Falling down

Posted on December 16, 2010 by BarryH

Third day skiing on Wednesday but this time at a different resort, Lake Louise rather than Sunshine Village where we skied the first two days.

It was also the third night of very disturbed sleep.  I go to bed and drop off straight away, very tired after the day’s exertions but then wake up after about two hours and doze fitfully for the rest of the night.  It’s beginning to take its toll.  Normally I sleep very soundly all night, undisturbed by even the most violent of thunderstorms or minor earth tremors.  Ruth reckons that it is jet-lag and that it affected her for 4 or 5 nights when they got here.  Whatever, I knew I needed a good night’s sleep when I got out of bed this morning.

Which was not a good preparation for skiing at Lake Louise.  I had been told that the runs were both longer and more difficult than at Sunshine Village, and that the snow was different.  All of which proved to be true..

I had not had any falls on the first two days.  Wednesday morning and I crashed out big time within the first 10 minutes on one of the easier runs.  Fortunately I only suffered a bruised ego.  But because of the icy cold weather the snow in which I was coated lasted all day as a mark of failure.  Not so with Snowboarders.  They seem to spend half the time sitting in the snow in the middle of the piste, chilling. They even wear shirts with long tails to sit on and to collect the snow as a mark of respect. But on skis its different: “Look at him, he fell over on a green run”.  Humiliating.

The runs at Lake Louise are certainly longer and in places steeper and I felt that any progress I had made in the last two days was negated.  I did two runs on one piste, the second time in a determined effort not to fall over again.  I didn’t fall over but it was not very stylish and in places I resorted to beginners’ ‘snow ploughing’ in order to try to stay in control.  It was hard work.

The snow is certainly very different.  One thing which strikes you arriving in the ski lodge and looking out to the runs is the snow blowing equipment constantly showering the slopes with artificial snow.  Essentially they are like firemen’s hoses shooting water spray into the air which then freezes and falls onto the pistes.  In reality it is ice not snow and mixes with the natural snow to give  a firmer base to make the runs last into early Spring.  But it changes the soft consistency of the natural snow and makes the surface of the runs harder and more inclined to become icy.  I found it a lot more difficult going but a good player doesn’t blame the pitch.  The deficiency is in my skill level..

After the first two runs we did a run from the top of the same lift to get back to the Ski Lodge for dinner.  That was quite a different kettle of fish because it was considerably longer with a number of sustained steep sections.  Altogether it dropped 2,400 feet.  My legs had stopped screaming by the bottom and just felt numb, jelly-like.  But I made it down in one piece with no more humiliating falls.

Looking down the final section of the long run to the ski lodge

Ruth and Tim’s normal pattern is to ski three days then have a rest day, then ski two days and have  arrest day.  So Thursday (07.00 to 07.00 GMT) will be a day to recover.  Hopefully.

We’ll be doing more skiing at Lake Louise than at Sunshine Village because that is where my ski pass is for. My hope is that a combination of a day off from skiing and a return to normal sleep pattern will better equip me for the challenge.

 

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Screaming legs

Posted on December 15, 2010 by BarryH

Before Monday the last time I skied was in Switzerland in 1991.  A lot has changed since then.  Skis have changed shape. Boots technology has changed.  Clothing has improved.  And my body has aged nearly 20 years. Needless to say I was apprehensive about getting on skis again, particularly in, potentially at least, such an extreme climate.

I have been covering my London Derriere by saying that my main interest is in seeing the Rockies and taking photos rather than becoming a whizz-bang skier.  But I need to be reasonably competent at skiing in order to get into the mountains with the camera.  So there will have to be a sharp learning curve.

I have been skiing for two days now.  I have improved a bit though there is a long way to go.  But my legs are screaming.  There is a lot of stress on the thigh muscles, particularly with the inefficient way that I ski and by the end of the skiing day I could hardly walk.

And then there is the matter of ski boots.  Technology has improved and the pair I have borrowed from Mike are by far the most comfortable I have skied in.  Nevertheless there is no escaping the fact that ski boots are designed by sadists for masochists.  They are really instruments of torture and should by rights be outlawed by the Geneva Convention as inhumane.  But people put them on for pleasure and so they presumably are not covered by the Convention.  I have no inclination to take up snowboarding but one thing I do envy is that they get to wear boots which allow them to walk normally and not like chronic invalids or weird alien beings.

Despite my slow progress at skiing I have very much enjoyed the high mountain scenery. Fresh snow has fallen recently and today there was a blizzard around the middle of the day which brought lifts to a halt for a short while.

