Rathbone's Ramblin'

[Epykat]

...they'll probably wait and get everything done at once in a year or two

The eyebrow ones are the best because after a month or two they tend to pop out and they're left with an indented scar, so, being sensible as they are at that age, they just move along a bit and get another one and so it goes on. And there was me thinking I was a real rebel by getting ONE of my ears pierced twice

[rathbone]

I was sitting in the pub with a Rizla paper stuck to my forehead. Because there was a ladies darts match on, Neil and I had to abandon our usual table and were sitting with the three vicars.

"Am I human?", I asked.

The guy with the cropped hair and the baseball jacket with the large 82 on it said I obviously hadn't looked in the mirror today, and everybody laughed.

I hesitated to ask if I was male. Because the darts match was blocking the entrance to the men's toilets, everyone had to use the ladies loo and I'd already been twice.

"Real or fiction?"
"Oh, definitely fiction", said Father Richard.
Father Graham looked dubious and the Reverend Graham looked as if he resented this invasion of the holy corner. The three vicars regularly drink together. Father Graham is young, bouncy and red-headed. He's the priest at St Mary Magdalene and knows all about the Da Vinci Code. The Reverend Graham is minister at the Free Church and tends to be grumpy. Father Richard is a thespian, leads the local amateur dramatics and occasionally gets bit parts in "movies". (Recently he's been in Gangs of New York and Saving Private Ryan.) His parishioners call him Father Lovie.

Father Graham confirmed that I was a quadruped, but the Reverend said I wasn't a horse. Neil confirmed I was a dog.

"Am I the Hound of the Baskervilles?"

"Yeah, a bleedin' horror", said No. 82 to further laughter.

No, I wasn't the Hound of the Baskervilles.
I quickly established that I wasn't a literary character, wasn't live action and was a cartoon character.

"Am I Deputy Dawg?" No.
"Am I Mutly?" No.

"You're on Sky", No. 82 said helpfully. "You've got a mini-me."

"Look", I said, 'Do you want to join in?"

"Okay", he said, coming over and joining us at the table.

"Then I must be Scooby-Do", I said, triumphantly, reached for the Rizla, wrote Torvill and Dean on the next sheet and stuck it on No. 82's forehead. Let's see how he likes being bisexual.

[arachnid]

Me too, Arachnid - maybe we were at the old Portobello High School together?

You didn't say what years you were at the High School Rathbone!
A little bit of rambling would suffice!!!!

[rathbone]

You didn't say what years you were at the High School Rathbone!
A little bit of rambling would suffice!!!!

1960 to 1966 ( so we were there at the same time)

[Epykat]

A wild night out in Hertfordshire And we've only got the Is Porty the Pitz to look forward to this week....

[arachnid]

1960 to 1966 ( so we were there at the same time)

So now I have to ask what class you were in???
Iwas in 1b1!!

[rathbone]

and I was in 1a1!!

[arachnid]

1a1 eh!!!!
You must've been a clever clogs then!!!!

[rathbone]

Indeed I was, and modest with it.

[rathbone]

I was putting the Dummies' Guide To Copyright back on the shelf when I noticed The Gardening Year. It seems like now's the time to put in my onion sets, so off I went to the garden centre.

It was the usual Sunday scramble for a parking space. They should never have located the garden centre opposite the pub, (or, conversely, I shouldn't go to the garden centre on a Sunday).

One easy step and I was out of the car and into the camping equipment. Tents to the left of me, calor gas stoves to the right and Jamie Culum trickling out of the tannoy. I have some friends who can wax lyrical about caravans and tents, but I just get annoyed at having to negotiate my way through this mini jazz festival just to get to the seeds catalogue.

The camping section eventually gave way to clothes. Now, I have to confess that I did linger. My Tommy Hilfiger raincoat is looking a bit passe and maybe something in green rubber with brown suede collar and beige and caramel plaid lining would cut a dash on the high street this winter.

Having reminded myself that I had a task in hand, I put the sartorial section behind me and ducked into the dim tunnel of tropical fish. I pushed my way past the aquatic anoracks drooling over the guppies and finally emerged into what appeared to be something to do with gardening.

