2006 January to March

It's the end of the year and rather than let everything that happened fade away into distant memories, I thought I would make a note of them here in case I bang my head and get amnesia and forget who I am and what I have been doing for the last year. Here's January to March.

January was our first time in Scotland celebrating Burns night. The local church put on an impressive feast of haggis, neeps and tatties and accompanied it with various people reading Burn's poems. I didn't undersatnd a word but it was all very cultural and helped me understand the natives. At the kids school the whole school celebrated living in Scotland (as opposed to being Scottish which would have excluded half of us now living here). Isabelle (pictured below) got to do a song and dance at the Scottish Evening which was torture using the repeated reciting of Auld Langs...and Flower of Scotland using out of tune instruments and tone deaf children.


February according to my diary is an uneventful month and none of us can remember anything of significance happening. We got roped into doing a clean up in the local woods. Earlier in the year we had seen a bigcat in there. Not a domestic type..a proper wild one...a panther we think. Secretly we were hoping to find its lair, but instead all we found was a load of rubbish. Still it was good to get involved and this photo of us all appeared in the local paper.
We were still doing the Cross Country races and here is a picture of Isabelle at Berwick on Tweed on a cold and frosty morning and me in the river at Peebles.




March was the start of spring and the changing landscape is impressive. I was away for a week with Isabelle's year group to York. This meant spending a week with 100 9-10 year olds touring all the sights of York. I have been a regular visitor to York through camp stuff. We used to have the reunions there but rarely have I bothered to see the sights. The attraction of the pubs on Micklegate usually outdid the need to visit the Minster and after a pint of Theakstons OP I never did manage to see the York walls. This trip made up for lost time and by the end of the week I never wanted to see a museum shop ever again or hear about Viking toilet habits. Whilst we were there camp and Dunbar made a connection through Chris Wooldridge who is in charge of opening the walls and at camp collecting rubbish. The teachers had heard Chris on the radio on Radio 4's Home Truth's and to our amazement we actually bumped into the local celebrity the next day. Click the link to hear more about Chris. Here is a picture of us on the Ghost Walk in York....oooooh!

Goodbye Christmas

Well it's all over for another year...boo hoo! I hope you all had a great time opening your presents. I really spent a lot on Emma this year and without wanting to show off my generosity here are some of the items I purchased.
Franks X-Ray £96
Franks Lethal injection £75
Trefor £400
Trefor's worming juice and first round of injections £46
Trefor's lice spray £15
Trefor's second round of injections £35

We hosted the festive dinner and somehow ended up with 4 Christmas puddings and 2 stalks of sprouts that were surplus to requirement. All went well and managed to feed 15 of us all at once, although this did involve having to take apart the kitchen table and reassemble it in the living room. It was that or the pool table. However after a few slurps of champers I think Emma's dad would have lost his sprouts down the pockets.

It's great the way Santa buys kids the same sort of presents that mums and dad like. MP3 Players, Fifa 07' for the Playstation, Battleships, Cluedo, giant tin of Celebrations and a dart board in a cabinet to go in the garage. Stuart got a rifle that fires pellets. It's unlikely to have passed any health and safety tests as it is very powerful for a 5 year old. We had great fun shooting Christmas cards and ornaments and when we are better at it we can move on to the big game of Harold and Trefor. Well I must go for now and read the numerous Round Robin's I have been sent. Send us yours if you have one, I think they're great.

Christmas Gardens

I've noticed that this time of year people have gone mad decorating their gardens with Christmas lights and ornaments. The price of lights has plumetted and so you can now make your row of terrace houses look like Blackpool for under £100 and not have to suffer the smell of onions and the company of fat Glaswegians and be held up by the Wombles (old people). Here's a picture of the Burnage Illuminations sent by it's vey own tour guide Colin Jones. I will try and get some up of Dunbars illuminations. Yes they really do have them and quite impressive if that's your thing.


