, I was very shy. As I've got older, I've become more confident - or have I? There are still situations that I feel less than comfortable with. I'm used to speaking in public, and I can do it well, but it doesn't mean I like doing it. I can socialise and network, talk to people I've never met before with apparent ease, but it doesn't mean I haven't got butterflies in my stomach while I'm doing it. It doesn't mean I don't worry about what people think of me, if I'm making sense or talking bollocks, or worse still, boring the pants of them. I feel relaxed and at ease with my friends, but it still takes a lot of emotional effort to make new ones.

Since I've been on my own, I've been trying to relearn being self reliant, enjoying my own company, finding out who I really am, and whether I like me. It's been a hard journey and recently I've been feeling like I've finally got there. But today I'm wondering if it's just another false summit, if I'm just kidding myself. There's nothing particular that's happened, no great disasters or uncomfortable experiences, no crises or calamities. I'm just not feeling as chipper as I have been recently. And it's left me wondering if it's just been another partial 'faking it' success, and now I've run out the energy I need to keep it going.

Or maybe I'm just having a bad day. Maybe this is just a passing shower and it's how 'normal' people feel every once in a while.

Don't worry, I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning. Or if I don't necessarily feel better, I'll be too busy to notice. But thanks for listening.

November

2011-11-01T23:08:00.000Z

No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--

No road--no street--
No "t'other side the way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--

No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!

No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No park--no ring--no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

Thomas Hood

Which way?

2011-11-01T19:47:00.000Z

Time was, there was only one way to go at the top of these steps - turn right at the top and head in to work. Now, since the awesome Just Frances has rolled into town, I have two choices - right as normal for serious endeavours, but now also left for fun and frivolity.

Yes, the flat where my new found friend and partner in crime has taken up residence is right next door to where I work. I'll never have to cook again!

[Although I'm currently cooking my dinner - kedgeree - as I post, both of which are taking far longer than they should as a result. Perhaps if I stopped trying to multi-task I'd be more efficient?]

When I was a child...

2011-10-31T21:50:00.000Z

I spoke as a child, but now that I'm adult - well, I'm pretty much still a kid at times. And what better time to be a kid than Halloween?

Never one to let work get in the way of good fun, this was me in the office today. Yes, I wore my witch's hat to work today. I confess I didn't wear it in the morning when I had external meetings, but for the afternoon it was on my head - and turning heads as people walked past, caught sight of me and laughed. Sometimes they even came back to make sure they did see what they thought they had.

To be honest, I'm not really sure why they were so surprised. I'm fairly daft at the best of times, and usually quick to give people a laugh at my expense. I don't believe in standing on my dignity - at least not when it's not really required. There are times, sure, when things need to be serious. But not all the time. And for those times, well, why not make people smile!

Anyway, it's Halloween. I've had justification to wear my witch's hat at work, without people asking why. I made people smile. What more could a girl ask for??

Times, they are a-changin'

2011-10-30T19:51:00.002Z

As I blogged yesterday, it's getting towards that time of year again - autumn, winter, cold, fog, frost, Halloween, Bonfire Night, Christmas, New Year, snow, and did I mention cold?

It's also when it starts getting darker and, for the UK, when the clocks revert to GMT (or UTC as it now seems to be called). Changing my clocks set my mind to thinking about how time marches on, and how it changes the things around it: - weather, seasons, light, structures, views, fine wine, good cheeses, well cured meat (I'm getting hungry now, time to stop this list...) and me!

Regular readers to this blog will know I've been working through some stuff over the last couple of years. There have been times when it's been really hard and I've wondered how I'll cope. There have been days when even just getting up in the morning and facing the world has been a trial, and I confess at times melancholy won. I have been so sad at moments that I thought I'd never laugh again.

Fortunately, those times didn't happen too often, and when they did I knew I could always rely on my amazing friends to be there for me. They have been tolerant, supportive, loving, long-suffering, cajoling, sensitive, directive, understanding. They have been there. And for that I am truly, truly grateful.

But these last few months, I've been realising that I may just have managed to develop the new me, the more confident, happy, balanced, fun-to-be-with version. The model that doesn't need constant support and reassurance to be able to function effectively, that doesn't feel less than, that is complete in itself.

It hasn't happened suddenly. In fact it's kind of crept up on me and caught me by surprise. I think it was my recent holiday that cemented the realisation. I like me. I like my own company and I think I'm fun to be with. I like other company too, but I don't need it. I don't just cope or get by without it anymore, I live and love life as I find it and as it is. I no longer feel a let down at the end of a great evening out with friends when I go home to my (solo) flat and close the door on the world. I'm left with the happy glow, not the desperation of loneliness. I smile to myself more now. And I think I'm probably the better to know for it!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy all the time. I have bad days as well. But they're bad days like we all get - stuff going wrong, frustration, mistakes and cock-ups. They're no longer dark thunder clouds in my life, now they seem to be pretty much just a passing shower. I can carry an umbrella for that!

I still value my friends. My days are undoubtedly happier and more fun because of them. They add to the quality of light, love and laughter, and I wouldn't be without them. But hopefully it's less of a one-way street for them these days, that they feel there's some give and not just take from me, that they can remember again why we are friends in the first place.

So, yay me! Yay you! And thanks... xx

Fall back

2011-10-29T23:52:00.000+01:00

Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams

The half-stripped trees
struck by a wind together,
bending all,
the leaves flutter drily
and refuse to let go
or driven like hail
stream bitterly out to one side
and fall
where the salvias, hard carmine—
like no leaf that ever was—
edge the bare garden.

I guess we're getting to that time of year again. Enjoy your extra hour's sleep tonight!

Friday nights are...

2011-10-29T01:18:00.002+01:00

...cocktails night! Or at least they have been since the awesome Just Frances has been in town.

And tonight was no exception. We spent the evening, after a homecooked meal back at Frances new flat, down at the Junk Rooms - drinking delicious decadent cocktails, browsing the owner's new, old book purchases and generally just having fun.

A great way to spend the evening, and one which I'd seriously recommend any time you're in Stirling. Doesn't have to be a Friday night either. But if you're going to drop by, don't forget to give Frances and me a shout and we'll join you there!

And if that doesn't entice you, maybe the wallpaper in the ladies' toilets will...

Food, glorious food

2011-10-27T23:21:00.000+01:00

Another set of reflections on my recently completed Italian holiday – this time about something that was a central feature to just about all of it, the food! Apart from the hotels and the travel, it was by far the biggest expense – and believe me, not one I begrudged. I do like my food, particularly good food – I was once asked what my favourite food was and I struggled to answer, other than to say anything as long as it's good. The only thing about food – apart from tripe and boiled cabbage – that I don't like, is a bad meal. I always feel cheated if I've eaten something and it hasn't been good. Doesn't matter what it is, provided it's tasty and well cooked, I'm a happy bunny.

And this holiday has been great for that. The food, on the whole, has been excellent. It's also not been cheap. I think the fact that the pound is so weak against the Euro has something to do with it. Also, eating in predominantly tourist towns will have played a factor too. In fact the only place that had relatively cheap food was Palermo. Cheap, that is, but very very good!!

My rule of thumb on holiday is to try to eat local foods as much as possible. I research in the guidebooks what the local delicacies are and try to find them. This time round I've done pretty well – cannoli, involtini, panelle, an arancine, cassata and pasta norma to name but a few. My other rule of thumb is never to eat in a place that has pictures on the menu, to avoid the places that automatically translate the menu into 4 languages and only to have the menu fixe if it's neither of the first two things!

I also tend to try out places recommended in the guidebooks. Which is in itself a funny experience. You turn up at the place, described as being a quiet place where the locals eat, forgetting that you yourself found it in a book with a print run of several hundred thousand and therefore, you're NOT going to be the only tourist there. No wonder the staff all look a bit bemused, and generally speak very good English (and German, and French...).

The flavours this holiday have been fantastic – tomato, mozzarella, ricotta, seafood, aubergine. And bread – lots of bread. Which leads me to believe that my wheat intolerance is indeed more psychosomatic than real, or at very least, linked to stress. It's no coincidence that after the ferry trip my stomach rebelled when it had been fine for the rest of the holiday. And I'm pleased that seems to be the case, otherwise I'd have missed all sorts of culinary delights – no pizza, no lovely Italian bread, no bruschetta, no (gasp) cannoli and no torte. It would have been a completely different holiday without the wheat!!

I didn't try everything – I gave the panini con la milza a miss, and the ice cream breakfast brioche (yes, really!). I confess I did have veal – and it was lovely. In my defence, it was already dead and it would have been a waste if I hadn't eaten it. Ok, not much of a defence...

There's also been plenty of wine – not in excess, but certainly in everyday quantities. And Limoncello, my new discovery of the holiday. And Almond wine, beautiful.

And yes, I am the size of a house now and will need to get back running again fairly soon to shed some of the pounds and inches I've doubtless gained. But it was worth, oh it was so worth it!

Secret Smiles

2011-10-26T20:02:00.001+01:00

There are many reasons for a girl to have a secret smile to herself - private jokes, funny memories, silly thoughts. I've had a few myself recently, and this is the one I thought I'd share with you. (The rest I'm keeping secret!)

I've blogged before (many times!) about my awesome friend, Frances. As regular readers will know, she's been staying with me for a month or so while she found her feet here in Scotland, where she's moved to complete a Masters programme. She's a really amazing woman, and if you read her blog you'll understand why.

She's also been a fantastic flatmate - great company, easy to live with, a kindred spirit and partner in crime, and - more importantly - really, really neat! One might say obsessively so. Not me, obviously. I would never say anything as insensitive as that - at least not the first time I met a person. So, no matter what she says, my first words to her were not - 'My, you're a bit OCD, aren't you?'. [But if I had, her reply would probably have been something like - 'You can't be OCD. You can have it, but you can't be it'.]

Anyway...while I was away on holiday recently (did you know, I went to Italy the other week?), Miss Awesome looked after the flat and Cat for me. Now, I knew, because we'd agreed, that while I was away she would change my bed for me so that I had lovely fresh clean sheets to come home to. And while I was travelling I knew, because she posted on Facebook, that she had even gone so far as to iron aforesaid clean bedlinen. What I didn't know, and am finding out on a day by day basis, is that she did some other 'neatening' for me while I was gone.