The landscape is very dramatic with vast pine forests coated in snow which stays on the trees because the air is too cold to allow any melting and above the tree-line towering rocky peaks etched with snow. There has not been much blue sky yet so the light is a little flat for photography. However, I managed to take a few photos with the Canon S95 but it will be a while before I venture out with the SLR.

The clouds opened at the end of the day

... the sun picking out some of the upper slopes

A glimpse of blue sky

Massed ranks of tall pine trees covered in snow

 

Posted in Canada, Winter | 2 Comments

The longest day

Posted on December 14, 2010 by BarryH

The ‘cold snap’ as the media has been calling the low temperatures and snow of the last three weeks, went into an intermission over the weekend. Temperatures rose to the giddy heights of +5oC in the middle of the day. However, that also meant a return to grey, damp weather rather than the clear blue sky of recent days.
It was something of a relief to see that the weather forecast for the weekend implied that there would be no problem getting down to Newport for the National Express coach to Heathrow on Sunday morning for my trip to Canada. Temperatures did drop enough to coat the drive with a thin film of ice but not enough to cause a problem. Mike came to pick me up at 08.30 and despite a little slithering on the drive we got the luggage into the car and we were off.
And so began the latest of Barry’s Big Adventures. And the longest 12 December of my life.
It was strange leaving the house again. This time it had to be coddled for the winter weather. Central heating left on with the room radiators set low. Plants watered, hopefully enough to keep them alive for 4 weeks but not so much that the roots would rot. People will be calling in and out so, again hopefully, nothing will go badly wrong.
It was also strange going away with mountains of thick clothing rather than shorts and ‘T’ shirts, though because most of it was lightweight fleeces and other ‘technical’ fabrics the luggage was well within the weight limit for the flight.
There was little traffic at this time on a Sunday morning and Mike dropped me off in an eerily deserted Newport bus station. I was the only person waiting for a bus at first and then a group of Poles arrived to wait for the same coach, presumably going back to Poland for Christmas. The bus arrived very promptly, hoovered us and our bags up quickly and expertly and shot off at high speed, 3 minutes ahead of time, leaving the bus station once again completely deserted. Tickets for the coach have to be pre-booked so if the passengers are all accounted for there is no reason for it to delay further.
Once I got on the coach I knew has I was going to have to put my brain into stasis in order to cope with the boredom of travelling and not lose my marbles completely.
For a start the coach journey was just over 3 hours.
Arrived Heathrow 12.30.
Couldn’t go to check-in until 13.10 so sat outside in the pale but pleasant sunshine for 40 minutes.

Hanging around Departures at Heathrow Terminal 5 - four stories up

I had checked-in on-line on the Saturday so there was little delay at what is now called ‘baggage-drop’.
Then 3 hours of getting through security, waiting around, queuing at the departure gate for the airport bus which give us a guided tour of the airport before dropping us off at the steps of the plane.

Got on the plane in time for the 16.10 take-off. However, because people were faffing around with massive amounts of ‘cabin luggage’ until 16.20, the plane was delayed leaving the ‘stand’ which meant that we missed the take-off slot and had to wait an hour for the next one. Eventually took off 17.10.
By now it was 9½ hours since I left the house and the flight was scheduled to take another 9½ hours. It was grim. Watching old TV comedies on the screens in the backs of the headrest. Dozing. Reading a book about Greece. Dozing. Having aeroplane roast beef and Yorkshire pud. Dozing. Doing stuff on the computer. Dozing. Chatting to the Argentinean girl in the next seat. Dozing. Having an aeroplane sandwich. Dozing.
I was quite spaced out when we arrived in Calgary airport at 19.00. But this is Canadian Mountain Time not GMT and so is the equivalent of 02.00.
It was a relief to get off the plane and walk to customs and baggage reclaim. What a walk! It was miles along empty corridors, down escalators, on travelators, along more corridors….. But I really enjoyed it. I could stretch my legs at last. I walked quickly and after being quizzed at immigration/passport control was one of the first to arrive in the far distant baggage hall.
Ruth was waiting for me in Arrivals with proper sandwiches and coffee which we quaffed until the bus left for Banff. That was at 20.30 (03.30 GMT).
Arrived in Banff at about 22.00 (05.00 GMT) and trundled the luggage through the snow covered streets to the apartment which Ruth and Tim had moved into that afternoon.
It was still an early hour for going to bed so we sat up chatting and having a bottle of wine until midnight (07.00 GMT). Which was when 12 December ended and became 13 December.
12 December was already 8½ hours old when I got up at 08.30 and lasted another 22½ hours. The longest 12 December and the longest day of my life.
I went to bed and slept. Fitfully.