Trefor has decided to do his festive bit for our garden too. He likes the Christmas tree and keeps pulling the tinsel off and shredding it to pieces. What goes in has to come out! i discovered this the other day when I noticed something glimmering in the winters night. There was more than one of them scattered around the garden. On closer inspection I discovered Trefor had left his own Christmas parcels...fully loaded with tinsel all around the garden. How kind of him

William is here

10 days late and even then only after the midwife gave him a prod...William has arrived in this world. Our Sarah and Beck had decided to leave their visit to see us until this weekend so they didn't miss his arrival. But within 15 minutes of arriving here William decided to come out with his hands up 260 miles away. All are doing well and apparantly Cath was on the blower to people to break the news whilst he legs were still in stirrups. It's not the sort of image you want to think about whilst you holding a conversation with someone. I personally find the thought of someone talking to me whilst their innards are on display quite off putting. It also puts into question the rights of women who work in call centres the right for maternity leave.

Anyway here is a picture or two of our William in all his splendour and Cath without her stirrups on.

Late arrival

Watch this space....Cath & Richard's baby is due any day now! In fact it is already 4 days late. As you can see from the photo Cath has bought a couple of special maternity outfits to give birth in.

Clever Trefor

I don't want to give undue air time to a dog on this Blog. That's the sort of thing a 12 year old girl does. However I should explain how it has ended up with this name. As you know I have been involved in the Criccieth Camp for over 20 years, and in the summer I gave up running the camp. Those generous leaders had a whipround and gave me a meaty cheque that I have been trying to think of things to spend it on....something that was of significance. Well with Frank's departure the obvious thing was to put it towards a dog. Criccieth camps have always used the local bus firm Clynogg & Trefor. Trefor is actually a little village with little to it, but the buses are legendary with camp. For me the sight of those burgundy and cream buses at Birch Services was the start of camp. Those itchy seats woolen and the travel sickness of going through the back roads near Bala are etched in my mind. So Trefor got picked...and when Harold (the yellow lab) snuffs it then guess what the new mut will be called?
I did think of other camp related names...Derek in recognition of the great things he has done for the camps. However the slight sense of pleasure in telling him to lie down or sit would be unfair. Mark as in Marquee...but I would sound like my mate Mark Livingstones mum whose squeeky voice used to shout 'Marky' to him even when he was 19 and trying to impress the ladies! Gwyn as in Gwynnedd, Dynion as in Gents loo and Eggy as in Eggy Bread. I wonder if you shouted Eggy to your dog in a public place if you would find people shouting back 'Bread Bread Bread'?

Anyway, for those who used to enjoy Clynogg & Trefor before they went into luxury coaches, here is a picture to remind you of them.

Trefor

Just over a week has passed since Frank popped his clogs...and Emma has been grieving badly. So much so that she decided we should get a replacement hound. Off we went today to Selkirk to buy one. A pedigree chocolate labrador called Trefor. Here is a picture of him and I will explain the name later.

Peregrine Chum

Yet agaian the wildlife here makes a big impression. As a kid I was a member of the RSPB before I grew into bird watching of a different type! In those days, and it still is, one of the rarest birds and most protected was the Peregrine Falcon. I could not believe my eyes when I saw a pair of them nesting in a location very near here. Obviously I can't say where as those weirdos that nick eggs will be on to it in no time...oh ok go on then...it's on top of the police station! Also spotted this week...seal cub on the beach....and the illusive white squirrel (not together though...the seal is not very good at tree climbing).

Thin on top

Hair loss is not something I fear...as long as it looks good. Unfortunately I need my hair cutting and I always know it needs cutting because if it's long then it reveals how thin it is. If ever I needed a wake up call to pay a visit to Sheila's the barbers, then it was the sight of David Gest on 'I used to be a celebrity get me out of here'. Emma was quick to point out the likeness of his failed hair transplant to my thinning mop. Here are some photo's to illustrate my point.






I don't think I can go for the shaved head look though because I would just look like I had escaped from the psychiatric ward because my head is full of odd bumps and scars. My dad used to have a bald patch, but it looked like a chimps bottom so I don't want to go for that. There is only one option and that's to bring back the comb over. But how do you grow your hair long just on one side of your head? I will have to ask Alan Pugmire for some tips.