I wandered round the shrubs for a wee while, looking for the scabby ones which are marked down after a hard summer. (Most of the best plants in my garden have been end of summer mark downs.) It's often amazing what comes back to life the following spring.

I was just about to pick up a particularly frazzled hydrangea when there was a tap on my shoulder. It was Sarah, one of the youngest Rathbonette's friends. "Hello Mr. Rathbone, would you mind looking after Darcy while I go to the ladies?"

I like Darcy and I think he likes me. I took him off to look at the birds in the aviary and when he became fed up with that we went off to the small animal enclosure. He tried to feed his blanket to the hampsters, but they didn't want it. (This surprised me, knowing the damage that they did to our living room curtains some years back.)

Sarah seemed to be taking her time, so I steered him back into the big greenhouse area and we parked ourselves next to the smellies and candles. Sarah couldn't miss us there. It was another ten minutes before she came out of the toilets, telling us that we wouldn't believe the queue in there. Darcy looked as if he, at least, believed it. I suggested that she'd better have a coffee to recover so we made our way through the
African artifacts which are this month's special line, round the bookshop and into the coffee place. Two lattes, two pain au raisin and a milk for Darcy came to just under a week's wages and we had to sit listening to a selection of christmas ditties. Just over the trellis around the tables I could glimpse multi coloured santas climbing illuminated ladders up the side of neon chimney pots.

Finally bidding goodbye to Sarah and Darcy, I eventually found the information desk. I told them that I had come in for onion sets, but couldn't find any. The Christmas jingles were interrupted to ask Jason to come to the information desk. Jason kindly led me back through the african artifacts, past the gift cards and nick-nacks and through the house plants to a small corner display of seeds and bulbs.

I swear that this display was smaller than my linen cupboard and constituted the entire stock of seeds in the whole place.

I grabbed one of the three bags of onion sets and fought my way to the check out. The woman on the till didn't even ask me if I wanted a bag.

[rathbone]

There was hardly time for anything else this week, what with this Radio Free Porty malarkey.

First there was the 'read us a story' idea. You've got Liz, Dave and Jimjam to thank for that. "What could be less in danger of infringing copyright than reading your own stuff", they said. "But it's a load of old cobblers", I replied. "No it's not", they insisted, so now you have it on the airwaves.

My apologies to those of you who have been listening in. I've never tried recording like this before and the editing leaves a bit to be desired. The elder Rathbonette says that I need to loosen up as well: I sound too much like an old vicar on Late Call. I need to be more like Desmond Carrington.

The first take was going along quite nicely and then a car alarm went off in the street outside, so I had to abort that. The second one was interrupted by the phone. The third by the gas man coming to the door and the fourth by Mrs. R. flushing the loo. I had just started on the fifth when the central heating switched itself on and the noise from the boiler firing up registered on the screen. So what you have is the sixth go. No wonder I need to loosen up.

The silly little jingle on the intro was made by taking random loops out of Garageband and overlaying them. (I chose them by using the numbers of the day, month and year of my birthday. I thought it would be a total mess, but it's only a little mess.)

Now that the thing is up and running, the same Liz, Dave and Jimjam have asked if I could post a little synopsis of what each episode is about, because they haven't yet been able to catch a full broadcast. (They always keep coming in in the middle) So just for them there is now a synopsis thread on the Radio Free Porty site.

Then came hunting down new music.

Thank you, the Copyright Police!! I knew there was a positive side to all of this. I've had a great time this week listening to all sorts of things I would never have heard if I'd stuck to the mainline sources.

Just to name two:

Catholicplanet.com offers christiam mp3 downloads (from down here, not up there.) The Catholic Jukebox is a gas.

You Know Sean is also worth hunting down. Anyone that can produce songs with titles like: Bangladeshi Ladies' Deaf Club; Gimme Gimme Gimme Some Peace After Midnight and Keith You Need To Wash Now is definitely worth a listen. To judge from your accent, Sean, you're from around the Lothian area somewhere. If you're out there, come on, favour us with a set!

You can get carried away hunting for stuff.

www.redferret.net offers "1 Million free and legal music tracks, and it probably isn't kidding.

