Lorii has been in constant pain with tooth ache since Friday evening. Typically Lorii always waits until the start of a Bank holiday weekend to start such an ailment to ensure maximum pain and suffering on her part. So throughout this weekend Lorii has alternated through brief moments of consciousness, during which she has necked every non prescription analgesic she can get her hands on. Interspersed with long periods of unconsciousness during which she snored loudly.
This morning I took her to the dentist. One look at the tooth that thought it was a volcano and he declared it was coming out. He gave Lorii five injections and sent her out to the waiting room until she was really numb. Trouble is the adrenaline in the jab makes Lorii tremble almost uncontrollably. So she had a hard time not giving a small child the heebe jeebies as he waited for his turn. Eventually a numb and nervous Lorii is called back in. When she emerged she was as white as a sheet and obviously in trouble. It turned out there was a huge abscess on the end of the tooth. So Lorii was told to sit for a while until she was over the shock of the extraction, which despite the anaesthetic still hurt her a lot.
She is now (12.30pm) tucked up in bed, full of more painkillers praying that when she awakes the worst of the pain will be gone.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
My old motorbike
A tale of woe from days gone by...
It was the Queen Mothers birthday, or there about. To be a little more precise it was a Saturday evening in 1989, all my mates were away on holiday, and there was nothing on the television. Well that's not true, there was something on the TV, a Royal Variety show in honor of the Queen Mum and I was not watching that. It was a very hot August and I decided to go for a blast on my bike to cool down. I wish I'd had a beer instead.
So warm was the night that I decided against putting my leather jeans and boots on, but I did put on my leather jacket over a T-shirt as well as leather gloves and my helmet. Denim jeans and a pair of trainers covered my lower half. My second mistake.
I headed out of the village and onto the bypass with the vague notion that perhaps I could stop by and see if Nadia was home. I turned off he bypass and headed towards Frensham and Hindhead, where Nadia lived. While I blatted past the ponds on the straight bits, the bike was too long and big to do the twisty bits well. A Kawasaki GPz 1000RX it was capable of over 150mph but with over 120bhp at the back wheel it was reduced to a point and squirt machine on the narrow bendy climb up to Hindhead. On reaching Hindhead I decided against Nadia, the winding road had frustrated me and the A3 beckoned, besides I didn't want a pillion.
The A3 was much better. The engine growled at last as I was finally able to open her up and get some cool air over it and me. I roared around and down past the Devils Punch bowl towards Guildford and then really let rip when the road opened up into duel carriageway. All the cars taillights seemed to streak past in some parody of the Millennium Falcon jumping to light speed as I pushed the bike hard. At Millford I decided to turn for home. Another mistake, I should have gone on to Guildford and come back via the fast Hogs Back. Ho Hum!
The junction's gone now, but back then there were some traffic lights and a Happy Eater restaurant at a cross road. I turned left behind a car. This car was SLOW. Especially after the silly speeds I had just been doing, but I just could not get past it. Oncoming traffic and parked cars seemed to be conspiring to keep me behind this tedious driver. Suddenly I saw an opening, I dropped two gears and darted forward. Once past I flicked my headlight up to high beam to see the chevrons of a tight 90 degree bend far far too close!
What happened next is not too clear. I have some very vivid memories, but it all happened so quick and I can't remember some of the bits between some of the more exciting highlights. When I saw the sign I new I was never going to make the corner. I grabbed a big handful of front break and held it until it was time to turn. I tucked the bike in, and knew false hope, I could make this... The back wheel first let go and then gripped again. The bike bucked, and the handle bars slapped savagely.
The first of my vivid memories was the very real but odd looking image of my left thumb hard up against my left arm as the grip pushed it back.
The second was a view of the front mudguard from above. The GPz was fully faired, you can't see the front wheel from the saddle, so I must of been flying over the top of the bike.
The next thing I remember was sliding along the road on my back. I was curled up fetus fashion sliding backwards. I could see the zip on my right sleeve cuff was broken, and as I slid along my jacket was getting pulled down my back and the sleeve up my arm. This was happening very quickly but I remember worrying if I would run out of jacket and start grinding my shoulder into the asphalt.
