Off to Scotland

Tomorrow (Tuesday) afternoon I am off to Scotland. I have sorted out the train time tables and eventually get to Prestwick about 9.00 pm where I am staying over-night with my friend Wils.

Next day we drive to somewhere or other, catch the ferry to Arran, catch a bus across the island to Lamlash and there pick up the little boat to Holy Island.



This is of course, assuming the weather is ok and not blowing. The same thing applies when we return from Holy Island. We may not be able to get off. Oh dear, sob, sob said she sarcastically. The island is owned by the Buddhists and Wils and I are going to do a bit of clearing up at the Centre before the winter sets in. Wils assures me we will have 'fun'. Hmmm.



This is Wils.



And this is Lama Yeshe, the boss who sort of owns the place.

N.B. That is Lama as in Lama and not Llama as in Llama.

Pepper - Rest In Peace

PEPPER 2005-2007

It is with great regret and sadness that I report the death of a much loved local character, Pepper Hicks. She was loved by all who knew her and is especially mourned by Ginger.



Pepper attended Cheltenham Ladies College and excelled in gymnastics. The headmistress writes "Pepper was a pillar of our community, a prefect and a potential head girl".



Pepper had her career mapped out for her. She was the standing Liberal Democrat councillor representating Poynton South and rumour has it she had intended to offer herself up for leader of the Party due to the untimely resignation of Mr. Menzies Campbell. Alas, her full potential will never now be realized.



Her funeral took place last week. She had a full Humanist burial service on a piece of land behind the Anson Road Amenity Tip that is dedicated to private burials and the scattering of ashes. 'Jeruselem' was sung while her ecologically friendly cardboard coffin was lowered into the ground. In other words, Peter took her to the tip and dumped her in a skip.

Down with

We have just found out that Tesco wants to build a new superstore in Poynton. The residents are furious because we don't actually need or want another supermarket. We have four already, and who needs another supermarket when we have NETTO!!! (This week I saw the most amazing thing in Netto - a violin! Yes, an actual violin in a case for £29.99. Hurry while stocks last). There are all sorts of other considerations as well, like traffic generation, slave labour, etc. but it's our little shops that will come under the hammer.

We have Cheeky Norman the greengrocer, Berky the deli, Dave the cobler, Glenis the health foodshop, Moina the bookshop, a couple of little sweet shops, a freezer shop, two flower shops, Steve the baker, a couple of chemists and Nick the video.

My friend Meg phoned me up and told me about a meeting this morning outside the Civic Hall. I phoned June and Peter (of chicken fame) and a DEMONSTRATION was born! I haven't been to a good demonstration for years!



Well, first thing we went to Parklands Home for the Elderly and hyjacked a few old ladies and wheeled them over. The lady on the right is Madge, one of my Mum's old mates. I got into trouble once for buying Madge fags which she then smoked in her bedroom. Oh dear. Bit of a fire risk, our Madge.


I rather think that the old ladies had been told they were going out for the day. One of them said she wasn't sure what she was doing there. "I come from Edinburgh" she said. "My son is a conservative councillor". We wheeled her back.

June was on telly!




This is June and this is



Peter taking a photo of June on telly. Here are some other demonstrators:






All ages came to demonstrate.






This is our nice policeman and crowd controller.
I asked him what I would have to do to be arrested. He suggested I dragged the Tesco representative out from his hiding place in the Civic Hall, threw him to the ground and jumped on him. That would be an affray, he told me wisely.



The Tesco rep. He left unscathed, incidentally. Doesn't he look like Piers Morgan? I felt quite sorry for him when the normally gentle and mild June gave him a right tongue lashing.




I should have brought Badger along. This is Jess, a very friendly greyhound and I think she could have done with some company. She had an incredible howl, and if she was left alone for more than two seconds, she started up the baying.

One old gentleman started arguing the toss with some council members who were lurking shiftily near the doors of the Civic Hall ready to scarper if any trouble broke out. He got carried away by the occasion and when he called the council members "Tory bastards" the policeman escorted him away. Afterall, there were children present.



Peter ... and ...



Dianne.

At noon Mr Tesco man sneaked away looking embarrased. We decided enough was enough. We had loads of signatures, we have a council meeting to crash on Monday night and Mr Winterton, our MP will be inundated with emails. (wintertonn@parliament.uk)



Our honourable friend. What a jovial fellow!

Right, it's off to Berky's for coffee and cakes. He was rushed off his feet with demonstrators. "Pleeeze, you 'ave demonstrations every days?'

Lorenzo Learns to Sail

We've been away to Turkey to do some sailing for a couple of weeks. All our other sailing holidays have been on 'big boats' i.e. thirty footers and over and we sleep on board. This year we went to a 'club' where we stayed in a hotel and could take out dinghies, canoes, fun-boats, wind surfers or a big boat for the day.