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A Winter’s Tale

Posted on December 8, 2010 by BarryH

The winter weather continues.  I’m trying to take advantage of the icy cold to go out walking as much as I can to re-acclimatise my body from Greece (40oC) to Canada (-40oC). But there are hidden problems.

The snow in South Wales hasn’t been very deep but because it has been continuously cold it had not thawed at all.  I went for a walk on Friday and the snow had just blown around a bit in the wind and drifted. Very pleasant walking.

Powdery snow drifting off the fields through the fences

In the evening it snowed again, about 2 inches this time.  But the temperature rose to just above freezing with the whole of Saturday very grey and drizzly, melting the snow and turning it to slush on roads on pavements.  Then it froze again.  Not a hard frost but enough to turn the slush and melt-water to ice by Sunday morning.

I couldn’t get the car up the drive let alone take the sharp bend uphill onto the crescent, so I had to give chapel a miss and instead took my camera for a walk up Garn Wen, the mountain behind the house.  There was still the remnant of Autumn colour in the oak trees providing a sharp colour contrast in the bright sun.

Snow, sheet ice and remnant of Autumn colour

On top of the mountain much of the snow which had fallen had melted even but it was now freezing hard up there.  The weather was amazing with an almost cloudless blue sky.  Looking south the Bristol Channel was golden but the West Country was lost in grey fog.  Perhaps as well.  I stayed out for about 5 hours altogether. Fabulous!

Looking South towards the Bristol Channel

Closer view shows the sea turned gold.

Looking North from the top of Garn Wen

................. and looking straight up.

When I got up on Monday morning the temperature was -7oC with a thick coating of hoarfrost making a winter wonderland once the early fog lifted.  It remained below freezing all day and by 21.00 when I went out the temperature had dropped to -7oC  again.  And there was a thick freezing fog.

When I got up on Tuesday morning I had a shock when I went to do the second thing of the day, clean my teeth.  The tap in the wash basin had been dripping slightly and the water wasn’t draining away.  This had happened a couple of weekends ago and I had resolved the matter with a bit of wire and the dregs of some sink unblocking liquid which I found in the cupboard.  In case the problem recurred I had invested in a well known brand of drain unblocking gel in an aggressively, macho orange bottle which claims on the label “unblocks drains in 15 minutes”.

So having cleaned my teeth in the bath (not that I put my teeth in the bath, they are still firmly attached in my mouth) I scooped out some of the water from the basin and poured half the contents of the magic liquid into the plug-hole as directed.  I then went downstairs feeling well pleased that I had resolved a problem within 10 minutes of having staggered out of bed.  Opened the blind in the kitchen and it was one of those “Wow!” moments.  Sun just peeping over the ridge on the opposite side of the valley and really thick hoarfrost on the trees.  Even more spectacular than yesterday.  The temperature sensor on the bird table was reading -11.2oC.

I forgot about the blocked drain and went outside with the camera.

Looking South from the balcony

Looking North from the balcony

Birds huddle up against the cold

Spiders stand little chance of catching food

Detail of hoarfrost on beech leaf

But the drain unblocking gel hadn’t worked. Not after an hour.  Nor 3 hours.  Nor 12 hours.  At 20.00 I went out to meet a friend and borrowed a sink plunger from him.  That would do the job.  High pressure ramming of gel down the plug hole would clear the blockage in a jiffy (whatever a ‘jiffy’ is).  It didn’t.  But I did break the plunger.  Enfys was always telling me I’m too heavy handed.  The combination of 15-minute wonder-gel in an orange bottle and Dr Muscle had failed.

I won’t go into details about the process but I went to bed thoroughly perplexed about why it hadn’t worked and troubled as to what I could do given that I’m going away in just a few days.

When my alarm went off at 07.15 on Wednesday morning I woke up with one of those bolt-upright-in-bed moments.  Usually, particularly on these cold, dark mornings my brain is reluctant to do anything but snuggle under the duvet and use the snooze facility on the alarm clock for another 9 minutes (why is it always 9 minutes?), and then another 9.  Not today.  My mind was racing. My subconscious had been beavering away while I slept and had come up with an answer.  The drip of water from the tap had been going out through the U-bend into the long gently sloping pipe on the outside of the house and thence to the vertical downpipe.  But because it was such a slow flow it had frozen in the arctic temperatures and built up a plug of ice to block the pipe outside.  Wonder-gel in the inside would do no good at all.