There was a bump and I stopped sliding along the road. I relaxed. I stretched out my legs and lowered my arms. Then I hit the ground! There was a chaotic bumpy moment and then I stopped for real. I lay there dazed. My first thought was, "Well that was interesting." Next I wondered if anything was broken. I wiggled arms and legs. No pain, amazing! I sat up and looked around. I could see how I'd been fooled, I'd shot off the road over a four foot bank down into a freshly harvested cornfield.
I examined myself a bit closer. There was no skin on my right forearm, the corn stubble had flayed it off. Still no pain! Both knees were bloody messes and my right foot was missing its trainer and bleeding too. I remember thinking that it was all going to hurt soon. I became aware that the bike's engine was racing. I stood up and hopped over to it, found the kill switch and turned off my bike of the last time. It looked so sad. All bent and twisted, my pride and joy. My bike was dead!
Someone called out, "Are you all right?" I turned to see a whole row of cars pulled up on the top of the bank. I had had an audience! Now don't ask me why but I replied, "I can't find my trainer!" Suddenly that seemed the most important thing to do and I started marching around the field looking for my missing shoe. My audience joined in and the field was full of a dozen or so people looking for my trainer. I was starting to get frantic at its loss, and though I was walking around I think my audience was beginning to realise that; A, I was NOT all right. and B, I was getting worse. My trainer was found and I calmed down a lot. A kind old gentleman asked me if I wanted a ride to the hospital? Everything was okay now I had my trainer, so I said no that was not necessary but could he give me a lift to a phone box so I could call the AA?
Once in the car I discovered that the driver was the person I had overtaken before the bend. He had thought I was going to make it too and then watched in horror as the bike flicked me high into the air. At that moment he said he thought I was going to die.
We get to a phone box and I called the AA. They say they will come out only if the bike is attended. The Kind Old Gentleman says he'll take me back to the bike, so I say okay to the AA. As I hang up the phone my knees buckle as the shock I'm in starts to hit home. It dawns on me that I am going to need to go to hospital after all and I can't go back to the bike. Kind Old Gentleman sees this too, and tells me so. I decide to call my parents and ask if they will go out to the crash site and wait for the AA. The first few lines of that conversation will always be with me;
"Mum I've crashed my bike!"
"Oh my God! Are you all right?"
"No."
"What?"
"No I'm not all right. I've got to go to hospital! I've lost a lot of skin, but never mind that. I need you to go to the crash site and wait for the AA."
"What!!!"
I don't know how but I talked them into it. When they got there they found the police there with sniffer dogs looking for my body! This was because as I hung up the phone on my mother I fainted a second time, and as I slid down inside the phone box the ambulance that had been called out by some other spectator drove by on a futile mission to find and take me to the A&E department. They reported me missing and the police were called out to help search for me.
K.O.G took me to the Royal Surrey in Guildford. I spent most of the journey apologizing for causing him so much trouble and bleeding in his car. Some point along this trip I started to hurt.
We get to the hospital and K.O.G goes off looking for a wheelchair as I suddenly don't want to bend my very sore knees. He comes back with a nurse who convinces me to walk into the Emergency Unit. Once inside a Sister approaches and asks me if I'm the missing Biker from Elstead? I say yes and faint again. I'm put on a trolley and wheeled into a cubical. The world stops spinning again and the nurse I was with goes to help the guy in the next booth who is dying from a bee sting!
A very young nurse then appears and tells me she has to undress me. I manage to take my jacket off rather than have her cut it. The jeans were so shredded I let her slice them off. She must have been new to the job cause she got embarrassed once I was in the buff. She helps me into one of those backless gowns and I'm on my own again.
My next visitor was a policeman. His opening line was priceless, "Okay son, where did you nick it?"
"Nick what?"
"The bike."
"It's mine, its not stolen."
"It had a false number plate."
"No I bought it from Gordon Farleys in Ash."
"What's it's number then?"
"I'm bleeding, I hurt, I can't remember."
"Well son, I can tell you that the index number on that bike was for a red ford in Newcastle."
"So what is it?"
"WPC 365 D"
"What should it be?"
"WPC 356 D"
"Hmm, I'm lying here in shock and bleeding. I think I've broken my left wrist. My right arm has no skin on it and you are hassling me over what even I can see is probably a clerical error?"
"So what happened?"
"I fell off."