Frances has moved out into her own place now but I find myself going round the flat with a secret smile on my face as I discover yet another thing she's tidied up for me.

Wonder what it will be next?

Independent travel for dummies

2011-10-25T23:20:00.000+01:00

Not that any of you are dummies, but you know what I mean...

A number of my friends and online buddies have commented on how envious they are of my adventure holidays, how much fun I seem to have had and how much they'd like to do it themselves. My response – what's stopping you? Don't be envious, try it for yourself. It's really not that hard.

In these days of internet, it's easy enough to sort out your travel and accommodation independently. Admittedly it can be time-consuming and going to a travel agent or booking an off the shelf package would probably be quicker but there wouldn't be as much sense of achievement, if you ask me.

There are great websites these days for those who want to do the independent travel option. For trains in Europe I swear by TheMan in Seat 61. I don't know if he really is a man or not, but the site is a veritable gold mine of information and ideas. It was on there that I learned about the great train on boat Sicily option. Need I say more? Since I don't tend to fly on these holiday adventures of mine, I don't often source flights, but a good one if you are is Skyscanner. Less restrictive than the 'all-in-one' sites and generally good value. Oh, and the best site for add-on UK rail journeys is, in my opinion, RailEasy - beats Trainline hands-down!

For accommodation, I tend to use Trip Advisor as a really good starting place, particularly now that it takes you straight to a range of bookings sites for your chosen hotel, and also has information on things to do, places to eat etc all in one handy place.

A good guidebook is the next essential, combined with a decent amount of research. Particularly, if you're a solo female traveller, it's essential that you know where you're going – what's good, what's not, what's safe and where to avoid. A good guidebook (I generally swear by LonelyPlanet) will pay dividends and often saves you cash at your destination through not needing to buy separate booklets about each place you visit. I made the mistake this time of economising on my Paris and Rome guides – never again. It's worth the initial outlay, believe me.

And if you don't want to buy them, why not check out your local library to see if they've got what you're looking for. The only downside of that is you can't write on them – and I do, lots. I mark up where I want to visit, write notes about what I've seen, and occasionally compose bits of blog posts, all in the margins of my book. It also means that when you lend it on to someone, they've got your tailor made version too. But remember, they're a guide book, not a rule book!

Perhaps not as easy as arranging the holiday, is finding the confidence to do it in the first place. I realise that if you're not used to making your own way to strange places it can be a bit intimidating. My advice would be to start small – try it out for a short break, or in a place you already know a little but want to explore more. Choosing somewhere you can speak the language is also a help – along with that other essential, a good phrase book – great for making friends and getting your haircut, as well as a few less useful things like booking a hotel room, ordering a meal and asking for directions.

Your other option is to try out a group holiday that involves travel, preferably not by coach as that doesn't really get you the real adventuring spirit, or if you don't like the idea of groups of strangers (and I'm with you on that one), why not see if you can find a like-minded friend who wants to try it out too. Having company can be great, particularly if you both pledge to push the boundaries and not allow the other to fall too far back into their comfort zone.

My other essential on this type of break is a way of staying in touch with friends and family. For me it's Wifi and my trusty netbook. It allows me to email, Facebook and – in case you haven't noticed – blog incessantly. I always carry a pen and (old fashioned paper) notebook with me when I'm out and about during the day, as well as my camera to capture the sights, and you'll frequently find me composing blog posts – either in my head or straight into my notebook. There something about thinking about how you'll describe a place to others that makes you look at it with a closer eye and sometimes from a slightly different perspective. For the same reason, it can be good to put your camera down every now and again, and just see what's in front of you instead of photographing it. Often the most amazing sights make the worst pictures – they're frequently too big to take in one go, or the light isn't good enough, or it can just be that it's the whole package of sights, sounds, smells and even tastes that makes the memory, not just the picture.

Another defence mechanism that's worked for me in the past has been my iPod. It can be great for creating a bubble around you of 'safe space' that means you don't have interact with anyone, yet can be entertained at the same time. A word of warning, however, don't use this option in an area where you need to be alert to your surroundings - busy roads, dark streets, etc.

Equally, I tend to book my travel and accommodation in advance at the moment. I'm not quite confident enough when travelling solo to go completely with the flow. Perhaps that's my next travel challenge? But whatever your safety net, don't feel bad about having one. Holidays may be adventures, but they're also meant to be enjoyed – so whatever it takes...

And if you do decide to take on the independent travel challenge, be sure and let me know about it and how you get on!

Coming Home

2011-10-24T20:09:00.001+01:00

So, it's done. All over. Finished. Finito. This time had to come, there was no getting away from it, and now my most excellent adventure has ended, I'm back home.

Coming home was sweetened by two things this holiday - the first was that I decided to come home in stages. Not as in parts of me by mail by instalment, but as in breaking my journey on the way back - of which more shortly. The second was that my awesome temporary flatmate, Frances met me off the train in Stirling. It would have been better if she recognised me when she saw me. It was only 2 weeks after all, but it's the thought that counts... (Just kidding, Frances, it was really lovely of you to be there to welcome me home)

I've already blogged about my pit stop in Paris, so tonight it's time to tell you about my overnight in London.

I arrived off the evening Eurostar from Paris to find, sadly, that the Tube wasn't running on the Victoria line, and that was, sadly, just the very line I needed to get to my hotel. I decided to walk it instead because - you know - 'it's not that far'. Wrong! It is. It's very far, particularly when you're lugging a large bag. At night. After days of travelling.

But enough complaining. It was actually fine, and good to stretch my legs after the train journey - although, to be fair, I had been walking round Paris already for much of the day. The hotel was easy enough to find, my room was possibly the smallest of the entire holiday, certainly the shortest - being an attic room. And the meal (and drink) I ordered from room service was by far and away the most expensive of the whole trip - but heck, it was my last night away from home and I was going to enjoy it.

After a reasonable night's sleep, I woke earlier than I'd expected - not early enough to take up the lovely Amber's offer of a home cooked breakfast a sa maison, but with enough time to go out for a wander in the still quiet streets of the capital. And wander I did - I felt like I was starring in a game of Monopoly: Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Street, Regent Street, Picadilly, Park Lane, Mayfair, Hyde Park.

It was a beautifully sunny morning. The leaves had started to turn golden red, and against my expectations I found beauty in a city I've always found a bit too intense for me in the past. I also found beauty in the detail of the buildings I was passing. It's not just Paris, Rome and Palermo that have fascinating vistas and quirky features. I found them in London as well, and as long term readers of the blog will know, I regularly find them in Stirling too. It is true, I don't need to be on holiday to partake of BBPs!!

Anyway, I finished my wander with a walk along Great Portland Street, home of the BBC and I was able to pay homage to my constant companion of travels in the form of the BBC online, BBC Radio iPlayer and BBC World Service. With the joys of the internet, wherever I travelled I could keep in touch and up-to-date courtesy of them - even if listening to Good Morning Scotland's travel reports while planning my day's activities in Palermo could be a bit surreal at times!

And then it was time to catch the train - of which journey least said the better. Other than I have clearly been spoilt by my European train experiences. Still, it left and arrived on time - miraculous for a Sunday - and then I was back in Stirling, eating curry with Frances and boring her with all the tales of my exploits.

Little wonder then perhaps that she moved out today! But that's a whole different story and best told by the woman herself.

So now, here I am. Home from holiday. Back to reality tomorrow I guess, but even though it's ended I've still got my memories - and my photos - and my blogposts. And time to start planning the next one.

A plus to D minus

2011-10-23T14:40:00.001+01:00

I like blogging about my holiday as I'm experiencing it – in part because it keeps it fresh in my mind and in (large!) part because it stops my Mum from worrying about me travelling on my own. But it's also good, at the end of it to spend some time thinking about the holiday as a whole and reflecting on the good, the bad, and yes, the ugly.

So here goes:

The good – it's hard to pick out the good bits on their own. In reality, the whole holiday has been fantastic and I've enjoyed it very much. I think even more than I thought I would. My solo travel confidence has grown ten-fold from last year, and in itself that's been a highlight of the holiday.

But as for things I've done and places I've seen, in no particular order, the highlights have been:

the food
the Sicilian matriarchs who shared my train journey from Rome to Sicily
Palermo – all of it
Monreale
standing on the roof of St Peter's in Rome
Limoncello
Etna
Trying to speak Italian, and finding that I can get by
Scoring free food and drinks from sentimental waiters
my cabin on board the Palermo-Genoa ferry
the almost personal tour of the Teatro Massimo, and my nameless Irish companion
Cafe Spinnato in Palermo
Paris – the whole experience, including getting completely lost and ending up at Place de la Bastille instead of Rue Monge

Sadly, it's not all been great. There have been a few scary moments, and some ugly times. But fortunately, they've been few and far between. And even better – quickly resolved and easily got over.

For the record, they were:

Catania bus station – Dante would have added a 10^th circle if he'd been there, I'm sure
Genoa ferry terminal, and not being able to find a taxi – at night. On my own.
Genoa railway station – the 4 armed police arresting the drunk with the knife was not a pleasant experience
the creepy old Sicilian guy who kept rubbing himself up against me on the bus to Monreale – seriously, I wasn't imagining it. Every time I moved, he followed me. Euch!
The tourists in Rome – did I say yet that I didn't like them?!
Falling over in Taormina and seriously brusing my bum – and my pride. Out of interest, the bruise is now the exactly the same shape as Corsica, but fortunately not the same size – it only feels that way
Not being able to visit everywhere and see everything I wanted to – mainly through lack of time, occasionally through lack of confidence.
Not eating at that restaurant in Rome that was recommended to me – it looked really good but I wasn't confident enough to stay out late enough for them to start serving. But, I scored a free Limoncello at the alternative restaurant I went in its place, so not all bad!

And there you have it, a quick resume of the past 2 weeks. Well, not really. If you really want to know all the gory details, and have got a spare few hours, take me out for a drink and I'll tell you ALL about it. If you're really lucky I'll bring the holiday photos too...