By 07.30 I had fished the long ladder from down the garden where it was iced-in, climbed up to the offending pipe and could be seen by early-morning dog-walkers along the canal towpath holding a dilapidated fan-heater which I had unearthed in my attic-clearing to the pipe.  It soon began to drip slowly and the trickle increased gradually over a 5 minute period until with a great foaming gush the contents of the sink gurgled out as the ice-plug finally cleared.  It was 24 hours since I first tackled it but it got sorted in the end.  You have no idea how much of a relief it was.

Now all I have to do is to source a new sink plunger to replace the one I broke.

 

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Tripping on Speed

Posted on December 3, 2010 by BarryH

Busy day on Wednesday.  Got up at 06.15 to take Ruth and Tim to Heathrow for their flight to Canada for the winter.  Apprehensive about getting the car out of the garage and up the drive, I had cleared the snow yesterday and no more had fallen overnight.  It was very cold but temperatures had not been as low as the last few nights when it has been minus 8oC.  A mere minus 3oC was not as problematic.

Packed the car to the roof with mega-bags, boot bags and skis and set out at 07.30 as planned.  The potentially most difficult part of the trip, the first 60 seconds, went fine, getting the car up the drive, along the service road and around the sharp turn uphill onto the crescent.

Heading South towards the M4 it very soon became clear that there was far less snow, I guess because it was closer to the equator.  Or at lower altitude.  Or closer to the sea.  Or some such geographical explanation.  Heavy traffic around Newport but no real hold-ups until passing the junction with the M5 and approaching the M32 into Bristol when traffic flow ground to a crawl.  The M32 blockage passed, the rest of the journey to Heathrow was problem free.

Arrived at the airport at 10.15, fifteen minutes ahead of checking-in time.  Parked in a short stay car park, and then went over to Terminal 3 check-in, a long walk with two trolley loads of luggage.  Cup of coffee later and I left Ruth and Tim in the queue for security, and took the straight-line route back to the appropriate end of the car park.

Into grumpiness mode now.  First, it turned out that the only payment machines were at the other end of the car park, about a quarter of a mile away.  The payment machines had no instructions whatever.  That meant a few of us were trying to work out how to persuade the machine to accept our money and give us our cards back to activate the exit barriers.  Pressing the ‘assistance’ button produced nothing of value.  It seemed there was only one person on duty dealing with all machines on all 5 floors and when the bloke at the next machine to me finally managed to get him to respond the advice was completely incomprehensible.  For the 1½ hours I had been parked the machine demanded £6.30 but continued to spit out my £10 note.  Finally I discovered that it would only accept the note if presented in one particular orientation.  Having mastered the logic of the technology I could finally escape.

Exit from the airport was well signed and soon I was in the tunnels and about to turn onto the M4 slip road when the petrol warning suddenly buzzed and 2 seconds later the parked traffic on the M4 and its slip road came into view.  Instant reaction: couldn’t risk getting into that traffic with little fuel in the tank, next services about 20 miles.  So I accelerated, changed lanes and went straight ahead to find a filling station.  Long, boring story driving around the Home Counties looking for a filling station or supermarket, having no knowledge of the area and keeping to main roads.  I guess it must be a pretty deprived area, very few facilities of any kind.  Took me over half an hour before I eventually tracked down a filling station in the outskirts of Uxbridge .  Then headed for Slough and the M4 again.

Back on the M4 the traffic was flowing freely.  In some cases a lot too freely.  There seemed a non-ending stream of cars going up the outside lane at speeds considerably in excess of the 70 mph limit.  I used to drive very fast myself, a habit changed by having been booked once too often, so I know the kind of speed I used to overtake at.  These guys were certainly going in excess of 90 mph compared with my 70-75 mph.

Few of the speeding cars were boy-racers, most were expensive BMW X5s and the like driven by wealthy alpha males celebrating the return to power of the defenders of privilege and telling the rest of the world to get stuffed.  It seems to my politically jaundiced eye that such conspicuous consumption and nose-thumbing at authority and society was last seen in such a blatant form in the Thatcher Years.

I used to drive fast because I find driving boring and speed was a way of keeping my mind focused.  So it’s a bit hypocritical of me to criticise but much of this seemed like a flashback to the bad-old days.  Most of my motorway driving is on the M4 in South Wales and the M5-M6 to and from the North West of England and this kind of driving seems to be thing of the past on those routes partly because average speed cameras were put in place, partly because of the extent and frequency of road works, and partly because of SVT – sheer volume of traffic.  So is the speeding alpha male in the X5 more prevalent in the Sarf East?  Or is it just a prejudiced perception?