Eric Brown on www.kittyspit.net has a great site, with lots of obscure categories.

musik.agula.org is a weird and wonderful italian site catering for artists who want to have free distribution of their work. They think that there are enough people out there who want their music to be accessible to the widest audience possible without artistically limiting how their creations are spread around. They do a nifty little line in football songs.

www.archive.org is an on-line library of live recordings available for royalty free, no-cost, public downloads. They only host material by artists who like the idea of non commercial distribution of their material.

Legal Torrents.com is a collection of Creative Commons licensed, leagally downloadable, freely distributed, creator approved Jazz, House, Funk, Techno and Electronic music.

Which is where I came across this:

This little mark included in a website indicates that the music is freely available. Other Radio Free Porty DJs take note. It makes hunting for stuff so much easier. It's called the Creative Commons

The outcome of all that is Cajun Corner, a collection of Cajun and Zydeco music which will soon be winging its way to Dada. As far as I am aware, everything on it is either Creative Commons, or specifically stated to be copyright free.

I'll end with a few quotes from some of the artists on Cajun Corner:
The Yard Dogs: " The internet has brought the music to the people!"
Chardoe: "I'd hate to sell out to The Man."
Alan Kerley: "Availability is awesome."
Bob Nation: "Frankly, I wouldn't sign a record contract. I do not play at a level that would justify that action."
Son Setz: "I probably wouldn't sign with a record company. I'll take my chances in the street, thank you."
Chairs: "The internet has taken power away from the music industry and people no longer have to put up with the options set by large record companies. We just make music for our friends."

Thanks again to the Copyright Police. You've broken my dependence on the major labels. I'm having a whale of a time listening to the music made by my friends.

[rathbone]

Some people collect stamps, others go climbing Munroes and some spend their time spladooshing people on the street. I go in search of ecclesiastical passion cake. Which is why this week Mrs. R. was dragged off on our latest tour of cathedrals and abbeys en route to her brother's 65th birthday party in Dorset.

It was half term week down here and she has come to accept that half term weeks are used to ‘bag' another cathedral or two. This all started some years ago as an excuse to get away from the house and visit places that we wouldn't normally go. There are approximately 48 cathedrals in England and Wales (depending on whether or not you count the catholic ones) and we have now reached the half way mark in our collection.

This week it was Winchester, Salisbury and Wells (with Sherborne Abbey thrown in as a windfall because we were passing at the time.)

Winchester turned out to be a flying visit because when we arrived we discovered that it was being used that day for the graduation service for the local university and we had all of twenty minutes to visit the building itself. Turns out is it very like St. Albans and was ideal for Mrs. R. to practice identifying the various styles. She now has a full grasp of Norman and Early English, but still has a tendency to confuse Decorated with Perpendicular. This led to a little difficulty in the retrochoir! Being shooed out of a cathedral was a new experience for me, and meant that we could not go down into the flooded crypt to see the Anthony Gormley sculpture. Still, we can always come again. (Probably to find it's closed because they are filming The Da Vinci Code there ----- honestly!)

Still, the rapid tour meant we could spend more time on the real purpose of these visits: sampling the passion cake in the refectory. I strongly believe that all cathedral's have a duty to maintain and serve passion cake to all true believers. The refectory at Winchester is very good, but, sad to say, the passion cake was a little dry and not really served with due reverence.

Mrs. R found Salisbury to be an altogether more edifying cathedral, mainly because she could see right away that it was all of one period, and that was a style she knew - Early English. The cloisters were a revelation and she revelled in the calm and tranquility for a good half hour before we could get to the refectory. Sacrilege!!! There was no passion cake at all. What they did have was an elderflower sponge, which was entertaining in its own little way, but who would have thought that such an eminent edifice would end up bottom of the league in the cake department.

Sherborne Abbey was an interesting little fan vaulted frivolity, but being a mere parish church, had no refectory at all. The local cafe did shortbread and cream teas, but no passion cake. (Though they did try to fob us off with ‘carrot' cake.)

Wells was wonderful despite that ghastly organ blocking the view across the scissor arches and the crossing. The rain was torrential and enhanced, rather than diminished the experience. There was an okay exhibition of contemporary icons in the chapter house and a so-so passion cake in the refectory.

Roll on Christmas when it's Rochester and Canterbury.

[rathbone]

We've got some french, cast iron saucepans and frying pans. They've got wooden handles which screw on to the actual pan by means of a metal rod which runs the length of the handle. Good for stopping your hands getting burned, but they do have a tendency to work loose

The frying pan is brilliant for cooking mushrooms, which is what I was busy doing during the week. I had just got them to that slightly slimy stage where they glide right off the pan and on to the plate, so I lifted the frying pan off the stove and started to turn round towards the worktop. Unfortunately, the frying pan also decided to turn round. The whole top of the pan rotated on the handle, allowing the mushrooms to glide off onto my right foot, causing me to drop the pan. On its way down, it knocked the handle off the imitation drawer front on the sink unit.

The floor was quite clean and most of the mushrooms were saveable after a quick run under the tap and a wee re-fry. Regretably the same could not be said for the drawer handle.

It was a nice wee mahogany and brass number. Easy enough, I thought as I tucked in to the mushrooms; I'll take a wander down to B&Q at lunchtime and pick up a replacement.

I haven't been to our local B&Q for a few months. It's had a refurbishment over the summer. They've put in a mezzanine with all the kitchen & bathroom things now upstairs. Everything has been moved around. It took me ages to find the bit with all of the drawer and cupboard handles. There were round ones, square ones, long ones, short ones, ones with twirly bits and ones that looked like rugby balls. There were no mahogany ones with brass bits.

I wandered back to the house and got in the car. Off to Homebase in the next town up. Nothing doing. Off to Wilkes. Nope. MFI? fat chance.

An hour or so later I gave up and returned home. On to the Internet. Do NOT Google "Knobs".There were round ones, square ones, long ones, short ones, ones with twirly bits and ones that looked like rugby balls, but none of them were designed to be attached to kitchen units.

I finally decided that the only thing was to replace the handles with new ones, so I counted them. Thirty Four!!!! How many cupboards and drawers do we have? Rechecking and finding that there were really thirty four, I was off again to B&Q and spent this week's emergency allowance on some fairly basic turned wood handles that would not look too out of place on the Units.

By this time I was getting worried that Mrs. R. would get back before I'd replaced them. That gave me about an hour or so. Two hours and a long explanation later I was still trying to work out how to get the front of the sink unit off without having to unplumb the sink and washing machine.

Four hours later I had finished fixing the new handles.

I now have thirty three rather nice mahogany and brass kitchen cupboard handles and a greasy stain on the right leg of my chinos.
The former are on pBay being offered to a good home, while the latter are sitting in the washing basket awaiting the next accident.

[foxy]

I used to have pans just like that Rathbone, which also did that twirling thing, but I'm obviously not as accident prone as you..... I'm so glad you are though cos it does inspire you to tell a good tale

[rathbone]

"Timbuktu's off."

Typical: he had to wait until the second pint to tell me. Jimjam has been my best mate for nearly forty years now and he still does that. You'd think that by now he could just come straight out with it.

And in the Champions as well. It made me wonder why we always meet in the Champions. Granted it's a great wee pub, but the choice of beers is pretty limited. If you don't like Sam Smith's, then you've had it. It's the kind of pub that came straight out of Dickens -- any minute now Nancy and Fagen's urchins will come dancing through singing Consider Yourself Well In, Consider Yourself Part of the Furniture. Surprising, then, that it was built in 1988. We seem to have an affinity for ersatz pubs. Before the Champions it was the Frigate, which was everything the name implied -- All figure heads and rigging and a hearty yo ho ho.

Jimjam is a man of projects, and when he has a project he usually carries it through. Diving off the Pont Du Gard, no problem. Snorkling off the Great Barrier Reef, easy peasy. Hiring a Harley and riding down from Seattle to San Fran -- a doddle.

So when he suggested going to Timbuktu, it was taken as read that he'd pull it off. And of course, because my injections were fully up to date after Kenya, then I would be expected to tag along.

The intention was to make the Festival Au Desert next January.

To get there we'd have to fly to the capital city of Mali, Bamako. That is about 1000 km southwest of the festival. The flight arrives at around 3 am and the airport is 10 or 20 km from the city. To get from Bamako to the festival we would have to ride in a vehicle that is hired with driver. (I have horror stories of that sort from Kenya) The ride from Bamako takes about 2 days. The first day is along the national highway which is paved. Around the middle of the second day we would reach Douentza and turn off the main highway onto a rough washboard road which the military built about 5 years ago. Towards the end of the second day we would cross the Niger river on a ferry. The landing point is about 10km south of Timbuktu. The festival site is located in the back of beyond, about 70 km from Timbuktu. The ride there is rough, there is no actual road, the vehicles just head out across the desert

During the day there are camel races and traditional music and dancing. There is a market area with stalls. The tents that are provided are of loosely woven cloth, similar to burlap, held up by a wooden pole in the middle and secured to the ground with stakes. There is no floor. At night the wind picks up and the sand blows in as a fine dust through the loose weave of the tent walls. By morning you are covered in a layer of dust. Food is served 3 times a day in a covered restaurant where everyone sits on woven mats to eat. The washrooms are disgusting. Peeing in the desert is definitely the preferred option.

The mainstage music takes place in the evening. The artists are mostly groups from Mali and neighbouring countries. The music starts at around 8 and ends after midnight. Everyone stands on a sand dune in front of the stage.

So you can imagine my disappointment to be told "Timbuktu's off."

The reason being that the only scheduled flights to Bamako mean that we would have to arrive a week before the festival started and leave a fortnight after it had finished. That's a lot of hanging around the desert looking for an oasis, and quite an excuse for time off work.

But...... and Jimjam always has a but..... his other big project is fixing up his Airstream.



He bought this Airstream about three years ago and has been ‘fixing it up' ever since. He promises that it will be finished by January 2007 and then we can head across the Sahara in it from Morocco.

I keep my fingers crossed.

[Epykat]

I'm beginning to think that you're beginning to think you're Ewan McGregor (with clothes on.........obviously)

[rathbone]

Oh, I don't know...... we've got some similarities with our clothes off.

[rathbone]

We had Dennis and Toni at the door over the weekend, asking if they could attach a couple of brackets to our flank wall and string some wires over to theirs. Given that we had agreed to lease them our garage roof last year, it seemed churlish not to agree.

This all started innocently enough about six years ago when Andrew, their youngest, spotted a santa claus on a parachute at the garden centre and demanded that they bought it for christmas. In the usual way of keeping kids quiet, they gave in, bought the thing and hung it up in their porch. What they hadn't realised was that it would bring out all of Toni's deep seated grand designs.

The following year the parachuting santa was joined by a christmas tree, with lights, on the top of the porch and a chiming wreath on the door.

Then it was santas on ladders climbing up the side of the house; a radiating star on the chimney stack and some very tasteful holly and ivy on the garage door.

People driving along our road would stop to have a look. From there it just took off, with something more being added each year, until last year they had more or less filled up all of their available space, hence the overspill on to our garage roof.

So, all weekend Dennis and his brother have been beavering away in sub-zero temperatures setting up this year's display:

On the flank wall, next to ours, there are ten BIG stars, a santa on a ladder, a santa dropping parcels down the chimney, and a neon christmas tree. On the front of the house there are another five santas and a big Merry Christmas. In the garden they have erected a scaffolding with a net covered in stars, a nativity, three christmas trees and three lifesized plastic reindeer. There is a load of reindeer hauling a sleigh jumping from their garage roof to ours, two christmas trees, one on their garage, one on ours, a rocking horse and a train and, on the wires slung between our houses, a Merry Christmas Everyone. All of the rone pipes are encircled by red lighting strips and the gutters are all festooned with icicles. The roof tiles have been picked out in fairylights.

The original parachuting santa is proudly hanging from his usual spot on the porch.

From our point of view it is great: we really save on electricity bills as we don't have to put on the hall light, the upstairs landing light or the bathroom light over the whole christmas period. On the downside, we sometimes have to queue in the traffic jam before we can get into our drive.Closer to christmas I might post a photograph so the wider world can see it in all it's glory.