And for the last time (this year at any rate) – Ciao!

Paris? Parfait!

2011-10-22T23:36:00.000+01:00

Mais tres tres froid!

So, it's been the last day of my holiday proper – there's still an overnight in London and the train journey back to Scotland to do, but today was the last day free for adventuring. And, once again, I've had great fun. Are you surprised? Thought not.

The hotel was the same one I stayed in on my way out at the start of my holiday. When I arrived last night, it was like coming home. I was back on the 6^th floor, with a (marginally) bigger room this time, but more to the point, with a rooftop view of the Latin Quarter where I was staying. It felt great.

My plans for today were to head for the Musee d'Orsay, fill my socks with art and culture and then see what was left of the day for sight-seeing. But the best laid plans and all that – the museum staff were on strike! I timed my arrival for just after what should have been opening time, only stopping briefly for a cafe espresso en route but when I arrived instead of the open doors, I was met with a disgruntled line of visitors all milling around trying to work out what to do. Me? Well, I got my camera out, took a few photographs of the fascinating surroundings and the building, and got my trusty guidebook out to look for alternative entertainment. Part of my entertainment, I confess, was watching the other visitors steadfastly queuing to get in, despite all the signs advising of the strike, certain that if they waited long enough and in sufficient numbers, the workers would see the error of their ways and open the doors. I don't think it happened, and I certainly didn't hang about to find out.

The only problem was – it was really really cold in Paris this morning. There was a misty cloud settled over the city and with it a crisp fresh wind. Before long, my little fingers were like blocks of ice and my nose had turned its usual winter Rudolph colour. The frozen fingers were a real handicap. I had started enjoying myself with the camera – taking lots of detail shots, quirky features and overlooked perspectives. What a previous partner would have called my BBP shots – Becca's Boring Pictures! But as the cold got to me, my fingers refused to obey and the shutter button got harder and harder to find. There was nothing for it but to find somewhere indoors and warm up. And don't you know it, the closest indoor place was a shopping mall – damn, what a tragedy!

I spent about an hour wandering round, bought a few more layers, a scarf and a pair of gloves, and then headed off for the next round of girl v. city. Before long I found the Batobus stop and hopped on board. For those who don't know, the Batobus is the cheap version of the Bateaux mouche that ply their way up and down the Seine, fleecing the tourists – sorry, providing quality touristic experiences of Paris.

The Batobus is the water borne equivalent of the Open Top bus tours – hop on, hop off all day – and a great way of seeing the city from a different angle. I hopped on long enough to get me to Ile St Louis, where I promptly hopped off again, found a bistro and settled down to tuck myself round a 3 course, 2 glass of wine lunch – my first ever bistro meal in Paris. The only time I’ve been before – when it was also Baltic as I remember – my then travelling companion insisted in eating in, of all places, Macdonalds the entire time. So it was with great relish that I whiled away a good couple of hours in a pretty side street near Notre Dame.

Back on the Batobus for the afternoon, a trip to the Eiffel Tower – where I hopped off long enough to take a few (?!) photos, marvel at the length of the queue and hop back on for the return trip to Jardin des Plantes and a short walk back to my hotel. From there it was the Metro, Gare du Nord and the Eurostar back to London.

As I waited at Gare du Nord, I couldn't quite believe it had only been 2 weeks previous that I'd got off the train from London at the start of my adventure, little knowing exactly what was in store for me. Have I enjoyed it? Immensely. Was it easy? Much of it was, but not all. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat!

Tune in tomorrow for my highs and lows, gold stars and D- moments. You know you want to... I only hope you've enjoyed reading about my travels as much as I've enjoyed writing about them. If not, I guess there's not really anyone left to apologise to!!

Choices and consequences

2011-10-21T22:14:00.000+01:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Less Travelled

Robert Frost

Heading home

2011-10-21T20:21:00.000+01:00

But not quite yet!

When I booked this holiday, I decided that this year I would do it all without flying. Which means a lot of time travelling there and back. One way to do it would be all in one go. But I decided that I might as well make it part of the holiday, so on the way down I broke my journey in Rome for a couple of days and on the way back I'm overnighting in Paris, with a full day exploring before I catch the evening Eurostar back to London.

There have also been a couple of overnight stops en route – Paris on the way out, Ventimiglia last night and Saturday night (to come) in London. But to be honest, it's all been worth it for the extra experience. While the ferry on Wednesday was to get me back from Sicily, it was also an adventure in its own right – and some of it even in a good way! And the train journeys have, on the whole, been extremely picturesque.

Take today's for example – leaving Ventimiglia just as the sun had risen we wound our way alongside the Mediterranean for a good couple of hours. The light was dancing on the sea to my left and warming the already honey coloured stone of the houses on my right. It was a soft, kind light that made me think of Impressionist paintings and lazy summer afternoons. It also made me think that this might be a good place to explore on a future adventure. Not the built up areas of Nice, Cannes or Monaco – but the smaller villages and towns in between.

[On which note, I am claiming a new country for my list after today's journey – Monaco! Ok it was only the train station, but I was still there and it still counts!!]

After the Cote d'Azur, we turned our faces inland and took a route through Provence, site of a previous fabulous holiday almost at the very start of my exploring days as a student. The white limestone and bauxite hills shone like teeth above the brown green fields. Picking up speed we headed for Aix en Provence (which you couldn't see from the train) and Avignon (which you could), and then at full tilt we raced towards Paris. Provence to Paris in just over 4 hours – now that's fast!

Arriving in Paris in the late afternoon - to somewhat fresher temperatures than I've been used to of late - I followed my plan and went for a wander in the Ile de la Cite and Ile St Louis. The setting sun was just hitting Notre Dame and it looked spectacular. There will be lots of photos to look at on my Flickr photostream, but not tonight - the internet connection here is way too slow to attempt uploading them!

The fresher temperatures meant that before long I was chilled to the bone and chocolat chaud and crepes were called for, followed by a glass of vin rouge and some olives. All partaken in a lovely salon de the just next to Notre Dame from which I could watch the sun set behind the buildings, the Pantheon catching the last of the evening's rays - and then as darkness fell, Paris lit up. Beautiful!

Even though I was too tired to go for the authentic bistro supper I had planned, I've thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon/evening in Paris. I'm planning on hitting Musee D'Orsay tomorrow, and finding that bistro for a cosy lunch instead of tonight's supper. I may just be forced to have another verre du vin too!

Ignorance isn't bliss, it's just plain dumb

2011-10-20T23:05:00.000+01:00

Now that I'm leaving Italy, I realise – with some shame – how little I actually knew/know about the place, its history and its people. For example, it wasn't until I was leaving last night on the ferry that I realised where Malta is (I know Malta isn't Italy but it's indicative of my lack of knowledge, embarrassingly!).

I've managed to visit Italy during its 150^th birthday celebrations. It was in 1861 that Garibaldi lead the unification of Italy (including Sicily) into one nation state. Before that, I think, it was a series of principalities and small states. It took me some time to realise that the banners I kept seeing everywhere we're celebrating this fact. And even longer to remember that it was Garibaldi who was responsible. I now understand why there are so many streets dedicated to Vittorio Emmanuele – he was their first king. I'm not so sure who Cavour was, but there are lots of streets to him too. [Note to self: remember to look that up on Wiki when you're next online.]

I'd also never put together that Sicily played a significant role in the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage. Hamilcar and Hannibal both battled over the island. I seem to remember references in the set book passages we had to translate in O Grade Latin. Having been to Tunisia (Carthage, I think?) and now Sicily has brought a bit more to life. Of course, visiting Rome should have done the same, but it was just so full of tourists and tourist tat that it was hard to see beyond it. (Have I mentioned at all, that I didn't like Rome much?!)

As well as Rome and Carthage battling over the island, it seems to have been the target of a huge number of other invaders. Perhaps not surprising, given its prime location at the crossroads of the Mediterranean? Amongst these invaders were – the Greeks, the Turks, the Spanish, the French, the Germans, the Allied Forces towards the end of WWII and now, it seems, waves of hopeful emigrants from North Africa, the Middle East and the Indian sub-continent – if the media is to be believed, many of them illegal. No wonder then, that the island is such a hotch potch of different cultures, cuisines and traditions. Each of them brought and left a little something, which all put together makes Sicily what it is today.

I would highly recommend a visit to this wonderful island. Don't miss out Palermo despite what everyone says. If you do, you'll miss an important element of what Sicily is. If you don't like edge to your holidays, however, don't stay long – it won't be for you. Head off instead to the seaside towns and hill top villages, visit the remnants of the various civilisations to populate and create the place and – above all – forget any notions of diet and enjoy the food! It's what I'll be doing when I come back next time.

Life on the ocean wave

2011-10-20T11:19:00.000+01:00

My latest mode of transport on this great adventure of mine has been a boat – a ferry to be precise, but not any ferry I recognise. This is really quite plush – although if you look closely, I think you'll find it is still just, after all, a ferry. It's just one that people have to spend an extended period of time on, so the facilities are a little more luxurious than the greasy spoon cafés you'll find on most CalMac Hebridean ferries.

I realised, as I was waiting to board last night – feeling a little bit lost and lonely next to this huge boat and without much sign of what you were supposed to do – that it's been about 23 years since I last travelled as a foot passenger on a ferry. In fact, it may well be about 23 years since I last travelled on a ferry full stop. It's certainly a long time since I travelled any distance on one. 23 years ago, it would have been a short hop Channel one to get me and my travelling companion to Paris for onward connections to the Rhone valley and Provence. That was a fantastic trip – lots of lazy sunny days, a very companionable companion and some fabulous experiences and sights.

But back to this boat. When I booked, I took the added extravagance of a suite rather than just a cabin. I say extravagance, but it was actually on 10 Euros more. And I can tell you, they were 10 Euros well spent – I had a sumptious space to spend the night – full size double, nay king size, bed, a proper bathroom and, luxury of luxuries, a window. My suite was right at the front of the boat, so my window pointed exactly where we were going. I left my curtains open and was treated during the night to most dazzling stars I've seen in a long time, and then this morning by the rosy pink light of dawn.