"You didn't hit anyone?"
"No"
"Were you speeding?"
"I don't think so." (As it turned out I had not been.)
"Hmm, well you will be hearing from us." (I didn't, and was not prosecuted.)
Next the doctor shows up. I explain why I think my left wrist is broken. He gets a nurse to treat my arm with anesthetic jelly and sends me to x-ray. On returning to A&E the doctor informs me that the x-ray shows no fracture. I'm given my clothes and told I can leave.
Three days later I receive a post card from the hospital asking me to come back and have a cast fitted. Seems the consultant has reviewed the junior doctors x-rays and spotted the fracture I had been suffering with for the past few days.
My right arm healed up okay, though I damaged a small nerve in my wrist and a muscle in my hand wasted away. My knees are still scared, and they didn't have to graft over the hole in my right ankle that the junior doctor missed too.
The moral of this tale? Don't fall off your bike and always wear leathers!
By the way. The number plate had been made up wrong on the day the bike was sold new. It had been missed by everyone during each sale or MOT until that day. But I've often wondered how many speeding tickets the poor bloke in Newcastle got every time the cops saw me speeding. 'Coz I never got one while I was riding that bike!
PS I got billed for the ambulance even though I didn't get a ride!
It was the Queen Mothers birthday, or there about. To be a little more precise it was a Saturday evening in 1989, all my mates were away on holiday, and there was nothing on the television. Well that's not true, there was something on the TV, a Royal Variety show in honor of the Queen Mum and I was not watching that. It was a very hot August and I decided to go for a blast on my bike to cool down. I wish I'd had a beer instead.
So warm was the night that I decided against putting my leather jeans and boots on, but I did put on my leather jacket over a T-shirt as well as leather gloves and my helmet. Denim jeans and a pair of trainers covered my lower half. My second mistake.
I headed out of the village and onto the bypass with the vague notion that perhaps I could stop by and see if Nadia was home. I turned off he bypass and headed towards Frensham and Hindhead, where Nadia lived. While I blatted past the ponds on the straight bits, the bike was too long and big to do the twisty bits well. A Kawasaki GPz 1000RX it was capable of over 150mph but with over 120bhp at the back wheel it was reduced to a point and squirt machine on the narrow bendy climb up to Hindhead. On reaching Hindhead I decided against Nadia, the winding road had frustrated me and the A3 beckoned, besides I didn't want a pillion.
The A3 was much better. The engine growled at last as I was finally able to open her up and get some cool air over it and me. I roared around and down past the Devils Punch bowl towards Guildford and then really let rip when the road opened up into duel carriageway. All the cars taillights seemed to streak past in some parody of the Millennium Falcon jumping to light speed as I pushed the bike hard. At Millford I decided to turn for home. Another mistake, I should have gone on to Guildford and come back via the fast Hogs Back. Ho Hum!
The junction's gone now, but back then there were some traffic lights and a Happy Eater restaurant at a cross road. I turned left behind a car. This car was SLOW. Especially after the silly speeds I had just been doing, but I just could not get past it. Oncoming traffic and parked cars seemed to be conspiring to keep me behind this tedious driver. Suddenly I saw an opening, I dropped two gears and darted forward. Once past I flicked my headlight up to high beam to see the chevrons of a tight 90 degree bend far far too close!
What happened next is not too clear. I have some very vivid memories, but it all happened so quick and I can't remember some of the bits between some of the more exciting highlights. When I saw the sign I new I was never going to make the corner. I grabbed a big handful of front break and held it until it was time to turn. I tucked the bike in, and knew false hope, I could make this... The back wheel first let go and then gripped again. The bike bucked, and the handle bars slapped savagely.
The first of my vivid memories was the very real but odd looking image of my left thumb hard up against my left arm as the grip pushed it back.
The second was a view of the front mudguard from above. The GPz was fully faired, you can't see the front wheel from the saddle, so I must of been flying over the top of the bike.
The next thing I remember was sliding along the road on my back. I was curled up fetus fashion sliding backwards. I could see the zip on my right sleeve cuff was broken, and as I slid along my jacket was getting pulled down my back and the sleeve up my arm. This was happening very quickly but I remember worrying if I would run out of jacket and start grinding my shoulder into the asphalt.