Next year, I propose to rent them the cherry tree in our front garden.

[foxy]

Oh, I don't know...... we've got some similarities with our clothes off.

Well I've heard about Ewan McGregor, but didn't know about you Rathbone

From our point of view it is great: we really save on electricity bills as we don't have to put on the hall light, the upstairs landing light or the bathroom light over the whole christmas period. On the downside, we sometimes have to queue in the traffic jam before we can get into our drive.Closer to christmas I might post a photograph so the wider world can see it in all it's glory.

I love your Ramblin...can't wait to see the photie...sounds... bright?

[Epykat]

I think you should fill some of Mo's carrier bags with Xmas baubles and have them standing, Xmaslike on the doorstep to welcome visitors...... Neighbours would be dead jealous, if not simply astounded, by the amount of bags you'd have.

[rathbone]

I was accosted by a giant carrot this week.

I was going quietly about my business when this large orange thing sidled up to me and said "I need help!" "Too right mate", I thought, but decided to give him the time of day. With my eyesight, anything to do with carrots can only help.

Rather than stand in the sleet, I followed him into the village hall, where half a dozen other locals were already ensnared.

It turns out that he was advertising something called The Big Barn

The Big Barn is a consortium of 6,500 farmers and organic food producers from across the whole country who are trying to sell their produce directly to the public via the internet. This grew out of the success of Farmers' Markets. If you go on to their website and enter your postcode, a map will come up showing every organic food outlet within a fifteen mile radius. That includes fish, meat, veggies et. al..

Because the big three Supermarkets only give farmers, on average, 9% of the final selling price, the farmers have had to find new markets in order to survive and, by getting closer to their customers through Farmers' Markets and selling locally, have added value to farm produce. They have also had to innovate in the things they sell. Cheese is a classic example of this. Britain now has more varieties of cheese than France.

We were given all the usual statistics, such as 30% of road freight traffic in this country is hauling food around; only 20% of the apples produced in the U.K. are eaten here, when 80% of the apples sold in the UK are imported; with Sugar Puffs you get what it says on the box - the product is 49% sugar; most Beefburgers contain 48% chicken - the bits you wouldn't want to eat, like ground up leg bones.

Apart from the map showing you where the outlets are, the site also gives you information about the producers. There's a section on crop and plant husbandry for those of us who either have an allotment or a patch in the garden where we try to grow our own. You can see what is in season every week of the year, and there is a recipe of the day. Mrs. R. and I enjoyed the following:

Herbed Cauliflower Bake

450g cauliflower florets
2tsp unsalted butter
4tbsp onions, chopped
75g celery, chopped
4tbsp mushrooms, chopped
120ml vegetable stock
1tsp Italian herb seasoning
55g plain breadcrumbs

Preheat oven to Gas Mark 4/180C/350F. Cook the cauliflower until it becomes tender. Drain and keep warm. Melt the butter in a pan over medium heat. Sauté the onions, celery and mushrooms 4-5 minutes or until they begin to soften. Stir in the remaining ingredients except the cauliflower and breadcrumbs. Add salt and pepper to taste. Simmer another 2 minutes. Stir in cauliflower. Transfer the mixture to a lightly oiled baking dish. Sprinkle with the breadcrumbs and bake for 15 minutes or until the top has browned.

Best of all, the Essential Foods section includes chocolate.

The reason our giant carrot was accosting people is because they have now, hopefully, made a major breakthrough. ASDA are building a new supermarket in Biggleswade and , as an experiment, are putting in an organic food section run by Big Barn. The idea is that if it is a success, then ASDA will roll the idea out in their other stores. That should force Tesco and the others to follow suit. If it takes off, it will encourage more farmers to team up and co-operate. They could then economically supply other buyers such as schools and hospitals.

So, if you see a giant carrot down your street, give it your support. At the very least, check out www.bigbarn.co.uk.

[rathbone]

Mrs. R. has told me to stop whingeing, or, if I really must, to take it out on that porty on-line lot and not her as that seems to be where I do most of my moaning.

I hadn't realised that I used this slot to whinge and moan any more than I used it for gossip and tittle tattle, but there you go. Catharsis abounds.