Although I have been sailing since a little nipper, with Maalie and my father, I have actually never learned how to sail. I have always been crew, you know, pulling on ropes, running around the deck, pulling up sails, pulling down sails, messing with the anchor etc. and ALWAYS with someone shouting instructions to me. It was time to branch out and learn the proper stuff of wind directions, jibing, tacking and steering and overcoming an irrational fear of capsizing.

I started out on Funboats, which I renamed Toyboys and Peter renamed Sea Slugs.



These were jolly little baby catamarans that actually went like the wind in the right conditions but were dreadful at going about or tacking into the wind. But .... it was virtually impossible to capsize them. Right up my street.

From this I graduated to Topazes.





These were more of a challenge. The first time I took one out I capsized twice. I found with these boats that when you turn them over, the rudder comes free from it's holding, so you have to bob about and try and fix this before there is the undignified scramble to get back in.

Now many of you will know that the upper body anatomy of a lady is a bit different to that of a gentleman, and together with the fact that wearing life jackets was compulsory, I found it very difficult to get back in as there seemed to be too much getting in the way. The only thing to do was to squirm and wriggle and eel over the back, hoiking up protruberences until the centre board was within reach, and thence a hefty pull usually landed me floundering on the bottom of the boat. Then it's quick, grab the main sheet, the tiller and off you go again.

Actually I got quite good a righting a capsized boat. The theory is you stand on the centre board and your weight gradually brings the boat up horizontal again. You have to remember to jump clear as the boat comes up otherwise you get squashed underneath it. The sophisticated men used to be able to climb in from the position on the centre board. They were very slick at it, but I never managed to master the technique.

After two days of this, capsizing four times and covered with bruises, I progressed to the Laser Pico.



I really loved the Picos. For one thing the tiller was slightly shorter than that of the Topaz so I found it easier to turn about. With the ultra long tiller of the Topaz there was a lot of groping and grasping behind my back trying to move from one side of the boat to the other. Also the Picos were faster and generally more fun.
My condifence grew with each capsize and at times I actually tried to see how far I could heel over before splat and I was in again.







A few times Peter and I took out a Hobie Cat. These have a fearsome reputation as they are incredibly fast catamarans. It's not easy to right these if you manage to turn them over. However, as Peter was doing the sailing and I was doing the crewing we managed really well without falling in.





Even so, Peter managed to get to get it up on one hull! My shrieks of joy and
screams of terror could be heard all the way to Bodrum.

Peter is a sod when it comes to racing. Normally a mild mannered, aimable fellow, when he races he turns into a demon. He takes no prisoners, and aims for the first buoy and bugger anyone in the way, be they wind surfers, swimmers or a family outing in a canoe. Everyone scatters. At the start of the race there are a lot of nudgers and nudgees all wanting to be near the start line for the off. There is also a lot of shouting obsenities at each other and general bad temper. I learned a new swear word too. Someone shouted ***********!!!!! What's *********** mean? Peter told me. 'But that's illegal' I replied shocked. I stored the word away for future use on wordimperfect's blog.



Peter locking horns at the start of the big boats race. I should have known of course, as even in any running race he starts off with arms flaying about and elbowing anyone in the way until he forms a little vacuum around himself in which even angels fear to tread.

One day he took me out in an RS800. Now this really was a boat too far. I was poured into a harness contraption with a big hook on the front that was supposed to attach itself to a wire trapeze. We left the beach at 0 to 60 in four seconds and this time my screams were genuine. I couldn't get the trapeze to work so I hung gamely out over the side, but it was all too much. We snuck back to the shore and I rushed for a Pico to restore my confidence again.



This is how an RS800 should be sailed. Not a chance. Don't even go there.

Every evening between 6.00 and 7.00 there was happy hour. We had made some friends: two Johns, a Theresa, a Tricia, a Brenda and a Gerry. The tables were covered with gins, beers and wine. One of my happiest memories was of a line of gins waiting to be drunk. Unfortunately I couldn't focus on my camera by that time to take a photo.

Of course there were the cats. They were all wild and most of them very timid and shy. They would grab my offerings and scarper. I gave one a cream cake when no-one was watching. She licked the cream off and left the rest. There was one little kit that was only about six weeks old and he and I became firm friends. Even Peter liked him.





This was one of the best holidays I have ever had. I loved it. I've learned to sail albeit not as competitively as Peter (yet). I capsized nine times and I have impressive bruises. I got two cold sores as I forgot my medicine. We've made friends that we will keep in touch with and hopefully meet up with again. The weather was brilliant. The food was good and the gins delicious. I'm now detoxing (or punishing myself as Peter says).

I'm off to the deli now to see Father Ann to confess my sins and to tell Berkant all about his fellow Turks.