Month: January 2006

bookmark_borderM74

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Unlike Route 66 and the N17, no-one has ever written a song about the M74, but there is time for that to change.

With the news that the proposed extension of the “motorway that goes nowhere” is to be built, and naturally that a variety of protest groups are up in arms at the decision (for some good reason), there is a chance for this dead-end of a motorway to grab a share of the spotlight and gain some notoriety.

For those not in the know, the M74 ends in a roundabout (hence the dead-end references) and is mainly used as a link from the M8 on the journey south to England. Before we moved to Hamilton, which sits on the M74, we used it a lot whilst travelling up from Aylesbury, so we know the way quite well.

Perhaps it’s time to break out the visual aids.

Our route on M74

The red dot is Hamilton. The green line is the current route for anyone travelling from the M74 onto the M8, up and round the back of Glasgow and on towards the west. As you can see the proposed extension will cut a large distance from the journey, not to mention avoiding the notorious Kingston Bridge altogether. For that reason, and the fact that the main reason we generally use the M8 is to travel past Glasgow, I think the proposed extension is a wonderful idea.

But then there is the pollution and impact on the environment to consider. One option would be a viable public transport alternative, except there already is one, the trains run from Hamilton through Glasgow to Balloch at Loch Lomond but we car users do like the comfort and flexibility of controlling our own travel times so that’s never really going to be an option for many.

What else to consider? Pollution, impact on the environment? More than three quarters of Scotland isn’t even inhabited. You want fresh air? Move to Auchtermuchty!

If I’m honest, the main thing that annoys me about this entire thing is the guilt tactics employed by the protest groups. I’m fully aware these things will have an impact on the environment but for my own selfish needs I WANT the extension built. It’ll knock about 15 minutes OFF the time it takes to drive through to Dumbarton, something we do every other weekend, and will also mean our car is emitting less and we’ll be using less fuel.

So, to appease my own inner demons, I guess what I really need to do is find where the balance between the impact cost of building the extension is “equalled” by lowering pollution and saving on fuel use. I feel a rough guess coming on… how about year 2063?

Well it’s either that or buy a bike…

bookmark_borderFriends will be Friends

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One simple fact is indisputable; I don’t see my friends often enough.

Granted one spends a large amount of the year in other countries and one lives in London, but the other two live and work nearby and there is no excuse other than the usual “time flies” nonsense… which isn’t as much an excuse as a weird rip in the time versus priority continuum.

What a great word continuum is… continuUM conTINuum contiuummmmmmm…

Every time we meet we promise to meet sooner next time, to not leave it so long, to call on the off chance of each other being free rather than worrying about pre-arranging a dinner, or if one person can make it whilst the other one can’t. Yet we never really do and there’s no excuse for it. We are all grown up (mostly) and responsible adults (barely), we can handle buying houses, holding down jobs (two of my mates run their own companies fer chrissakes) yet we can’t seem to get the whole ‘friend time’ nailed down properly.

Now I’m not saying that this is a problem, it’s more a slight annoyance, and I’m certainly not laying blame, – if I was I’d have to start with myself – but it is something that bothers me. Especially at this time of year as resolutions are made, the slate is clean, a new dawn breaks over the horizon, a calm pond awaits the pebble, a blank canvas dreams of colour, a [Ed: GET ON WITH IT!]…

So I spotted my two Glasgow based friends on MSN, got in touch and made arrangements to contact them when we get back from Spain. Life is just too short to let these times pass, to neglect the people I care about, and I’m determined that this year will be different. It’s almost like that mature feeling that occasionally sweeps over me when I’m driving… it may sound odd but it’s almost the sudden realisation that I’m an adult, I am married, I can afford… well I can drive a car… it’s like seeing myself through a stranger’s eyes. Just another middle-aged married couple going to the garden centre, or to visit their family. Odd that. Anyone else get that? Just me? Right.. as you were.