Whatever, it was clear that not a lot is done at the London end of the M4 to enforce the speed limit but I continued at my staid 70-75 mph (I aim to drive at 70 but the speed does creep up now and again).  Some time ago I found a way to maintain focus without the speed.  I set the readout on the dashboard to display fuel consumption data and try to maximise miles per gallon.  Best achievement so far is getting 62 mpg on a trip to Sussex, including lengthy sections on the M4, M3 and M25.

So am I envious of these guys zooming along with no care for the law or anyone else on the road?  Would I drive at those speeds again if I knew I wouldn’t get caught?  I’m reminded of the joke told me by a Greek guy and which I’ve mentioned in a previous blog.  Two farmers, one with a very large, flourishing flock of sheep, the other with a failing flock.  The latter was asked what he would wish for if he could have one wish granted, to which he replied “that all my neighbours sheep would die”. I suspect that there’s something of that in all of us.  I hate to admit that there is something of it in me.  No, I wouldn’t drive that fast again.  But I would dearly love to see those arrogant bar stewards getting banned for speeding and their expensive toys taken away.

Posted in Grumpy Old Men, Reflections, Winter | Leave a comment

Images of an early winter

Posted on November 27, 2010 by BarryH

I said in my last post that Autumn was accelerating towards Winter.  Little did I realise the speed of the transition.  Woke up Friday morning to hard frost but clear blue sky with just a few lenticular clouds acting like a prism for the bright sun.

Looking down the garden at 09.20 Friday morning

Close up of the lenticular prism

By mid afternoon it was snowing and within half an hour the garden was turning white.

Snowing heavily at 16.30

Turning white by 17.00

Overnight it froze even harder, down to -2oC.  And it stayed below freezing most of the Saturday.  I walked to the supermarket via the top of the mountain and it was dramatically colder and more extreme up there with snow frozen on trees and drifting through the gaps in hedges and fences.  With the exception of 2009-10 this is weather we haven’t seen for many years and certainly I can’t remember it coming so early in the season.   This winter could be good fun.

First thing Saturday morning

The scenic route to the supermarket

If I was at home for Christmas I would be collecting holly in a couple of weeks time

Holly tree just below The Folly

Snow drifting through the hedge in the strong wind

Farmers having to start winter feeding of the sheep very early

Just a nice composition

Posted in Winter | 2 Comments

Acceleration, speed, time

Posted on November 25, 2010 by BarryH

I learned soon after I began paragliding that the body feels acceleration but not speed.  Fly into a good thermal and there is a sudden upsurge as your body goes up and your stomach seems to lags behind.  An intake of breath, increase in pulse-rate, mind focuses ….  and you know you’re on your way.  Once in the thermal the speed at which you go up is fairly constant if you have ‘cored’ it properly and you only know how quickly you are gaining altitude by looking at, or listening to, the instruments.  It soon reaches the point where the ground is so far below that you have to look at the altimeter to know how high you are above it.

So it was on Monday when Ruth and Tim went home and said ‘see you a week tomorrow’.  They are coming here and I take them to Heathrow.  That was when it hit me how quickly time is going and how soon it will be before I’m off to join them in Canada.  And it didn’t take much thought to realise how much has to be done in that time.  A glance at the calendar confirmed this, less than 3 weeks before I go.   It was just like the surge when you fly into a thermal, intake of breath and I suddenly became very aware: “this is serious stuff, I’ve got to get grips with it”.

Stuff that needs to be done?  I only ever work from mental lists, except when I go food shopping.  I started a list to remind me of things I needed to take before I went to Greece but it had only one item on it – ‘Zovirax’.  It still said the same when I came home 5 months later.

This is a bit different because it is 20 years since I last went skiing or indeed anywhere cold.  Packing will not be semi-automatic.  Throwing a few shorts and T shirts into a bag won’t cut the mustard.  Nor will just closing the front door behind me.

Things to take. I need some bits of technical kit for skiing – goggles, ski poles……  And I may need cold-weather clothing as temperatures in Banff go down to -40oC.  Trip to the Ski Lodge in Cardiff for ski stuff: did that Tuesday morning.  Sort through boxes of outdoor gear to find what extreme weather clothing I’ve still got and what I might need: did that Tuesday evening.  But still need some more bits.

