Oh man. I really have to get one of these Klepper folding kayaks now.

The stuff about them being designed for the SAS during the war isn't true. Here's what really happened: "In 1907 a tailor from Rosenheim in Bavaria had a simple idea. This tailor, Johann Klepper, wanted to build a foldable kayak that he could take wherever his heart desired. Klepper's longing for unlimited freedom, travel and adventure ultimately led to the first commercial production of foldable kayaks."

But still, they are perfect for fitting limpet mines...

Cripes, nearly a week since I wrote anything here. I would have written something yesterday but my ISP was having a coniption fit and wouldn't let me stay logged on longer than a couple of seconds.

Whatever. The Bamboo Curtain was a failure. Bertie jumped right through it, screeching as he was scraped by wire and stakes. Thank goodness he didn't impale himself. So now I don't let him out at night. During the day he's ok, he doesn't jump through, but I still watch him while he's out there.

I spent the weekend on a sailing course. Saturday it was "dinghy cruising", Sunday was "dinghy drifting" -- how to drift your dinghy on the tide, with the sails flopping loosely.

We (seven of us in three Wayfarer dinghies, plus two instructors in an inflatable) spent Saturday morning doing triangles, just what I'd hoped NOT to be doing, but I guess they have to assess everyone. We were all good at triangles, so in the afternoon we moved on to anchoring and went for a short spin downriver, just past the rail bridge. The wind had picked up and and we had a great couple of hours sailing, fast and bouncy, with spray flying.

While we were anchoring, I saw what I thought was a haar rolling in, and just before we came in it started raining. Hard. I was wet anyway, so rather than change into dry clothes, I walked home in my sailing kit. Good move -- it rained so hilariously hard I was thoroughly rinsed of salt by the time I got to my door. I dried myself off, changed, and waiting for it to stop raining so I could walk Bertie. It didn't stop, so we walked in the rain. It kept on raining, all night it rained.

In the morning, it was still raining. but the wind had died away almost completely. We looked at the chart and rolled the special ruler over it and calculated the tide and made bearings and came up with a course plan.

We rigged up our boats in the rain and paddled out of the harbour and off upriver, sails flopping. The plan was to sail to Blackness, anchor there for a short while, then head across the river to Charlestown for a picnic lunch, before heading back to Port Edgar. Ha ha. It took us so long to float soggily up to Blackness that we went straight across to Charlestown. We took so interminably long getting across that the instructors had to tow us across the shipping channel to avoid getting in the way of a tanker.

We anchored in Charlestown harbour and climbed into the inflatable, which the instructors then beached. There was a man sitting in his car as we filed up the beach in the rain -- someone suggested we see if there was enough room in there for all of us, it looked quite cosy. There was no sign of a pub -- though it's unlikely a pub would have welcomed nine dripping mariners. We plodded morosely round to a rocky breakwater and sat perched on our lifejackets eating soggy sandwiches. It rained and rained and rained. The fog had been slowly creeping in and by the time we'd finished our lunch we couldn't see across to Blackness. We certainly couldn't see the bridges.

Since we obviously couldn't sail back -- the tide hadn't turned yet and there was not a breath of wind -- the plan changed. The dinghies were tied to the inflatable and we had a glum trip back. We derigged the boats in record time -- I've certainly never folded and stowed a sail that quickly -- got dried off and changed and rushed to the canteen .... which was of course closed. Huh. After a debriefing we went home. Very disappointing end to the course. The annoying thing is that I was booked in to the course in July, and it was cancelled because only I was booked. The weather that weekend was much better.

I'm reading a book by Paul Theroux and the moment that has several of his kayaking stories in it and I'm tempted again by the idea of getting a kayak. He has a collapsible one that packs down into two bags. During the sailing course I was thinking how great it would be to kayak up the Forth -- or better yet, to go to Stirling and kayak home. I could explore the coast for quite a distance on short trips from here.

Today I finally got someone else organised to do the tiling in the kitchen. The last people failed to turn up -- I phoned every week for a month and gave up when the tiler went on holiday for three weeks. "Maybe I should get someone else to do the job," I said. "Yes dear, that would probably be best." This time it's a Linlithgow company, the man will come and look over the job in the next few days. The quote was about £160 less than the last one, so that's a bonus.

The computer's nearly ready -- I've just got to reinstall all my software and restore the backed up files. Hah, that'll only take ... forever. Anyway, once forever rolls around I'll post some photos from the garden.

I have to take some more photos too, of my latest project -- dog-proofing the back fence. It was a real conundrum. It had to be high enough to keep a greyhound in, but somehow I have to be able to get over to collect my house key from its Secret Hiding Place if I lock myself out again. I had a brainwave and today bought a bundle of 6ft bamboo stakes. It took about half an hour to create the Bamboo Curtain, a flimsy affair that will be easy enough to dismantle in an emergency but looks convincingly like a barrier to a dim greyhound. I hope so anyway. I'll have to get a few more stakes -- I had to improvise at one end with branches cut off the manky rowan in the corner (I doubt if it is a rowan, actually, it has no berries) and parts are constructed with thin garden wire, which will be invisible at night.

The first real trial is in about an hour, when I let Bertie out for a pee.

He's recovered from his ennui, by the way. Today when we passed the car he stood by it looking so pathetically hopeful that I loaded him in and took him to Blackness for a run. Sort of an apology for forgetting to collect his ringworm medicine. Oops, bad owner.

It's finally hot, but unfortunately it's also raining, so not very pleasant at all. Especially here at work, it's stifling.

Bertie was all droopy with post-holiday let-down syndrome today. Plod plod plod around the usual routes, nothing interesting or new to look at. Rain. Heat. Blah. The roads were busy and we had quite a wait to cross the road by the supermarket. Instead of eagerly straining to be off down the railway walk he stood limply at my side like a greyhound-shaped rag. Eeyore, the scabby donkey. Speaking of which, the vet called back and the first test has come up negative for ringworm. Which doesn't mean he doesn't have ringworm. The next test result will be another month. In the meantime we're going to pretend it is ringworm. He'll have tablets for two weeks, and if it's clearing up, then for another two weeks. If not, it's really not ringworm and he'll have antibiotics for a bacterial infection.

Coincidentally today I noticed another patch, on his neck. That's five altogether, from an original two. Blech.

I just Googled it (I love the internet) and found that ringworm, tinea, jock itch and athlete's foot are all the same thing -- a fungus. I was surprised about the tablets, but I guess the cream is poisonous. Anyway, I hope it works, because he's getting really scabby looking, and I'm worried about catching it myself.

Bertie and I are back from a thrilling visit to the farm. Bertie is shattered from all the excitement, he's been sleeping pretty much the whole time since we got back.

I took him for a pee walk this evening and on the way back collected stuff from the car. When I opened the door to get my camera, he climbed into the back seat and wouldn't get out!!!! He got so used to climbing into the car over the past few days, and there was always somewhere exciting at the other end of the journey. We went for several long walks every day, mostly to places where he could run like blazes -- gigantic gardens! whole fields! enormous beaches! endless forests! There were cats everywhere, fascinating smells, even new animals (cows ... very scary). Everyone was lovely to him and he was patted and petted and praised from one end of Nairnshire to the other. To cap it all off, this afternoon he and Andrew had a hectic game of football.

Oh, and I had a nice time too.

So then I came home from the farm tonight and got my computer out of its box and yes, it does work. Last week when I got it back I plugged it in and it didn't work. So I took it back to the shop on Friday morning, the day I was going up to the farm. And the wee man just flipped it out of the box, plugged it in and it went. He wasn't too nauseatingly triumphalist, but still. They'd had to wipe the hard drive and replace loads of stuff so I had to reinstall everything & it was a palaver to say the least. I didn't have time to set it all up before I left on Friday so I did it tonight.

Now I'm going to bed, because I'm now just as shattered as Bertie.

Sound of Dunedin This bookmark is for the origins of something called "The Dunedin Sound" -- sample headings The Joe Brown Empire, Bodgies, Widgies, Teddy Boys and Milk Bar Cowboys, A Rattray Street Reminiscence, The Titans: Kings of the Bible Class Circuit.

Anyone my age or a little older will be flipping out right now.

Bad Dog! Bad Dog!

Last night after our walk Bertie was whining and pacing around, so I let him out the back door into the garden. Bad move. He jumped the fence and shot across next door's back yard to rummage in the hedge looking for a way to get at the geriatric cats. It was 2am, so I was loath to yell, and whispering "come here" had zero effect. In the end I tricked him into coming by appearing to walk away down the alley. Possibly also a bad move in the long term, since up until that minute he didn't seem to have clicked that the whole world is open to him once he's jumped the fence.

Anyway in the short term it worked, and I dragged him back into the house. Without speaking to him I went straight upstairs to bed, shutting my bedroom door behind me. I could hear him crying piteously, but ignored him.

In the morning he was transformed into a very, very good little doggie, eager to please in any way possible. I'll have to try teaching him to do housework. I've abandoned the extending lead & expected some manic pulling, but he walked at my side sweet as can be. He obeyed every order. Most miraculous, when we emerged for the afternoon walk he deliberately turned his head away from the house where the cats live -- looking over there is something I'd been forbidding loudly.

Tomorrow we have an appointment with the vet -- possible outbreak of ringworm or similar, ewww!! He has a couple of raw, scaly patches on his face and now there's one on his leg. Bet he caught it off that hedgehog.

Today I'm back to my usual hours of work, 4.30pm to 1am. The past few days I've been doing 11.30am to 10pm, which means I had to get up at around 8am in order to dawdle over breakfast for an hour before walking the dog and having a shower. Saturday I had to get up early as well, because of going to the fair. So today was my first chance to sleep in and make up the sleep deficit.

I woke up at 6am and couldn't get back to sleep. Even Bertie wasn't interested in being up that early. Right now I'm sooooo tired.