We left Palermo at around 11 pm. When I got up this morning at around 9 am we had already reached Rome. Thinking that couldn't be right, I looked again at the map and realised we were only really half way there. It's 700km from Palermo to Genova – that's one heck of a long way!!

According to the announcement, the sea conditions were 'wavy' today, which I think might mean slightly choppy – but you would barely know we were on water. The boat is so big that it just takes it all in its stride. However, I suppose it is the Mediterranean after all – which is really just a big lake with an opening at one end – and it's never going to be particularly rough. Mind you, when you look out the window and all you can see is, well, sea, it doesn't feel that small.

We are due to arrive in Genoa at around 7pm. My onward train to Ventimiglia is at around 9pm. So just enough time to get to the station, find something to eat and prepare to leave Italy altogether. Tomorrow is TGV to Paris for an evening and a day there. I've already picked out what I want to do – Notre Dame and the Ile de la Cite generally, supper on the Left Bank and then Saturday at Musee d'Orsay and a Batobus trip up and down the Seine, with perhaps a visit to la Tour Eiffel if there's time before I board my evening Eurostar back to London – and reality.

Has that really been 2 weeks already? I must start planning my next adventure – any suggestions, anyone?

No mean city

2011-10-19T21:18:00.002+01:00

Well, my time in Sicily is ending. I'm on board the boat to Genoa and it sets sail very soon. Internet connection will be limited, and very expensive so I'm going to have ration myself. This will therefore be a photo-less, link-less post until I get the chance to edit and update it back on dry land! Please bear with me, normal service will be resumed in due course.

Rather than try to pack too much into my last day in Sicily, I forewent the opportunity for an out of town excursion and decided instead to leave the day free for aimless wandering. Not entirely aimless – I had three objectives in mind. And I achieved all three of them, I'm pleased to say. But I'm racing ahead...

Unfortunately, I'm not quite in tune enough with Palermo yet to be able to know where the best places to just sit and savour the atmosphere so most of the day was spent on my feet. I did find a couple, however – in front of the fantastical confection of Norman, Arab, Gothic splendour that is Palermo Cattedrale, and catching the evening sun (and skateboarders) in the Piazza Politeama. But even with all the walking, it's been a great day – and a great end to a fabulous visit in this most surprising of cities.

I confess, as regular readers will know, I did have misgivings about coming here. Everyone I spoke to, every guide book I read seemed to warn against Palermo. There were sharp intakes of breath and raised eyebrows, suggestions of alternative places to go and looks of pity when I explained I'd already booked my hotel. But I'm really glad I stuck with my plans and came here. It's been by far the best bit of the holiday, and I definitely want to come back to this wonderful, shabby, gritty, tumble-down, lively, beautiful city.

Sitting in front of the Cattedrale today, with the late afternoon sun warming the honey coloured stone, I was amazed at how tranquil it actually was – if you ignored the backdrop roar of the traffic inches from my back that is. If this were Rome, there would have been hordes of tourists – and those who prey on tourists – all around me. I would barely have been able to move for tours, and I certainly wouldn't have been able to take my time to enjoy the place at my own pace. I know it may be sacrilegious, but I wish I'd given Rome a miss and spent more time in Sicily. I've enjoyed it far more!

The morning was a strange juxtaposition of everyday life – in the form of Mercato del Capo, and high society – in the form of the grand opera house, Teatro Massimo. The Mercato was very down to earth and very real, no dispensations or accommodations for tourists. In fact my shoes probably still have a slight whiff of fish about them from the run-off from the melting ice. Sadly, I don't have any photos to share of the market – it was so everyday that it felt intrusive and wrong to take photos, so I didn't. You'll just have to take my word for how lively and colourful it all was. The only photos I did take were of a stunning church that just appeared in my line of sight between 2 stalls and the maelstrom of the market. Beautiful stuccos and frescos right there amid the chaos and the clamour.

I wandered at will, taking whichever street seemed most interesting at the time and not really caring where I ended up, trusting my feet and Palermo to see me safe to the other side. It reminded me of a game Mum and I used to play when we were out in a strange place in the car. We'd drive to a junction, choose a direction at random and see where it took us. Truly, there and back to see how far it was.

Wandering the market like that took me through all its departments – food, homewares, toys, haberdashery, clothes. It really is true that Palermo residents live their lives in the open.

And then it was time to visit the Teatro. I'd been in the morning to take the tour and was advised to come back 'after 12' because rehearsals might have stopped by then and I would be able to see the auditorium. They hadn't, but I think that was probably a good thing – firstly, there were only 2 of us on the tour so it was like a personal visit, and secondly, we got to hear what it would be like to go to a performance there. It truly is an amazing place – as stunning from the inside as it is from the outside - and the sound was bellissima. It's the 3^rd largest in Europe, apparently – after Paris and Vienna, and has the most enormous stage, a magnificent Royal Box, a roof that opens to let in light and air, with the sections designed to look like petals opening in the sun, and – just because the architect could – a perfect echo chamber in one of the salons.

My tour companion was a kindred spirit, solo traveller from Ireland. I never did catch his name but his company was great for the tour – and for the world's slowest queue while we waited to buy our tickets. It was lovely to have someone to chat to, but I'll be honest, my only regret when I said goodbye to him outside the theatre was that I hadn't recommended more places for him to visit. I've really grown to enjoy my solo travelling. There are times when it would be good to have a companion – like tonight, waiting for the ferry to board and not being sure if I was in the right place or not, or when there's something truly amazing to point out, or even just to be able to visit that slightly out-of-the-way destination with the added confidence of someone else there too. If I do travel with a companion again, it will need to be someone who is equally happy to share experiences and to strike out alone on occasions. And if I do, I will need to work hard not to lose the self reliance and independence I’ve discovered in myself these past few holidays. Not be scared to go it alone at times, and to have the company as a bonus, not a crutch.

But, the boat leaves soon and I have a forward facing cabin to watch the view from. So I'll sign off for now.

Arrivederci Sicilia – because I will be back...

Girl v. City - Round 2

2011-10-18T21:55:00.000+01:00

After yesterday's successful walking encounter with Palermo, there was every chance that today would fall flat on its face. It didn't, however, I'm glad to say - the tour bus did, but that's another story.

After braving the pavements and guiding myself round Palermo yesterday on foot, today I opted for the open top bus tour to see what else I could learn about this fascinating city. The answer, somewhat surprisingly and gratifyingly, was not much actually. I had wondered whether I should have done the bus tour first and then walked the city to explore more fully once I'd got my bearings. But the bus route, constrained as it was to the more major streets, barely scratched the surface of the place - even less so than these tours normally do. I would have been no more confident after the bus tour than I was anyway. Diving in was definitely the right approach - it allowed me to be seduced by the city, instead of just learning to tolerate it.

The streets in Palermo, even the main ones are - on the whole - fairly narrow affairs. Negotiating a bus along them would be tough at the best of times, but in amongst the frankly terrifying Palermo traffic, it's nothing short of a miracle. I thought the traffic in Rome was mad, but here it takes on a whole new level of psychosis. It seems to come from all directions at once, even one way streets aren't. And the areas pedonale, well, they're the most dangerous of all. I'm rapidly learning that signs in Italy, whilst extremely stern, are entirely advisory. Or so it would seem.

But back to the bus tour. That the bus manages to thread its way through the traffic, as I said, is amazing. That it does so without incident would be nothing short of miraculous. So, no surprise then, that the bus I was on managed to rear-end a car during our tour. There was much gesticulating and shouting, and then everyone went back on their way again. To be fair, the guy in the car was clearly at fault - he had a whole 10 cm in front of him of unused road space, what did he expect?!

The other effect of the narrow streets is that when you're travelling on an open top bus, you feel like you could just stretch out your hands and touch both sides at once. Unfortunately, this doesn't really come out in a photo so you'll just have to take my word for it.

So, did I see anything new? Yes and No. As I've already said, I don't think I got to Palermo any better than I'd already started to do. I did, however, find some new places and get some new impressions of places I'd already passed. Today's discovery was Monreale - a hilltop cathedral and small town just outside Palermo. Built to rival the Cathedral in Palermo itself, the simple Norman outside belies the glittering and simply dazzling interior - almost the entire inside is covered in the most beautiful mosiacs, telling almost the entire story of the Old and New Testament. Even 3 showings for Rebecca, the loyal (stop laughing!) wife of Isaac, and mother of Jacob. And an exceedingly grumpy looking Eve, post eviction from Eden.

What else? I saw the Villa Malfitano and Castello Zisa - maybe for another trip. I also saw Mercato Del Capo, that's for tomorrow, along with a tour of the Teatro Massimo and lunch at Casa Del Brodo. And then it's the overnight ferry to Genoa and the start of my homeward journey - via Paris and London.

Enough for tonight. This post has taken far longer to write than it should have. Hope you enjoy it!

On getting by

2011-10-18T17:03:00.000+01:00

I like to think I can get by in a number of languages, and I always like to at least try to say a few words in the language of the country that I'm visiting. I'm ashamed to say that other than Skol, I failed on that one in Sweden, but most of the time I'm pretty good.

But the more I travel, the more I realise that all I do is get by. I manage, I cope. I can order a drink and a meal, I can buy stuff in shops, and - on a good day - I can ask for, and sometimes even understand, directions. But beyond that I struggle. Responses often floor me, and if I'm not expecting to be spoken to, my ear takes far too long to tune in to what's been said, and by then it's too late for a response. Witness the poor man at the bus stop this morning who only asked me where I was from, but I didn't realise until 10 minutes later and it seemed a bit much to seek him back out and say, I'm from Scotland, you know!

Therefore, while day to day transactions can take place, conversations aren't really an option. You need two people exchanging comments, thoughts and ideas for a good conversation - can I have a glass of red wine and how much does it cost, plus a fair amount of miming doesn't really cut it. The ideal, and probably quite amusing, arrangement might be to find a local who wants to practise their English - they could speak English, I could speak Italian, neither of us would really understand, but it would be great fun.

My favourite phrase of this holiday as I force myself to try out my Italian is, Como se dice in Italiano? Actually, I lie. My favourite phrase of the holiday is un bicchiere di vino bianco, per favore. But the Come se dice one comes a close second, ok after un cafe espresso, per favore.

I do try to speak Italian as much as possible - or, at least to use Italian words and phrases, a lot of pointing and the occasional bit of miming. Usually it's just when I'm feeling tired or vulnerable, or need absolute accuracy, that I resort to English in totality.

I've been immensely helped in this, not just on this holiday but over the years, but the collection of phrase books I've amassed. They really are invaluable. But I don't know if you've ever noticed what fun they can be. All phrase books have a similar layout - essentials, meeting and greeting, getting around, eating, sightseeing, booking a room, and - my personal favourite - making friends. Yes, the compilers of phrase books are obsessed with introducing you to foreigners, completely forgetting the fact, that as noted above, once introduced you're not exactly going to be able to entertain with sparkling wit and conversation. But then a closer look at the choice of phrases might help to explain - hello, are you on your own, my wife and I would like you to join us - ok. I swear phrase books are compiled by frustrated swingers - don't believe me, pick up any phrase book and have a look!!

The other thing that phrasebooks seem to be be particularly interested in is helping you get your hair cut wherever you are in the world. The Berlitz compilers do their best to ensure that wherever you go, you'll be able to ask for a short back and sides and get just that. I'm not sure why tourists need to know how to get their hair cut as an emergency, but there you are. Mind you, if you want anything specific or a bit more unusual, you'll need to be creative with your phrase book use - no pictures allowed, create your haircut using only the phrases to be found in the pages of Berlitz - numero due tutto? a forma ciotola? un perm del barboncino?

Ciao bella - off to find the perfect trattoria. Anyone wanting to know what I actually did today will need to tune in later...

Going solo

2011-10-17T21:21:00.000+01:00

Travelling solo can be great fun. It can be a real adventure. You don't have to cater for anyone else's tastes and you can go at your own pace. If you change your mind, you can just change your plans without needing to negotiate a compromise. If you don't fancy the must see sights at a particular destination, you don't need to be bothered with them. You are your own constraint and your own freedom.

But it can have it's down-side too. There's practical things like not being able to have the special dish (for 2 people minimum), like not being easily able to explore the further flung locations because you're on your own and it's just not safe enough, like not being able to savour the full city experience of a place after dark. There's also emotional things like not having anyone to share your discoveries with, to laugh at the misunderstood phrases, to wonder at the arrogance of your fellow tourists, to help find that well hidden gem that's just off the beaten track, to reassure that it will be alright.

Would I prefer to have company on my holidays? On the whole, yes I probably would. Am I picky about who that company is? Absolutely. I felt myself react with horror to the suggestion of booking a group tour some time. Me, and a whole group of strangers? Having to get along with each other? What a nightmare! But equally, the right person might just be the icing on the cake for the amazing adventures I have on my own.

But until then, I'm not going to let it stop me. I'm going to keep travelling, having adventures, seeing little bits more of the wonderful world that we're lucky to have. And I'm going to keep sharing it with you, my virtual companions, my fellow travellers, my friends.

All life is here

2011-10-17T18:21:00.000+01:00

Wow, what an amazing city Palermo is. I wouldn't quite say I conquered it today, it's much too complex for that. But I dived in, I experienced it, I survived. And, can I just say, I loved it too!! I didn't think I would, but I did. I'm so glad I opted not to take the open top bus sightseeing tour today (that's saved for tomorrow) and to head out on foot instead. There was so much to see and experience, it kept me going all day and I finally feel a little bit more at ease in this wild, untamed city.

I decided this morning (after quite the worst breakfast of the entire holiday so far - note to self: business hotels and breakfast buffet are definitely things to be avoided in future bookings), to take the walking tour described in my trusty guidebook. By the time I stopped for a restorative coffee 2 hours in, I had already been lost about 4 times. Not lost as in, no idea at all where you are kind of lost, but not where I'm supposed to be and not really sure where that actually is anyway, kind of lost. But it was all part of the adventure, and I can safely say I loved every single minute of it. OK, the part where I couldn't find the way into the Palazzo Reale was a bit annoying, but otherwise, it was a blast!

I started off in familiar territory at the Teatro Massimo but quickly broke my own rule about empty streets by diving off - as the guidebook told me - down a fairly quiet one. I knew where it was going, the guidebook had directed me there, surely it would be ok? I confess to a momentary flutter of nerves, but I pressed on and I'm so glad that I did. Very quickly the environment changed from major city street to residential barrio - a place where real people lived and worked real lives.

Palermo is a decidedly real city. There is none of the sterile modernity you get in a lot of European urban areas. Here, even right in the city centre, are people's homes and places of work. Not office work either, workshops - people making real things for real use, not just pieces of tourist ephemera. And despite the grime and obvious poverty, it is a city that feels loved. Yes, there's litter overflowing from the communal rubbish collection points, and there's dust and broken buildings wherever you look. But there's also a sense of pride - stubborn, love or leave me, take me as I am kind of pride, but pride all the same.

Of course, heading off down the side street I immediately got lost but fairly quickly found my bearings again - the trick is to find a few landmarks (in reality or on a map) when you start, and orient yourself by them when you lose your way. But once I found my feet again (and again. And again!) I managed to wind my way round several churches in various flavours of Norman, Arab, Roccoco, Baroque and Mediaeval, a full on market, a legendary Palermo eating establishment, several palazzos, the Cattedrale, and the Sicilian Assembly building and attached Palatine chapel and Royal Apartments! Not bad for a day's walk/work.

But the biggest achievement was finding a way to love this city. I didn't think I would manage it, and I might change my mind again tomorrow. But for now, we're an item. And I'm pleased about that.

Why not have a look at my photos on Flickr and see what you think...

Travelling hopefully

2011-10-16T18:33:00.000+01:00

As they say, sometimes the journey is part of the destination. And other times, they say better to travel hopefully than something else... Either way, I don't think either commentator had ever visited Catania bus station. It surely is one of the 7 circles of hell! Apparently they're building a new one, and if you ask me it can't come soon enough.

To be honest, during the connection in Catania, which saw me walk from the bus stop (confusingly, not in the bus station but on the street outside) to the railway station, back from the railway station, round the block and into the bus departure area - only to have to retrace my steps back round the block to find the cunningly disguised ticket sales office, and all of this in amidst the most horrendous traffic you've ever seen, I did wonder whether I'd made a huge mistake. Cars were whizzing by all over the place, an annoying taxi driver dogged my footsteps the entire time making me grip ever tighter onto my bags and it was the most squalid, flea-bitten, rubbish strewn, down at heel place I've seen in Europe ever. The only place more intimidating was in India!

But, luckily, at the bus stances two local girls took me in hand, showed me where to buy tickets, warded off the (many) beggars and made sure I got onto the right bus at the right time. I know I would have coped perfectly well without them, but it was just easier - for which, mille grazie ragazzi!

Once on the bus it was fine. The coach was luxurious and sped through the Sicilian countryside at a fair lick. We moved through areas of orange, lemon and olive groves into spaghetti western country, through hills squeezed and folded out of the earth's crust, along side barely visible rivers despite the recent downpours until finally, 2 hours later, we hit the northern coast and there was the sea again. Sparkling blue and alluring.

I was very nervous about getting to Palermo. To be honest, if I could have stayed on the coach I probably would have but that would have been no way to spend 3 days so I thought I'd better get off. Fortunately, Palermo bus station was an idyll in comparison to Catania. Next to the railway station, it was sufficiently shielded from street hawkers, beggars and over enthusiastic taxi drivers to be almost pleasant. The hotel on arrival, while somewhat strangely entered underground, is very well appointed and, it turns out, very well located too.

Palermo is ...interesting. Nowhere near as bad as I had been worried about, but still at the same time somewhat on the seedy side. I'm sure it's a lot safer than it felt, but the streets very quickly turn from wide and welcoming to narrow and frankly quite intimidating. I've been for a quick stretch of my legs to get oriented, found a lovely cafe/wine bar round the corner where I had a (very) late lunch and to which I'll probably return shortly for a light supper, and most importantly, I've found out that the tour bus leaves from just outside the hotel. So that's tomorrow sorted, and my proper orientation to what looks like being a really interesting city - even if it isn't the type of place I'll particularly want to be out and about in of an evening.

Moving on

2011-10-16T08:48:00.000+01:00

A quick post this morning before leaving Taormina for the next stage of my adventure. In just over half an hour, I'll be leaving to head off for Palermo. This is the only bit of travel on the journey that I didn't book in advance and I'm hoping it works out ok. I've been advised to take the bus as it's much faster than the train. I think in part that's because the train winds its way round the coast, and in part because they really are old and rickety here in Sicily. I thought perhaps one of the reasons they brought the Rome train across on the ferry was because it was a posh one and they didn't want to leave it on the island. But no, it was as rickety as the other ones here. I think the Italians, like me, just love the idea of putting passengers on a train and then putting the train on a boat. I confess it was partly that experience that persuaded me to train it all the way to Sicily!!

But back to now, I'm off to Palermo. City of grit, bad driving, baroque splendour, poverty, life and cannoli. I'm really not sure what to expect. As the guidebook says, like all big cities, you just need to have your wits about you. Don't look like a tourist - suits me down to the ground!

Interestingly, the guide book also says:

"Visiting here is thrilling for what the city has to offer, but, it can also be a challenge. Traffic is horrible as cars, trucks and buses clog the narrow streets, often coming to a standstill for hours. This has caused a yellow cloud of pollution to hang constantly over the city making air quality less than desirable, covering cars and buildings with dust"

And that's the guidebook - I hate to think what the critics say!!

But there are also plenty of sights to see and experiences (hopefully good ones) to be had. And if all else fails, I can hop on a train and take a day out to visit one of the surrounding towns or villages. Being the main city in Sicily, Palermo is well connected to most other parts - although not, it would appear, the one I'm in now! Go figure.

I'll check in later once I get there and let you know how it really is. And in the meantime, (Mum!) don't worry, I'll be careful. I survived Rome after all....

Rainy Days

2011-10-15T20:54:00.000+01:00

They don't get me down.

It may have been raining. I may have walked, in what felt like 100% humidity, up a never ending flight of steps, but no, rainy days definitely don't get me down. Particularly not when I'm on holiday.

Today, to celebrate that the sun was not burning a hole in the pavement, I decided the time was right to take a trek to the neighbouring hilltop village and see what was there. Lured on by promises of a food festival, I put my best foot forward and started the walk.

Now, the words 'hilltop' and 'strenuous' should really have been a warning to me. As should the bemused looks from the locals I stopped to ask for directions. But no, on I headed - up and up, and...up! My only companions, apart from a rather mad Polish Canadian woman, were hundreds of ants - no doubt flooded out by last night's deluge. But on I went, past broken streetlamps and crumbled steps, half finished buildings and long abandoned gardens. I was starting to worry about what I would find at the top - and then I got there. And found...a confusing maze of streets leading to nowhere, or so it seemed.

Like all good hilltop towns, Castelmola is built to confuse, and it did. It took me a good 10 minutes to find my way - in what is really a very small place - to anything resembling a public open space. But when I got there, it was all worth it. Not for the view, which was absent. Well, not absent but suffering from an addition of cloud that meant you couldn't see it. But for the place itself. Everything I hoped for from an Italian hilltop settlement - nestled around its church and castle, winding streets and close built houses, it was idyllic.

And as if that - and the food festival - wasn't enough, what more could a girl ask for than to sit supping her cappucino, eating her torte di mandorle and tasting her Vino delle mandorla (yup, it's Almond Town!) surrounded by penises! Not the idiot dunderhead kind either, the male genitalia kind. Everywhere you looked - and I mean Everywhere - there they were. Coat hooks, lampstands, beer taps, wall decorations, on the menu, on the napkin. Everywhere. Dicks, penises, wongas, knobs, john thomases - the works. All in honour of the fearsome stone minchia in the church next door - which, by the way, I looked very hard for but couldn't see.

Not even the complete soaking, or the slip on the way back down the hill leading to a jarred shoulder and a very bruised behind could put a dampener (so to speak) on it. It just goes to show, if you look hard enough, you can always find something to entertain yourself with. Ahem!

7 down, 9 to go

2011-10-15T09:08:00.000+01:00

Ok, I've been travelling now for 7 days and still have just over a week to go. What have I done so far? Well....

I've travelled by train, boat, bus and taxi - plus quite a bit of shanks pony if you include the sightseeing
I've passed through 4 capital cities
I've eaten far too much food
I've seen some wonderful and amazing sights
I've met some interesting people, a few of whom I could even understand..
I've learnt more Italian - not hard since I didn't know much to start with
I appear to have mastered eating on my own
I am becoming an ever more confident solo traveller
I've had so much fun

And now, what next? Well, I have one day left here in Taormina. It rained last night - nay, it absolutely poured down last night, complete with thunderstorms that lit up the night sky long after they'd passed across the water to Italy. The result is that it's much fresher today, so I think a walk up to the next village up in the hills is called for. From what I can make out, they're having some kind of harvest festival/celebration of local food today, so that seems like as good a reason as any.

Then tomorrow I'm off to Palermo - variously described as gritty, fiesty, real and full on. Hmm, not sure what to expect. But whatever it is, it will be an experience to add to the many wonderful ones I've already had this holiday.

Care to join me?

For every thing there is a season...

2011-10-14T21:18:00.000+01:00

...and a time for every purpose under heaven.

It seems today, my time came to be one of the things I detest most in the travelling world - a group tourist. Yes, readers, today I joined an organised tour and saw the countryside from a coach. In my defence, we weren't obliged to wear stickers with a cutesy symbol and our names on. Nor was I required to follow a woman speaking into a microphone and carrying a gaudy plastic flower. But, nevertheless, I was on a group tour. There's simply no getting away from it.

The excuse I'd like to use is that there was no other way of getting where I wanted to go today without partaking of said sin. I'd like to say that, but sadly it's just not true. I could have managed it, just much less conveniently. So like an (i)sheep, I signed up, paid my fee and became a tourist for the day!!

And all in honour of visiting Europe's tallest and most active volcano - the awe-inspiring Mount Etna, or Mongibello as the locals apparently call it. It wasn't spouting flames or little bursts of magma, contrary to what the publicity photos might lead you to believe. But it was impressive all the same. Impressive in a surreal, other wordly kind of way. I was struck, as I travelled up in the cable car over what must be the world's most bizarre ski resort, that the lava flows looked just like black snow. It felt like I'd stumbled across a negative world, and then somehow landed on another planet, a black Mars perhaps.

Our trip took us from the Etna Terrace at 1900m by cable car up to 2500m, and then by moon-buggy style jeep up to 2900m just below the (live) summit. At 2900m, we got out and were taken for a walk up to and inside the 2002 eruption crater. Apparently, it's now completely safe since it's all burnt out (oh, how I know what that feels like!), but all the same it was a somewhat spooky experience. I had to keep telling myself that they do this everyday, and there's no way they would put a group of German and American tourists in harm's way for fear of being sued. And no, that's not an active magma chamber you feel rumbling beneath your feet, it's just your over active imagination!

But I'm glad I did it. Even being a sheep was worth it for the experience. Look, I even took a Me with xxx (fill in the blank) shot just to celebrate the fact!

And now, it's been a long day so just as soon as my photos finishing loading, I'm off to sleep and in the morning I'll work out what to do with my last day in Taormina. If it's not too hot - or too rainy - maybe a walk up into the hills behind the town? But if tonight's thunderstorms reappear, it will need to be something different.

What will it be? Tune in tomorrow to find out...

Si, sono sola

2011-10-13T21:01:00.001+01:00

Shh, don't tell anyone, but I might just have cracked eating solo. At any rate, it's been much easier - so far - this holiday than it was in Spain. I seem to have mastered the ability to go into a restaurant of an evening and have a meal, by myself, without props or a safety net - or at least, without a book to bury myself in as defence against the awfulness that eating on your own can be.

Tonight, for example, as I sat at my table in the trattoria, under the stars, I felt perfectly comfortable. I didn't feel in the slightest bit out of sorts - well, perhaps only a little bit - but when I compared myself with the poor young mum at the next table dealing with in-laws, an Italian husband and a demanding toddler, I think I definitely came off better.

I think the trick is to be incredibly nosey - or at least that's what seems to work for me. I take an unhealthy interest in other tables' conversations. I know what they've ordered. I can tell what nationality they are. I use it as an opportunity to practise my foreign language comprehension skills. And if all else fails, I compose blog posts and restaurant reviews in my head. Most of all, I enjoy the food and the location and the experience.

It seems like a fantastic step forward from last year's trials and tribulations in Spain, and a million years from my ordeal in Bristol, when one evening it was all I could do not to burst into tears in the middle of the dining room. I'm not sure if it's that in Italy they look after their solo diners more carefully, or I'm just getting better at it. I don't remember this confidence last year, but then in Spain I did take advantage of the tapas style, which meant I didn't really have to brave the full on dining experience.

Here in Italy, or at least in Rome and in Sicily, they don't seem as embarrassed about their single guests as UK restaurants do. They don't try to hide you away for fear that you might put a bit of a downer on their other patrons.

In fact, here rather than me feeling uncomfortable it feels more like the waiters are on edge - taking extra trouble to make sure that the signora has a good evening, a little bit more attention perhaps. A small extra touch to make her smile.

Perhaps it's because, as with most places, the singleton's tables are not in the best location - well, not the best if you're after an intimate dining experience or a romantic ambience. Solo tables are often near the kitchen, at the edge of the room but not hidden away here - quite the reverse, being near the serving stations means that you are more in the line of activity. Last night I was right by the dessert fridge. The night before I had a line of sight to the kitchen - and even got a cheery wave from the chef when I left.

No, I confess, I quite like it here. Although it could also have to do with those 'little extras' a number of the waiters have felt obliged/compelled to put my way - a refill on my wine here, a free aperitivo there, and even on my first night in Rome, a whole packed breakfast to take away and the offer a date the next night.

Needless to say, I didn't take up the offer of the date - but I did take the breakfast. Am I bad?

When in Sicily....

2011-10-13T17:35:00.000+01:00

...eat cannoli! Oh well, if you insist.

As my regular reader will know, I made it to Sicily last night after a lengthy, not very luxurious but strangely deeply enjoyable train journey. With the whole boat on the train thing too. I'm here, the sun is shining, the sea is sparkling and life is good. Finally the neverending and overwhelming noise of Rome has been replaced by the much quieter and more sedate pace of life that is Taormina. Not that Taormina completely escapes the tourists since it's a popular stop for the cruise ships but there's nowhere near as many of them here and they seem somehow quieter, less in your face.

The other difference here is that, unlike Rome and other big cities, it doesn't take long to find areas with no or very few other people. In big cities, deserted streets and back lanes are not the friend of the solo traveller, but in small towns like this, they are a godsend. A place to escape the clamour, to drink in the atmosphere, to explore and savour, to discover and learn, to find the small, quiet details that really bring a place to life.

Taormina itself is a strange set of contradictions - a place of ostentatious wealth, with numerous designer shops filling the main drag down the Corso Umberto whilst in the back streets it's much more down at heel. Sicily, like much of the rest of southern Europe suffers from continuing poverty and deprivation. Unemployment is high and apparently there is still a significant brain drain of skilled young people from the island to mainland Italy in search of work that pays more than the local tourism and agricultural economies can do.

It's a mix of old and new too - with the Greek Amphitheatre and the many emerging modern apartment blocks in similar states of unfinished-ness, but for very different reasons. The otherwise idyllic view from my breakfast terrace here at my hotel is slightly spoilt by the building work that's going on and any view south from the town will include at least one crane with various lumps of concrete or bits of steel dangling from it.

Finally, Taormina is a mix of refined and wild, surf and turf, beach and mountain. The town is dominated by the smoking cone of Mount Etna, one of Italy's remaining active volcanoes - and my destination for tomorrow. Unfortunately I'd wanted to book the Saturday trip, leaving as it does at a slightly more respectable 8.30 am but the weather, I was advised, is due to be poor on Saturday - a quick check confirms that snow is forecast for the summit! - so instead I'm booked for tomorrow's 7.00am tour by way of some gorge or other, a train around the foot of Etna before heading on to the summit via cable car, bus, jeep and foot. Fingers crossed it lives up to my expectations!

I guess I'd better go and stock up on food now. It looks like being a long day as well as an early start, and I don't want to be hungry, do I?!

Trains, boats and automobiles

2011-10-12T23:15:00.001+01:00

I am so in love. Arrived in Sicily this evening - 21 degrees at 8.30pm and walking distance to a fabulous open air terrace serving yummy food and ice cold Limoncello. What more could a girl ask for?

But I'm getting ahead of myself - and probably being a touch dramatic!

Ok, back to the start of the day. I left Rome this morning with mixed feelings. In many ways, I wasn't sorry to be leaving behind the noise, hustle and bustle, and the crowds. But I still had the sneaking suspicion that I had barely scraped the surface of the city, and maybe there was more to it than I'd discovered in my admittedly short visit. After all, I only really frequented the main tourist haunts, a bit like visiting Edinburgh and never straying off the Royal Mile. No wonder it felt busy and touristy. Maybe I just didn't let rome show it's best side.

To be fair, there were glimpses of it last night when I headed back towards the Pantheon area to find the restaurant recommended to me by my good friend, Deborah. As I blogged yesterday, unfortunately my eating habits and Italian fine restaurant opening times weren't aligned yesterday and it wasn't to be. But the walk there through early evening Rome was certainly a less frenetic experience than I had in Rome up to that point. There were still plenty of tourists around, even those infernal group tours, but they were definitely fewer and further (literally) between, and pleasantly intersperesed with 'real' people - on their way home from work, nipping out for an early evening aperitivo, browsing the shops. The sun was down, and so was the tourist clamour. The softer lights were easier on the eye, and on the buildings. The hot day had given way to a beautifully mild evening that allowed me to relax - or was it the Limoncello!

So leaving Rome Termini this morning wasn't quite as big a relief as I feared it might be when I first arrived in the infernal city. I didn't throw a coin in the fountain, but that doesn't mean I won't think about going back.

And then my train to Sicily arrived - hmmm! Not quite what I was expecting. When it said 'Intercity' on the ticket, I thought it would be another of the ultra modern high speed trains I've been using so far. Nope, it was a train that, let's say, would have made most of Network SouthWest's rolling stock look modern... But looks, it seems, can be deceiving. The train may have looked rickety but it ran completely to time for the entire 9 (count them!) hour trip. The facilities left quite a bit to be desired - very basic toilet, no buffet service - unless you count the man and his shopping trolley selling bottles of water. But it went, and it went to time. And that's often more than you can say for UK trains these days sadly.

Before long - ok, after about 3 hours - the noise and rush of Rome had been replaced by the sparkle of the sea and the warm glow of the golden sand as we whipped our way along the Italian Riviera, past Napoli and plenty of other stations I didn't quite catch the names of.

It really was a beautiful journey - and it was also very real. I thought I'd experienced the 'real' Italy on my train journeys so far. But no, this was something else. None of the hermetically sealed journeys you get on the Eurostar trains, this was full on Italy. For a start, it was a compartment train. All thrown in together there wasn't the anonymity you get from airline style seating. I shared my capsule with 3 Sicilian matriarchs - and while we couldn't speak each other's languages particularly well, we didn't let that get in the way, and they kept me entertained, protected and looked after the whole journey. While our language skills weren't good enough to hold down a conversation, they were good enough for the Sicilian Mamas to tell me I was staying in the wrong place (Taormina instead of Catania) and that my crochet style left a lot to be desired!

And finally, there was the experience I've been waiting for ever since i started researching this holiday - the whole train on a boat thing. We arrived at the end of Italy, they split the train, shunted it on to the ferry, the ferry set sail and there we were - on a train on a boat on the Mediterranean. How much better could it get...?

And then we arrived in Sicily - and food, warmth and Limoncello.

Sweet dreams. I'm certain to have them!

Quattrocento

2011-10-11T21:16:00.001+01:00

Or for the non Italian speaking amongst us (including me!), my 400th post.

What better way to celebrate than a night (and a day) out in Rome to blog about. But before you get too excited, it's nothing more interesting than my day's adventures, rounded off with my abortive trip to a fancy Roman restaurant...

So it's been another busy day of sightseeing, photograph taking and walking. I was well warned before coming to the Infernal city, that Rome is hard on your feet. And they weren't kidding! Even though I took the Metro and the tour bus today, my feet were still several sizes larger by the end of the day.

And in case you're wondering, today I've mostly been visiting St Peter's Basillica and Square, the Palatine Hill, the Forum and Piazza Navona - with a side visit to Piazza di Campidolgio thrown in for good measure. I didn't, however, make it to the Vatican Museum or the Sistine Chapel - the queues were just too long. Did I mention how many tourists there are in Rome???

The weather also conspired against me. I spent yesterday suffering from the wind - not the gluten induced variety, but a cold wind off the Steppes (Grabonia!) kind. I was beginning to wonder if I'd packed the wrong mix of clothes, but then today - as I was layered up for a repeat of yesterday's mighty wind - it turned warm again, and I spent the day sweltering.

So when in Rome, I did what the Roman's do - bought an ice cream and a bottle of water and retired to a caffe to watch the world go by.

This evening I resolved to go to a fancy restaurant recommended by my good friend, Deborah - of the comparative hospitality and mustard jar cocktail shaker fame - but unfortunately it kept rather later opening hours than I do, so I opted for a different, more toursity offering nearby instead. It was rather good, but what was more entertaining was the antics of yet another Italian waiter, concerned that I was on my own. Tonight I scored a free glass of Prosecco and 2 free glasses of Limoncello. I think I'm in love...!

[More photos uploaded to Flickr]

The Infernal City

2011-10-10T19:03:00.001+01:00

Well, I've spent my first full day in Rome, and do you know what? I'm not sure if I like it or not.

For a start, there's traffic everywhere. Which means noise - and danger when you're still not used to which way to look when crossing the road. And for another thing, there are crowds - not your average busy city crowds, but tons and tons of tourists crowds. I'm not sure I've ever been anywhere (apart from Edinburgh at the height of the Festiva, and I hate that!) that has been filled with quite so many tourists. Which means more noise. And more danger - both the walking into the back of someone who stops suddenly to take a photograph kind of danger, and the fear of pickpockets kind of danger. No wonder Rome has such a reputation for them, to be honest, the pickings are very easy!

Having said all that, the city itself is amazing - a very strange mixture of ancient ruins that pop up all over the place alongside the ultra modern, and quaint side streets and the usual European medieval city scape. The buildings are often stunningly beautiful. They're often gaudy and ostentatious too, but that's Renaissance and Baroque style for you. There are little glimpses of half seen views all over the place if you look carefully (and take your eyes off your guidebook or out of your viewfinder long enough).

And there are fountains. Lots of fountains. Apparently Bernini or someone commented on them at one point - and then promptly went off and sculpted some more. There are men, fish, sea gods, turtles, women, nymphs - you name it, Rome's got it. There's even a soup tureen!!

But seriously, it is a fascinating city. Perhaps a little too busy for my tastes, but definitely worth a visit. I didn't, however, throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain - not that sure I want to come back.

Tomorrow is St Peter's and a chance to add a new country to my See the World list. But for now, it's time to finish uploading my day's photos, finish this blog post and head out for something to eat. I spotted what looks like a nice little trattoria just round the corner - think I'll check it out. At least it's not far to walk for my little, tired feet...

[Full set of photos uploaded now to my Flickr site]
[New restaurant recommended for tomorrow night. Thanks, Deborah]

Mamma mia!

2011-10-09T22:26:00.000+01:00

WARNING: Today's post has been written in several instalments - non sequitors obligatory.

Part One

Early morning train journey, whipping through the misty – or is it murky – French countryside. I am on holiday! Already surrounded by words and phrases I half catch but don't understand, the rhythm of the sounds strangely familiar yet completely unknown. I read my Italian phrase book in the hopes that I might start to tune in. It probably isn't help that this is a) a train guard, b) who is French, c) speaking Italian. I have no chance!

Looking outside again, I'm amazed at how quickly the city has given way to countryside. Rolling hills and (fairly) lush green views. Not at all like Spain last summer, where ochre and brown were the colours of the season. I'm sure as I move into and down through Italy it will change, but for now it is a familiar view.

There is no WiFi on the train. I can't believe it. Something we're more advanced in than the Europeans!! It means I have to compose this post offline and upload later. But what it also means is that I won't be hooked to my virtual world, missing the wonders of the real world around me. An article I read yesterday warned of the dangers of social network addiction – the constant need to 'check your status' and report your every move. While I don't think I'm necessarily too guilty of the latter, I fear I am a complete victim to the former. Holidays away from my mobile phone network are definitely good for me, even if I do feel like I'm going 'cold turkey' for the first couple of days. It is no coincidence that I checked all hotels for in room WiFi before booking.

But for now, I have 7 hours on this train ahead of me. Hopefully a beautiful journey through the Alps to marvel at and nothing to distract me except my books, my music and my crochet. How strange to be taking life at a slower pace whilst simultaneously hurtling through the countryside at high speed in a TGV.

Part Two

The journey took me through some fabulous countryside - very picturesque but not particularly photogenic, so no photos I'm afraid. I'm not entirely sure of the route but I think it went diagonally across France entering Italy around the Milky Way ski resort area - not passing through Switzerland as I've been telling everyone for weeks - oops. I do know we went through Aix Les Bains, Chambery and Bardonecchia, past some very impressive limestone crags, some already snow dusted mountains and along the edge of a couple of vertiginous valleys.

During the 11 hours of travelling today, I had time to think about whether or not the length of the journey is worth it for the experience. On the minus side, it does take a long time and it costs far more than the budget airlines. But on the plus side, it's way more interesting, you get to see some beautiful scenery, and you have time to acclimatise without being thrust all unprepared into your destination. Plus there's the beauty of doing the border control while you're travelling. None of this waiting in line palaver. Passport control comes right to your seat - luxury!

You also get to see stupendous stations like the one at Milan (pictured above). As Douglas Adams said, It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, "as pretty as an airport." The same most definitely cannot be said of the railway station. Such was the arrogance of the early railway pioneers that there are many fine examples of overblown grandeur gracing the world's transport hubs, none more so than in Italy!

Having said that about the fantastic scenery, I must confess that much of the journey from Milan to Rome today seemed to be underground. Now I understand why the European high speed rail services work - they simply built new lines for them, and blasted them underneath cities and through hills. It doesn't make for the most exciting rail journeys, but they sure are quick!

But when we emerged, blinking into the sunshine (yes, sunshine. It does still exist!) the views were so jaw droppingly stunning that I forgave the modern day rail engineers instantly. We had entered a world of sun drenched hills with grape and olive lined terraces, sandy dust roads and lollipop trees. All Gladiator - the film that is, not the TV series that had steroid fueled muscle men - and sad to say, women - hit each other with giant cotton buds in the name of entertainment.

And then we arrived in Rome...

Part Three

And hot and sticky it was too. Well, hotter and stickier than I'm used to at any rate - which is anything above freezing this year, to be honest. As a result, the first washing of the holiday was required to 'freshen up' my travelling clothes. Clearly my Scandinavian roots don't do well in the Mediterranean climate.

But what of Rome? The hotel is a little more monastic than I was expecting (I wonder if there's a Trade Descriptions Act in Italy?) but perfectly comfortable and adequate for my purposes. I don't really intend to spend much time lounging about in it anyway. My fevered guide book marking on the journey here has identified more than enough to fill my two and a half days stay.

My walk to the hotel was a great introduction to the city - traffic everywhere, people promenading and preening, shops displaying their designer wares. And the buildings, oh the buildings are amazing. I can't wait for the morning when I can go explore!

But my real Rome experience, the one that makes me laugh out loud, happened over dinner. Having eaten pretty much on the hoof for the last 36 hours, I decided to go out for dinner even though I'd just arrived and was pretty tired. And in so doing, I discovered that the cliche about Italian waiters really is true - having been in the eternal city for less than 2 hours, I have already been flirted with, smuggled extra drinks and free desserts and invited out on a date tomorrow night!!

I'd be flattered but I know it's all just part of the game in a tourist city. But, on balance, I think I came out ahead on the deal - extra food, a cheaper than expected bill and a free breakfast to have in my room in the morning. Not bad really!

Ciao bella - tune in tomorrow to see if I decide to take up the offer of seeing Rome's nightlife...!

Ooo la la (Round 1)

2011-10-08T22:12:00.001+01:00

Having travelled all day, I've now arrived in Paris for my first overnight stop of the holiday. The hotel is, fortunately, very nice and mercifully, was very easy to find. I say fortunately because I'll be staying here on the return journey too, so nice to know that it's a good 'un!

And while it was easy to find, it still gave me my first adventure of the holiday - navigating the Paris Metro. Successfully. There's something about using the public transport system in a foreign country that just brings the place to life. Taxis and tour coaches tend to isolate, public transport most definitely doesn't. The maps, the people, the language you recognise but don't understand, the smell. All of it hits you in the face with the foreigness of your surroundings. Great!

Tomorrow it's onwards. Train journeys numbers 3 and 4 from Paris to Milan and then Rome. According to my train guide, the journey will rush me by high speed train through France before slowing up around Chambery to wind through the Alps before passing through Turin to get to Milan. There's a brief stop there and then it's a second train to Rome, the Eternal City. And the next stage of my adventure.

Can't wait...!Join me tomorrow evening to find out what happens next.

The holiday starts here!

2011-10-08T13:13:00.001+01:00

Well, more accurately - the holiday started last night when I finished work, packed and then headed out for dinner and cocktails with my awesome partner-in-crime at the wonderful Junk Rooms in Stirling.

It was a fantastic evening, and they'd even bought olives at last so Frances could have her dirty Martini (shaken not stirred, of course) while I stucky loyally to my new favourite cocktail, a French Martini. OK, or two! The photo above is my starter, oak smoked duck. Mmm!

And now, my travelling has started in earnest. I'm currently sat on the Highland Chieftan train as it whizzes its way down the East Coast mainline to London. From there it's a short hop under the Channel to Paris, overnight there and then tomorrow what I hope will be a beautiful train journey through France & Switzerland passing through the Alps and on into Italy, arriving in Rome in the early evening.

As you can probably imagine, I'm very excited about my latest adventure. I hope it lives up to last year's journey to southern Spain. Regular readers will be able to find out all about it right here on Crafty Manoeuvres as we move into Travel mode.

But for now, there's nothing more to be done except sit back, enjoy my WiFi connection, watch the countryside roll by, maybe set up a new folder for my holiday photos, and dream of sunshine and strange new places.

In honour...

2011-10-07T00:09:00.000+01:00

... of National Poetry Day.

Love, love, love,

Dooby doo dooby doo,

All you need is love,

Dooby dooby doo,

All you need is love,

Dooby dooby doo,

All you need is love, love

Or, failing that, alcohol.

Wendy Cope

26.2

2011-10-05T22:52:00.001+01:00

So, I've finally got round to doing my post-marathon blog post. It's taken me this long partly because I've been so utterly exhausted and dog tired, but also partly because it's taken me until today to really appreciate and enjoy the fact that I RAN A MARATHON!!!!

What was that? You want to hear the gory details? Oh, well - ok, if you insist...

We arrived in Inverness on Saturday morning and after a bit of a shaky start with a mixed up hotel booking, we soon got ourselves sorted with our race numbers and headed off for carbs. Which we found in the form of fish and chips for Frances, and baked potato and chilli - with some extra chips - for me. (I'm really going to miss that carb-loading, you know!!)

We also sorted ourselves out with our rehydration therapy for the next day - none of these, but it was a bottle of Talisker in honour of Paul - the reason/inspiration for our marathon challenge.

And then it was time for an early night and bed. Bed rather than sleep, that is. I was far too nervous to get a good night's sleep, but actually having Frances there meant I was less anxious than I would otherwise have been. I was amazed that I managed to get to sleep at all but it wasn't the best night's sleep I've ever had.

All too soon it was morning and time for us to a) try to fuel up and b) head off for the bus to the marathon start. The former wasn't very successful and the latter was just long and boring. Not helped by the walk across the wet playing field on the way to the bus leading to us getting wet feet (you should ask Frances about wet feet!).

But then we were on our way and it was too late to turn back. To be honest, it was too late to turn back when I registered for the damn thing! But by the time the bus left, it was definitely physically too late to turn back.

[Apologies, this is turning into a marathon post...about my marathon]

To speed things up, from arrival at the start line it went a bit like this...

Leave bus
Drizzle
Long Q2P
Heavier drizzle
Huddle at start
And we're off....
5 minutes later we cross the start
1 mile later we realise we're running way too fast
Rain now
2 miles after that we're still running too fast
Heavier rain
1 mile later, hail
Downhill stops
1 mile later, uphill starts (repeat for 20 miles!)
Suddenly we've completed 6 miles (almost quarter of the way there)
13.1 miles, half way. Yay!
OMG, still another 13.1 miles to go...

18 miles, is it time to stop running yet? What do you mean there's another 8 still to go? Surely it must be time to stop now? You could just stop, you know. No-one would mind. Just stop. It will feel so much better. Stop running. No-one needs to know. SHUT UP!
[Repeat for 8 miles, 2 hours]

19 miles, will this hill ever end? At least the sun's out now. I wish those cyclists would disappear. Do you think anyone would notice if I jumped on the back. Another ambulance? How many retirals are there? Do you think anyone would notice if I jumped in the back?
21 miles, there's Frances ahead. Wonder if I can catch her up? Hmm, chirpy. What's she taken? Can I have some? Do you think she'd notice if I jumped on for a piggy back?

22 miles, and she's off again. How can she still run after 22 miles? At least I don't have pretend to be chirpy now. I don't think my pretending was very successful. Damn, now I'm going to have to cheer myself up. God, I hate this. Who's daft idea was this?
23 miles, only 3 more to go. You can walk 3 miles in an hour. If you run a bit, you could do it faster. Just run a bit. Go on, just move your legs a bit faster. Up and down, that's it. Don't stop. Up and down. How hard can it be? Ok. That hard.
24 miles, starting to come into Inverness and civilisation. I'd better start trying to run again. 2 minute running spurt, yay! Let's try another one. Break it down into 10 minute chunks. Run for as long as you can and then walk the rest of the 10 minutes. You can manage longer than 2 minutes...well, maybe not.

25 miles, it's only 1 mile to go, just ignore the 0.2. There's people around, at least try to run. Oh, cheers. That helps. Wave. Run, that would be more effective. I'm not going to stop now
25.5 miles, I can run the last bit. It's not far. It is far. How far is that finish line? Still can't see it. Yay, Frances, Dave and Emma, Anna and Charlie. Epic support team. I'd better look like I can run at least some of it. Head up, photographers around.

Fall across finish line. Hands up in surrender, that should make a good photo. Burst into tears (again). Never doing that again....

Well, you did ask!

Maybe tomorrow?

2011-10-04T23:47:00.002+01:00

Still no gory details. Sorry folks. The bubbles got in the way tonight. And the strangely flat feeling I didn't expect to get post marathon.

But, as it says - maybe tomorrow...

Housemates

2011-10-03T20:55:00.002+01:00

Sorry, guys - too tired to blog tonight. You'll need to wait until tomorrow to read the gory details.

Meanwhile, amuse yourself with this photo of my current housemates. I think Cat was pleased to see us back. Or at least until we got the laptops out.

By the way, did I mention? I completed my first marathon yesterday!

5'49'25

2011-10-02T19:57:00.002+01:00

It's done. I now never have to run another marathon in my life.

Gory details tomorrow, but for tonight - just know, I finished in 5'49'25 and I was 201 in my age group. Not bad for a first time out.

Personally I was just delighted to finish and not be a quitter!