Get ready for Christmas. Removal from the Christmas Card List is still regarded comedically as the indicator of lost of friendships. I’m trying to cut down, sensitively, but my list is still 80+.  I had already transferred Enfys’s very organised exercise book list onto an Excel spreadsheet, a task which served to emphasise the toll of seemingly accelerating years with increasing numbers of old friends and family removed because they have died.  I bought cards last week and now need to write and send them, not a 10 minute job.  Buying of presents is underway but not yet finished …. and they need to be wrapped, a job I began Tuesday evening. And one present needs to be made.

Get the house coddled. Leaving the house for a month in winter with the possibility of hard frosts is a bit different from leaving it in summer.  I remember one winter which was so cold that the u-bends under the washbasins froze overnight every night for 2 weeks even though the heating was switched on.  First thing we had to do in the morning was pour salt down the plug hole and leave it work.  Leave the heating too high and it’s a waste of fuel and therefore money.  I can’t help but be cynical about the latest increase in prices by British Gas, the supplier I switched to as the cheapest option before I went to Greece, coming as it does just before fuel consumption is set to rise as thermostats are turned up to cope with the onslaught of winter.

Sort out the Garden and the Blue House. There is far too much to do in the garden to achieve even a fraction of it before I go.  The Autumn tidying is a far bigger task than usual because the garden got out of hand in the summer.  It’s a matter of prioritising to fit the most important things into the rapidly diminishing time-slot.  The slide from Autumn into winter has suddenly accelerated.  The grey, damp days have finished, at least temporarily.  Recent frosts, including the last 2 nights, have been quite sharp.  It has been attractive with white frosts and black shadows contrasting the last of the Autumn golds.  But it has accelerated the need to get plants under cover.  Tender plants are now mostly in the Blue House or the Conservatory but the dead foliage all needs clearing to prevent white mildew developing.  Tidying the garden is not my favourite occupation; I prefer the creative stuff.  So I’m trying to prepare the last bits of construction work on the terraced vegetable beds as well as cutting back the galloping encroachment of weeds and collapsed dead vegetation.

Autumn rushes into Winter

Massed Aeoniums in the Blue House

.... and massed Agaves

A little bit of tongue-in-cheek creativity in the middle of the Autumn tidying, my old sculpture 'Bicycle Fork'

Catching up with friends. I am very conscious of the fact that I have neglected some friendships since I got back from Greece.  I finally caught up with some letters which had been sent in my absence and were awaiting my return, and I’m afraid I haven’t replied to them yet.  Similarly with e-mails.  I had hoped to meet up with some friends but it doesn’t look as if it will happen before I go.  As it is I’m rushing around like a  … well … a calliphora vomitoria (Google it and use your imagination, or check out the Urban Dictionary – http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=blue%20arsed%20fly)  Still I’m hopeful of catching up with a few more people in the next 2 weeks.

It all reminds me of exams when I was in college.  I never did any revision for the summer exams, including my Finals, until I got back after Easter.  Then I drew up as revision timetable and time simply accelerated away from me.  From that point on it was amazing how quickly the time passed.  Suddenly the preparations were a thing of the past, looking back over your shoulder at them as you sat down in the first exam and knowing that they too would soon be a thing of the past.

In hardly any time at all I’ll be sitting on a plane.  Time to draw breath.  And remember the things I forgot to do or to bring.

 

Posted in Canada, extreme gardening, Reflections, Winter | 1 Comment

Room at the top but none on the bus

Posted on November 18, 2010 by BarryH

The attic is now cleared.  I never thought I would be able to say that.  So I’ll say it again.  The attic is now cleared. Unfortunately there were no Chinese vases.

The small amount which remains is largely sentimental stuff which some future generation may value.  Or not.   But it has been sorted and put in boxes around the edges.   A good bit of what is left is either childhood memorabilia or rubbish.  Not my decision.

It all involved 7 trips to the tip and 2 to the charity shop.  There are also 3 floor-to-ceiling piles of empty boxes in the hall ready to be taken away, filled with personal possessions …………….. and brought back to be stored in the now-empty attic.  Ho hum!  At least the kids will get to sort their own stuff and not mine and Enfys’s when I pop my clogs, though I have left a couple of small boxes of family photos and memorabilia.  And a few things which will make them scratch their heads and agonise over.  After all, why should they get off scot free?  I have just lost a week of my life.

And the mice which triggered this whole process?  I had to buy new mouse-traps, the mice having eaten most of the old one.  All that remained of it were some bits of wire coat-hanger and increasing amounts of Duck Tape.  I couldn’t get humane traps as I suspect that they are nolonger available either because they were totally useless or because the warehouse where they were stored was probably invaded by mice which ate the lot.  They were so humane that they should really have been sold as mouse-food.  Instead I used a modern version of the traditional snap-trap which I’m sure is made of the same edible plastic as the humane ones but doesn’t give the mouse the opportunity to ed them.  I have caught three so far.  (update Friday morning, tally now 4)

End of a small saga.

I celebrated the end of the process by going down to Cardiff to do my Christmas shopping.  With the exception of food-shopping which is a kind of reflex action necessary for survival, I hate shopping.  Enfys always bought Christmas presents when she saw something suitable, usually on a sale, throughout the year.  She would see something and it would trigger a thought – “that would be good for so-and-so”.

My contribution was always to go down to Cardiff after work on the last Thursday before Christmas on the basis that the proximity of the dreaded deadline would focus the mind.  Not that it was panic buying, sometimes I would have a reasonable idea of what I was looking for.  I always made a point of buying at least one good present each for the kids to complement what Enfys had bought.  And I always bought presents for Enfys, I never, ever resorted to the typical bloke’s let-out of letting her buy her own present and then paying for it.  It was always a surprise.

There was a drawerful of nice things which Enfys had bought for the family and which tided me over last Christmas, with a few additions.  Now that has all gone.  Because I’m going away mid-December I knew that I would need to get my act together considerably earlier than ever before.  So having escaped from the attic I went down to Cardiff on the bus.

I find it helps to have something to focus the mind and I had arranged to meet friends for lunch to achieve that.  It was looking good, the bus being pretty punctual arriving at the stop at the end of the  street and there being no major traffic queues going into the city centre, unlike last time when it took 30 minutes to do the last mile.

I usually try to sit close to the front of the bus so I can make a quick exit.  I’m off the bus and going where I’m going like a demented thing, growling and grumbling if dawdlers get in my way.  The bus stops at 3 points around the town centre before reaching the terminus and believe me, given the self-imposed deadline I was getting a bit twitchy when at the first of the stops nearly everyone on the bus decided to get off.  That must have been about 30 people.

A little sideways ramble.  The best thing, if not the only worthwhile thing, which the Welsh Assembly has done is to issue free bus passes to everyone over 60 who wants one.  England was at least a year later.  In the words of the authors of ‘1066 and All That’, it was a Very Good Thing.   It meant that elderly people who had hitherto been stuck at home unable to travel because of the cost of fares came blinking out into the sunlight and never looked back.  They now travel regularly to different towns to do bits of shopping, have a cup of coffee, meet friends.  On market day in towns such as Abergavenny the buses are crowded, an extra bus service runs on market day.

This vast increase in the travelling elderly public must save on the National Health Service because people go out and meet each other rather than going to the GP with some minor ailment just in order to have social contact.  I suspect that there is less call on Social Services, home–helps and the like.  People are more motivated and alive. It’s brilliant.  It would be a brave Government indeed which withdrew the free bus pass. They would lose the grey vote overnight.  On any day of the week the number of people with free passes far exceeds the numbers who are paying.

But therein lies the rub.  The bus service to Cardiff is an express coach, pretty quick and comfortable but accessed by 3 steep steps.  When 30 elderly people all decide to get off at one stop it takes about 10-15 minutes as they manoeuvre zimmer frames, walking sticks, arthritic hips, handbags and shopping bags down the aisle and totter down the steps to the pavement far below.  There may well be a case for bringing back conductors on buses on certain days, funded by Social Services, to make sure that the considerable numbers of elderly and infirm get off safely.  In fact in terms of statistical probability it is now more likely that more people will be taken ill and die on buses simply because there are vastly larger numbers in vulnerable age groups spending so much time on them rather than watching TV at home.  Perhaps some buses should also carry a qualified nurse or first-aider and a resuscitation kit.

I eventually got off the bus at the stop I needed only 15 minutes late, leaving the remaining 2 passengers, a young couple snogging at the back, to continue to the terminus.  I’m pleased to say that a combination of the tight deadline, the frustration at delay, and a determination to show that though I am officially an old fogey with a free bus pass I haven’t yet slowed up, meant that I accomplished all my Christmas shopping in an hour and met my friends only 5 minutes after the time agreed.

A good result.