It was good though, having so much time. As well as all the usual stuff, I backed up my computer, unplugged all the peripherals, fetched its box from the loft and packed it nicely ready for the trip back to the shop. Made the trip to the computer shop at a leisurely pace -- just as well, because the traffic was abominable -- then collected the film that had been ready since last week and visited the pet supermarket for snacks, treats and a new collar. I've put Bertie's tags on this collar, a thin loose one, so if he pulls out of his regular collar while out and about, he's still got my phone number.

Back home I had plenty of time for another dog-walk and a shower before work.

Great news tonight! Liz and Ken are engaged. Sweet! I must get one of those digital cameras, the close-up detail of Liz's ring (and fingers) is stunning.

Busy busy busy. Mainly with work -- looong shifts doing the boss's job -- and dog-walking. The dog's in bad odour at the moment, having seriously monstered a neighbour's two cats. I had previously thought there was just the one cat, they're both black and white and fluffy. I patted one once and it was so terribly thin I was concerned for its welfare. But on taking the trembling survivor home after Friday night's attack I discovered that not only does it have a thyroid condition, it's 19 years old. Nineteen. That's 133 in dog years. The other one is 12. No wonder Bertie can get them bailed up -- it's like Sebastian Coe chasing the Queen Mother.

I went to the Traquair Fair yesterday, to meet up with Richard and his family who are up from England on holiday. It's the most laid-back event I've ever been to -- hippy heaven, with tipis, vegeburgers, folk music, alternative healing tents and at least four aromatherapy stalls. I realise now that I have the word DEADLINE running through me like a stick of letter rock, with hurry up! in smaller type.

It was lovely -- it's a beautiful setting, an ancient house surrounded by hills and forests, and there was lots going on -- but heavy showers of rain spoiled it somewhat. It was great seeing Richard again, and I also bumped into other people I hadn't seen for ages, so all in all it was fun. I bought some essential oils (Rose Maroc and Clary Sage) and a colourful little bag for my CD walkman thing. No dogs allowed, so Bertie had to stay home.

For reasons far too complicated to go into here, last Wednesday was a washout and I didn't get to take my computer in to the shop. I've been working all the hours since then, so I'll probably get it in tomorrow or Tuesday. It'll maybe take them three days to reinstall Windows, if that's the problem, or replace the modem.

Must get on with my work now.

The heat, the heat ... it must have been nearly 70F out there today. That's 21C for kiwis. And the sun was shining and everything!

Yesterday (Monday) I checked my strawberry plant and the first one was just on the cusp of ripeness. Mmm, pick that tomorrow, I thought. Hah! First thing this morning the strawberry, luciously ripe, was lying half-eaten on the ground. Bastard wildlife. I'm making a new shopping list: BB gun, slug pellets, slingshot, electric netting ...

Bertie can't cope with heat, but he's not as bad as the spinone we often meet out walking. He's a mountain dog, used to cool climes. Today when his owner and I stopped to chat, the poor thing sat panting under a tree, in grass still cool and wet from last night's rain. Bertie stood panting in full sun -- he likes the limelight even if it is uncomfortable.

I cleared a few long outstanding chores today which felt quite good. Loads still to do however, and I've gone and arranged a lunch date for tomorrow, my one day off.

What a day today, whizzing around madly from pillar to post and back again. Work was restful by comparason.

One of my appointments was with Calum, my lovely dentist. Over the years his skill and clean pinkness have completely cured my phobia about dentists. I can almost relax in his chair, knowing he'll only hurt me a little bit. Today I had a root canal filling -- he'd cleaned it out and dressed it last week and finished it properly this time. No anaesthetic because the nerve was dead, so no rubber lips and no painful reawakening of nerve endings. Plenty of pain in the old wallet though -- £115, ka-ching!

It's raining. It's cold. Sigh. Saves the effort of watering the garden I guess. Sigh. We never did get that heatwave ...

Terrible words to hear while filling my trolley at Tesco:

"Would the owner of the white greyhound please come to the customer service desk."

I whisked down to the front of the shop where sure enough, through the plate-glass window, I saw Bertie -- collarless -- run past looking anxious. I parked my trolley and dashed out. People were looking on in amazement as Bertie ran back and forth in front of the windows, scanning for a familiar face or a way in. He came to me quite meekly though, and I tied him up, fastening his collar with an eye-bulging tightness.

At least he didn't try and head for home -- traffic was pretty heavy yesterday afternoon.

He's never backed out of his collar before, though I've been aware that it's getting looser as the leather stretches. They have such tiny heads for their neck size it's hard to get the collar tight enough without making it uncomfortable. One thing I'm going to do for sure though is to get a thin, looser collar for him to wear his tags on. That way if he does escape from the leash he'll still have ID (apart from the microchip).

This week is going to be madly busy workwise and I only have Wednesday off. Tomorrow is used up with appointments so I won't get to tackle my computer grief until Tuesday at the earliest.

We're supposed to be having a heatwave. It's blistering everywhere else in the country, but here it's just ... warm. Right now (11pm) I'm actually cold, I've got a T-shirt on and wish I'd brought a sweatshirt or something with me. Some heatwave. Huh.

OK, so quickly: Monday I trailed all the way to the Post Office with all the documentation needed to pay the road tax only to find I'd taken the wrong MOT certificate with me. Grinding of teeth. After that, I don't know ... I think I took Bertie to Blackness for a run and cooked a nice ratatouille for dinner. I'm sure I must have done something else ... oh yes, I remember, I broke my computer.

Tuesday: Lunch with Anthea, followed by a trip to the dentist for a root canal filling. Lunch was delicious -- warm squid salad at Sweet Melinda's in Marchmont, and the dentist wasn't too bad. The nerve was dead anyway, so I didn't need an injection and my jaw wasn't aching afterwards.

On the way home I stopped at Homebase and bought a strimmer. Got home and foolishly didn't change my clothes before trying it out. I had no idea strimming leaves you plastered head to toe with shredded weeds and bits of whatever gunk is lurking amongst them. What a cool piece of equipment though! Vroom! Zing! After strimming I mowed, so the lawn looks almost decent now. Next I have to strim the front of the house. Yee haw.

So that was that. Not very exciting, eh. But I love it. I'm soooo sad. Sigh.

Week after next I've decided Bertie is ready for another trip up the learning curve. We're going to the farm. This is my friend Andrew's parents' farm, up near Nairn. They have 12 cats and 100 cattle. Yes indeedy, he's in for a few surprises up there.

I won't have time to update tonight, maybe tomorrow. Tsk, I'm really falling behind.

Well I have busted my new computer! That didn't take long, did it? It's not completely busted, just the modem doesn't work any more. I suspect a software glitch rather than physical meltdown, but it's a bugger either way. It means no online work at home, so I have to do it all at work. It's expensive too -- it forced me to spend an hour on the phone today talking to Pinky, 10,000 miles away.

I won't have time to even talk to the techies at the shop until next week, so I'll have to be disciplined until then.

So ... my days off. Saturday: Went to the auction, which was lots of fun. I didn't buy anything, though I had to sit on my hands to stop myself bidding for crates of useless stuff, just because it was so cheap. Hundreds of beer glasses going for a song! (The hitch there was you didn't get to pick them up until Sunday, after the big closing-down party. You could conceivably end up paying £10 not for hundreds of beer glasses but for six chipped sherry glasses.) They had a big screen set up and showed slides of the various lots as they came up.

The varied list of stuff on sale attracted a very mixed crowd -- locals, dealers of every stripe, gawpers, collectors, all sorts. We were not big spenders, however, and the auctioneer got quite ratty. "Fifty pound to start. Forty. Thirty." Long pause. "Ten pound! Come on! Ten to start." Another pause. "What's the matter with ye? Five pound then, who'll give me five? No-one? Surely... come on, this is a bargain." I like the eccentric ways a bid can develop -- it starts out like that, with the auctioneer working back from £50 and finally getting a £5 opener. Then someone else raises it to £10, and there's a little rush of bidding and suddenly the price is back up to £50.

The pictures I wanted turned out to be prints rather than oil paintings, but still went for quite a high price. I wouldn't have minded paying what they went for, but if I'd joined the bidding they would have gone higher; bidding was brisk. The ship prints were more complicated: there were several lots of a pair each, and the winner of the first lot had an option of buying through, of buying the rest at the same price. They didn't want them all, so there was renewed bidding for the next lot, and the bloke who got that pair did take the rest. The model ship: well, I looked the name up on the internet and found you could get a new one for $29.99. It sold at the auction for £30, plus 10% buyer's premium, plus VAT. Not a bargain. The carpet in the ladies loo went for £10.

After just two hours at the auction (not even halfway through) I staggered out faint from the heat and airlessness of the room, collected Bertie and zoomed off to Blackness for a romp. It was high tide, a very high high tide, water was sloshing and crashing up on the sea wall.

Bertie again showed why we humans are in charge. See the water at the top of the wall, I think "Boy, that must be quite deep." Bertie thinks "This water is only a couple of inches deep" and plunges in. He was so surprised. And then of course he had real trouble getting out. On a dry day he's free with a single mighty bound, but with water up to his chest it took him a few clumsy, lurching goes to jump back out on to the grass.

Watching all this was a female greyhound, on a lead. Shaking himself off, Bertie hurried up to say hi. And HELLO, baby! "She's still a little bit in heat," explained her owner as Bertie investigated delicious smells. Sadly she wasn't interested AT ALL and told him so with a snarl. He took off at a full sprint, presumably to show her what she was missing. He's such a dorky teenager sometimes.

Sunday: Spent most of the day in the front garden, weeding, weeding, weeding. There's some ghastly weed taking over the front garden and lawn and I don't even know what it is. It's feathery, a bit like an asparagus fern but juicier, and the whole thing's segmented, so when you grab hold of it, it falls apart. Every last little bit that falls on the ground grows into a new plant. The roots are segmented too, so you can't dig it out without sieving all the soil. It's everywhere. Meanwhile on the other bed, along the wall, the convolvulus was regaining a foothold. Its alternative name is "devil's guts", because of the root system. Again, almost impossible to get rid of.

