Watching The Bluetones’ live DVD last night (i.e. of the first album from start to finish, which they toured last year), I never before realised quite what an amazing song Expecting to Fly (a Buffalo Springfield cover) is. The things you miss when you’re not paying attention eh?
Remember in late April we saw Dan Arborise at the String Jam Club? It was a wonderful night, though it seems a lifetime away now. Anyway, today some kind soul posted links to some video from that night, so now you can relive the magic with me. The clip is my favourite song from his first album, Around in Circles.
Those were the days, my friend…
See what I did there? Nicely ironic double-negative? Check. Topical? Oh yes. Obscure post-Britpop reference? Indeed. Fucking genius, me.
So today I went out to Ratho to partake in a navigation skills course run from the Edinburgh International Climbing Centre. It’s an impressive place. My former colleague Alan “fun and games” Ramsay does some climbing there and told me about it, but I wasn’t aware of the sheer, erm, scale of the place. It’s vast. It must be good of its ilk though, since it’s holding the world championship next year, apparently.
Anyway, it was just the two of us on this course, which started with a classroom session before heading out to part of the Pentlands for some real-life navigational learning. You see, it was decided some time ago that I needed to learn how to stay safe on the hills, as there have been occasions when, if the weather had been less kind, things might have got hairy. As it is, if I’m ever to head out there on my own, I’m definitely going to need to know how to keep myself alive. It was a useful day, though there was a lot to take in, and I think practise will be important. Still, actual map reading and walking to bearings, timing, pacing, distance and such seems to make enough sense to me. I found terrain interpretation a little less instinctive, though to be fair the terrain where we were is deliberately subtle. It is, after all, hard to lose one’s way on a knife-edge ridge, no? Well, maybe. I seem to find it harder to visualise the terrain on a map though, and projecting it onto the ground around me. Maybe it’ll become easier with time.
It was quite a long day, and despite the heat and sun lower down, up on the hills it was a decidedly mixed bag weather-wise, and we spent most of the day in waterproofs, awaiting the next belt of showers. Not too wet though, really, and worth doing in any case. No time for pictures, sorry. Was busy being edumacated.
No, I’m not talking about the England cricket team. With a headline like that, are you mad? No. Just a few esoteric observations that will make more sense to some than others. Like this: for my 40th birthday I was given a compass with a very tender note to the effect that life began at 40 and that wherever my travels, this was to guide me back to my friends. On my 41st birthday I had a chance (or did I?) to change that direction into something more meaningful and…well, I didn’t look to my compass.
This Sunday coming I’m going on a hillwalking navigation course (the motivation for which has shifted somewhat) which – assuming I can find my way to this place on Sunday morning – will doubtless come in handy. Assuming I actually get it, of course.
Between now and then Donald and I will quaff some ale in the Guildford tomorrow evening, I will watch England fail at cricket, and I will continue the (so far) three-week mull over blinds (cheapish) vs shutters (expensive, nicer). Unless it rains in Cardiff in July – the chances? Surely not…
Till then, dear friends, all the best. A sense of timing and direction. One day, both at once, please.