Posted in Grumpy Old Men, Reflections | Leave a comment

Incentives and distractions (2)

Posted on November 14, 2010 by BarryH

Having got the bit between my teeth with the loft-clearance I knuckled down to it for the rest of the week (I do love mixed metaphors) and by the end of Friday had about 90% finished.  And I had bought two new mouse traps so that when I had cleared floorspace I could set about the point of the exercise, to catch the mice which were chewing at the cables.

Close forensic examination of the crime scene had showed clearly that the mouse in the trap did not eat its way out.  It had an accomplice on the outside. The teeth marks were very definite evidence of the fact that there were at least two of them, which fitted with the extent of the burrowings and tunnels in the fibreglass insulation.

Checking the traps on Friday evening I found that I had caught the first one.

Then, close to finishing the clearing, I got slowed down by one large box which was half rubbish and half old photos and memorabilia.  Major distraction.  I decided to go through it carefully.

Saturday was dry and sunny and after dithering around with shopping I decided about 16.00 to leave the half-sorted contents of the large box scattered around the living room floor and go for a walk up the mountain behind the house.

I still had the vestiges of the summer fitness so hammered up pretty quickly, glad to be out of the drabness of the attic and stretching my legs.  Sometimes the incentive when out walking is just to get to the top as fast as you can.  It was quite exhilarating after being cooped up for a week.

On the top bands of cloud could be seen starting to drift across from the west giving a very watery, yellow sky as the sun sank lower.  But I hung about on top just because it is a great place to be.  And then as the sun sank lower still and shone on the underside of the bands of clouds instead of through them, the effect was very dramatic affecting the whole sky in all directions.  Autumn colours writ large.  That was a major distraction.  By the time I dropped down off the mountain it was dark.

The sun explodes from beneath the bands of clouds

Close-up of the hot-spot

Starting to inflame the underside of the narrow bands of cloud

Close-up of the cloud bands

Affecting the sky to the North

.... and to the West

.... in fact bands of cloud lit up in every part of the sky

Back to the West the colour gets even more vivid

Closer look

... closer still

By the time I left the top of the mountain it was dark

Posted in Autumn | Leave a comment

Chocolate teapots

Posted on November 10, 2010 by BarryH

Having spent part of Monday and a good part of a cold and wet Tuesday sorting out the loft to be able to tackle the problem of catching the mouse I was well pleased when I got back from my second trip of the day to the tip and saw that I had actually cleared about 20% of the floor area.  A good start and an incentive to carry on and see the job through.

In the process I lifted the loose boards around the edges of  central floored area of the loft and found the mice had made corridors and nests, even loos, a veritable community infrastructure.  Why is it that I spend a day laying fibreglass loft insulation for my in-laws, breathing in the microfibres and damaging my lungs in the process (glass-fibre particles are the same configuration and size as asbestos dust), and mice not only live in it but tunnel through it.

However, I was pleased that I had not allowed myself to be distracted by any of the alternatives on offer, like buying a new microwave to replace the one which now crackles and flashes with electric sparks until I stopped it shorting with an appropriately placed piece of Duck Tape.

Marvellous stuff Duck Tape.  I also used it to tape the bits of metal coat hanger which I used to repair the mouse trap when the mice started eating their way out of it when we had them in the kitchen cupboard 10 years or more ago.

At 19.00 having seen enough of the inside of the loft for one day I returned to the colourful, warm, clean world of the nether regions of the house. But not before I set the mouse trap again.

The mice had not been enticed by a healthy diet of sunflower seeds so I thought I would try something a bit more cartoon-conventional if somewhat higher in cholesterol, cheese and biscuit.  I baited the trap with a slice of extra mature cheddar and plain chocolate-coated digestive biscuit.   The cheese was a new Welsh variety matured down a coal mine.  I kid you not, that is how it is marketed and there is even a picture of a miner in his helmet and pit-dirt on the packet.  I thought it was a cheese which was suited to the inky blackness of the loft.

Wednesday morning 07.30 having completed the necessary first offices of the day, I got out the stepladder, opened the hatch and went into the roof to check on the trap.  Whatever the pros and cons of using luxury food to trap mice ….. it worked!  Unfortunately the mouse had then proceeded eat its way out of the end of the trap, the bit not protected by wire coat hanger and Duck Tape.

Fatal flaw in the design - the mouse ate its way out of the end of the trap.

What is the point of manufacturing mousetraps which the mouse can eat!?  All I really succeeded in doing was feeding the mouse a main course and sweet with an edible mousetrap to follow.

So that’s enough for now.  It’s back to the drawing board and workbench to try to find a way to make the mousetrap, well, trap mice.

Posted in Grumpy Old Men, Reflections | 1 Comment