Hey, it's time to go home! I'll have to finish this tomorrow. If I get time ...

Amusing incident from this morning's walk: I was walking along the pathway that cuts through the meadow and heard the drumming of Bertie's feet behind me. Knowing he likes to sprint right past, I sidestepped to let him by.

I sidestepped the wrong way and he slammed into the back of my legs at full speed. We were both pretty surprised, but there were no injuries.

I went down to Hawes Inn[warning: link has irritating popup advert] today to the auction viewing. It was quite odd -- the bar was still open, but they had been running the stock down for so long there was almost nothing left. "A Becks then." "No, sorry, there's none left." "Coke?" "No." And so on.

And everything had a little numbered sticker on it.

The variety is mind-boggling. Some samples of what's on offer:

Lot 36: 2 X REPLICA FLINT LOCK PISTOLS
Lot 52: 9 LITRE H20 FIRE EXTINGUISHER
Lot 186: DARTBOARD, CABINET & SPOTLIGHT
Lot195: 1 X LARGE SHIPS WHEEL
Lot 209: APPROX 21' OF BRASS FOOTBAR
Lot 465: CURTAIN IN ROOM 19
Lot 599: LENGTH OF STEEL CHAIN AT FRONT OF BUILDING

Things I'm interested in:
Lot 311: FRAGATO SIGLO XVIII MODEL SHIP
Lot 313: 4 OIL PAINTINGS OF HIGHLAND SCENES
Lots 441-447 PR OF NAVAL PRINTS

The oil paintings are lovely -- small, romantic Victorian views of lochs and glens and bens, with sheep and long-horned cattle dotted picturesquely about. The naval prints aren't ships-at-sea paintings, but line drawings as if for a technical manual, showing all the rigging and specs. Most are sailing ships, but some are WWI warships, the Dreadnought and such. Very nice. They're all bunched together though. I think whoever buys the first lot gets the rest at the same price.

Registering didn't cost anything so I went ahead, and I've got a number to flash at the auctioneer. I doubt I'll end up buying anything -- there were a lot of dealers there today making copious notes, I don't think us amateurs stand much chance against them. It'll be interesting though.

Things you would have to be mad to buy:
Lot 19: CARPET IN LADIES TOILET
Lot 453: 7 PRS OF BURGUNDY CURTAINS IN PUBLIC BAR

And finally, from the STORE ROOM AND BACK OFFICE:
Lot 551: REALISTIC KAREOKI MACHINE

This is the Hawes Inn, right at the foot of the Forth Bridge in South Queensferry. Robert Louis Stevenson stayed there. It features in his novel Kidnapped, in fact I think he might have written some of it there. The inn -- pub, restaurant and hotel -- milks the connection for all it's worth. For example the tables have glass tops covering montages of pages from Kidnapped, pictures of RLS and other mementos, and there are big portraits outside of characters from Kidnapped.

It's historic, right?

Well apparently the new owners, Bass, are going to revamp it and make it a theme pub. Uh, I'm sorry? What theme is that? Oh, a "Vintage Inns" theme.

The Evening News says: "Within months, the pub's Victorian graffiti will be erased and Stevenson quotes on the walls will vanish, making it a mirror image of other Vintage Inns around the UK - which are all decorated with fake antiques and new wood distressed to look old."

On Saturday they're auctioning off all the furniture and fittings, so I'm going down there tomorrow for the viewing, see if there's anything worth bidding for. Happily the local museum got wind of all this early and managed to persuade Bass to donate a bit of history: a collection of mariners' badges given to the pub by sailors over the years.

The pub also features a collection of foreign money -- notes from all countries imaginable are stapled to the walls all around the bar. I wonder if they'll auction that. Can you auction money?

Frustrating sort of day

Just as it got hot and sunny, I was called in to work early. But by the time I got there the panic was over and I needn't have been early at all. Hmm.

Anyway I spent a bit of time shifting my stereo to a better spot, in the course of which I discovered that the radiator in the corner of the living room had been leaking quietly on the new floorboards. Yes, the boards that were only recently relaid after the Great Day-Before-Hogmanay Flood of 2000. They are slightly buckled in the corner, but you can only really notice it if you're crouched down with your head in the corner. And the beading is all soggy too. My solution -- based on a hazy notion garnered from something a gas fitter said once about the heating system in my old flat -- was to turn on the bathroom radiator. And I'll call in the gas people next week -- I've got a service contract.

How I noticed the leak was that I picked up the trailing end of the extension cord to unplug the stereo and it was all wet. No, there was no explosion. Phew.

After shifting the stereo I couldn't listen to it to see if it sounds better over there by the TV, because the shelves have a solid back and the stereo's cord isn't long enough to reach the extension cord's outlet from the front. The tidiest solution is to cut holes in the backboard of the set of shelves for all the equipment -- stereo & video power cords, speaker cords, aerial cable in and out. This will involve taking the whole kit and kaboodle down, marking the holes required carefully, drilling them, taking plugs off the power cords, poking the cords through the holes and rewiring. Unless of course I drill holes big enough for the plugs as well. How? Erm.... dunno. A trip to Homebase threatens. I should do it properly, because I know how satisfying that would be. No More Ugly Trailing Wires.

While I'm at it I could also tack the TV aerial cable up around the french doors rather than leave it trailing across the doorway.

Why do we have to have wires and cables anyway? Why isn't everything space-age?

All the modern age has brought us is a squillion more devices that need plugging in. Most of the rooms in my home have one of those four-gang extension cords, full. The computer and peripherals use a six-gang board. Even the phone has a power cord (as well as the phone jack), ditto the answering machine, and of course then there's the modem upstairs with its miles of cable to the jack point in the bedroom. And it's still not enough -- I've got an electric lawnmower that requires a great long extension reel, which I also use for the iron.

There is no plug at all in the bathroom, so electric-shaving visitors have to depilate elsewhere. (There are a couple of mystery switches in there, one near the ceiling and another outside the door. I have no idea what they're for.)

What I should do is bite the bullet and call in the experts, get an electrician to put in a couple more circuits, pepper the walls with outlets.

What I really want though is infra-red linking and cold fusion, a fuss-free power source that shrinks electrical equipment down and no messy wires. Then you could have a antique-looking house, lush and comfortable, with the hi-tech toys tucked discreetly away. I'd like a TV that was like a swivelling door panel, for example. Computer in my handbag.

All this stuff I expected to be here by now, we were promised it in the 60s. Mind you, a lot of it I don't want -- I don't even want a microwave, let alone one of those ghastly Star Trek replicators, burping out Telaxian dainties, and filthy as I am I don't want a robot cleaning my house. I certainly don't want a fridge that orders your food for you. Some of it I thought I didn't want but now I do -- a watchphone, yes please.

Went to the movies last night, saw Together, which I highly recommend. It's set in a hippie commune in the 70s, and is excruciatingly accurate -- I was amazed to see how like 70s NZ hippie communes the Swedish one was! Some of it was funny, sad and painful all at once. One of the things I liked about it was that it showed most children as being naturally "straight" -- they hate being embarrassed by "wacky" adults; they like routine and to fit in with their school friends. The communards seemed much more immature by contrast, sleeping around and bickering pointlessly.

A sample scene: the new boy in the commune has a box of Lego. Tet (named after the Tet Offensive) sees him playing with it. "Is that real Lego?" "Yes." "My father was going to carve me a Lego set, but he only made two blocks."

We also had a slap-up meal at Black Bo's, a wonderful vegetarian restaurant. Everything was delicious. I've never had a duff meal there, it's always superb, and last night was no exception. Yum.

The weather seems to be clearing up a bit ... there was quite a bit of blue sky this afternoon and it wasn't raining too hard this morning. I really need to get out into the garden this week so I hope I get some fine mornings.

Busy busy busy. The weather is so crap that even I'm bugged by it. I honestly don't mind the Scottish climate at all, I prefer a summer that's not too hot. But this morning as I was walking the dog, parka fully zipped, hood up, hands in pockets, I thought -- this is not good. This is bad. In May I was enjoying eating breakfast outdoors; now the sandal tan lines on my feet are fading. It's cold. It's wrong.

Bertie loves it though, he likes braking hard from a full sprint on wet grass -- wheeeee!

And the garden of course is doing well with the regular downpours. The alleged blackcurrant bushes have fruited -- and tada! they are raspberries. Big fat ones. I have to race the birds for them. I also found wild strawberries up under the bridge, they are delicious. Tiny, like fairy fruit, and intensely flavoured. My own strawberry plant has flowered, so have the tomatoes. The weeds are growing like weeds, and the lawn's becoming a lush meadow, too wet to mow.

Major, major achievement today: I got stuck in and tidied the study. It was a total mess, cluttered with stuff, a ghastly glory hole where important documents had crawled away into corners to die.

One of the important documents turned out to be my car's current MoT. Yes, current! I'd thought it had expired in August last year, but today I found the one that expires later this month. Phew.

Now the study is lovely and tidy, all the important documents stowed away, the CD-ROMs and floppies sorted and stacked, pictures and posters hung. I even cleaned the windows. Fab.

To celebrate (and also because the sun had finally come out) I drove Bertie to Blackness. It was hotching with people and their pets, all rushing out to soak up the sun after all that haar. Bertie disgraced himself thoroughly, barking wildly at little children, even chasing one poor boy. Luckily the boy wasn't freaked out, even when he fell over and Bertie was barking right in his face. I was mortified, because I couldn't catch him -- he was out of control. Something Must Be Done. If it was my kid and someone else's dog I would have been punching the owner, just as well Bertie only monsters children with laid-back parents.

Back to work tomorrow, for two long hard weeks. My boss is away so I've got a few days coming up working in his stead, the end of next week. The rest of the time he's away will be hard because the sub's away too, his mother's critically ill in the US.