Friends are important, they help remind you of who you are, where you came from, and keep you grounded. They can share old jokes and reminiscing that no-one else can, they know you better than you ever realise and when you need them they are there for you without question or hesitation.

You can’t choose your family, and sometimes you can’t choose your friends. Not really at any rate for the true friends are the ones that just develop, flourish and stick. Those are the ones to value.

And I do.

bookmark_borderPedal Faster!

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At this very moment, barring unforeseen delays (I’m writing this a couple of days beforehand) we’ll be strapped in to our seats and accelerating down the runway at Glasgow Airport, bound for Malaga and away from the frosty mornings. Average temperature for the week is 18°C (65F in old money) although it’s to be overcast with showers for most of the time. Not that I’m complaining.

Tapas, San Miguel, Spanish Potato and Onion Tortillas, and walks along the beach. What’s not to like?

I’ll be back in a week or so, posting will continue sporadically and obviously I may not be picking up email.

bookmark_borderEuro panic

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Not quite yet but the countdown has begun. Some “if I wear that t-shirt today I can’t take it with me” packing decisions have already been made and I’m pretty sure I know what books I’ll be taking with me. We have tins of haggis, oodles of teabags, tubes of germoline and 2000 Boots own-brand sweeteners bagged and ready to go. The iPod is nicely filled with music and if I can’t get Louise’s MP3 player (a last minute cheapo eBay job) working then we’ll be sorted.

Most importantly, the passports and Euros are safely placed where we can both find them after I caused a minor panic by putting some Euros, that we had received as a wee Christmas pressie from my parents, in a ‘safe place’ lest we lose them in the post-Xmas tidy-up. You can see where this is headed, can’t you.

I had been tidying up, putting away presents, removing packaging, throwing out bags and tags and cards and paper and was very pleased to have our house returned to some sort of normal order. I knew that if I had come across the wee white envelope with the Euros in it I wouldn’t have thrown it out, and I was certain that I would have put it somewhere obvious. I’m pretty good at that kind of thing. Usually.

So when my darling wife asked what I’d done with the envelope a chill ran down my spine. A chill born from the instant realisation that I had absolutely, totally and utterly, no earthly idea what I’d done with it other than that it was in a ‘safe place’. A variety of visions scattered through my head; we turn the house upside down only for my parents to tell us we left it at their house; we’re airborne when I suddenly remember that I placed it safely behind the third picture from the right on the shelf above the TV; we arrive home to find the envelope sitting in plain view on the dining table where it had been all along.

After I’d recovered my breath (that breathing in a paper bag trick really does work you know) we decided to start with the obvious by checking all the presents. I rifled through the books I’d received, all neatly placed in the bookshelf in the living room, had a shuffle through the DVDs and CDs, turned jumpers inside out and even checked under my new model car… all to no avail. The panic returned. Had I thrown it out by accident? Had I not spotted it at the bottom of a bag? Would I be sent out to scavenge through the rubbish bins? (bet your ass I would be)

After 20 minutes of fruitless searching we paused, hoping that inspiration would come when we weren’t looking for it, I headed up to the computer to check my email, Louise followed me up to continue the interrogation brainstorm for the location of the ‘safe place’.

“Are you sure you didn’t put it in a book?” she said as I passed the bookshelf in the ‘office’ upstairs. As I turned to answer a book caught my view. A book I’d gotten for Christmas. The only book I’d taken upstairs with me.

Elbowing my wife violently out of the road, I tore if from the shelf and as I opened it a small white envelope slipped from the pages and fluttered to the ground. I snatched it up and declared, somewhat too triumphantly:

“I TOLD you I put it in a safe place!!”

“You idiot” she mumbled before whipping the envelope from my grasp, extracting the Euros and putting them with the others in the more accepted ‘safe place’ of ‘the purse that we take on holiday that is in the same drawer as the passports’. In retrospect I have to agree that that is a better ‘safe place’ than mine.

bookmark_borderThe Dying of Delight

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Where to begin? I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but any book that is described as “a spirited portrait of lives gone astray” is off to a pretty good start. The book tells the story of Silver and Edna, two women whose stories intertwine in many ways. It’s slightly odd in parts, exciting, funny and above all very well written.

Now I’ll admit that it took me a couple of chapters to get into, and now and again I’d lose the thread and have to re-read but those are minor annoyances. The first thing that caught my attention was the chapter numbers. 1, 17, 26, 2, 3, 18, 27, 4… and so on. Yet despite this odd numbering scheme the books flows well, the overlapping chapters merge and you barely notice the leap from one thread to the next. This is, in no small part, thanks to the wonderfully written main characters who slowly reveal themselves throughout the book. For me this was the strongest part of the book, and with each passing scenario I found myself mentally re-addressing the persona of each character.

The story itself is centred mainly around Silver, a young woman who gives up her day job and pretty much everything else to become an artist like her ever-so slightly insane mother (who features in the book despite being dead after jumping off the roof of the local British Legion hall). It also features a lot of drug taking and no small amount of social commentary, sex, and that’s all before you get to the darker parts of the book.

It’s kind of hard to describe the book as it’s not an out-and-out thriller nor is it purely a character study. It’s not wholly about death, or drugs, or love, or any other emotion, and it’s not set in a huge world with grand themes. What that does mean is that you get a very good picture of the life these people lead, the world they inhabit (and how limited it is for them) and it seems almost biographical at times (autobiographical maybe?).

I thoroughly enjoyed this, right up to the last few page-turning moments, and I whole heartedly recommend this to anyone who just loves reading.

I’d also point out that the author herself kindly signed my copy, and I’m sure she’d be delighted to do the same for you. Thanks Clare, great book!

bookmark_borderLethargic

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Friday evening and as my family drive away I open the fridge, and crack open another beer. A quick check of the TV and I decide to finish that book I’ve been reading (review to follow). One page of text later and I’m done. Nice ending.

Upstairs to the computer, a quick check that I can just “copy and paste” tracks from iTunes to Louise’s new MP3 player (I can) and I start surfing. Blog after blog I realise that my interest is waning, so many, too many, time for a cull. Something in the air?

Tomorrow and we start planning for the week in Spain, teabags, square sausage, haggis, sweeteners and more to be bought, and packed amongst the few clothes we’re taking. A couple of books, the iPod and I’m all set.

Not sure how it will be, it’s the first time we’ll have been back in Spain since the funeral, and emotions will be running high. Just have to wait and see I guess, little else for it. We do have the company of Louise’s Granda who, on the grounds that his bus pass is free (he’s 80-odd) , is steadfastly refusing to accept a lift home from the airport when we return. No doubt which side of the family my wife gets her stubborn independant streak.

So apart from some shopping the weekend stretches out in front of us, a few chores to attend to but little else that must be done. I’d like to draft a few articles that will get posted whilst I’m away, but aside from that I’m looking forward to picking up a book, watching some movies and generally starting the wind-down to Wednesday. Pity I have to be in work on Monday and Tuesday.

If you haven’t yet, be sure to catch the recording of Peter’s interview with Alan on Leith FM, delivered by the rather snazzy Castpost system, first time I’ve used that and quite impressed. You can find the recordings on Alan’s site. You should also catch up with mike’s adventures in hangzhou, find out what Stuart thinks of Trivial Pursuit (and find out what “handies” are), and nod along with Hana’s post about the recent debacle surrounding George Galloway (although I’m sure someone will trot out the old “no such thing as BAD publicity” line soon).

In fact it’s annoying me so much that I’ll chip in my tuppence on Gorgeous George as well. I’ve said before that he seems self-serving but so far he’d managed to deflect any real ire directed his way, even if it was by walking out in the middle of a televised interview.. I agree with some of his politics but the more I listen to him the more I realise he’s just saying what some people want to hear, and what will get him press inches. And now he’s in Big Brother and I’m sure he’ll wonder why people don’t take him seriously…

Anyway, enough of this. My beer is finished, time for another! Diet? what?