On my walk today I noticed something that got me thinking.
I had my mp3 blasting out 'toons' (hip eh?) Well actually I think it was Abba singing Eagle at this point...so maybe not.
Anyway there was me happily striding along the banks of the Clyde and suddenly felt glad that my urge to wear my Hibs t-shirt gave way to my rock urges and plucked the ACDC 'T' instead. I didnt realise that you could walk to Ibrox from the centre of town when Rangers were at home and so I found myself in the 'throng' making itself along aforementioned river. I was glad when I got to the Squinty bridge and made a quick 'right' and back across to civilisation.
It was about this time that just as I was about to put my foot down in front of me (this helps when walking) I noticed a strange looking bug going the same way.
With no time to think I managed to avoid squishing him and then I started to wonder...
What if this strange looking bug was actually a mutated bug! Maybe it used to resemble something I would recognise but now its fast becoming the bug that will end all human life on Earth? Maybe that split-second where I could have squished it was the last chance for humanity and now I have doomed us to fate worse than death (or maybe a Westlife concert – which may be a fate worse than a fate worse than death).
Then I thought – maybe it had just finished a hard day at the bug factory and was scurrying home to his small hole where his bug family were waiting for him. Probably his bug-wife will have a list of chores for him to do when he gets in (or on his next day off) and he will roll his bug-eyes but say nothing (as that's best in those situations) and simply get on with it.
Maybe I should have squished him – he may have thanked me for it.
Saturday, 18 September 2010
My Next Dance!
I commented to my mum recently that the next time I dance with my daughter it will probably be at her wedding.
This got me thinking about dancing. In particular me dancing.
I used to really enjoy this. Going to parties, disco's, the (very) occasional club and getting onto the floor and letting the rhythm of the night do what it does. Generally it did something bad to me and I looked like and idiot whilst those around me seemed to be floating on melodic waft and moving as one.
These days its not much better and I suppose the only saving grace is that I don't get the opportunity to embarrass myself as much.
If I do though – what sort of dancing is appropriate for a mature-ish man?
Rock Star
My favourite. Well it used to be. There is nothing better than getting into the beat of a rock-classic and getting down on the floor when the 'air guitar' bit gets let loose in all its glory.
Unfortunately I generally have to ask my dancing partner (if she is still beside me – not very often I have to say) to help me up off my knees, and if she is not then generally someone on the floor takes pity on me.
Morrisey
Not sure this was a good look even when I was in my 20's. Standing on the spot with arms swinging up and down whilst one leg remains still and the other lifts from the floor like you're constipated – never really hit it off for me.
If I tried that now...........nah scratch that....I just couldnt.
Earth, Wind and OMG I'm really sorry
'Getting down' and really swinging – now that should be OK. I have the sounds of 'September' in my head and picturing me moving around the dancefloor in a scene that resembles Saturday Night Fever or should that be Sit Now Fool! This is probably going to end with me knocking into someone 7' 12” carrying 10 pints back to his Hell's Angels buddies. Forget It!
Lets face it I have reached the point where I will want to be on the floor showing the world I still 'have it' but in reality I will be at the bar with men of similar dancing ability looking at the youngsters and thinking..........
How can you dance to that rubbish?
This got me thinking about dancing. In particular me dancing.
I used to really enjoy this. Going to parties, disco's, the (very) occasional club and getting onto the floor and letting the rhythm of the night do what it does. Generally it did something bad to me and I looked like and idiot whilst those around me seemed to be floating on melodic waft and moving as one.
These days its not much better and I suppose the only saving grace is that I don't get the opportunity to embarrass myself as much.
If I do though – what sort of dancing is appropriate for a mature-ish man?
Rock Star
My favourite. Well it used to be. There is nothing better than getting into the beat of a rock-classic and getting down on the floor when the 'air guitar' bit gets let loose in all its glory.
Unfortunately I generally have to ask my dancing partner (if she is still beside me – not very often I have to say) to help me up off my knees, and if she is not then generally someone on the floor takes pity on me.
Morrisey
Not sure this was a good look even when I was in my 20's. Standing on the spot with arms swinging up and down whilst one leg remains still and the other lifts from the floor like you're constipated – never really hit it off for me.
If I tried that now...........nah scratch that....I just couldnt.
Earth, Wind and OMG I'm really sorry
'Getting down' and really swinging – now that should be OK. I have the sounds of 'September' in my head and picturing me moving around the dancefloor in a scene that resembles Saturday Night Fever or should that be Sit Now Fool! This is probably going to end with me knocking into someone 7' 12” carrying 10 pints back to his Hell's Angels buddies. Forget It!
Lets face it I have reached the point where I will want to be on the floor showing the world I still 'have it' but in reality I will be at the bar with men of similar dancing ability looking at the youngsters and thinking..........
How can you dance to that rubbish?
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Family History
A friend of mine who shall remain nameless (but is an ex-librarian) informed me that there was a new service available online called AskScotland (http://askscotland.org.uk/).
I thought I would try it to see if they could give me any information about Gilbertson's that fought at the Battle of Bannockburn.
Now I know that my branch of the Gilbertson's never set foot in Scotland until the 1800's (ish) and that before that we were in Shetland and before that we hailed from Norway (thanks to my Auntie Nancy for all of the research) - but thought I would ask anyway.
The reply I got was as follows:
Hi Graeme,
We have found some information on a Sir Walter Gibertson. We have not found any other Gilbertson mentioned in the literature covering the Scottish Wars of Independence
Walter Gilbertson seems to have been on King Edward's side until after the Battle of Bannockburn in June 1314. He was keeper of Bothwell Castle in Lanarkshire which was under English control before the battle.
The Earl of Hereford, Edward II's brother-in-law, sought safety there with other prominent English Knights after they fled from Bannockburn. Sir Walter Gilbertson changed sides and took Hereford and his fellow knights prisoner. They were later exchanged for members of Robert Bruce's family who had been prisoners in England. This Gilbertson then joined Bruce's side.
My main souce has been David Cornell's "Bannockburn : the triumph of Robert the Bruce" published in 2009 by Yale University Press ISBN 978 0 300 145687.
Just goes to show that the Gilbertson's always like to be on the winning side :-)
I thought I would try it to see if they could give me any information about Gilbertson's that fought at the Battle of Bannockburn.
Now I know that my branch of the Gilbertson's never set foot in Scotland until the 1800's (ish) and that before that we were in Shetland and before that we hailed from Norway (thanks to my Auntie Nancy for all of the research) - but thought I would ask anyway.
The reply I got was as follows:
Hi Graeme,
We have found some information on a Sir Walter Gibertson. We have not found any other Gilbertson mentioned in the literature covering the Scottish Wars of Independence
Walter Gilbertson seems to have been on King Edward's side until after the Battle of Bannockburn in June 1314. He was keeper of Bothwell Castle in Lanarkshire which was under English control before the battle.
The Earl of Hereford, Edward II's brother-in-law, sought safety there with other prominent English Knights after they fled from Bannockburn. Sir Walter Gilbertson changed sides and took Hereford and his fellow knights prisoner. They were later exchanged for members of Robert Bruce's family who had been prisoners in England. This Gilbertson then joined Bruce's side.
My main souce has been David Cornell's "Bannockburn : the triumph of Robert the Bruce" published in 2009 by Yale University Press ISBN 978 0 300 145687.
Just goes to show that the Gilbertson's always like to be on the winning side :-)
The Deal
A teenage boy had just passed his driving test and inquired of his father as to
when they could discuss his use of the car.
His father said he'd make a deal with his son: 'You bring your grades up
from a C to a B average, study your Bible a little, and get your hair cut.
Then we'll talk about the car.'
The boy thought about that for a moment, decided he'd settle for the offer, and
they agreed on it.
After about six weeks his father said, 'Son, you've brought your grades up and
I've observed that you have been studying your Bible, but I'm
disappointed you haven't had your hair cut.
The boy said, 'You know, Dad, I've been thinking about that, and I've
noticed in my studies of the Bible that Samson had long hair, John the
Baptist had long hair, Moses had long hair...and there's even strong
evidence that Jesus had long hair.'
Dad's reply:
'Did you also notice they all walked everywhere they went?'
when they could discuss his use of the car.
His father said he'd make a deal with his son: 'You bring your grades up
from a C to a B average, study your Bible a little, and get your hair cut.
Then we'll talk about the car.'
The boy thought about that for a moment, decided he'd settle for the offer, and
they agreed on it.
After about six weeks his father said, 'Son, you've brought your grades up and
I've observed that you have been studying your Bible, but I'm
disappointed you haven't had your hair cut.
The boy said, 'You know, Dad, I've been thinking about that, and I've
noticed in my studies of the Bible that Samson had long hair, John the
Baptist had long hair, Moses had long hair...and there's even strong
evidence that Jesus had long hair.'
Dad's reply:
'Did you also notice they all walked everywhere they went?'
Monday, 6 September 2010
A Stroll Down Memory Lane (with associated moaning and grumping)
I couldn't put it off any longer!
I had avoided my mother for as long as I could, but there comes a time when you have to give in and go visit (only kidding mum – love you to bits)
Last Friday I informed the kids we were going to visit for the weekend and that they should pack accordingly.
Not clothes and the usual stuff that we would pack. Oh No!
Electronic equipment that could have powered Apollo 11 and enough music to see off the SNO!
It appears that the last thing on their minds was 'what am I going to wear this weekend. Oh well.
Craig wasn't too happy and asked me if we 'had to' stay for the whole weekend in an internet-free zone. 'Yes' I told him and he put his headphones back on and I could faintly hear Billy Jo Armstrong swearing his way through another Green Day track whilst being glowered at.
Train from Livi to Edinburgh and then the connection to Wallyford. Quite a short trip I thought. About an hour including the wait at Waverley. Gemma drew breath once during that period and chatted constantly!
I loved it though and she can still wrap me round her little finger! Sigh
The walk from Wallyford to my mum's was accompanied by more 'Are we there yet?' Kids!
Great night's chat and up early on Saturday. Both Craig and Gemma were up early and having breakfast when Craig let out a cry! He has tried to pick up a spoon from his cup of tea and it was red-hot! What was my mum trying to do to him?
From that moment on Craig referred to it as 'Grannys House of Torture'. She laughed heartily at that – and then clipped him round the ear! The cheek of it!
The day was to get 'better' for Craig though as I told him we were off to have a look round the 'Honest Toun'. He was not impressed.
In brilliant sunshine we set off to Lewisvale Park and the up to the top to have a chat with Musselburgh Cricket Club who were preparing the wicket for the winter.
Then I thought I would pay my sister a visit in Whitecraig. 'Where's that?' asked Craig. 'Just through there and along the road a bit' I replied, pointing in the direction of Inveresk.
Halfway along Carberry Road he pointed out that my directions left a lot to be desired. Not at all I replied – it is just along this road.....at the very end.
We spent a lovely couple of hours with my sister (the kids played together – inside on a glorious day)
The a wee walk to the harbour – hee hee hee
Craig started off OK. He had his juice and maltesers.
Once they were finished however (not even reached the Cowpits yet) he trudged along behind us.
I haven't mentioned Gemma yet as she was a star all the way round. The two of us chatted constantly and she listened and made points about the things I pointed out on the trek.
We walked all the way down to the Roman Bridge (I looked for and couldn't find the high water mark plaque at the old paper mill), then down Market Street.
When we got to the Harbour, Craig stated he wasn't moving anymore and promptly sat down on the harbour wall. After 15/20 mins I managed to coax him into strolling along the Promenade and just as we got to the mouth of the Esk, walking around the corner, was my dad!
Great to see him and totally unplanned. We chatted for a bit (and Craig found a bench to sit on) and then walked back through Pinkie School to my mum's.
We walked 6.7 miles altogether – and were out for 6 hours.
Great day (Craig would disagree) – but they were both in their beds for 11 and sleeping!
Can wait to go back (although next time there will be alcohol involved and I may not be walking anywhere)
I had avoided my mother for as long as I could, but there comes a time when you have to give in and go visit (only kidding mum – love you to bits)
Last Friday I informed the kids we were going to visit for the weekend and that they should pack accordingly.
Not clothes and the usual stuff that we would pack. Oh No!
Electronic equipment that could have powered Apollo 11 and enough music to see off the SNO!
It appears that the last thing on their minds was 'what am I going to wear this weekend. Oh well.
Craig wasn't too happy and asked me if we 'had to' stay for the whole weekend in an internet-free zone. 'Yes' I told him and he put his headphones back on and I could faintly hear Billy Jo Armstrong swearing his way through another Green Day track whilst being glowered at.
Train from Livi to Edinburgh and then the connection to Wallyford. Quite a short trip I thought. About an hour including the wait at Waverley. Gemma drew breath once during that period and chatted constantly!
I loved it though and she can still wrap me round her little finger! Sigh
The walk from Wallyford to my mum's was accompanied by more 'Are we there yet?' Kids!
Great night's chat and up early on Saturday. Both Craig and Gemma were up early and having breakfast when Craig let out a cry! He has tried to pick up a spoon from his cup of tea and it was red-hot! What was my mum trying to do to him?
From that moment on Craig referred to it as 'Grannys House of Torture'. She laughed heartily at that – and then clipped him round the ear! The cheek of it!
The day was to get 'better' for Craig though as I told him we were off to have a look round the 'Honest Toun'. He was not impressed.
In brilliant sunshine we set off to Lewisvale Park and the up to the top to have a chat with Musselburgh Cricket Club who were preparing the wicket for the winter.
Then I thought I would pay my sister a visit in Whitecraig. 'Where's that?' asked Craig. 'Just through there and along the road a bit' I replied, pointing in the direction of Inveresk.
Halfway along Carberry Road he pointed out that my directions left a lot to be desired. Not at all I replied – it is just along this road.....at the very end.
We spent a lovely couple of hours with my sister (the kids played together – inside on a glorious day)
The a wee walk to the harbour – hee hee hee
Craig started off OK. He had his juice and maltesers.
Once they were finished however (not even reached the Cowpits yet) he trudged along behind us.
I haven't mentioned Gemma yet as she was a star all the way round. The two of us chatted constantly and she listened and made points about the things I pointed out on the trek.
We walked all the way down to the Roman Bridge (I looked for and couldn't find the high water mark plaque at the old paper mill), then down Market Street.
When we got to the Harbour, Craig stated he wasn't moving anymore and promptly sat down on the harbour wall. After 15/20 mins I managed to coax him into strolling along the Promenade and just as we got to the mouth of the Esk, walking around the corner, was my dad!
Great to see him and totally unplanned. We chatted for a bit (and Craig found a bench to sit on) and then walked back through Pinkie School to my mum's.
We walked 6.7 miles altogether – and were out for 6 hours.
Great day (Craig would disagree) – but they were both in their beds for 11 and sleeping!
Can wait to go back (although next time there will be alcohol involved and I may not be walking anywhere)
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