Forgot about last night's drama. I let Bertie into the garden at about midnight -- he was whining at the door -- and he rushed up the back and started barking. Not his usual "monster alert" bark, which is a tenor, but a deeper, more urgent tone. It means "gotcha!" and what he'd got was of course a hedgehog. By the time I got there it was almost all over. He was shaking the poor critter ferociously, snarling and growling, and whining too, because of course shaking a hedgehog to death is a painful business.

I managed to get him back into the house and calmed down from his killing frenzy -- he's quite scary in this state, because he uses all his considerable strength, he's pure power. Afterwards he was trembling and gasping, it took him a while to settle. The contrast between this dog and the one that cringes back from an armchair left out in the street is staggering. Real Jeckyll and Hyde stuff.

Big adventure for Bertie today (oh, yesterday ... it's late at night). We walked across the road bridge and up around the top of North Queensferry, and caught the train back.

The fog is still around, getting a bit tiresome now. My tan is fading!

Website update: Bertie has his own page now, lots of pictures and his pedigree. Check it out!

The garage can take my car on Monday, so I just have to be super-careful over the weekend.

The haar is hanging on ... misty moisty and chilly today. Last night it lifted slightly, so that you could see the bottoms of the bridges but not the tops. Very, very strange effect. The road bridge pylons have red flashing lights on top, but you couldn't see them at all or the suspension cables, just the curve of the roadway. Floodlighting combined with the fog make the rail bridge look totally weird, a truncated red basketwork, reflected in the water. The visual effects were enhanced because otherwise it seemed a normal cloudy night -- you couldn't tell there was fog until you looked at the bridges.

As the weather's so dismal I'm going to work on my website today.

Yipes. I finally dredged my car's MoT (roadworthiness) certificate out of my "filing system" and found to my horror that it's 11 months out of date. In other words, if I'd had an accident -- or if I have one before I can get it renewed -- I'm not insured. Faaaaaaark. I'm almost too frightened to drive the car to the garage. I'll have to get on to them tomorrow. The car needs a new exhaust, lubrication, and I still think there's something wrong with the clutch. But apart from that it's ok. I think.

Nothing much to report. Work does take a big chunk out of the day, doesn't it? Bertie was a Bad Dog: dashed at two little girls, barking his head off. The worst part was that he was off the lead and I couldn't catch him -- he danced round in a big circle, yelling like a mad thing. Once I'd pounced on him I called the girls over and showed them that he was actually frightened of them (he cringed convincingly) and assured them he wasn't dangerous. But still. I'm going to try a water pistol, see if that helps. But if he's scared, maybe that would make him more scared ... I don't know.

Maybe I'll try food treats for not barking. He'll be huge but quiet.

Going home now. Housework on the agenda for tomorrow. My house is feeeeelthy.

Hurrah! I had a brainwave while in Callander and it's proved fruitful. I thought of seeing whether any of the great B&Bs I've stayed in before take dogs. And I've just checked on one I remembered the name of - the Blue Lobster at Glen Eynort on the Isle of Skye - and it does, "by arrangement". It's not a flash place but it's nice and relaxed.

Work has been ok tonight, though it's not wonderful to be back, I have to say.

I've decided to knuckle down and learn about CSS and XHTML. Rather than fiddle about on the computer -- which hasn't proved very productive so far; it's too easy to get distracted -- I've been sitting down with a stack of books and a notebook, just like school. And it's working! I'm getting a clearer idea of what I can achieve with style sheets and how to go about it. Another couple of sessions and I'll be ready to try it on the computer. One of the books has some CSS2 in it but I think a couple of the others might be a little out of date. I've also got a lot of scanning to do. Stand by for changes -- but don't hold your breath!

I'm back!

The weather was quite bad -- heavy rain, thunder etc -- and the B&B wasn't wonderful, but the sun shone enough in the right places to make it all enjoyable.

Bertie was baffled by all the new concepts. First of all the whole idea of going on holiday. Like, here we were sharing a tiny kennel -- tiny!! -- when we already have a huge many-roomed kennel. He seemed a little worried that this might be a permanent arrangement. There was barely room to swing a hedgehog, let along a large greyhound. At one point he'd finished eating at his bowls under the handbasin and found he couldn't turn round because I was standing next to the bed. So with a heavy sigh he hauled himself up on to the bed and took a shortcut.

Other problems with the B&B: it was cold and damp, the front door opened directly on to a busy main road, the room wasn't en suite. Moan, grizzle. I'm spoilt by having stayed in such top-notch B&Bs previously -- after you've been plied with tea and scones in front of a peat fire, nothing less will do.

Other concepts new to Bertie:

Cattle grids. The first one lulled him (and me) because it was covered by a disinfectant mat (for foot and mouth). The second one he found before I did, and ended up sprawled on the ground with badly bruised knuckles. Poor boy! He also had a scrape on one thigh and a cut, but it didn't faze him for long. And at the third cattle grid he waited for me to open the gate.

Steamboats: We took a cruise on the Sir Walter Scott, a little pleasure steamer on Loch Katrine. The sun shone, the hills were glorious. The boat was packed with sugared-up children who all fell in love with Bertie. He was trapped, so had to get over his fear of little people. As an experience it very nearly blew all his fuses, I think, and he nearly pulled me over getting down the gangplank when it was all over.


The Sir Walter Scott on Loch Katrine

Bats: What is that? A mouse? A bird? Just too weird.


More detail later. Right now I'm heading for a deep hot bath. Hard to believe it's July tomorrow...

Yesterday Anthea and I went to the Gullane Bents -- not a great walk for Bertie due to the extreme heat but nice for the rest of us. On the way home the brakes started playing up, making horrible graunching noises and not feeling entirely trustworthy, so this morning I phoned the garage and I'm taking the car in tomorrow for new pads. Again.

That meant I was without transport today, sigh, no big expeditions. It was boiling hot this morning, then it rained in the afternoon, which was very pleasant for those of us who were thinking "mmm, better water the garden today" and who could then feel non-guilty about lying on the sofa reading. (Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund, highly recommend it.)

After the rain stopped we went for another walk, again chummed round by Sandy & co. The rain had cooled things down & it was very still too. There were a lot of dinghies and yachts out, all gliding very, very slowly up and down the firth, especially those working against the tide.

For dinner I charred a couple of lamb chops on a disposable BBQ -- Bertie crunched up the bones.

It was nice sitting reading with the doors flung open, but unfortunately it upset Bertie. Every little noise from the neighbours (also enjoying the evening cool) had him springing up, barking and whining. I tried shutting him out of the living room, but of course that didn't work. In the end I had to shut the doors to calm him down. Grrr.

I phoned the B&B in Callender and they're getting back to me tomorrow. Wednesday and Thursday I thought. Maybe.

Another blissed-out day of holiday. Um, I mowed the lawns, front and back, after having breakfast outside (pretending it was sunny), which was after walking the dog. On the walk we met Sandy with his dogs Amber and Cassie, and the Italian Spinoza or whatever it is was also there. Shadow the other greyhound appeared but quickly disappeared when she saw the big gang of dogs -- she's shy in company. Sandy & co chummed us round the marina as well as round the field.

The rabbit was still there and still dead. Apparently.

After mowing the lawn I bundled the boy into the car and we went to Blackness via the garden centre. At Blackness we had a long long walk, along the coast path. Bertie sprained a leg doing a fancy turn at speed but it seemed to come right almost immediately despite a lot of screeching and limping initially.

Amusing conversation with elderly gent on bench at Blackness:

EG (pointing at Bertie): Defenestration?
Me: Pardon?
EG: Defenestration?
Me: I'm sorry?
EG (as if to a foreign slow learner): Is. He. Finished. Racing?

It was surreal -- for a minute I honestly thought he was asking if Bertie had been thrown out a window.

So then we came back and I cooked dinner and watered the container plants and potted up a little alpine thingummie with orange flowers and watched some TV and did some ironing.

I feel mildly embarrassed that I enjoyed today so much but I did, so there.

WARNING
This entry contains violence and animal cruelty issues. If you're a sensitive, animal lib vegetarian type person, look away now.

Bertie finally caught a rabbit.

He seemed surprised, after the initial excitement (growling, squealing, thrashing around, dying etc). He seemed particularly surprised that after the rabbit was dead, it kind of stayed dead. He poked it with his nose a few times and stood back all eager, as if waiting for it to start the game again. I waited for him to bring his prey to my feet in tribute, but he didn't. He got bored with it in about two minutes and that was that. I hope some lucky fox is feasting on it right now.

OK the veges can look back again.

I went sailing this afternoon, since it was sunny and there was a nice breeze. Oh, and it's the first day of summer. On the morning walk Bertie and I took a stroll along the marina pier and watched Ian, one of the instructors, teaching a kayak class. "Going for a sail?" he said, "Great day for it." So I did. I went home and got my wetsuit and dinghy boots and cagoule and gloves and went for a sail.

I made a mess of launching -- the wind was quite strong, an easterly, and before I could get the rudder down, I was blown on to the pier. It's a bugger getting out of this -- the sail is trapped flat against the jetty. One way is to raise the centreboard and capsize, then walk the boat out (thigh deep in sticky black mud) before relaunching. But happily the sea scouts were out and about, and their support boat towed me out of trouble.

The sail itself was fab, nice and bouncy and exciting. I just cruised up and down the river, getting very wet. Sailing in a wetsuit really makes a difference on the Forth, it's cold even now, and even on a sunny day like today. I "parked" without too much palaver -- it can be tricky coming in with a strong wind, you have to let the sails out enough so you don't come in too fast and crash onto the slipway, but not so much that you end up drifting into the pier. I managed not to do either. After I'd put the boat away, I went off to find someone to confess to -- I'd noticed that the sail was torn, where I'd hit the pier and the mast had dragged across it.

They were very nice about it, just said these things happen, we'll just get it mended.

What else? Not a lot. I've scanned a lot of photos, done the garden (but not the lawn), cleaned the house, been for a few more expeditions. I love being on holiday. I'm sooooooo relaxed. I might go away for a few days next week, if I can be bothered that is. I'm thinking of going to Callander, it's not far away and there are lots of forest walks etc for Bertie.