Actually, what it is is a mild irritation with the elder Rathbonette. It's not as if she is in the first bloom of adolescence and she has more disposable income than me, so why does she still subscribe to the Bank of Mum and Dad?

It started earlier this week when I was taking the meager gifts we bestow annually on the other members of the family to the post office for dispatch. "Can you post this one for me? I'll pay you back later", she said innocently, handing over a small, carefully wrapped package. It wasn't very heavy.

"It says here it's going to the States", I pointed out. "Yeah." "What's in it so I can fill out the customs slip." " A present." "I know that. What kind of present?" "A Christmas pudding and a hundred tea bags." "Are you sure you can send foodstuffs to America?" "I don't know and I don't care. I just want you to make sure they get there before Christmas."

I know when I've been told and later on that morning I toddled off to the post office with my pile of parcels. The one to Epykat cost a modest amount. The one to Prombabe was even less. (If she's reading this --- it's quality not quantity.) The one to Mrs. R.'s sister in Australia wasn't that bad. A Christmas pudding and a hundred tea bags to Chicago ---- £40:35p. .... nearly four times the cost of the items.

So I brought it back home and checked out a variety of courier services on-line. Parcel Force et. al. None of them came in under £40. Apparantly the cost of ‘security' in the USA. I have visions of dogs sniffing out suspect teabags and christmas puddings being exploded, in a controlled manner, on runways.

Anyway, when Little Miss Rathbone came home I made the mistake of saying it would be cheaper for her to fly it over there in her hand luggage. A mistake, because this is the woman who flew to Los Angeles for the weekend because her mate in Santa Monica had managed to get tickets to see the remnants of The Who at the Hollywood Bowl. It was a suggestion she took seriously. Eventually, after much discussion, she took the package off to the post office and dispatched it herself.

To make up for my incompetence she asked if I would give her a lift to her Office Christmas Do last night.

Well, I know what taxis are like around our way, but what I didn't ask was where this ‘do' was. Turns out it was a fifty mile round trip up the motorway, with a stop off at a town enroute to pick up the current boyfriend. He'd got the train there ‘because it was cheaper' than either getting one to our town, or to the town where the party was.

I drop them off at some tatty Moat House hotel where they were staying the night and made my way back home through the wind and rain. I just get in and the phone rings. Can I pick them up at eleven. "I've only just got back" "No, not eleven tonight. Tomorrow morning."

So this morning arrives. For the first time this week it's not raining, so I have my breakfast, fasttrack through the sunday papers and strap on my running shoes. Mrs. R. mentions that it'll have to be a short run if I'm supposed to be picking them up at eleven. What that means is no run today.

Back up the motorway to the Moat House, which looks even tattier in daylight, to find Miss R. and Beaux standing on the pavement outside. "What's the matter, I'm only three minutes late." "Yeah, but we've got a train to catch."

It turns out that they are going up to London to see Madness. "So what did I drive all this way for?" "Well", she replied, pushing her overnight bag onto the back seat, "You don't think I'm carting this around all day, do you?"

I didn't create a scene, pecked her on the cheek and hoped she'd enjoy the gig. But she can walk home from the station when she gets back tonight.

[Epykat]

... when I was taking the meager gifts we bestow annually on the other members of the family

Ha, wait til you see what you're getting

[mr magnolia]

I didn't create a scene, pecked her on the cheek

You are a better man than I, sir. I have my doubts already about my own ability to remain calm in the face of daughters in the years ahead, and even now as I eye up various expensive bicycles to buy (once I actually get some money back for the broken one) I wonder whether I should bother, as I fail to see many slots in the schedule that would allow me to nip out for a health improvement session.

I wondered about suggesting that if I don't get that time I may then not be healthy and I may keel over at an earlier age.

But then I realised that's a dodgy option to offer anyone who may be minded to accept it...

[rathbone]

I had a really fun week using the Scotsman Archive as part of the Local History project. While I was meant to be researching into Andre Letta (local impressario), I ended up getting side tracked by the Portobello International Airport.