Football gone crazy

Andrew scored two cracking goals again today against old rivals North Berwick. His football skills are very good and when he gets to play with like minded players it makes for good football. Today he got his first taste of the unpleasantries of football when some posh little gobshite from NB went to give Andrew the ball for a throwing and chucked it into his face. A split lip didn't put him off winning.

On Wednesday at training I also encountered the dark side of the 'beautiful game' when I got kicked out of the sports hall where I have always gone to watch him train. Apparantly club rules now ban parents from watching the kids train in case they are some sort of perv who will entice them into their lair. There goes years of proud parents supporting their kids...turned into an act of suspicion and political corrrectness. Grrr!

Frank's Farewell

Sad events closed the week. Our suspicions that Frank's limp was something more serious were confirmed. The X-Ray showed a huge bone cancer which was casuing him pain. 'I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this' said the vet, 'you should be thinking about having him put to sleep'. We took him home for one last night and at 10.50am today he departed. However he did leave a little reminder of himself on Dunbar High Street before he went in. I managed to scoop most of it up, but I left his pee on the lamp post for all other dogs to remember him by. As dogs go he was a good one, and the hunt will soon be on for another...watch this space! Picture: Frank with Isabelle a few weeks ago

XC Running

We did our first cross country (XC) run on Sunday. Isabelle and Andrew did the juniors race (nearly 2 miles) and I did the seniors. Andrew beat Isabelle much to her annoyance and I beat a couple of rivals from Haddington. It was icy cold and running through the river tested the insulating properties of my scrotum to the limit. Here's the results

Poor Frank

Did I mention that my two Labrdors are named after my uncles Frank and Harold. Well Frank (the black one) has developed a limp and the vet reckons it could be cancer causing it. He's off for an x-ray at great expense, and if they find one then I am afraid Frank will be off to the big kennel in the sky. At 12 he'll be dead in a year or so anyway so why allow him to suffer? My financial suffering as a result of it is not an issue at all in these weeks approaching Christmas. He may however just be nursing a pulled muscle and may be ok. We will know on Friday.

Holy Huggable

This 'Richard's Club' thing has got me searching the net for resources to use with the little munchkins and belive me there is some pretty dodgy stuff out there that sells itself in the name of God. However some of it is just entertaining for its cheese factor and the naievity of it producers and buyers that their product will actually help their cause. Take for example HolyHuggables where you discover Jesus and Moses and Esther were all American and required chest compressions before they spoke. Amazing, but I want one. Unfortunately Jesus has sold out...of stock that is. The slightly more upmarket version is still available and rumour has it, he healed Action Man's old war injury the other day. On a similar theme, my five year old son Stuart has discovered those novelty keyrings that have recorded messages from 'D' class celebs. His favourite is 'Mr T' and I found him wandering around Borders saying 'I'm not getting in a plane you crazy fool'. Unfortuantely he found a Catherine Tate one and was trying to work out what 'facking' meant in HMV.

Richard's Club

I started off a new Bible Club at the Primary School last week. The Head Teacher asked me to do it because the kids are supposed to have a space to reflect and discuss the stuff they are taught in RE about different faiths. Remember this is me doing a primary school club with all my phobias of under 12's. Week 1 saw an impressive 25 kids turn up and apart from a few mix up's with dinners they seemed to enjoy it. Week 2 was ridiculous. 51 kids turned up and there I was leading them in an action song and morphing into a crazy kids praise leader. The Head (Mrs Manson) stuck her head around the door which would have been reassuring, but I was in the middle of a line dance at that point. One step further and she would have been stripping the willow with me.
I am not sure why they come and for how long, but whilst they do I am not complaining. I've not come up with any cheesy catch phrases yet, but the name of the club, which was not of my choosing, is very poor. 'Richard's Club'. A competition to rename it is underway...any suggestions would be welcome but for moral reasons, other spellings of the name 'Richard' beginning with 'D' and rhyming with Mick will be ignored.

I'm Buzzing

After my mockery of Uncle Frank's bee keeping interests, look who is the world leading writer on the subject.

White (middle aged) men don't rap

I went to a Christian children's musicians concert the other day with the Primary School. I was not really looking forward to it as for those of you not familiar with Christian children's worship leaders, the act usually involves a pair of ridiculous brightly coloured dunagrees and a harlequin patterned sweatshirt to try and convince kids that being a Christian makes you crazy and fun! One act popular in the 90's actually sounds like the music from the Coco Pops advert, but the lyrics are a bit more meanigful if not as sickly as the product itself. He had a whacky name too , Ishmael and I wondered what my stage name would be if I got into this scene...Rikmael perhaps? How about 'Rich T's Praise Party' or 'Isabelle's Dad's Embarrassing Praise Party'. This guy we went to see was ok... called Fischy Music after his name Fishbakker (much thought went into that one) he did some fairly thought provoking stuff and managed to neatly fit the words into the tune...unlike some of these jokers who often try and cram the book of Revelation into a bouncy chorus with funny actions. However he did come unstuck when he made the fatal mistake (in my mind) of trying to do a rap. As soon as the back to front baseball caps came out I knew what was coming...and started flicking his fingers out to da rhythm of da beat. For a moment he forgot he was a greying Scottish bloke who writes some really good stuff and is far too old and white to look like a rapper.

My protest at this sort of thing extends to other people slightly out of place singing...with one exception that I will come to. The worst culprit is the Halifax advert where bank managers forget themselves and start dancing in that odd way in the middle of the street. There's one for a magazine where the plumber and a housewife do the unspeakable thing of cramming the magazine name into a popular tune and doing a whacky dance. However only one advert gets off the hook...and that is Whites Lemonade. Probabally the original to feature this style of marketing, but undoubtedbly the best. They all revolve around the supressed urge for straight laced people to let their hair down and let it rip in public. You would never find me doing that would you?

Brass Monkeys

It's brass monkeys weather just now and I shall soon be sporting my Porthmadog hat to keep the chill off my balding head. Today saw the first frost and the first woodpecker of the season. I think it was a Great Spotted variety as it was quite big and was in woods behind our house. If you live in Manhester and want tosee a woodpecker then there used to be regulars nesting in the golf links at Heaton Moor near the Peel Moat. However, you are more likely to find the cider variety of Woodpecker in the bushes around the park, along wih the lesser spotted Lambrini, crested Groslch and speckled diamond white. Look for the tell tale signs of empty chip papers, vomit pools where regurgitation has occured and goz puddles.

Emma gets a PB too!

Not wanting to hog the limelight, I should also mention Emma got her own personal best of 1hour 47mins. Here is a picture of her at the end. It was our 11th wedding anniversary the day before so a weekend of celebrations all round and one where we were just as knackered at the end of it as we were 11 years ago!

Under 90 minutes

At last, after about 3 years of trying to beat 1 hour 30 for a half marathon I have done it. here is the photo of me crossing the finishing line of the Jedburgh Half marathon yesterday. It was a great race in perfect conditions and thanks to the advice of my coach Ian I managed to hold back some reserves for a big push in the last 3 miles. I came 77th and managed to beat a few local runners who have managed to beat me in my last few races. Official time was 1 28:57

One Year on in Dunbar continued

Back to the point...here is something of what has been achieved. The backdrop to all this is that a priority for me in the first year was to meet people..especially young people and get to know some of them so that I can work more effectively with them. it has been done without the luxury of co-workers, so I have been restricted but I still managed to meet a fair few. I hope people have or are now connecting me to the church as a result.

Dunbar Primary School have been dead kind and let me in to do RME classes, assemblies, a new SU Bible club, 2 P7 Camps, a P5 trip to York and various other bits and bobs. They also gave the project £900 and have been good fun to work with. For those who knew me in previous life in Manchester will be amused at the fact I am working with junior age kids. The Junior night at Bredbury was a living hell for me and was only made good if one of them fell over in a puddle or something. I didn't understand them so I was hostile to them. Having my own kids hasd made the difference and much of what I do is run past them before hand, before letting it loose on a class.

Dunbar Grammar School also gave me a warm welcome through the Enhanced Curriculum group, RME classes, assemblies and team meetings. The most unlikely thing I have eneded up doing is the Puppet Club! A great way to meet kids and make puppets. Before you ask, I am not a budding Jim Henson, but I can strike up a conversation with someone whilst sticking boggly eyes on a loo roll.

Dunbar Multiagency 'Youth Provision Group' has been the best way to meet all the others working with young people and trying to get some co-ordinated approaches to doing so. I have been involved in a load of different thigs as a result, like a survey of young people, trips out, a winter youth cafe, etc. It has also opened my eyes to local politics and the nonsense that goes on there. Having been on the payroll of a local authority I got first hand experience of how disappointing people in power are, and how inefficient local authorities are, which was good preparation for here. Things are looking up though so i won't grip too much.

SU Scotland have been a good back up for me and it's been good to get access to their training (very professional and relevant) and their support. I had not appreciated how useful it is to share an office with other people until I moved into my own, on my own. The informal levels of support...even from frosty admin workers are actually missed. The only sign of life in my office is the mildew growing on the walls where hot tea has been thrown. I share my office with the manager of Dunbar United.

So all in all a good year and I look forward to the next.

One Year on in Dunbar

It was the Dunbar Area Christian Youth Project's AGM on Monday and a time to reflect and chew over what has been achieved here in the last year since I started working for DACYP. Suprisingly there was a good turn out for the meeting and genuine support from people. How different to the annual meetings I went to in my last job working with a local authority where the main agenda for those kind of meetings was for local councillors to earn political brownie points for picking out the things you didn't do, rather than acknowledging what you did right. I did a little video of my work so far which went down well and put some faces to the reports I have been giving the management group all year. 'I didn't realise you did so much' said one.

People like the idea of youth work, but they rarely think through what it is. What people actually like is kids off the street, away from them, and doing something useful that won't make this generation of adults feel like failures in the way they have brought up its younger generations. They don't really think through how you get them off the street, what benefit it is to the 'young'ens' and what youth work might actually look like. In the church the adults often just want to tick a box that says 'we did our bit to stop the kids moral and spirtiual decline' by having a youth club or sunday school. Whether it functions well for the young people is normally only the concern of those at the delivery end. And here is where DACYP takes a new turn in its development.

The church...well people in it like the idea of young people somehow being able to be part of the church, worshipping there and keeping alive the faith. Good, and so do I, but as I think through what that means I realise that many in the church have not. The challenge to reach young people in this small town with the Christian faith is a tall order...to integrate them into the church even taller still. Young people are not a single unit and they all behave differently. 'Them lot on the high street' may well need to find faith, but be honest, can you see them in a church? Can you see them rolling out of bed early on sunday (if they go to Belhaven it's not too bad as it's an 11.30am start!) to join the fragranced elderly ladies and 30 somethings with kids families? Not really, and that's where the challenge lies...taking church to them in a way that is relevant and that also brings to life the Christian faith. Hopefully I will be able to report on it's progress here.

Uncle Frank

We did a flying visit to Manchester again the other day to celebrate my mum and dads 40th anniversary. 40 years is a long time and I’m sure I was not the only one there thinking about what we will be like after 40 years of marriage. What will have changed? 29 years to go until we find out. Who will have divorced, who will have survived, who will be still single. I might have snuffed by then!

The weekend involved eating lots of food and a few tipples for those who could be bothered. Friday night was an Indian take away, Saturday was pub lunch and huge buffet at night and Sunday was the grazing on a Chinese banquet where after a while it all becomes one homogenous mass of sodium mono glutamate that is squeezed into every available cavity in my girth! Actually the food was good and the fact the Chinese community were queuing to eat there was a good indicator that this restraunt was not going to try serving up crap.

Saturday night was the party. All my mum and dads old pals and some new ones turned out. The obligatory old photos were put up and a cheesy disco got the swing going. Most amusing was seeing my Uncle Frank again. He’s not really changed much and is completely bonkers. Quote of the evening when our Sarah told him her and Rob were getting married, was, ‘what both of you’. He blessed us all with his Wirral Honey (4 jars with a sell by date of 2012…just in time for the Olympics). Yes he is a bee keeper. He has always had a thing with dangerous creatures. Burnage used to have a house with a large Alsatian dog that jumped up on its gate whenever you passed. Uncle Frank tried to teach me how to silence it….’what you do is put your hand in its mouth and then open it up and it can’t do anything.’ So he then demonstrated his idea. Unfortunately the 3 seconds it takes to get your hand passed the dogs teeth was not quick enough, and the dog must have thought Christmas had come early with a big hand with sausage fingers being waved in front of him. My other memory of Uncle Franks dangerous antics is when he got me and Steve Pugmire to assist him felling trees in his garden. He survived the chainsaw and home made harness to get to the top of the tree, but the flash burns to his face from using several litres of old petrol to light the fire was almost a killer. The right of his face was a blistering red sore. There is an image of him driving home in the rain with his head sticking out of the window to cool off that will remain with me forever.

Back at the party we did a lot of catching up with people and noted the changes to people. My dad did a low key speech to avoid any embarrassment for my mum. However he soon undid any good he had done by dancing…well of a kind. It was more like rhythmic seizures….including falling down a rolling around on the floor. I could see the medics present looking for their diazepam peccaries until they realised my dad still thought he was 24 and trying to do the Hucklebuck!

Bluegrass

From Whiteadder to Bluegrass. Saturday saw Dunbar host its annual music festival. Basically all the pubs host a folk (traditional) music band and everyone has drink or two to make it sound ok. Actually the days celebrations started in the afternoon when somehow we managed to deliberately lose all our children to other people and free us up to swan around Dunbar. First stop the pub, with spectacular views of Fife on offer, we couldn't refuse it. However as we had planned to see some musicians and we were in the only pub that seemed to be without any, we headed up the High Street to hear the groans of the pipe band. They were very good, but I discovered from Eddie their main piper who had enjoyed the free bar at the pub, that they needed a drummer. He worked hard on getting Emma interested but failed. Then we went on to the Parish Hall where some Grammar School kids were doing propper swing your pants folk music. most interesting was that their lead singer was this petite girl who had the voice of a big bear. It was really deep and quite powerful.

Roll on the evening, we had made the foolish decision to meet the two Ian's from the running club. They do like a tipple or two and as I was booked to preach the next day and run at 7.30 am with Pete I was trying to go at a steady pace. I was optimistic as we hit the Volunteer Arms for our fisrt band, playing open air it was the Creelmen. Fairly ok Scottish folk stuff. Then it was off to The Eagle. The Eagle is something of a legend and so is any English man who survives a night there. Anyway the band was uninspiring, but we had seats so stayed there for too long. Last stop the Hillside where it livened up with my first experience of Bluegrass. it's music, not something you smoke. A bit sort of hillbilly ish, but good. We were amused by the little woman playing the oversized upright bass. We feel she may have an inferiority complex as a result of her chosen weapon of music. Emma's old boyfriend was there and is the new owner so that was a bit awkward, but hey, the beer kept coming and we were all happy. Around 1am I made the decision to go home and was not looking forward at all t my 7.30 run. At home the day was saved as pete had also had too much pop and decided to call it off via a note in my door. A good night it was.

Whiteadder?

It was a bank holiday here on Monday so we went for a trip to the local resovoir Whiteadder to muck around in the burn with the kids. Whilst there I actually found an adder, but it wasn't white...more a brown colour. It didn't like hanging around and hissed off in to the bracken before I could get my camera out. The day before I had been out for a run and saw this white thing in the woods. On closer inspection it was an albino squirrel. I've never seen one before and wondered if other people have too. Anyway both were a reminder of how fortunate I am to be living in a place where wildlife is on your doorstep in abundance.

Porthmadog F.C.

Last year we had one of those spontaneous moments at camp of deciding to go and watch the local team (Portmadog FC) play the best (on paper) team in their league (Total Network Solutions or TNS to those who can't be bothered with the brand name). It was a real hit with the punters and the fact that around 40 of us turned up and created chants about the Port boys got us in favour with the club. In fact the chair kindly presented our trophy at the camp 5 A side tournament. Well actually he was dragged out of his living room by Rory who had hit the pubs of Criccieth looking for any Port players that could be out there. The locals pointed him in the direction of the club chairs house whose evening in watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire decended into a trip to a cow field.

One year on we were back to see them play Aberystwyth. This time we had 70 of us, more or less doubling the crowd of Port fans. The woman in the coffee shop commented...'I've never had a queue before'. By the way, if you want to see a spot of class at this level of football, then Portmadog is the place to be. Your Bovril or sugary hot chocolate is served in china mugs. Clearly there is no fear of them being used as missiles, or of theft. i was tempted by the latter as it crossed my mind that their mugs were much nicer than the flakey one I had been using at camp.

The game itself was a victory for the Seasiders (Aberystwyth not Dunbar United who share the same name). 4-0 and 2 of Ports players sent off for engaging in Thai boxing during the game. The highlight had to be hal time. The chair had invited the camp to have a slot at half time. In true camp style we had our biblical characters penalty shoot out. See Woody's article in the press for a detailed report. http://www.yorkpress.co.uk/news/columnists/matthewwoodcock/display.var.913285.0.a_buskers_life_for_me.php

Anyway, i hope you like the picture of me and Woody sporting our Porthmadog hats at the 'Traeth'. I am supping a brew from their mug as I speak.

Snowdon & my big toe

Over the 26 years at camp I have climbed Snowdon a fair few times and I set out to conquer it one more time. This time I had the disadvantage of a sore big toe that I banged on a duck board earlier that morning. The nail was split all the way down, so it was painful enough to cause a limp. But not wanting to look like a namby pamby I didn't drop out. We did Cwm Glas route which is straight up the skree slopes to the side of Snowdon and on to the sharp ridge of Crib Goch. It was quite a challenge but even the 10 year old in our group made it. The view at the top was..well....about 16ft and then cloud. We got soaked and had our last cup of sugary hot chocolate in the Summit Cafe. It is being demolished in a few weeks and replaced with a new one made out of....can you guess? Imagine a mountain next to a disused slate quarry, that has a railway linking the two. What would you build it out of? Not stone from Portugal! But yes, some local councillor has voted for Portugese rock...I wonder where he is going for his golfing break...not Porthmadog that's for sure

Here are some pictures of us on our way up, and one of the amazing mist that rolled in on our way down the Watkin Path.

Criccieth Blues

I have been away for nearly 2 weeks in Wales. I have run a Christian youth camp there for 12 years, and before that went as a youth for another 14. Yesterday 26 years of Criccieth Camps came to an end. The downside of living in Scotland is that winter sets in around early August, which means they have their summer holidays earlier and go back to school when all the English and Welsh are sunning it. This means I can't really run the camp any more as i need to be back at work, school running etc. It was the most emotional thing i have ever done...apart from getting married and becoming a parent. I blubbed all the way from Criccieth to Carlisle...thinking about the many fond memories of the camp. I am not bitter though as I think new leadership will enable it to go on for even longer, giving hundreds of teenagers the holiday of a life time and the space to learn about Christianity in a meaningful way. I got back home to a distraught phone call from Emma telling me to pick up the kids. Our oldest daughter had put a football through one of the church windows...ouch! Welcome home.

Lifting & Shifting

After a half marathon there is nothing I like to do more than shift 2 x 8 ft kitchen units from my inlaws to my garage. That's how I spent sunday morning, much to the amusement of Dunbar residents who saw us driving down the street with them sticking out of the boot, with me holding on. I was trying to imagine the accident claim form...a large kitchen unit came from noweher and hit me. We got a much needed fridge freezer out of it, and it forced me into tidying up the garage. If you buy a house with a big garage, beleive me when I say it won't reduce your clutter. It just increases it and creates another space for it to breed.

Today was nother day of lifting. This time an air hockey table and a very heavy table football. I'd borrowed them from Hallhill for our church youth programme. Yet again I was seen driving down the street with a large object hanging out of my boot. Even the 2 policemen passing looked on in disbelief, but managed to avoid giving me a fixed penalty. I don't know if there is a law that covers it.

Haddinton Half Marathon

Both of us are into running and one of the first things we did when we moved here (apart from finding a church) was join the running club. This has led to us both doing far more running than we had ever known and entering the world of competitive races. On saturday I did my 3rd half marathon of the year. I had not not trained much so was expecting a slow time, plus the course was hilly so I had little hope of beating my nemesis of 1 hour 30 mins. To my amazement I got in at 1h30 55seconds. Not a PB but a good run and great course for the scenery. The results can be found at http://www.helprunningclub.org.uk/ TEXT

G-Cubed Youth Programme

My job is working for the churches in Dunbar and Scripture Union developing youth work. We have just had the annual summer youth programme 'G-Cubed' (God to the power of 3) which is basically an informal coffe bar, table football and a loads of multimedia stuff that aims to explain in a 'yoof' freindly way the Christian faith. One fo the things we did was a photo challenge where they had to go out in teams and get pictures of themselves in different places. This one is them showing a limb, followed by 'something round'. They also hide the identity of the kids so I don't have to get permission to post them here. Anyway, the week went well. The kids kept coming back and is it just me or do other people find this generation of kids are quite ok with faith matters. When I was there age you got a real hard time off your mates if you ever went near a church or said Jesus in another context than swearing. You could spot the Christians a mile away...no mates! Nerdy glasses, ugly and not on anyone elses level. Because I went to church as a kid where some of them went, I used to get really embarrassed if they spoke to me in school and worried anyone else thought I was their mate. These days the Christians are really cool. I met a vicar last week who looked like a scally. No sign of sandals and sock to be seen anywhere!

Nuclear Cows

Dunbar is home to a nuclear power station. Torness is a mjor employer for the town and I am not going to get into a debate about the pro's and con's of this energy. However, you can't help but wonder if there are any leaks or contamination to the local area. When I was up Doon Hill the other day I snapped this picture of the cows with a scary looking cloud formation behind them.
To prove I have no real concerns about our safety, here is a picture of one of my kids with their Aunty Jane bathing in the warm waters of Skateraw Harbour beneath the imposing gaze of Torness.

Here is photo number one, and if it all goes to plan I will stick a load more on here. We have got a Flickr account, but it's not got much space for talking you through the images and explaining them. Every picture tells a story. This one is Belhaven Bay looking out to the Bass Rock from Starvation brae. Starvation Brae is part of my regular running circuit. It is a very steep hill that almost forces you to walking pace. At the top, this is the view, so it's worth keeping fit just for that alone.

The Photo's are working

Ha ha! I can put photo's on. Let's see just how many it allows on this Blog. I am struggling to sort out the links things in mid paragraph. Like here I would want to add my link to our Flickr pages...I will keep trying.

The first picture is from the top of another local hill called Doon Hill. North Berwick and the Law are in the distance, shrouded by sunbeams.

Here it is, a Blog from the Taylor household. Why? err because we are so interesting that the whole world wants to read about me. Maybe not. It's just that everyone I meet seems to be Blogging and I thought I'd give it a whirl to see if I can find a use for it. Meanwhile we can keep those of you who know us informed of what we are doing in Dunbar....it's in Scotland....it famous for John Muir....and cement....and Torness Nuclear Power Station. Wow! I hear you say. Ok it doesn't really sell to you Dunbar's real qualities...so I will try and introduce some of them to you through this Blog. i like taking pictures so if this site is picture friendly we are on to a winner. If not you will see how bad our English is.