OK it's safe -- I'm in a better mood. Not quite refreshed and revitalised, but well on the way. I've been for healthful walks, done some gardening (read: weeding), found a fantastic garden centre (bought one micanopsis, himalayan poppy, blue) and bought some other plants at the Ingliston Market (nemesia, cornflowers and one sad little strawberry).

Here's some news: I'd sent off a cheque to a greyhound rescue organisation that offers to trace your dog's pedigree, and got a spiffy printout in return. Bertie's maternal grandfather, Polnoon Chief, came second in the Scottish Derby in 1991! Then he retired to stud and had over 480 kids, so Bertie's actually nothing special, if you do the arithmetic ...

If you're interested, you can see the pedigree here. It's quite a big scan, so only if you're really, really interested.

Slightly unnerving thing: I found a greyhound database site today where you could search on a dog's name. So I put in Hardtobehumble (aka Bertie) and there was a reference with a note: "Rescued greyhund now owned by Mrs Barbara Agnew of South Queensferry". So the rescue organisation had added Bertie to the database already ... fair enough, I guess. But still ...

No blog today, I'm in a very bad mood.

Tune in again when I'm on holiday.

Yet more sightseeing: this time we "did" part of the Old Town, including the High Kirk of St Giles, George IV Bridge and Greyfriars Kirkyard. When I peeled off, Faye was heading for the museum. Tomorrow she may go to the zoo -- I have stuff to do at home.


St Giles

Bertie is going to be devastated when Faye leaves, he is completely under her spell.

I forgot to tell about our adventures on Saturday, a day of heavy rain. I had a lunch date (a former workmate back in town briefly), so Faye went round Edinburgh Castle while I sipped Pims, ate a delicious lunch and chatted. Afterwards I picked her up -- she didn't get too drenched -- and we headed off to Dunfermline to track down an ancestral home, stopping off to dress more sensibly and collect Bertie.

For the record: It is called Bamboo Cottage -- there's now a plaque saying so. (Faye took pictures, but they may be a little blurred on account of the heavy rain. I stayed in the car.) It isn't where Grandad Dick was married; according to the certificate, that was in Coatbridge.

After that soggy experience we forayed further into Fife, north to Dollar. We had a pleasant if damp walk up Dollar Glen, a picturesque spot.


On the way back to the car, Bertie defied my call to stop and jumped through the fence to the carpark and the road. Bad Dog! I yelled and bellowed for him to come, and he did -- at top speed. He raced right past me and screeched to a halt next to Faye. Who wasn't yelling and bellowing. OK, I get the message.

Sorry about the glitch down there ... I don't know how to get rid of it.

More sightseeing today: a walk on Holyrood Park

We walked back along the Radical Road, where the slope meets the cliffs. The sight of Bertie tripping happily along the very edge of the precipice gave Faye vertigo. It looks much steeper from up there.

The weather was better today, hot and sunny, but we seemed to spend most of it stuck in traffic. We also popped in to see Anthea. She put her cat, Jessie, outside so Bertie could roam around. When it came time to leave we found him in the bedroom, having an intense staring contest with Jessie through the window. Both were stock still, Jessie with her fur fluffed to absolute maximum.

Needless to say, Bertie lost. Cats can stare anyone out.

For anyone trying to give up smoking:

I think my bad streak may be over. I took the car in to the garage today and the chap there fixed a few little things -- the squeaks, the sticky gear shift, the choked water filter -- and charged me £15. He sent me round to a place round the corner to have them look at the exhaust, they phoned him with their price and I went back to get his price -- £50. The blokes around the corner said my brake discs were nearly shot, but my garage bloke said, nah, they'll be all right. So when I go back next month for the MOT (annual warrant of fitness), he'll get the exhaust done.

While he was tinkering with the car, Faye and I went to the Botanical Gardens for a walk. Very lovely in there, as usual. The rhododendrons are out and the azealeas, but the borders haven't really got under way yet. Then we whizzed back home in my newly smoove car, stopping off for lunch in a cafe overlooking the firth. We squeezed in a Bertie walk before I had to fly off to work. Faye is crashing out tonight, she's still pretty exhausted after her traumatic journey north. She's going to offload some luggage at my place (the joys of vast storage space!) so the trip back to England shouldn't be so bad.

Election night went reasonably smoothly at work. The foreign pages were a little bit more work than expected because there were late-breaking developments on a couple of stories, but nothing too challenging. I stayed until about 2:15am, by when the election outcome was pretty clear. I would have stayed longer but I knew I had to get up early this morning.

New computer, new computer, new computer!

Of course it didn't go that smoothly, installing a new computer never does. But just minor ruffles -- the new box doesn't power the monitor and I discovered my monitor's power cord had an American plug on it; and my printer didn't come with a USB cord. I whizzed in to the shop and got a USB hub while I was at it, and some CD-ROM disks. Finally got it all humming and celebrated by taking Bertie to Blackness for a run.

Blackness Castle

USB totally rules! How wonderful to plug in a printer and have a message pop up saying, hmm, I see you have an HP DeskJet, let me see what I can do...

The scanner arrived today and it's fab too, so tiny and thin and delicate. Again, installing with USB was a breeze.

Updates on the website will be a while yet though, because I'm too busy for that. Today was a bit mental -- I started out having no spare time at all and ended up with heaps. It started last night when sister Faye phoned to say she'd be arriving today. Yikes! So this morning I phoned the garage and said I'd bring the car in tomorrow instead of this morning. Then Faye phoned to say she'd missed her train due to nightmare delays on the Tube. Phoned the garage to change my mind again, but it was too late -- they'd already taken on another job. Then my boss phoned to say I didn't need to come in early after all!

So I had plenty of time to clean the clarty house fairly thoroughly, walk the dog, go to the supermarket, walk the dog and vote. And clean the house again, because it rained during our second walk and Bertie spackled the floor with muddy pawprints.

I went to the new Tesco that opened this week. I felt guilty about taking the car -- it's only a longish walk away -- but I had to get in supplies so Faye will have something to eat while I'm at work. Anyway it was all shiny and new -- but otherwise almost exactly the same as the 24-hr Tesco in town. And horribly crowded, full of people dithering around blocking the aisles with their trollies.

I've been told about a wonderful event that might change my shopping habits: a farmers' market on the first and third Saturday of the month, in the middle of Edinburgh. Martin and Heather who invited me to dinner last week had just been there and come back with some fantastic veg, cheese and other produce. I'm going to check it out next week.

I'm off to join the throng at the office TV watching the election results.

New computer, new computer, new computer! It's in the boot of my car at the moment. The scanner is due to arrive on or around Friday. This morning I hurriedly backed up what few new files there are on my clapped-out old pile of junk, and it ceremoniously crashed as I was shutting it down. See if I care.

I'm not going to sit up all night playing with the new stuff. I'm going to walk the dog when I get home (1.30am) and get a good night's sleep, then spend tomorrow playing with it. I should also clean the house, because it's an even bigger tip than normal. Ah, I love days off.

We had a troubled night last night at Salty Towers. Bertie caught a hedgehog on the front lawn after our late-night walk and gave it a good seeing-to before it managed to escape (it was still on its feet, but there was a chunk of hedgehog skin on the lawn this morning, complete with prickles). It took him a while to settle down, after I'd pulled all the hedgehog prickles out of his face and legs. Then he seemed to be suddenly freaked out by the noise from the bridge roadworks (it's been going on every night for a week or so), kept whining and barking and running round. Finally I moved his bedding into my room. He seemed surprised to find himself in there this morning, and later made a huge fuss when he went upstairs and I hadn't moved it back to its proper place.

Faye is coming! Her job -- she has a choice of three so far -- won't start until next Friday at the earliest, so she's coming up to Scotland for a visit. She's missing her dog Ruby, so she's looking forward to spending quality time with Bertie, who will love her to pieces. I'm looking forward to it too, it'll be fun showing her the sights.

The thing about knowing your karma is septic is that you don't then get all worked up when plans gang agley.

Like today, I just knew my computer wouldn't be ready -- so when I phoned the shop and they said no, I wasn't all bent out of shape. Not even when they told me my modem and scsi card aren't PCI and the new motherboard only has PCI slots. The poor young man who answered the phone was all ready to put in a non-PCI motherboard to accommodate the old cards, but after I yelled at him a bit he went and got someone with better english who agreed that yes, it was probably worth spending a bit more on a new modem & scanner than being stuck with a ye-olde motherboard.

So he's putting in a PCI modem and I'm getting a USB scanner. Ordered it tonight, via the internet. How very modern. It's a Canon CanoScan, a thin little thing that got very good reviews on jungle.com. And my computer will be ready tomorrow. Which is just as well because I hadn't backed up any of my files on the old machine. And now I'll be able to put the scsi card & modem back in it, and maybe one day get it a monitor and keyboard and mouse and network it. Or something.

I've set myself up for some more grief by booking my car in for a service. It squeaks like a cage full of budgies and the gearbox is "sticky". I hope it just needs a grease and some clutch fluid rather than a new clutch plate. I cannily booked it in for Thursday, well after the full moon.

I nearly had two traffic accidents today -- one when another driver ran a red light, another when an elderly ditherer tried to change lanes right into me. Tomorrow being full moon day I'm seriously considering taking the bus. That way even if I do have the accident I'm karmically unable to avoid, my car will be ok.

I got some perfume today with the Boots voucher, Ralph by Ralph Lauren. I was going to give you a link, but it's apparently too new for the internet. It's light, summery, floral. Almost like talc. My last perfume was Mitsouko by Guerlain, but my favourite is Eau Par Kenzo. Boots didn't have either of those. I chose the Mitsouko after a long session of sniffing samples at John Lewis. It's gorgeously rich, heavy but not toooo heavy, very feminine, soft and warm. And then a friend came to stay and was horrified, because it's her scent, her signature scent, she doesn't know anyone else who wears it. I felt quite guilty -- thought I do remember the saleswoman telling me, "No-one else in the room will be wearing this, it's very unusual." So I understood my friend's hurt feelings. I feel a little like that with Eau Par Kenzo, too -- I don't know anyone else who wears it. It's mine.