There was a bump and I stopped sliding along the road. I relaxed. I stretched out my legs and lowered my arms. Then I hit the ground! There was a chaotic bumpy moment and then I stopped for real. I lay there dazed. My first thought was, "Well that was interesting." Next I wondered if anything was broken. I wiggled arms and legs. No pain, amazing! I sat up and looked around. I could see how I'd been fooled, I'd shot off the road over a four foot bank down into a freshly harvested cornfield.
I examined myself a bit closer. There was no skin on my right forearm, the corn stubble had flayed it off. Still no pain! Both knees were bloody messes and my right foot was missing its trainer and bleeding too. I remember thinking that it was all going to hurt soon. I became aware that the bike's engine was racing. I stood up and hopped over to it, found the kill switch and turned off my bike of the last time. It looked so sad. All bent and twisted, my pride and joy. My bike was dead!
Someone called out, "Are you all right?" I turned to see a whole row of cars pulled up on the top of the bank. I had had an audience! Now don't ask me why but I replied, "I can't find my trainer!" Suddenly that seemed the most important thing to do and I started marching around the field looking for my missing shoe. My audience joined in and the field was full of a dozen or so people looking for my trainer. I was starting to get frantic at its loss, and though I was walking around I think my audience was beginning to realise that; A, I was NOT all right. and B, I was getting worse. My trainer was found and I calmed down a lot. A kind old gentleman asked me if I wanted a ride to the hospital? Everything was okay now I had my trainer, so I said no that was not necessary but could he give me a lift to a phone box so I could call the AA?
Once in the car I discovered that the driver was the person I had overtaken before the bend. He had thought I was going to make it too and then watched in horror as the bike flicked me high into the air. At that moment he said he thought I was going to die.
We get to a phone box and I called the AA. They say they will come out only if the bike is attended. The Kind Old Gentleman says he'll take me back to the bike, so I say okay to the AA. As I hang up the phone my knees buckle as the shock I'm in starts to hit home. It dawns on me that I am going to need to go to hospital after all and I can't go back to the bike. Kind Old Gentleman sees this too, and tells me so. I decide to call my parents and ask if they will go out to the crash site and wait for the AA. The first few lines of that conversation will always be with me;
"Mum I've crashed my bike!"
"Oh my God! Are you all right?"
"No."
"What?"
"No I'm not all right. I've got to go to hospital! I've lost a lot of skin, but never mind that. I need you to go to the crash site and wait for the AA."
"What!!!"
I don't know how but I talked them into it. When they got there they found the police there with sniffer dogs looking for my body! This was because as I hung up the phone on my mother I fainted a second time, and as I slid down inside the phone box the ambulance that had been called out by some other spectator drove by on a futile mission to find and take me to the A&E department. They reported me missing and the police were called out to help search for me.
K.O.G took me to the Royal Surrey in Guildford. I spent most of the journey apologizing for causing him so much trouble and bleeding in his car. Some point along this trip I started to hurt.
We get to the hospital and K.O.G goes off looking for a wheelchair as I suddenly don't want to bend my very sore knees. He comes back with a nurse who convinces me to walk into the Emergency Unit. Once inside a Sister approaches and asks me if I'm the missing Biker from Elstead? I say yes and faint again. I'm put on a trolley and wheeled into a cubical. The world stops spinning again and the nurse I was with goes to help the guy in the next booth who is dying from a bee sting!
A very young nurse then appears and tells me she has to undress me. I manage to take my jacket off rather than have her cut it. The jeans were so shredded I let her slice them off. She must have been new to the job cause she got embarrassed once I was in the buff. She helps me into one of those backless gowns and I'm on my own again.
My next visitor was a policeman. His opening line was priceless, "Okay son, where did you nick it?"
"Nick what?"
"The bike."
"It's mine, its not stolen."
"It had a false number plate."
"No I bought it from Gordon Farleys in Ash."
"What's it's number then?"
"I'm bleeding, I hurt, I can't remember."
"Well son, I can tell you that the index number on that bike was for a red ford in Newcastle."
"So what is it?"
"WPC 365 D"
"What should it be?"
"WPC 356 D"
"Hmm, I'm lying here in shock and bleeding. I think I've broken my left wrist. My right arm has no skin on it and you are hassling me over what even I can see is probably a clerical error?"
"So what happened?"
"I fell off."
"You didn't hit anyone?"
"No"
"Were you speeding?"
"I don't think so." (As it turned out I had not been.)
"Hmm, well you will be hearing from us." (I didn't, and was not prosecuted.)
Next the doctor shows up. I explain why I think my left wrist is broken. He gets a nurse to treat my arm with anesthetic jelly and sends me to x-ray. On returning to A&E the doctor informs me that the x-ray shows no fracture. I'm given my clothes and told I can leave.
Three days later I receive a post card from the hospital asking me to come back and have a cast fitted. Seems the consultant has reviewed the junior doctors x-rays and spotted the fracture I had been suffering with for the past few days.
My right arm healed up okay, though I damaged a small nerve in my wrist and a muscle in my hand wasted away. My knees are still scared, and they didn't have to graft over the hole in my right ankle that the junior doctor missed too.
The moral of this tale? Don't fall off your bike and always wear leathers!
By the way. The number plate had been made up wrong on the day the bike was sold new. It had been missed by everyone during each sale or MOT until that day. But I've often wondered how many speeding tickets the poor bloke in Newcastle got every time the cops saw me speeding. 'Coz I never got one while I was riding that bike!
PS I got billed for the ambulance even though I didn't get a ride!
Friday, August 26, 2005
Mountaineers
Well success at last, we conquered a mountain. Sometime around two o’clock on August the twenty fifth Katie, Jacob and I reached the summit of Helvellyn. It was very, very cold indeed.
After the previous debacle of chaos from the start, the day had started well. Jacob had risen early to prepare sandwiches, though oddly he was still asking if we had to go. I had nipped around Sainsburys to buy chocolate and energy drinks, before getting home to throw the family in the car. Since last time Badger had both been sick and had dumped in the back of the car I took him on a brief walk down to the local green so he could do the necessary.
The car journey itself was reasonably uneventful. We did partake in the obligatory traffic jam on the M6. Though ours was much smaller than the southbound guys had to endure. The police had closed junction thirty three, blaming an invisible accident, and the tail back on the south bound side went on for miles.
After initially missing the entrance to the car park we finally parked up and selected our kit for the accent. Katie sensibly decided to take her coat and a woolly hat and mittens. Jacob, who feels the heat and is nearly terminally lazy, could not bear to lug anything up the mountain he did not have to. At the foot of the mountain it was warm so he elected to wear a tee shirt and a sleeveless hoodie. Naturally as the responsible adult, and the only one amongst us who had been to the top of a mountain before, I was none too impressed with this. However, cowed by the knowledge of just how much Jake would bitch and moan if made to wear more, I elected to rely on my secret weapons packed in with the food.
We set off and the kids were immediately impressed with the scenery. The path followed a white water stream, which the children found enchanting, and Jake was all for taking lots of pictures. Once we had bridged the stream for the last time we came to a stile and gate. The other side looked like sheep territory, but none were visible. So I decided to leave Badger off his leash until I saw a reason to put him on it, asking the kids to keep a look out too. This was a mistake. Ten minutes up the side of the mountain Badger startles a sheep out of some bracken and the chase is on. In that moment Badger discovered his reason for being. He is fifty percent German Shepherd Dog, fifty percent Welsh Border Collie. Which makes him one hundred percent sheep dog. He soon had a small flock pinned against a dry stone wall; at the bottom of the mountain. As shouting, “Come by boy” was not working I had to descend to where Badger was guarding his flock. Put him on a leash and start the climb again.
The path up the mountain is well travelled and those in charge have protected the area from erosion by paving it with large rocks. This removed the task of forging a new route and left us to concentrate on just how much hard work is involved in climbing up this bloody big hill. We were all soon sweating and breathing hard, and many rests were taken. But the views improved and we kept at it. The children were mightily impressed when a fighter jet, practicing low level flying, screamed through the valley below us.
Soon the altitude started to cool the air and a stiff and steady breeze started up. Jake started wishing he had brought a coat, and the hoodie he had been carrying was put back on. It soon got colder though and Jake started complaining in earnest. Time to bring out the secret weapon; a bin bag. I had Jacob take off his hoodie and with holes in appropriate places put the sack over him and his tee shirt. Once modelling the latest in PVC fashion Jake put his hoodie back on over it and declared it was a vast improvement. Shortly after this, Jake now feeling warmer again and being a perfect product of the Playstation generation, he realised just how exhausted he was, time for secret weapon number two. A can of Red Bull. Such is the power of suggestion that before his body could have even thought about digesting the drink Jake was running up the Mountain.
Eventually we made the summits. There is a chain of peaks, Hevellyn being the largest, joined by a broad ridge on which the walking was much easier than the previous climb. The wind was bitterly cold and it was now only determination not to give up that saw us press on to the tallest peak. Fellow hill walkers stared incredulously in their goretex jackets and hiking pants at the clearly insane family in jeans and tee shirts, trailing the pet dog. One offered us clothing, which we politely declined, though I was aware that if we didn’t get down soon we were soon going to be in trouble. Stones were placed on cairns. Pictures were taken, and backs were patted. Jake gave in at this point and admitted he was still really cold. So Katie gave him her jacket! So we started our decent with Jake wearing a tee shirt, a bin bag, a fleece hoodie and his sister’s jacket complaining he was cold. While Katie pranced about the mountain top in only a tee shirt on which was printed a house brick and the word ‘subtle.’
We made our way down as speedily as was safe. We quickly warmed up but now we had a new need to press on; over on the other side of the valley rain was coming. Jake the poor mite was done in and so I hung back with him, but Katie still quite hyper was all for running down after seeing a couple start bouncing down the path. Initially I refused, but once we caught up the couple having a picnic half way down, I relented and allowed her to accompany them. Apparently she beat them to the bottom!
We all beat the rain and were heartily exhausted. I had earned two new blisters on my toes, and we were all wind burnt. But I think we’ve got the bug. Though not again until we have the proper clothes.
After the previous debacle of chaos from the start, the day had started well. Jacob had risen early to prepare sandwiches, though oddly he was still asking if we had to go. I had nipped around Sainsburys to buy chocolate and energy drinks, before getting home to throw the family in the car. Since last time Badger had both been sick and had dumped in the back of the car I took him on a brief walk down to the local green so he could do the necessary.
The car journey itself was reasonably uneventful. We did partake in the obligatory traffic jam on the M6. Though ours was much smaller than the southbound guys had to endure. The police had closed junction thirty three, blaming an invisible accident, and the tail back on the south bound side went on for miles.
After initially missing the entrance to the car park we finally parked up and selected our kit for the accent. Katie sensibly decided to take her coat and a woolly hat and mittens. Jacob, who feels the heat and is nearly terminally lazy, could not bear to lug anything up the mountain he did not have to. At the foot of the mountain it was warm so he elected to wear a tee shirt and a sleeveless hoodie. Naturally as the responsible adult, and the only one amongst us who had been to the top of a mountain before, I was none too impressed with this. However, cowed by the knowledge of just how much Jake would bitch and moan if made to wear more, I elected to rely on my secret weapons packed in with the food.
We set off and the kids were immediately impressed with the scenery. The path followed a white water stream, which the children found enchanting, and Jake was all for taking lots of pictures. Once we had bridged the stream for the last time we came to a stile and gate. The other side looked like sheep territory, but none were visible. So I decided to leave Badger off his leash until I saw a reason to put him on it, asking the kids to keep a look out too. This was a mistake. Ten minutes up the side of the mountain Badger startles a sheep out of some bracken and the chase is on. In that moment Badger discovered his reason for being. He is fifty percent German Shepherd Dog, fifty percent Welsh Border Collie. Which makes him one hundred percent sheep dog. He soon had a small flock pinned against a dry stone wall; at the bottom of the mountain. As shouting, “Come by boy” was not working I had to descend to where Badger was guarding his flock. Put him on a leash and start the climb again.
The path up the mountain is well travelled and those in charge have protected the area from erosion by paving it with large rocks. This removed the task of forging a new route and left us to concentrate on just how much hard work is involved in climbing up this bloody big hill. We were all soon sweating and breathing hard, and many rests were taken. But the views improved and we kept at it. The children were mightily impressed when a fighter jet, practicing low level flying, screamed through the valley below us.
Soon the altitude started to cool the air and a stiff and steady breeze started up. Jake started wishing he had brought a coat, and the hoodie he had been carrying was put back on. It soon got colder though and Jake started complaining in earnest. Time to bring out the secret weapon; a bin bag. I had Jacob take off his hoodie and with holes in appropriate places put the sack over him and his tee shirt. Once modelling the latest in PVC fashion Jake put his hoodie back on over it and declared it was a vast improvement. Shortly after this, Jake now feeling warmer again and being a perfect product of the Playstation generation, he realised just how exhausted he was, time for secret weapon number two. A can of Red Bull. Such is the power of suggestion that before his body could have even thought about digesting the drink Jake was running up the Mountain.
Eventually we made the summits. There is a chain of peaks, Hevellyn being the largest, joined by a broad ridge on which the walking was much easier than the previous climb. The wind was bitterly cold and it was now only determination not to give up that saw us press on to the tallest peak. Fellow hill walkers stared incredulously in their goretex jackets and hiking pants at the clearly insane family in jeans and tee shirts, trailing the pet dog. One offered us clothing, which we politely declined, though I was aware that if we didn’t get down soon we were soon going to be in trouble. Stones were placed on cairns. Pictures were taken, and backs were patted. Jake gave in at this point and admitted he was still really cold. So Katie gave him her jacket! So we started our decent with Jake wearing a tee shirt, a bin bag, a fleece hoodie and his sister’s jacket complaining he was cold. While Katie pranced about the mountain top in only a tee shirt on which was printed a house brick and the word ‘subtle.’
We made our way down as speedily as was safe. We quickly warmed up but now we had a new need to press on; over on the other side of the valley rain was coming. Jake the poor mite was done in and so I hung back with him, but Katie still quite hyper was all for running down after seeing a couple start bouncing down the path. Initially I refused, but once we caught up the couple having a picnic half way down, I relented and allowed her to accompany them. Apparently she beat them to the bottom!
We all beat the rain and were heartily exhausted. I had earned two new blisters on my toes, and we were all wind burnt. But I think we’ve got the bug. Though not again until we have the proper clothes.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Hill Walking
I went walking in the Lake District today. The plan had been to take the kids to the top of a mountain, but that all went a bit pear shaped. After researching on the net I’d decided that Helvelyn seemed as likely a choice as any at 950 meters. But I parked in the wrong car park and we ended up an a place called Alcock Tarn, half way up a lesser peak called Heron Pike. We are going to have another go later this or next week, now that we have proper maps and have scouted out the area.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Friday, August 12, 2005
Mercedes
There is one in the real world! A Mercedes McLaren SLR on the street, I wonder who's it is?
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Been Shopping
Well Lorii and I have been car shopping today. The Astra’s MOT is due to expire in October and it will never pass for a new one without major repairs. So Lorii and I scoured the lots of numerous car dealers until we found a rare thing indeed. A car we could afford! After shelling out the redies, I get to pick up a white Ford Mondeo 1.8 16V this week. Best bet was we got to trade in the rust Astra for £400 which is only shy £150 of what I paid for it.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Feeling glum...
I have not received all that many comment about the things I either twitter on about, or the pictures I post. I wonder why? Top of the list must be that no one reads this. Hmm A public diary held private by disinterest.
My favourite Unreal Server was pronounced dead today. No more Pointless Mayhem. Something crashed, and the Admin had neither the cash nor the motivation to put it back up. Ho hum…
Lorii is spending the night at the Hotel. So I’m home alone. I’m feeling pretty tired, but can’t sleep. Have finished the latest book I was reading, the Algebraist by Iain M Banks. Really enjoyed it. There is a character in it called, Quercer & Janath. I’m thinking of using this as my new handle on Unreal. Does anybody have an opinion?
My favourite Unreal Server was pronounced dead today. No more Pointless Mayhem. Something crashed, and the Admin had neither the cash nor the motivation to put it back up. Ho hum…
Lorii is spending the night at the Hotel. So I’m home alone. I’m feeling pretty tired, but can’t sleep. Have finished the latest book I was reading, the Algebraist by Iain M Banks. Really enjoyed it. There is a character in it called, Quercer & Janath. I’m thinking of using this as my new handle on Unreal. Does anybody have an opinion?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
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