Following the Wright Brothers's first flight in 1903, the idea of flying caught the public imagination. By 1906 the Scotsman was publishing articles on the problems of flight and talks were given to the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution about Flying Machines, with experiments and working models. Inevitably, by 1907, people in the letters column were warning of the possibility of invasion by flying machines. In 1908, an aeroplane was exhibited at the Scottish National Exhibition at Saughton and on 21 December that year Wilbur Wright gave a lengthy interview to the Scotsman.

So it probably came as no surprise in May 1909 that a French company, seeking a place in the vicinity of Edinburgh for an aeroplane station, was put into communication with the directors of the Marine Gardens Portobello, who entered into negotiations with the French firm on the subject. The idea was to build a runway at the end of Seafield and develop flights between Portobello and Stirling, and the other side of the Forth. The runway would be the stretch of level ground about half a mile long to the north of the Marine Gardens. It formed a suitable starting ground in its natural state but was specially prepared in the way of levelling drainage channels which might have constituted a danger or obstacle to the flying machines before they rose into the air.

In the following August arrangements were made to exhibit Bleriot's aeroplane with which he flew the English Channel, at the Marine Gardens, but the visit was postponed owing to unforseen difficulties in transit.

The discussions to establish the airport fell through.

Undaunted, the Directors of the Marine Gardens decided to offer a prize of £500 for the first British aviator to fly a british built aeoplane from the Marine Gardens to the Fife shore. £50 would be paid towards the expenses of any British aviator who succeeded in flying one mile in endeavouring to win the £500.The competitors were allowed to land on any part of the Fife coast east of Burntisland. Ample space for practice would be afforded over the Bruntsfield golf course.

Mr. E. M. Ling of Hull said he was willing to make the attempt, as did Mr. George Barnes of Lewisham and Major Norwall of Portobello. Unfortunately, Mr. Ling's attempt on 30 October 1909 was unsuccessful and after a few more trial flights, he abandoned his attempt. The others didn't even try.

It was not until August 1911 that Mr. E. W. Ewen, the only Scotsman to hold an aviator's certificate, made the flight over the Forth, from the Marine Gardens to Kinghorn and then back again.

[foxy]

Totally fascinating stuff Rathbone, and only 100 years ago...thanks for precis-ing it for us. Where exactly were the Marine Gardens...I've seen pictures and I know the buildings were moved in from the National Exhibition at Saughton etc but I've no concept of how big it all was

[Epykat]

It's amazing to think all that happened here! Maybe we should forget the pier and think about a runway instead It could solve the Forth Road Bridge problem.

[Poppy]

Foxy, according to my map from early 1900s, the Marine Gardens were where the LRT depots and all the car salerooms are along Seafield Road - perhaps even as far as and including the Dog and Cat Home.

[Pal of Porty]

My Dad is old enough to remember all this and can confirm that you are correct Poppy - just memory, no maps.

[rathbone]

Where exactly were the Marine Gardens...I've seen pictures and I know the buildings were moved in from the National Exhibition at Saughton etc but I've no concept of how big it all was

As Poppy says, (and POP's pop confirms), the Marine Gardens stretched from the back of King's Road to where the Cat and Dog home is now, and covered 57 acres. The buildings from the Saughton Exhibition were re-erected on the site in 1909. It was doing quite well until war broke out in 1914, when it was requisitioned as a military depot. By 1918 it was in such bad repair that most of it was demolished. It continued through the twenties and thirties as a dance hall, roller skating rink and speedway track, but was again requisitioned when war broke out in 1939. It didn't re-open when the war ended.

[rathbone]

Timing is everything.

About two years ago a hole appeared in our road. The council came along and filled it up and that was that. Then, a couple of months later, one of the houses began to develop cracks. The owner’s insurers came and had a look and then sent along some engineers to have a poke and a prod. One of the engineers must have been up on his Olde English, because he noticed that the name of the next street is Hazeldene Meadows (we are Hillcrest), and that “deneâ€

[Dadaist]

*ouch*

Find the surviving relatives of the miners and sue them? (joke)

[rathbone]

Happy New Year
and better late than never, here's the promised photograph of next door's festive lights:

[Dadaist]

They should get an anti Santa behaviour order.

[foxy]

How festive and jolly ...what happens when a bulb goes