Apparently this run of abyssmal luck I've been having is the fault of the stars. (Of course it's not my fault, how dare you!) Here's what one astrologer has to say for Sagittarians this week:

Are you sitting comfortably? of course you're not. There is scarcely an archer alive who isn't either battling the boss, collecting their divorce papers or wandering around singing daft love songs -- or all three. Whatever's going on, the emotional temperature this week will rise as the Full Moon arrives in your sign on Tuesday and lines up with volcanic Pluto. Like the election, it's sure to get messy -- just try not to hit any fellow voters, especially ones you love.

I talked to Andrew today, who's also a Sag, and he's had an exciting week on the farm -- he caught someone trying to steal the diesel fuel they keep in a big tank for their tractors, and they've had an infestation of peacocks.

Back in the city -- after Thursday's carry-on, Friday started out relatively calmly. But I had a fraught night at work, and at one point completely lost my rag and threatened to leave. I really am thinking seriously about it, it's starting to look like an attractive option. Then there were a couple of late-breaking major stories -- the Tel Aviv bombing and the Nepali royal family massacre -- that had us working hard through the break and right up to the wire. Exciting, but tiring.

So I got off to a bit of a late start on Saturday, though I managed to get quite a lot done -- including potting up a couple of tomato plants I'm going to try growing on the "patio" -- before heading off to the races. The traffic was terrible, so I ended up missing the first race. Got a bet on for the second though, and met up with my friends (using our mobile phones as locating devices: "I'm by the yellow and black umbrella at the front of the stand.." "Yes, I can see Martin now..")

It rained. Three of my horses came last.

But it was lots of fun, wonderful atmosphere and worth the money I frittered away.

Martin and Heather invited Fiona and I back to their place for dinner -- and very sweetly invited Bertie too. I went back home to walk and water him, and reluctantly decided to leave him home. Perhaps I should have taken him, he was certainly peeved about being left at home again, after spending most of the day alone.

Anyway dinner was lovely. But when I left I discovered I'd left my car lights on and the battery was flat. Martin kindly fetched his car and jumper leads but that didn't work. The starter motor was jammed. So I called my rescue service, and after trying everything else the bloke gave me a bump-start by towing the car.

Bertie was thrilled when I arrived home at 1.30am, but later gave me what I took to be a coded message. He tore a newspaper to pieces in front of me, looking at me intently the whole time. Rip. Rip. Rip. Tiny little shreds.

Today I was looking forward to spending some quality time with him, but alas I had a call from my boss saying he'd hurt his foot badly and would I please come to work early. Siiiiiigh. It wasn't too bad though, only one page.

Tomorrow I collect my new computer but I won't have much time to play with it until my day off on Wednesday. I'm making no other plans for Wednesday. I'll need to recover from Tuesday's full moon, and Thursday is the election, I'll have to be calm for that.

The good news is that I only have this week and part of next week, and I'm off on holiday for two weeks. I had planned to go away for the second week, but staying home is increasingly tempting. Two weeks of lazing around, doing a spot of gardening now and again, going on dog-walking expeditions, maybe taking in some culture -- art exhibitions and such -- mmmm, that could be very good indeed. Maybe I could go away for just a couple of days. Or not.

Here's a little intelligence test for you:

You are meeting a passenger at Edinburgh airport who's arriving on a plane from Duesseldorf, Germany. Where do you wait?

A) Domestic Arrivals
B) International Arrivals

If you answer B, you are a total moron, you idiot. International Arrivals is for planes that come from abroad, ok? Well duh.

I could not believe it. There I was with my little sign, waiting. The arrivals monitor showed the Duesseldorf flight landing slightly early, then said "Waiting for luggage", then "Luggage in hall". People came out and other people holding signs greeted them and led them away. An old lady was brought out in a wheelchair ... but no, she was someone else's old lady.

Finally I approached the information desk.

"Oh the Duesseldorf plane comes in through Domestic Arrivals." Apparently it stops in Birmingham. "So why does it say 'Duesseldorf' on the arrivals monitor?" Shrug.

I hustled down to the other end of the airport to the scrum at Domestic Arrivals, scanned anxiously for a lost-looking old lady. "No, dear, but I am waiting for someone..." said one candidate.

I went back to information and asked them to page my missing Duesseldorfer. No nibbles.

Here there's an interlude of frenzied phoning activity -- I called the train company to see if I could find out if she'd gone to the station under her own steam, they gave me a number that wasn't answered no matter how long I left it. I phoned the family the visitor is staying with to see if she'd phoned them. I had her paged again.

The host suggested she may have got off in Birmingham, so I went to the British Airways desk. While there I suggested that it might be nice to have had some indication that the Duesseldorf plane was a Domestic Arrival. "It's on the board in Domestic Arrivals," she said crossly. Of course, I should have looked there rather than think the monitor at International Arrivals meant anything.

By now I'd had her paged enough times to suspect she'd gone to the railway station but I didn't want to leave until I was sure. So I rang the train company again a few times before finally getting a human being. She took my details and said she'd phone me back. I bought an espresso and tried to chill. She phoned and said yes, the woman I was meeting had got the train I was supposed to be ferrying her to.

Great. I phoned her hosts with the good news, finished my espresso and went to get my car.

I'd parked in the one-hour car park because that's how long I was going to be. I'd been there three hours. It cost me £8. EIGHT POUNDS!!!

I had been thinking I would return the hosts' gift voucher, seeing as how I didn't complete their task. But jeez, Louise ... I think with all the phone calls and sweating and scurrying and then the huge parking fee, I deserve a little treat.

I'm quite pleased the mystery visitor made it to the train station under her own steam, without fuss (I hope). Always nice to see someone exceeding expectations. And I was also pleased that I didn't lose my temper once, not even with the British Airways airheads.

After the airport fiasco I had to go into town anyway to take bits of my old computer to the computer shop to be inserted in my new computer(!!!!!), traffic horrendous, and back out to walk Bertie.

I'm now in an advanced state of exhaustion, soggy with lack of sleep and running around.

I finally went shopping for a new computer, or rather for a new base unit. It was great to order up just what I want, and get a brilliant setup (I hope) for less than I would have paid for a whole new system. Plus the firm I'm buying it for will install the internal bits I'm keeping -- modem and scsi card -- for free. I have to take them in tomorrow ... which means I kind of have to take them out tonight, ahem. Then I have the weekend to quickly back up the last few bits and pieces ... just email and photos and stuff ... before the new unit arrives. A 40Gb hard drive! I remember when 40Mb seemed amazing. Now you'd only think that was whizzy if it was in an MP3 player or something. I'll have 256Mb of memory and a 1Gb chip, so I'll be cooking with gas!!

It's a drastic solution to a crashing computer, but what the hell. I'll be able to update the website without rebooting three times.

I had a great couple of days off, lots of walking and eating. I did another BBQ while Andrew was here -- chicken marinated in soya sauce, olive oil and garlic. It is soooooo delicious and dead easy. And of course it smells fantastic while it's cooking.

On Monday we went for a walk around the loch at Linlithgow -- it's only little so it's not a major trek -- and on our way round met a man who used to race greyhounds at "flapping tracks" -- unofficial dog racing. We had a long and fascinating conversation. He was full of praise for Bertie, said he's the right weight, "fighting weight, like a boxer", has lovely feet, nice legs, a good head and a "long cast" -- his back. Best of all, he said, he looks happy and fit.

He said he kept all his dogs after they finished racing but didn't have any now -- he has a terrier. He said there's a bit of bad practice on the tracks, doping and that.

"I didn't do that ... well, I did experiment with it once..."
"Oh, it's all coming out now, Tam," his wife murmured.
"But that dog never ran again."
"What a shame," I said.
"Shame on me, for doing that. I learned a lesson, but it was the dog paid the price."

He gave dietary advice, which I'm pretty much ignoring. No way am I going to "bile up a pot o cabbage" for Bertie. He also recommended a breakfast of Weetabix and milk, with a raw egg broken into it. Hmm, maybe. I'm wary of upsetting Bertie's digestion, though -- using the poop scoop is bad enough on a good day.

I just had to go and fiddle about with the settings -- it seems blogger.com's Blogspot server had a problem. All better now, but I think this blogspot had been down for a while.

Anyway yes, Bertie was rummaging under his favourite bush looking for rabbits this afternoon when a deer burst out of the undergrowth and rushed past us. I thought Bertie might chase it, but he just stared at it and went back to the rabbit hunt. Roe deer aren't very big, but this one was still a lot bigger than him and it had antlers. My next-door neighbour said she saw a deer in her back garden a few years ago, so they do get around. But it would have to cross roads (or jump 15ft fences) to get into the field from open land.

On this morning's walk, Bertie nearly pulled me off my feet chasing after ... a rock. But it could have been a hedgehog, it was the same shape, size and colour.


Rock


Hedgehog

See? It's a mistake anyone could make.

I had a barbecue last night, and it was great. I got three disposable BBQs -- tinfoil dishes filled with charcoal and fitted with a grille -- and fired one up, cooked myself a salmon fillet. Yum! I'm going to make a habit of it, maybe do some vege kebabs as well next time.

Bertie became hysterical when I lit the barbie -- the flames take about 20 minutes to die down. He must just despair of me sometimes. Here I was completely ignoring the fact that the garden was ON FIRE, even though he was barking his head off right next to the blaze.

Guess what we saw in the field at the back of my place today?


A roe deer.

Bertie has a sore foot. I've inspected it but can't see anything wrong, so it may be muscular, maybe a strain. It seems to get better after he's warmed up, it's worst when he's just woken. I'll just take him on short walks for a bit, maybe try icing it, and take him back to the vet next week if it doesn't improve over the weekend.

