City Life

We have just returned from our summer holiday city break. Living by the coast and in the countryside we now find a trip to the city is a welcomed change for us. You can't help have the small town mentality, when you live in a small town. In Dunbar you do know other people's business, people are related and not much happens. So off we went to Manchester to see the family and friends down there. It was a good journey, travelling under 70mph to save on fuel. At the service station in the Lakes a coach full of Asian people in posh traditional dress came in. They had obviously been to a wedding or something and looked very colourful. In contrast to Manchester, Dunbar has a tiny population of black people. I think there are no more than 15 black people that I can think of in Dunbar (adults included). So the sight of this crowd caused Andrew to point at them in amazement, causing us to cringe. 'Why aren't there any Muslims in Dunbar?' was asked and a brief history lesson commenced. Only 3 years ago he had been at a school where 30-40% of the class were Muslim. In fact much to the disappointment of the head, the kids organised their own football matches, the Muslims vs the Christians! How could he forget?

We had a trip into the city centre and the Trafford Centre. You could see Isabelle thinking 'why did we move away from this?' Even I was taken in for a few moments by the size and range of shops on offer. It lasted for 5 minutes and then I realised that these shops are only any good if you have some cash and part of the brain that tells you that wandering around aimlessly is fun. I used to hang around the Arndale Centre quite a bit in my teens. In those days very little other than the large escalators with tubes of flowing water down the sides of them were in place to entertain you. Wimpy was there long before MacD's, KFC and all the other fast food places cashed in on our desire for junk. These days the new entertainment is coffee. Yes it seems that you can't walk more than 2 feet without having to stop and have a coffee. Fortunately our Beck offered a staff discount at Starbucks where the kids enjoyed their frappachinos (cold milk shakes with a fancy name so you can pay £3 for the joy). Me and Emma had a cappuccino (only because it was one of the few items I had actually heard of). In fact we actually had a bucket of cappuccino each as they came in those oversized mugs they do. This led to an afternoon of visiting most of the public toilets in town for my own expresso's (no froth thanks). In a time of a credit crunch where do people find the time or money to sit drinking coffee. The good thing about it is people watching and most memorable was the tranny goth with 5 o clock shadow...it was there I realsied where Andrew got his pointing trait.

We did a few other things like go to Urbis, the Manchester Eye and went for curry. Very enriching and worth going to. They also have a Primark, so we were able to kit out the whole family for under £5. The city centre is changing rapidly with more and more high rise offices, hotels and apartments popping up. However there is little point to it all unless you have some cash in your pocket. I can't help but wonder if it is all going to come to a sudden end.

More about the trip later.

They're not young for long you know!

Photo: Isabelle on her way to the prom with her M8s!



Today marks the end of an era. Our oldest child left primary school. How old does that make a man feel?

It was a great day for them, and I managed to get along to the leavers assembly to soak up the occasion. The highlight is them all leaving the school for the last time, where they have to walk through a huge line up of all the other classes and waiting parents. Pretty impressive and a great celebration. They also had a prom, where lots of frocks and kilts were being worn and a load of 11 year olds arrived in stretched limo's and Hummer's. Pretty cool, all I remember about leaving school was having to do a line up and give Mrs Rudolph a kiss. I escaped via the fire exit!

We have worked out that the next time Isabelle, Andrew and Stuart will be at the same school together will be when Isabelle is in the 6th form. Now I will feel very old then.

Life's a Snore!

Check out this extra loud snoring. The image of the culprit is masked as she didn't have her teeth in!

Splat!

Photo: Splat in happier times, crapping on ELC's Single Status contracts

Have you ever considered that the name you give somebody could turn out to be a self fulfilling prophecy? Careful thought goes into choosing a name because it defines who you are and could even set you up, or let you down for the future. You know from your school days that certain kids with certain names, and simply because they have that name, will turn out to be either a complete nerd, a tearaway or pregnant with their 4th child by the time they are 13. I will leave you to work out the names in case one of them takes offence.

But names have a meaning and it goes for pets too. Trefor is named after a Welsh coach firm I am fond of (which is also a little Welsh village), Frank was named after my Uncle...so was Harold. And some animals live up to their names, such as pit bull terriers called Tyson, that really do bite your ears off. So when we got 3 Guinea Pigs at Christmas, the choice of name was also important. Spike for the long haired one whose hair stood on end, and Splat for the white one with a black face that looked like a splat of paint. But of course splat is also the noise you get if you drop a heavy on something soft and furry...something like a rabbit hutch on top of a stray Guinea Pig!

On Friday we noticed Splat was missing. They are out in their pen a lot so quite possibly a fox or the near by nesting buzzards might have had him. But a thought crossed my mind that perhaps he had got under the hutch. Sure enough, poking out from underneath it was a little paw. I lifted it up and there he was, Splat! If you have ever watched Tom & Jerry and seen how Tom ends up flat when an anvil lands on him, well then you will appreciate how flat Splat was. As a pancake! Legs spread out either side and wafer thin. Whilst not wanting to downplay the tragedy, it was very funny to see.

The guilty pet murderer was Emma. It seems she had lifted it up whilst cleaning it out, and thought Splat was inside with the others. Instead he was under their feet doing the Guinea Pig version of flower pressing. Poor Splat.

The World of Sport

Have you ever found yourself entering the world of the unknown? We are in the middle of doing so right now...entering the secret world of sport! Not the classic ITV sports programme (you can see that here)World of Sport but the world of football.

Andrew went along to play his first trial game for Aberdeen on Friday...in Glasgow! They have a West Coast training base there in Hamilton, so it's an hours drive as opposed to 3 and half to Aberdeen itself. The way it works is that the lads get a game and asked to come back if they are worth another look. Andrew and his mate Jack played well and did get asked back. The coach seemed an nice enough bloke but you like to check them out just in case. Also because i know little about the beautiful game, and even less so about the Scottish version of it. A quick Google search reveals Bobby McDonald was himself a Premier League player for Villa, Man City, Leeds and Oxford. The result was Cumbernauld United 3, Aberdeen 3. 'Come back on Monday' he said.

So last night we went back and met the staff before they played East Kilbride YC. Have you ever felt like a fish out of water. Well I felt like one floundering as these footy blokes talked footy. I just stood there nodding and shaking my head. Then another 2 appeared. "That's Peter Weir" said one of the scouts with a definate tone of reverence. The blank look on mine and Nick's (Jack's dad) prompted him to add "He played for Aberdeen and St Mirren and Scotland, and he is the head of youth for Aberdeen". So there I was stood amongst some proper footballers discussing my sons future with the club.

The game went well and Andrew scored. Both lads played hard but stood out. they have been asked back again on Saturday for a friendly, and then if that goes well they get a 4 week trial in the summer, including some games against the big clubs like Celtic, Rangers and Hibs. Then they get the offer to sign. It really is another world and there's loads for us to weigh up and think through. Of course it could come to nothing but we don't want to be caught like a rabbit in headlights if an offer does come through. Watch this space!

Ginger Twists

One of the things about ginners is that they get noticed. I reported on Andrew's hair dyeing disaster, which has turned out in his favour. Recently Andrew's team played a friendly against the mighty Aberdeen FC Youth Team. Unknown to us a scout from there had his eye on a few of our lads, including Andrew. But at first the our coaches were unsure who they meant when they described him as a the 'ginger kid on the wing'. Then it twigged, and sure enough he was asked to go for a game last week. So there we are, a big point scored for the gingers of the world...'ginners are winners'!

Wet One

Sunday was my first real taste of hill running. I've done a few short ones but none that require a map, whistle and compass and waterproofs. It was a 12km route that quite literally runs along the edge of the Scottish Border (only a wire fence to seperate us) and a route that takes in the end of the Pennine Way. You also need a small bag to carry them in. I searched high and low for one in the house and found the perfect solution, one of the kids England rucksacks. It might be child sized, but it did the trick. It also infuriated the Scottish nationalists who were behind me in the race. The alternative was a Spiderman rucksack, but that might have annoyed any baddies on the run!

Now having a map and compass is one thing, but knowing how to use them is another. I've been shown numerous times how to use them but I just can't retain the information. But then who would need a map and compass on a well defined route like that? Well it appears everybody doing the race. Cloud level was around about 2 minutes into the race. From there onwards you could only see 20 feet in front of you and nothing more. Knowing my weakness in navigation skills, I decided to follow the man in front. That of meant having to keep up with him, and at times I lost him in the mist which was scary. The mist also hid how high the hills were. I think I counted 5 hills, up and down them all, but number 4 was a bugger. It just went on and on. Also it was now cold and raining hard. The border fence I was following never seemed to end. Eventually I caught up with the bloke on the desecent and even passed him at one point, but then my laces came undone. Ever tried to lace your shoes with cold hands? I was still following him when suddenly he stopped! 'I'm sorry, I've gone the wrong way." Out came the map and sure enough we had. "We will just have to traverse". The diversion cost us at least 1/2 a mile but eventually our destination of Yetholm the end of the Pennine Way was in sight. So without further a do I finished the race (one second ahead of him) but in a poor 47th place. At the end it emerged that most of these hill runners don't actually know how to map read either, as nearly half of them had got lost too. Whilst I enjoyed the change, I think I will stick to roads and paths in the future.