I'm tiiiiiired, haven't had enough sleep for a few days now.

Er ... that's it. Andrew mowed the lawns, bless him, they look great.

Andrew arrived today weary and blistered after walking from South Gyle, where he'd been ferried by the friend he was staying with. The friend thought it was maybe three miles' walk .... so Andrew walked a few miles, then saw a sign that said "Forth Road Bridge 9 miles".


Andrew at Tarbert on Harris.

Luckily I'd already taken Bertie for his walk before Andrew arrived, so he was able to collapse. Later he treated me to lunch, at a Italian/Spanish place. It's great to see him again. Bertie thinks he's wonderful too, which is good because they're sharing the kennel tonight.

In case anyone was wondering, the tile guy still hasn't turned up. It's been over a month now since I chose the tiles. White, Spanish. I keep phoning and the other bloke, the one in the shop, says things like, "Oh, hasn't he been yet, dear? I thought he'd done that job. The tiles are here..."

I'll have to get someone else in. If I can be bothered.

I read something today about emigration, about the queues outside Australia House in London. One bloke was quoted as saying he wanted to leave Britain because he was sick of the negative, no-can-do attitude. And I thought, there goes another Whingeing Pom! He'll be in Sydney in a few months, sitting there grizzling away about how it's too hot and the beer's too cold and there are too many Koreans.

I picked a few branches of hawthorn blossom today, I love the acrid, almost-offensive smell and the white and green.

Today a friend said: "I've been keeping track of you on your website, reading all these things you haven't told me."

But I have told you! That's what this is for!

Tsk.

Anyhoo, the friend in question was Annmaree, over from Australia on a honeymoon-type visit. She and Andrew came for lunch and it was a gorgeous day, hot and sunny.

Tomorrow's shake-down sail in Eraser has been cancelled, which gives me a window of opportunity for some truly creative sloth. Oh, and a chance to mow the lawn, which is growing at an astonishing rate.

I'm beginning to regret, ever so slightly, having had the garden tap disconnected. At the time I thought it was useless because it was at the front; but I could have run a hose through the house to the back garden. Now I'm reduced to filling a watering can at the kitchen sink ... I don't think the tap takes a hose fitting ... and pondering the cost of having the tap reconnected. Mind you, it raises the spectre of another winter flood disaster, so maybe not.

Whew, what a weekend. Lots of activity, lots of rest.

The yacht launch was hilarious, great fun. Not for Colin though -- he described himself as "sick with fear". His brother and father were also there. In the end Colin came and collected me and took me across to the sailing club, because they needed extra hands to help raise the mast. Then the boat was backed into the water using the club's tractor. Slight panic when it appeared the outboard wouldn't be strong enough to reverse the boat away from the shore, and we drifted scarily close to beaching. Then more panic as Nichol grappled with attaching the rudder and I fended us off the raft.

We got clear though, and the rest of the trip was relatively drama-free -- apart from Colin & Nick arguing over every single thing.

Their dad met us at the other side, and so did Anthea. She and I headed back to my place for lunch, then off to Elie despite the rain. Bertie was thrilled to be at Elie again. More than thrilled, ecstatic. So ecstatic he jumped over a barbed wire fence into a field.

Anthea thought it was hilarious; I wasn't so amused. I couldn't see whether he'd cut his feet jumping the fence (he sprang on to the top wire, which was the barbed bit), and I didn't know whether there was a gate in the field open to the road beyond. I couldn't see a gate on our side, which presented another problem -- how to get him out. Meanwhile he was bounding around the paddock like a springbok, purely happy.

I climbed over the fence and once he'd run out of steam a bit managed to get him to come. Clipped on the lead and began the long walk to find a way out. Finally we found a bit where the ground dipped under the fence, leaving a gap -- but was it big enough for 32kg of unco-operative greyhound? I bent his front legs and pushed them through; Anthea grabbed them and pulled while I pushed his skinny bum. Bingo!

He was on the lead the rest of the walk, but he didn't care because he was bushed anyway. The rain held off but it was good we left when we did -- on the drive back the rain was torrential, it was nerve-wracking because even with the wipers at full speed I couldn't see very well. Most people drove as fast as they would have if it had been dry. Terrifying.

Friday I got my wetsuit, did my recycling and washed the car. Saturday I went for a sail -- serious wind, a wild and bouncy couple of hours. I didn't capsize until the very last minute, when I was "parking", very embarrassing. Happily I had one foot on the slipway, so I didn't end up in the mud, and the boat flipped right way up easily. The wetsuit was a great buy, it really made a difference.

I was meant to go out on Saturday night, but was so whacked out by all the activity I flagged that away. When I took Bertie for a walk in the field up the back at about 8pm all his best pals were up there with their people, and we all walked round together. These days that's my kind of social event!

Sunday I worked in the front garden, it was starting to get choked with weeds.

So, all in all a very pleasant few days off, restorative. This week is busy with visitors: Annmaree and her husband are coming for lunch tomorrow and Andrew is arriving on Thursday for an overnight stay, coming back on Sunday I think (he's going to a wedding down south). Wednesday a shake-down sail in Eraser is pencilled in (pencilled in, geddit? Ha!). Saturday is the grand opening of the Forth & Clyde Canal, a big flotilla of all kinds of boats is sailing from Grangemouth led by "a beautiful 35ft fish that will transform into a spectacular fountain" according to the publicity.

Colin's boat passed its insurance survey, so it may be back on the water tomorrow. He's planning to motor it across from the yacht club to the marina at high tide, which is about lunchtime. Anthea is coming out on the bus, we're planning to walk from Elie to St Monans and back. However, if it's raining again we may have to revise that.

Friday I'm going to get a wetsuit. For years I've been sailing in track pants and a fleece, with thermals underneath if it's cold. On my feet I had canvas plimsolls. A few years ago I got a pair of dinghy boots, tight-fitting neoprene boots with zips. Instant comfort! It was so much more pleasant sailing with warm feet. Then a couple of weeks ago I was on a weekend improvers course and for the first time sailed in a wetsuit. Bliss. Not only was I much more comfortable -- warmth without bulk! -- but I didn't come away covered in bruises.

It will also be good not to come home with a bag full of wet clothes. Just the wetsuit, cagoule, boots and gloves to hose down. I might go sailing on Saturday afternoon.

Colin asked if Bertie might like to go sailing in his yacht. I had to say no -- his centre of gravity is just too high. He can't sit, he either stands or lies down. There wouldn't be room for him to lie down on deck, and he'd just fall over standing up. Plus he'd be terrified. On the whole I think he'd rather be home with a good biscuit.

A productive day -- cleaned the house, went to the doctor, walked the dog. Before all that, I printed off some information from the internet on the latest treatment for fibroids, to show the doctor. Bertie was making an odd noise, so I went to investigate. He was busy tearing chunks out of the sheepskin rug in the spare bedroom, where he sleeps. BAD dog! I remember reading somewhere that behaviour problems often don't emerge until the dog's been in your house for a month. It's been nearly two months -- I hope there are no more surprises...

He enjoyed his afternoon walk enormously. It's raining, which the rabbits seem to enjoy, and Bertie certainly prefers cool and wet weather to hot and dry. So anyway he was racing around in a hunting frenzy, finding lots of bunnies. He had a really good shot at one, and was just inches from its tail, running at full stretch, when he fell over. He was going so fast he rolled a few times. Rolled in something ghastly. I gave him a good rub-down when we got in, but I fear my newly cleaned house is right now getting grubby again. And possibly covered in bits of chewed-up sheepskin.

The visit to the doctor was good -- nice woman. She examined me, took notes from my printout and agreed to refer me to the gynaecologist once she's got the notes from my last doctor.

How annoying is this? I made an appointment with the doctor last week (women's problems, nothing serious) for this morning and was asked to take along a urine sample as I'm a new patient. So I was there for ages with a nurse, being weighed (84kg) and measured (1.something metres), having my blood pressure taken etc, and also quizzed on my medical history. (I was also interrogated about my neighbours and what happened to the lady I bought the house off -- I really am in a small town!) Finally the nurse said, "Right! So now you can go ahead and make an appointment with the doctor if you need to."

I thought I had made an appointment with the doctor.

Noooo .... I'd made an appointment to be weighed, measured, tested and interrogated.

So now I'm going to a "Well Woman Clinic" tomorrow. The thing is I don't even want to see a doctor, I just have to to get a referral to a gynaecologist at the Royal Infirmary, to ask about a new treatment I heard about on the radio. I tried to make an appointment direct, but I have to go via the GP, even though I've been before. It seems like a waste of resources to me -- certainly a waste of the doctor's time.

Forgot to mention that the weather has turned grotty, cold and dampish.

After a very very early start -- Bertie barked in my ear at 7am -- I passed an entertaining couple of hours this morning helping Colin scrub out the cockpit of his boat Eraser.


Colin and Eraser in happier times

Eraser's been off the water quite a while now, after a series of mishaps, so it was pretty grimy. But with elbow grease and some special hull-cleaning gunk we got it looking reasonable. It's having an insurance survey on Wednesday I think, and Colin's shifting it from the yacht club to the marina down the road from me on Thursday morning. He's talking about a "shake-down" sail next week -- that's where you gingerly take the boat out and see if anything falls off.

Bertie came along for the ride and was very well behaved. He amused himself for a while but quickly got bored -- he wouldn't go off on his own, which was good, but he couldn't climb up into the boat so once he'd had a look round the area he just hung around whining. I put him in the car with a biscuit and he was happy.

After that I went home to meet the man from the double-glazing firm who came to fix the seal on the door that keeps falling out. He just poked it back in -- which I've already done twice. Hmm.

I did some gardening as well, and took Bertie for another walk. He nearly caught a rabbit again. Poor thing. And nearly ran under a car on the way home, fighting to get into the road to grab what he thought was a hedgehog but was actually an old sponge.

Gullane Bents

Yesterday was sunny and windless, so Bertie and I headed for the beach. I had to go via the city anyway so kept on going and went to the Gullane Bents, which had been recommended as good for dogs. And so it was. Bertie doesn't like beaches that much -- it's too exposed, there are no rabbits, and he makes himself sick drinking seawater.

So after playing chase with some other dogs, barking at a few children and getting extremely hot, he was thrilled to get away into the dunes beyond the strand. It was wonderful, a brilliant place to walk. I take a dish and a litre of water with me on these expeditions, and he drank the lot.

We got home in the evening and I went out to get videos -- he wanted to come too. So we went for the third walk of the day, making a total of nearly four hours, including the late-night walk.

Today I'm working, bah -- it's perfect weather for sailing, too: nice breeze, hot sunshine. Heigh ho.

Tomorrow I'm helping Colin with his yacht for a couple of hours, then the double-glazing fellows are coming to fix the seal on the french doors, then I'm off to work.

Um, ok ... it seems to be working now. The other post seems to have reappeared as well.

More moaning -- yesterday, my day off, was cloudy, windy and cold. I'd booked a dinghy hire but cancelled it -- too cold, too windy. Today dawned nice and hot and sunny again, though even windier. But this afternoon a haar descended. A haar is a thick sea mist, a pale, moist blanket that envelops Edinburgh after a few days of sun. It can last several days -- a taxi driver told me he remembered one in the Sixties that stayed for six weeks. But usually it's just a day or so.

Perversely, I quite like the haar. I like the way it renders everything mysterious. It's especially effective in the Old Town, it puts a gleam on the cobbles and makes the dank closes look romantic.

I mowed the lawns today, front and back. The front can hardly be called a lawn -- it's more dandelion and daisy than grass.

I picked up my reading glasses today. I should have gone with the bifocals. The reading glasses are (surprise) brilliant for reading, but to cross the room I really have to put my distance glasses back on. I'll need a bigger handbag now.

Bertie's nature notes: Rabbits can climb trees!!! No, really, they do, Bertie's seen it with his own eyes. Also: Cats are scary. There were several in the vet's waiting room and they spat and swore when Bertie had a sniff. He retreated to the far corner on his belly.

Huh, Blogger isn't working. I'll wait until later to risk a proper entry.

This is weird ... my last post doesn't appear on the website. And it's a post about how the previous post vanished without trace .... but I know it was there at one point, because I talked to Liz and she mentioned it ....

Wow, that was spooky -- I wrote an entry moaning about work, and it's disappeared without trace ....

With the weather being so nice and it being a bank holiday weekend and cross-country footpaths being out of bounds, there are cyclists all over the roads. Great mobs of them, all garish lycra and pointy helmets, pedalling grimly along.

Driving to work today I came across one sprawled on the road next to his bike. I stopped.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

He moaned and rolled up on to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

Yes, that really does look like fun.

I'm wearing sandals! It's been hot three days in a row!!

Bertie isn't enjoying it much -- everywhere we go is infested with children. As for home ... it's dreadful. From what I deduce, it seems that from his point of view I've gone completely mad. I sit out in the boiling sun with the french doors wide open, completely ignoring the fact that the neighbours are making threatening noises from all sides. When he tries to deal with the situation by barking, I tell him off. Is that fair? NO. Much huffing, whining and pacing goes on while I'm reading the paper.

So we are getting into a slightly different routine. In the morning the field up the back is OK -- usually his pals Amber and Cassie are there, or sometimes Chloe. He has a great belt round after the rabbits and generally enjoys himself. In the afternoon, there are usually kids up there. Today by the time I caught up with Bertie he was barking his head off and the kids were sitting in a tree screeching.

"Is he a good dog?" one of them quavered. Oh yes, I told them, restraining a slavering Bertie. He's a very good dog.

While this was going on some more kids arrived, plus a very friendly woman who unfortunately had a large and terrifying plastic carrier bag in her hand. So we went down to the marina instead and looked at boats.

I have to do some work now.

Today's Cute Dog Story isn't all that cute, it was nearly a tragedy.

In all the greyhound literature one thing is stressed: Never, ever, ever, let your dog off its leash on the road. Never.

So what did I do? Hmmm.

My excuse is that it was 2am, it was a dead end (down by the gate to the marina, which is locked at night), there was no traffic. So I let Bertie off for a little ramble. Just for a couple of minutes. Then I called him back. He looked at me, then started running down the road. Along which came a van.

I ran after him (stop laughing at the back), yelling "STOP!" Luckily he remembered what that means, and stopped dead in his tracks, in the middle of the road. The van driver stopped too, and turned off his headlights, bless him, while I grabbed Bertie, who thought this was a GREAT game. The driver and I had a great chat -- he was checking the bridge.

The reallly stupid part of this story (ok the stupid part was letting him off the lead, this is the other stupid part) is that at the beginning of the walk, Bertie had added yet another item to the growing list of Terrifying Things -- "unexpected furniture". There were three armchairs discarded outside the sheltered housing flats, and he was beside himself with fear when he saw them. Aieee! Look out! They might bite!

If only "oncoming traffic" was on the list.

This morning there was more excitement -- he expected the furniture this time, so it wasn't terrifying. What freaked him out was that when we came back from our walk, there were people sitting on the chairs!! Two special needs teenagers and their carer. Oh, and the carer was wearing sunglasses, also on the terror list. Matters were even more complicated because one of the boys got a bigger fright than Bertie and started to his feet with a yell. Terror all round, lots of soothing words.

I wonder if Bertie has high blood pressure?

PS: The weather was pretty good again today. In fact the weather's been so good the trains can't cope. An informant sent me this:

"Thousands of Scots had journeys delayed or cancelled on Wednesday after Railtrack imposed emergency speed restrictions on rail routes between South Gyle and Dalmeny, near Edinburgh.
Railtrack claimed the speed limits were vital because the early summer sunshine had caused the steel rails to warp – making it dangerous for trains to run at normal speed.
The average temperature in the area at the time when Railtrack imposed speed restrictions was just 12C with a high of 17C, and last night experts said they were amazed that such mild weather could have such devastating effects.
The restrictions led to delays on 72 train services operated by Scotrail as they were forced to trundle along the ‘overheated’ tracks at speeds of just 20mph.
Some trains took as long as 50 minutes for a journey along just three miles of track that normally takes only a few minutes.
Railtrack however refused to apologise for the delays and insisted the unseasonal sunshine was to blame.
Spokesman Simon McMillan said: ‘It is a common problem that arrives with the spring sunshine as the metal can warp when the weather heats up then cools down.
‘The speed restrictions were imposed as a precautionary measure for safety reasons and we then took action to alter the rails to stop any more problems.
‘Track metal expands in the heat, especially when sunlight falls directly on the track. The lack of wind was a problem on Wednesday, which means the track didn’t get cooled down.
He explained that rails are normally adjusted with the changing seasons to ensure that the track stays true whatever the weather, but that the unseasonal sunshine had caught them unawares."

Makes you wonder how they get on in India.

I got a tripod today for my camera, because I want to try taking some night-time shots of the bridges and the river. I love these late-night walks, it's so quiet and the river has all manner of moods.

The other night I walked under the road bridge and really wanted to take a picture from the other side. It was still and clear, but the bridge is always humming with traffic. At night the pylons fade away and it's just a beautiful curve of lights, with a delicate under-hatching of ironwork. It leaps across the river and away, a space-age promise, as if it's not just taking you to Fife but to the rocket base where you'll board a shuttle flight to Mars. Yes, I read science fiction at an impressionable age.

Further along there's the rail bridge, which has recently been floodlit. I don't like the effect much -- it's harsh, accenting the bridge's angularity rather than its sort of sinuous look. Oddly enough they floodlit it once before, for its centenary, but took down the lights after a year, and that was more successful. However, the new lighting still makes pretty patterns on the water and I'd like to try and photograph it.

Coming soon: the whole roll of pictures I took of guess who. He looks gorgeous, of course.

Getting the photos developed was something of an ordeal. Over a week ago I took the film to the place I normally go to. But there was a queue and I was illegally parked, so I thought well I get it done later. Hah, yeah right.

Finally on Monday, I zipped in to a Boots for the overnight service. But that wasn't going to be ready until Wednesday, so I said well ok I'll have the three-day service (there's no two-day). So this morning I went in on the way to get my hair done (my hairdresser's a dog man) and oh dear, they couldn't find the photos. According to the electronic system they had been developed, but they weren't anywhere to be found. They took a note of my name and number and said they'd ring.

After the hair appointment I went back to Boots. Still no sign of the pictures, and also no sign of the man who'd taken my details OR of my details. As I stood watching the assistant search the bin of packets of photos, a woman standing patiently waiting to be served said to me: "Don't you just wish you could have a look yourself?" And it's true, I had been thinking that very thing. You know how sometimes you can just tell someone's not being thorough? Frustrating. So I left my details again and went home.

Took Bertie for a burn up on the hill, where we met Chloe and her owner. Bertie and Chloe get on famously, though Bertie's inclined to sniff her bum just that little bit too long. Once she'd sorted him out on that score they settled down and played nicely, while the owner and I chatted. I'd taken my mobile up there, and sure enough Boots phoned to say they'd found the photos. Apparently the packet had slipped to the bottom of the bin, it was there all the time. Grrrr.

When I arrived half an hour later they were full of apologies and gave me a 50% discount, so I consented to be gracious. But it did make me wish I'd given in to my gut feeling and just barged in to look for myself.

Amusing Bertie story: At 2am this morning we were walking along the High St when something caught his attention in a big way. When I looked at what he was staring at, all I could see was a big splash of something darkish, like spilled soft drink. Bertie was acting spooked/interested/puzzled, sniffing and staring though, so I had a closer look. What was it? Dried blood? Fox pee? Alien pee?

I noticed there was a kind of texture to it and peered closer.

Ants. Dozens of tiny, tiny ants, barely visible.

It must have looked so weird, a woman and a dog at 2am, staring intently at an empty footpath, then the woman laughing out loud.

Bertie and I set out for a walk: