:: The Big Update

John phoned today (hi John! hi Mum!) and said: "Have you finished with that bloke then?" Or at least that's what I thought he said. In fact he was asking about this blog, not about my imaginary boyfriend. And he's not the only one asking about the blog. It seems I have Readers.

So here it is: an update at last and a promise to drop an occasional line or two here.

Where did I get up to? The general election.

It was a busy night at work but fun - it was strange seeing all the London-based political correspondents in the office, and very strange indeed that we were almost all still in the office as dawn broke. Bertie stayed with my colleague John's wife Penny, and I collected him before driving home. The downside of this late shift was that the next night at work I felt as though I had a really shocking hangover.


John and Alistair compare notes at the end of the all-night shift. Please note that I have two computers!

Anyway, soon enough I was off for my extended weekend trip to Argyll and points north. I took my time getting there - I was still a bit groggy from sleep deprivation. The weather was a bit wild en route: I stopped to let Bertie out for a wee on a bleak hillside and nearly couldn't get the door open, the wind was so strong. And I had some trouble finding the B&B - I've stayed there before, so I thought it'd be easy to spot. But in fact it's fairly tucked away, and Mrs Gordon doesn't bother with a B&B shingle.

It's a lovely comfortable place - not great on mod cons, but wonderfully homey and relaxing. I also had a nice big room, which is great where Bertie's concerned. Click on any of the photos to see more on flickr.com.


After walking Bertie I hit the hay and had a wonderfully restorative sleep. Just as well, because I had a busy day planned. First off, south to Loch Sween and the Kilmory Knap Chapel, to look at gravestones:



After that I had a great walk at a forest reserve along the road. It was a real gem - Bertie enjoyed it enormously. He doesn't get off the lead much on country walks due to sheep, so a gallop through forest glades was just thrilling for him.



Then I drove down the other side of Loch Sween just to have a look-see. Major thrill there was a roe deer dashing across the road right in front of the car, which caused Bertie almost to explode from excitement. I stopped in Tayvallich for a late lunch - the cafe was right on the shore, so I had a grand view of dinghy sailors battling the strong wind in the bay.

Next stop was Crinan, at the end of the Crinan Canal. Nice spot for an hour or so.



And still there was more to see! I hurtled back north to Kilmartin, to visit the graveyard there.



Then south again to Dunadd Fort, once the stronghold of Scotland's kings.



I was flagging a bit by now, but hit one more prehistoric highlight: the Nether Largie standing stones. It started to rain, so I headed back to Ri Cruin, completely cream-crackered. I didn't bother with dinner, just had a cup of tea and a biscuit.

While walking Bertie that evening, I saw something intriguing: a huge ruined house on the hill, half covered in ivy. I asked Mrs Gordon about it the next day, and she said it was Poltalloch House, which used to be the home of the owners of the big estate. It had a magnificent oak staircase and a pipe organ. Ri Cruin was the factor's house, and her parents had bought it after the war, when the estate was downsized.

She said they couldn't get staff for the house because young people didn't want to go into service any more - "they found out there was a world out there" - so they decided to demolish it. "They went and lived in the castle ... it's not like they didn't have anywhere else," she said.

So of course I had to go up there for a look. Mrs Gordon said there were Keep Out notices, but just to ignore them. I'd noticed what looked like a private road leading to the house during my walk, but when I looked at the map there seemed to be another one so I thought I'd try that. Next thing I was bumping along through a field on the most terrible farm track, trying not to gouge out the underside of the car on the ruts. And coming towards me was another car. Uh oh, I thought, here comes the farmer to berate me for upsetting his lambs.

He stopped and wound down his window. "Have you seen a lurcher anywhere?" he asked. Er, no, I said. Bertie of course was almost climbing out of the window - he does love novelty! "There's another road up here, you know, a much better one than this," he said as he drove off. So I carried on up the rocky road to the house. There were indeed signs warning me, but soon I was in the most amazing ruin. The roof was gone and the upper floors, and the ground was thick with mud and festooned in rolls of barbed wire. I couldn't get through all the obstacles to reach the front of the house, which was annoying.

Back in the car I drove round the front to see if I could get access that way, but it was all fenced off. (As I drove out on to the track, a van stopped and the driver wound the window down. "Have you seen a lurcher around anywhere?" she asked.) Plus I was due in Oban for lunch and still had other places to visit. I'll go back one day for a better look.



I headed off down the better track and met the lurcher man driving back up. "Did you find your dog?" I asked. Yes, he had. "She loves the farm so much she always runs away and hides when it's time to go home. She was in the house the whole time."

Off to Oban then, with a brief stop at the Temple Woods stone circle. I took some wonderful photos there the first time I visited - the bluebells were amazing. But this time it was drizzling and the flowers weren't quite out yet.



I was in Oban to visit Kate, Robbie and wee Calum. I found them all well and happy, in a nice little cottage tucked around the corner from a beautiful beach near the town.



After lunch (delicious soup and home-baked bread) I headed off across the country to the Rose-Millers' farm. It was an uneventful trip - until I got to Inverness. I got stuck in a rush-hour traffic jam! I still can't believe a little city like that could have a rush-hour, let alone one that traps you in a single street for nearly an hour. As it turned out I got to the farm just as dinner was served, so the timing was pretty good.

My farm visit was pretty busy too! On Tuesday, after a lazy start for me and lots of farm work for Andrew, we went to Culbin Sands for a walk. Bertie flushed a hare and chased it at break-neck speed straight into the forest. He must have been doing 30mph when he hit the treeline - he was very close to catching the hare. When we finally found him he was badly winded (he is seven and feeling his age a bit) and had scraped his back legs on logs or something. The walk back to the car was a good warm-down for him though and no serious harm was done. We had lunch at Brodie Country Fare, a favourite spot. It has a great restaurant and the most mind-boggling shop, a cornucopia of ornaments, gee gaws and objets of every description - all wildly expensive. The smell of potpourri would fell an ox. Which they would then stuff, decorate and sell to American tourists.

After Brodies we hurried home, ditched Bertie and headed off to the movies. We saw that Crusader film, the name of which escapes me. Kingdom of Heaven? Anyway it was OK - I have a thing for Orlando Bloom so the ludicrous plot didn't bother me too much.

After the movie we hurried home again and got ready for dinner. We went to the Cawdor Tavern, which has great food. I didn't see much of Jenny, who is, as ever, busy with the museum. But Andrew and John are on good form.



Andrew is looking forward to starting teacher training. He's going to a college in Glasgow, arriving in July or August. His preparation includes observing at a school in Auldearn, a village near Nairn, and doing high-school maths.

The next day after a nice walk I headed for home. I went via the museum and then south over the moors via Carrbridge.



Fast-forward now to later in May and a brief visit from Faye. We went toHopetoun House, which is just down the road from my house but which I've never visited. It was great, and I'd like to go back for a second look. We had a sumputous afternoon tea in the cafe, which is in the old stable block. "The horses lived better than the servants," the waitress said.



Faye enjoyed having a break from her job - she says it's lovely to sit and read or do embroidery and know you're not going to be summoned away to deal with something. She's now waiting to hear from the Home Office whether her application for permanent residence has been approved. If it has, she'll try to get work up here in Scotland. If not ... wah!

So that's the main events. Other than that I've been quietly, happily busy: work, dogwalking, photography, the occasional movie or meal out, yakking on the phone, gardening, going to the gym, tapestry, reading. I'm feeling the benefits of the gym work, though my knees are still pretty painful. My trainer, Stewart, is a hoot. I had my MP3 player on while treadling away on the crosstrainer and he asked what I was listening to. "The Supremes," I said. "What do they do?" I let him listen to a snatch of Baby Love. "Oh, that 80s stuff!" he said. "Sixties, I think," I said. "I dunno, I wasn't born then," he shrugged. Now he ribs me mercilessly about my "old people's music". "Yeah, it's some old stuff from the 90s, before you were born," I told him.

I'm so old.

Also on the fitness theme, some workmates and I have started up a walking group - we're going to go for a longish hike one Saturday a month, see how it goes. The first one was yesterday: Barbara, me, Anne and Anne's friend Gina. We went to the Pentlands, did the long flat walk by the reservoirs. Barbara brought her dog, Jack, along and I took Bertie. It was a good walk, good company too.



I had a lovely letter from cousin Jean the other day. She and Margaret are coming to Scotland next year, probably November. I haven't seen Jean for years and years, so it was great to hear about her family and their farm and the McKenzie Country. It's amazing to think how similar our start in life was and how completely different our lives have been. I'm looking forward to having them to stay.

Work has been particularly busy the past few days, as John's away on holiday, so I have more solo shifts. Friday was a complete nightmare: it was the busiest I've ever been in this particular job, I was a blur from go to whoa. But I survived, and not only that, I didn't kill anyone or even shout at anyone, which is quite an achievement.

Tomorrow I'm getting my hair done - I'm going back to my natural colour, or rather my hairdresser's interpretation of it. But it's only a semipermanent tint, so it washes out - it's looking terrible at the moment. I've got Tuesday off, hurrah.

So there you go! All caught up. I will try to be more regular from now on.

:: 1,000 words

Well. I have been away for some time - I hope you're still checking my pulse now and then.

I've been over on flickr, which is lots of fun. The combination of a new camera, broadband and flickr has been addictive - in fact I've decided to limit the amount of time I spend online.

In other news ...

I have a new back gate and fence. I'd accepted the quote I had (plus an extra £20 for a bit more height) and I had a call at 10:15pm one night asking if it was ok if they came the next day. And they did! I raced out before they arrived and took the canes down from around my "veg garden" (aka patch of weeds).

The team of two blokes started with the gate - within a few minutes they had demolished the old one and set up new posts.

 

Then they went off for "breakfast" before coming back to hang the new gate, take down the bamboo curtain and put in fence posts. After coffee and biscuits they got stuck in to fencing proper. One of them had a nail gun, so the whole thing went up incredibly fast. They didn't do too much damage, just broke some branches off a gooseberry bush and a blackcurrant.

That was a Thursday. I spent the entire weekend, Saturday and Sunday, coating the fence in wood preservative. Very messy stuff, runny and bright orange. Saturday I did the gate and panel, both sides, and nearly all of my side of the fence. Then on Sunday I went next door and cut out the old wire fence (which Frances tells me was put up by Mrs Blacker's son, the builder), chopped out the weeds and grass that was growing under it and painted the rest. I had felt I was more than halfway, but I hadn't counted on how bloody long it would take to paint the inner edges of the planks. It was agonising! But so worth the effort. 

My other news is that I've been officially diagnosed as having mild to moderate arthritis in both my knees. I knew that already, but had an X-ray to confirm. It's been quite depressing over the past couple of years, the deterioration and pain. I've had to give up sailing - I'm not nimble enough any more, and any kneeling at all, even just briefly, leaves me in bad pain for up to a week. And I've been wimpish about hillwalking too - it's so painful going downhill! So I've put on weight, which has in turn put more pressure on my knees.

At about this time, the Guardian published an article by the late Andrea Dworkin about her arthritic knees. What struck me about it was how relentlessly negative she was, and how passive. She didn't appear to have done anything positive herself about her condition - losing weight, for example, or investigating alternative remedies. I've tried various things - cutting out fruit juice has helped, oddly enough, and glucosamine is good too - and of course I've surfed the net for ideas.

All this came together in the decision to lose weight by getting more exercise. I hate dieting - it's boring and makes me obsess about food - and I want to build my muscle strength back up. I called the nearest gym and they said to get the doctor to refer me - it's cheaper. So I did that and my first session is Thursday.

Yesterday I went out and bought a pair of sneakers - it's that long since I went to the gym! It was hilarious - sneakers are so ugly now! And wildly expensive. I always used to get plain white Reeboks - but the style that I like is only for kids now, so I had to settle for a horrible-looking 70s-style pair, the plainest I could find. Oh well, they were cheap.

Also on Thursday is the election, and I'm doing a special late-late shift, 9pm to 6am. What fun! Yes really! Working election night is always a buzz - it's exciting when it's close and you're waiting for the next result to come in, and the next and the next. Labour is going to get a pasting but will probably still get in. I don't agree with all they've done, especially over the war, but the Tories would be a disaster. I've been hating their campaign - banging on about immigration as though it's a bad thing. Pah!

So I work to 6am on Friday, then 4pm to 1am, then on Saturday I drive across the country to Kilmartin. Yup, a long weekend has lured me out onto the road. I'm having a couple of days in Kilmartin, Argyll, then off to Oban to visit Kate, Robbie and wee Calum, then straight up the Great Glen to Inverness and Wester Barevan. I'm there for just a couple of nights.

Right now I'm off home. I'll put some pics in later on.

:: flickrd off

Flickr has taken over from my blog! Photography and website tinkering and surfing (Anthea has been sending me music and Mum and John have been phoning regularly, both via Skype), walking, work ... I don't know. Time flashes past.

I'm trying to be disciplined and go to bed early, ha ha. Today I was wrenched from my bed by the doorbell at 11:30am - Bertie's new kibble being delivered. He's recovered from his ordeal (aka my holiday) to the extent that I think he might be better off on "Greyhound Maintenance" than "Beta Active". He turned his nose up at the new stuff though. "Bleugh! I'm not eating that rubbish."

On Easter Monday morning it was the fencing man that woke me, come to do a quote. The bamboo curtain isn't going to last another winter so I'd better get on with a replacement. The back gate is also falling apart, so I got him to quote for that as well. He reckoned 4ft would be high enough for the fence, though I have my doubts.

Last week's alarm clock was the next door neighbours having new central heating installed - they were very good about it, making sure the noisy work didn't start until late morning. They had to have the chimney swept and warned me about it in advance, which was just as well - it sounded as though someone was coming through the wall!

Went to quite a good concert recently - the Edinburgh Royal Choral Union. One of its members works in the features department and sells us tickets at a discount. This was a varied programme, to mark the launch of their CD. They did a James MacMillan piece, A New Song, which was gorgeous ... I really like MacMillan ... and my favourite bit of The Messiah.

On Saturday night Fiona, who is an ace social organiser, got a fun group round to her place for drinks and then off down the hill to a pub at Granton for a meal. There were ten of us altogether, once Verity had arrived - she'd just flown in from California that day! Really enjoyable evening.

Some wonderful news: my friend Colin (used to be a workmate, taught me sailing, now training to be a nurse) has just become a dad - his wife Gillian had a little boy by Caesarian section this morning. She already has three kids and he's been being a house-husband while waiting for his course to start.

Right. I'd better head off and walk Bertie before getting to bed - it's nearly 3am!!

:: losing streak

Must ... go ... to ... bed ... must ... stop ... surfing ...

But wait! I've just stumbled on Bertie's racing record. Poor devil, he started out really well, but it all went pear-shaped in a matter of months. All his races were in Galway, Ireland, the first on 15 April 1999, the last on 21 September 1999. I've had him since 22 March 2001. "Total prize money of €0." Pooooor Bertie, he didn't earn a living.

Right! I'm off to bed. I've been working on my website revamp - it's a lot easier with broadband! Honestly!

Forth Road Bridge

Forth Road Bridge
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

Blustery, cold day - walked across the bridge with the wind blowing up my sleeves, had an ice-cream and got the train back. At the station some Russian tourists told me Bertie was a Russian dog and asked how much he cost. They thought £50 was pretty reasonable.

:: on the mend

Bertie's fans will be pleased to know he's recovered from his ordeal (aka my holiday) and has regained most of the weight he lost in kennels. Accordingly he's becoming a fussy eater yet again - for a while there he was scoffing anything and everything and then asking for more. His bowl is always clean at the end of the day though.

I should really take some photos of my house just now - it's a wreck. I've just got broadband (which is fantastic!) and installing it involved plugging a special splitter and extension cable into the phone socket. Which is behind a six foot tall bookcase. So I took all the books out of the bookcase and stacked them on the table and wiggled the case away from the wall. So far so good. But to get the extension to reach all the way from the socket to the modem, I had to slide it round behind the four other six-foot tall bookcases. This was tricky - they fit flush against the wall, so I had to stand on a chair and delicately tip each one forward, being careful not to tip them right over - books are heavy. But the cable got stuck underneath and wouldn't pull through and wouldn't fit all the way round. So plan B is to get a USB extension and take the mountain to Mohammed. In the meantime the books stay on the table - along with the box the modem came in, a printout of the instructions for doing everything, the old phone extension cord, packets of photo paper - the usual stuff.

Meanwhile in the livingroom piles of mail are building up: photo CD-ROMs for the family, music CDs for Rowan, books for Chris and Kate, a card for Caroline, pressies for Faye. out in the hall is the recycling collection; my old office upstairs has never recovered from its demotion (it's turning into one of those rooms you have to seal off when there are visitors); my bedroom - well, let's not go there. It was tidy for five minutes about a week ago, when I finished packing. It's not any more. Bertie refuses to keep the spare room tidy. The bathroom and toilet are pretty good.

The kitchen was a disaster area until Monday, when I had a shock visit from the water inspector. "Do you mind if I just shift these dishes out of the sink?" she said. It's a random thing they do every day, apparently. This woman drives around visiting houses to sample their water. She swabbed the tap with chlorine, left it for two minutes (she had a timer round her neck) then ran it for a while before filling a bottle from her tray. As soon as she was gone I did the dishes and wiped all the surfaces and polished the kettle and swept the floor. I'm sure she sees worse, but still, it was a wake-up call.

:: travelogue

Not yet! I've started on an account of my hols but only got a couple of sentences done before I was distracted.

There are some pictures on flickr - http://www.flickr.com/photos/hockadilly
Any information for wedding captions welcome - I haven't got names for some of the faces.

Bertie is recovering from his ordeal. He's been eating like a hungry horse and enjoying his walks. He's still quite clingy though, so I hope he doesn't freak out when I go back to work tomorrow night. I washed all the floors before collecting him from the kennels, but he's still finding certain sections dangerously slippery. Unless there's a walk or some biscuits in the offing of course; then he seems to be able to negotiate them without whining for help.

:: brrr

This is the view from the plane, flying in to Edinburgh airport on Thursday afternoon. I'd been on the go for what felt like several days but was something over 24 hours. It was roasting hot in Auckland when I left, fairly warm in LA (not that we were allowed outdoors), chilly in London. Edinburgh - argh, freezing. The taxi driver said the main snowfall on Wednesday was spectacular. My flight had been delayed because there was only one de-icing machine working at Heathrow. The next day a lot of short-haul flights were cancelled because of snow on the runways, so my timing was pretty good.

:: shock, horror

IMG0003
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

The shock was flying into a snowy Edinburgh; the horror was collecting Bertie from the kennels and finding him almost emaciated. The owner said Bertie had been eating heaps - the food I provided was nearly all gone - but I don't believe him. Bertie weighed nearly 33kg when I left him at the kennels. Less than a month later he weighs 30kg. I took him to the vet yesterday & she said only diabetes could cause such a dramatic weight loss in a dog that was eating properly, but she tested for that and he was clear. He's acting starved too, gobbling everything that's put in front of him. The kennel owner is a blustering kind of bloke, acting as if it's normal - "some breeds naturally lose weight in kennels; boxers, greyhounds" - and denying point blank that Bertie showed any signs of distress. "It might just have been the cold," he said. See me, sucked in by the words "luxury heated kennels" in the advert. Grrrr. Right now I'm concentrating on getting Bertie well again, feeding him well and taking him to all his favourite spots.

:: The Big Day

Christchurch, NZ

It's the day of the wedding and fingers are crossed that the weather forecasters are wrong: they're saying there may be showers and thunderstorms this afternoon. It's been sunny all morning but it's clouding over now.

Everything's going smoothly - the bridal party is at a hotel in town; Trevor is wrangling three of his grandchildren; Pinky is looking after Mum and John; I'm at Liz's place helping Ken, Leighanne, Cathy and Gary mind the twins (ie, we're sitting around reading magazines, watching TV and drinking coffee while the babies cry in another room). I've already been sicked up on once, it's fun! This morning Cathy and I collected the large, fragile wedding cake from a chocolatier on one side of town and transported it across the city to the venue, a large colonial farmhouse on the way to Akaroa. We also had the floral arrangement for the room where the reception is being held.

I've had a great time so far; the weather has been mostly very hot and sunny, with some oddities. I had to stay an extra day in Wellington because of thick fog, and there was a violent rainstorm in Dunedin the day I left there, plus there was persistent fog along the coast. It's been wonderful catching up with everyone. The kids have all shot up of course, and there are the tiny babies and a couple of new boyfriends to meet. In Dunedin I stayed with Leighanne and her two girls, Georgia and Amelia, and her partner Gary - all very relaxed and enjoyable. We visited Uncle Jock and cousin Margaret on the peninsula, and dropped in on an old friend of Leigh's who makes beautiful Damascene knives. Leigh also took me for a drive down to Port Chalmers, and we visited Julia in St Leonards. She's a friend of mine who was a nurse, then a stockbroker and is now an artist.

There are photos on flickr - I think you might have to open an account to look at them, I'm not sure. It's free and very easy though, and it's a great site. My screen name is hockadilly.

Here in Christchurch I'm staying with Trevor and Jenny, another relaxed home. I haven't been doing much - a lot of babysitting (no hardship! the twins are soooo cute!) and a bit of sightseeing. I also visited some old Invercargill friends who are living up here now.

It's nearly time to get ready for the wedding, whee! It's going to be a wonderful day.

:: Slippy floors

A new cleaning product has made the floors dangerously slippery, apparently. For the last few days Bertie has had to be coaxed into the livingroom using Frolic, the crack cocaine of the dog world. Otherwise he stands trembling, whining and barking in the hallway.

It won't be a problem for the next month, of course, because today I took him to the kennels. What a shock! "Hey, hang on, the door's shut! Where are you going? Hey!" I did feel guilty, and I hope he settles in quickly and enjoys the change of scene.

The floors didn't seem to be slippy at all.

Well it's nearly 1am, the taxi's coming at 7.30, so I'd better get to bed. My bag is packed and I'm all set.

I don't think I've forgotten anything.

I'M VERY, VERY EXCITED.

:: snowdrops

snowdrops
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

Spring! Not quite, but the bulbs are all doing their thing and I've seen quite a few snowdrops around. Not in my garden, sadly. For some reason I cannot get snowdrops to flower. I'll try again later this year - I'm sure they'd do well up the back of the garden.

Only three more sleeps to go till liftoff! It's getting very exciting. I've triple-checked all my tickets in a very neurotic manner, but still haven't really started packing. I have the suitcase out and have put some clothes in it, plus things like adapter plugs and sunglasses. I've bought suncream (Factor 30) and a new bathing suit - the weather is great, I'm told, so I'm going to be optimistic. The boot is full of dogfood for Bertie's hotel stay. (Food is included in the price, but he's really fussy and the kennel people couldn't find "his" variety.) I have books to read on the plane and flight socks.

I just have a couple of things to do (book a taxi to the airport, phone a couple of people) and I'm good to go.

:: Countdown to liftoff: 9 sleeps

Single figures! I can't believe it. Time to drag my suitcase out of the cupboard, freak out at how little summer clothing I have (17C in Wellington, ice on the puddles here), stare in horror at the mothballs in my bathing suit, fret about formal wear, wonder whether it's too late to get NZ currency. I already have some, actually, Christmas presents: a $50 note and a full set of coins. The coins are especially useful, because I can practise paying for things without having to read the amounts. Added to my kiwi accent, dreary clothes and fish-belly pale skin, fumbling with money makes me look like someone on day-release.

Bertie's been particularly cheerful since his feet healed up, prancing around and enjoying life. Little does he know ... I feel almost guilty. Almost. I wish it was easy to take him with me, though - he'd love hanging out with Poppy and Sam the kiwi dogs.

I'm even looking forward to the gruesome 24-hour plane journey. I have a couple of books and some sleeping pills, so I'm all set.

Eeeeeee!!!

:: all done

I finally, finally, finally got the computer going properly. The new one, this is, not the old one. The old one is a husk. It wasn't easy and I learnt a lot, mainly about the benefits of not rushing in with my first idea, or even my second one.

One of these days I'll write up the whole experience, but for now here are some photos:



This is the old computer, in the process of being gutted. I've taken out its hard disk drive and its floppy drive to use in the new machine. I was going to take out one of its CD drives too, but the new computer has an odd design which means it'd be extremely difficult to squeeze it in. Which explains why, in this next picture, the CD drive is balanced on top of the new open case.



It's a smaller case than the old one, so it's more congested. And I needed the CD drive to install the operating system on the old HDD inserted in the new case - oh, it's a loooooong story.

But anyway it's finally done and all I have left to do is reinstalling my software. I started that process today. Everything so lovely and smooth and fast, it's wonderful. It's always like that with a new computer. Mmmmm. It would have been a lot easier and less traumatic to have bought a whizzy laptop - I was sorely tempted - but I need to be financially sensible ahead of the big NZ holiday.

Only 16 sleeps to go! (Seventeen if you count dozing on the plane. Or even 18 if you count crossing the dateline. I think. Maths was never my strong point.)

The other thing I've been busy doing is finding a place for Bertie to stay while I'm away. I had thought of boarding him at the Cat and Dog Home, so I went there to check it out on Monday.

It was awful.

The people are lovely, and they do good work, but there's no way I could leave poor B there for a whole month. The kennel itself was a tiled nook, with the food dishes round the corner. But in one I looked at there was a gutter full of pee between the bedding and the door, and the place was minging. "We hose it out in the mornings," said the chap. It seemed the dogs were only inside at night, the rest of the time they're locked in a bare concrete run with a chain fence. Each one separately.

The real deal-killer, though, was that they don't walk the dogs. At all. The lucky ones - the ones that won't "do their business" in the run - are let out into a grassed area for five minutes. There were two greyhounds there, both wearing their jackets because of the cold.

Bertie was freaked out being back there - it's where he was rescued to - and he was extremely pleased to get back into the car.

I had a browse through the phone book and picked a place pretty much at random, after consulting a map. It's called Barking Mews - it's a cattery as well - and not much more expensive than the dog home. The kennel arrangement is slightly better, in that the run opens off the kennel, so the dogs can be inside or outside. Most important, they're taken for walks. It's in the country, and I noticed a path going off along the property's boundary, so hopefully they'll be good walks. The ad also promised cuddles, so Bertie won't have to rely entirely on his mojo.

I'm not going to talk about work, except to say it's a lovely place full of lovely people and run by even lovelier people. Click here.

:: happy new year!!

I'm still offline at home, but today I ordered the solution: a bare-bones computer "box". It should be ready in a few days, after which I just have to install my modem, plug in the peripherals, install the software and tada! I'm back in computer-ville.

I did toy with the idea of getting a fabulous laptop - I've been wanting a laptop for years now, and they're coming down in price and going up in specs - but in the end (after nearly going mad trying to choose between zillions of alluring machines) I went the cheapo DIY desktop route. Besides, I would rather have a new camera than a laptop.

I'm writing this at work - I still have access to my home email here.

:: meanwhile ...

I killed my computer. It's dead as a dead doornail. Apart from little green light that blinks relentlessly. It's my own fault - I was tinkering again - but it's still annoying.

I asked for help in a computer forum on the net (I'm at work) and someone suggested taking out the CMOS battery for 15 seconds before putting it back in and switching back on. Personally I think a better solution is to buy a snazzy new laptop.

:: the local angle

This is running on the wires at the moment:

SIX-YEAR-OLD BOY DIED IN TSUNAMI DISASTER – POLICE
By Lesley Richardson, PA
A six-year-old boy was amongst those killed by the Asian tidal waves, police said today.

Given that the death toll so far is 65,000 and is likely to be double that, it would seem mildly surprising if a six-year-old boy wasn't among those killed.

The puzzle is solved in the next paragraph:

The youngster from St Ives in Cornwall was on holiday in Thailand with his 37-year-old mother, her 44-year-old boyfriend and his eight-year-old brother when disaster struck.

Oh right, he's English. The story is probably the result of Devon and Cornwall Police putting out a press release, and agency journalists mindlessly typing it up. I know we're always looking for a local angle, but when the scale of the tragedy is so overwhelming it starts to look ludicrous.

:: flickr

I'm using this whizzy new thing now called Flickr, which I recommend to anyone who wants to share their photos over the internet. You can open an account for free, and it's fairly easy to use. It's a fun and interesting place to visit even if you don't want to use it for your own photos. Have a look at the tags page and you'll see what I mean.

:: Funfair fun

Went into town with Andrew today - very slow trip in, every person and his pet was out there. We had lunch at Lucanos on George IV Bridge, one of my old favourites from when I lived near there - pasta, mmmm. Then we headed down to the funfair. There are a few hair-raising rides in Market Street that I wouldn't even consider so soon after eating: this one looked like a "wall of death" ride where they drop the floor away, but in fact it tipped on to its side, while whizzing round:



And this one just whipped people round in crazeee style:



We went to the carousel, much more my style. It was just lovely. The horses had real tails, and it played proper old-style organ music, Strauss waltzes and so on.





Then we went straight over to the big wheel - the wind was picking up and we didn't want to miss out.



I was amazed at how scared I was going up! I honestly hadn't expected to be nervous at all; I've been on it before (though I was drunk) and in general I like things like that - I've been on the Pepsi Max at Blackpool! But there I was, clinging to the pole in the middle of our wee pod, screeching like a girly girl. It was bloody windy up the top, and the whole thing was groaning and squealing and pitching around. It was much better, however, once we got going - it was the hanging suspended over Princes Street that was scary.



After that we had afternoon tea in the Palm Court at the Balmoral Hotel - teddibly civilised. It was quite a hoot - we'd waited to be seated, like the sign said, and the waitress said they were fully booked. We were swithering around in reception trying to work out where the NB Bar was when a bloke in a bow tie asked if he could help. "We were just wondering if there's somewhere we can get a cup of tea," I said. A flunky was immediately summoned and whisked us back through to the Palm Court, where he snapped a "reserved" sign off a table and sat us down. The waitress who'd turned us away didn't seem to mind at all.

After scones and jam we hoofed it up North Bridge back to the car and drove back here. Andrew phoned his mum and I had a chat to her - she's off to Germany tomorrow with her pal Mabel (?), they're going on a Rhine cruise for New Year. Then he headed home, much to Bertie's grief. He was soooo thrilled to see Andrew - often it means a trip to the farm. Not this time, sadly.

:: some pics

bath01
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

Shiny happy bathroom!

bath02
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

Don't look too closely, please.

lunch
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

The waiter took this photo at our Christmas lunch. I'm right at the other end of the table.

redface
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

I caught the bus into town so I could indulge myself. And I did!

singing
Originally uploaded by hockadilly.

Gareth, who organised the do, said to bring along festive headgear. I was the only one who did, so everyone had a go at wearing the stars. (Those of you who had Christmas cards will recognise them!) They had quite an effect on Charlie, who immediately burst into song.

:: momentous event

Well, you know, what passes for momentous at my place .... I had a shower today. Yes, the bathtub retiling project is finally finished. Happily the glare off the brilliant white SooperCheep tiles is such that you can't easily see how wonky the silicone seal is, or how much grout/filler/sealant is spackled about all over the show. I even managed to tidy up the paintwork: there was a tiny scraping of Spearmint matt vinyl left in the tin last used in 2000, miraculously still moist enough to stir. The tiles themselves do a kind of Mexican wave across the wall. But hey! There was no puddle in the kitchen after my shower, so I'm a very happy bunny.

Happy Christmas!

:: bangers

I took my car into the garage this morning because I noticed last week that it was making puddles. One puddle was black and the other one was blue. So I just phoned to see how they were getting on with it and it turns out to be a diesel leak. The car won't be ready until 5pm because they're busy, but apparently John the mechanic says they have to do it today because it's so dangerous. Wow. The other one is anti-freeze, so it's either the coolant or the screenwash.

We had our work do on Saturday - lunch at Giulianos. The food was good and the company better. I very determinedly refused to talk shop, so it was fun. Afterwards I had been going to a film, a documentary about surfing called Riding Giants, but when I phoned the cinema it turned out there wasn't a screening until 9pm, so I went to the pub with the chaps instead. Which was great, because otherwise I wouldn't have heard Charlie singing The Portree Kid (to the tune of Ghost Riders in the Skye).

I've done the grouting on the bathroom tiles, and the waterproof Polyfilla round the edge; just the silicone seal to go on now. I'll be able to have a shower on Boxing Day, hoorah.

:: windy wonderland

Faye headed off back to England this morning after what seemed a very brief visit. I had one day off, Tuesday. Faye had said one day how she'd always wanted to ride on one of those beautiful old-fashioned carousels, and it just so happens that at the moment, in Princes Street Gardens, there are not only two of these, there is also a Christmas market, a "Bungydome", an ice rink and a giant Ferris wheel. It's the annual Winter Wonderland, a real festive overload.

So on Tuesday afternoon we took ourselves off to town on the bus. We had a quick shop in Jenners - which has scandalised the city last year by having a fake Christmas tree instead of a proper one - before heading out into Princes St.

The Ferris wheel wasn't lit up. "It's probably shut because of the wind," I said.

Too true. It was windy, indeed. But it wasn't just the wheel. The Christmas market was shut too. And so was the Bungydome. And the ice rink. And both carousels.

Wah!

We stiffened our quivering lips and shuffled off to look for sustenance. We were too late for lunch, too early for dinner. We tried shopping, but the shop shut five minutes after we arrived. We went to a pizzeria I knew in Leith Walk. It hadn't opened yet. Finally we staggered into Valvona & Crolla, a lovely deli, and ate what was left of their lunch menu. After that we had a drink in the Slug and Lettuce (once Faye had overcome her squeamishness! slugs are to her what spiders are to an arachnaphobe) and then we went to see The Incredibles. A great little movie.

We had a bit of a struggle finding where the bus left from - they keep changing the stop and no-one seems to know which is the right one - we decided to go by train. Very pleasant, and a nice walk home.

I was really disappointed not to get a ride on the carousel, but we've vowed to try again next year.

:: deadlines

In the news:

"High-pressure deadlines at work can cause a six-fold increase in the risk of a heart attack in the next 24 hours, scientists in Sweden have claimed, saying that such short-term stress seems to have more impact than that built up over a year."

They don't say what the risk is of having high-pressure deadlines at work every day for 15 years. I'm lucky to be alive!

In other news, Faye arrived at about 4am today, much to Bertie's astonishment. I did tell him she was coming, but you know - in one ear, out the other.

We had a Christmas-pressie fiesta this morning. Due to Faye's excellent taste I came out best, I think! Perfume, a fantastic book on cocktails and a stunning travel alarm clock in a pale blue leather case. She got a photo guide to British wildlife, a copy of Lark Rise to Candleford and a George Foreman health grill.

The cocktails book makes me want to rush out and buy stuff like tequila, curacao, grenadine and a shaker, and then throw a huge party. It not only has recipes (including non-alcoholic) but loads of information about all the different drinks. And lush photos. Yum.

:: what lies beneath

Today I finally bit the bullet and stripped the tiles off from around the bath. No wonder it had been leaking! The tiles were held on by grout and mould. Here's what it looked like:


And here's a sample of what I scraped off:


I sprayed the lot with mould-remover and scrubbed away, got it reasonably clean:


I'm not going to retile straight away because the wall was pretty damp under the tiles. Also, I've filled some great gaping holes in the walls, so that needs to dry. There was a bit of bad news in the small print on the grout packet: "Leave at least seven days before wetting." I have to leave the tiles for at least 24 hours before grouting, so that's no showers for well over a week, depending on when I get the tiling done.

Bertie is still suffering torments of boredom and pain, though he was limping less today.

He's developed a weird obsession, which might be injury-related. When he goes out into the garden he heads for the corner where he cut himself digging a hole, and tries to dig again, despite having painful, bandaged feet. After I shout at him for that, he moves on to attacking the blameless shrub next to the spot, biting its branches and tearing them off. Weird. Maybe he thinks the shrub bit him.

This is what bit him: a piece of glass and a chunk of solid wire:


Here are some pics of the wedding I went to the other weekend:

Colin in his kilt. "I'm a married man!" he kept shouting.


Colin and Jillian in the first dance. My camera's terrible for taking pictures like this, the flash isn't strong enough I think.

I got my payrise, by the way. But not the backpay. That's the one bit I never ever got in writing. I'll have to approach my old boss and see if he's willing to confirm that he promised me backpay.

And the coffee maker! That arrived this morning. It works and everything.

:: ow!

Bertie's second "op" wasn't as bad as the first - though I was alarmed when the vet said "did anyone mention we might have to amputate a toe?" just as I was leaving the surgery. Apparently when a foreign body is lodged in the pad it can go septic and leave a terrible mess - and it's easier just to whack the whole toe off. But happily in this case the arrow-tip of glass stuck in Bertie's pad came out cleanly and the wound didn't even need stitching.

At first he was hardly limping on that foot. But now, a few days later, it's apparently very painful and he's limping heavily. The bandages are both changed tomorrow morning, and I hope there are no complications. One positive thing is that he's been very good about not gnawing the bandages off, and patient about waiting to have his "boots" put on before he goes outside.

No sign of my new coffee-maker (a replacement for the broken one that was eventually collected at 4:30pm on Monday). I phoned up about it and got a dithery young woman who couldn't tell me much but wittered on at great length about how the coffee-maker that was collected went to the courier's warehouse first, then to the John Lewis warehouse, and only then was a replacement sent out. By next-day delivery, so that meant it mustn't have arrived until, let's see ... "Are you still there?" she'd ask occasionally. If doesn't arrive tomorrow I should phone again, "because that means something will definitely have gone wrong". I think if it doesn't arrive tomorrow I will cancel, because that means I'm definitely not meant to have a coffee-maker.

There's another deadline tomorrow: the HR director has promised to sort out the pay rise I asked for politely six months ago and was promised by a boss who's since been demoted. The union rep and I went to see the HR man today to find out what's going on. He's leaving before the end of the month (the HR man this is), so I'm keen not to have to start the whole business again. He said he'd give me a definite answer by the end of the week. "This is Thursday," I pointed out. So, tomorrow it is. Definitely maybe is my guess.

The bath/shower is still leaking. The problem isn't just the seal, it's the tiles themselves. I've put up strips of masking tape as a totally temporary bodge, but will have to take all the tiles off and replace them soonest, I think. Hey ho. I wasn't planning to do anything on Sunday.

The weather's been weird - very very cold and very foggy. There is a set of temporary traffic lights on the intersection at the end of the street - we're not sure why, perhaps something to do with all the street lights having been out the week before - and today our one was showing red and green at the same time. That looked very strange in the fog.

:: poooooor bertie, part 843

He really is miserable this time. When I collected him from the vet yesterday morning he was extremely pleased to see me (and the receptionist, and the two other people in the waiting room, and their pet - "Oooo, cat-in-a-box! For me? You shouldn't have..."). I wasn't so happy to hear that they'd X-rayed his other foot and discovered that there is a "foreign body" in his pad, which will therefore have to be sliced open under a general anaesthetic. So we hobbled off home. As soon as he got in he drank about a litre of water, then rushed outside for a poo, so I gather he didn't have a great time on his sleepover.

Just after I got home, my next-door neighbour popped over with a parcel that had been delivered the night before while I was at work. It was my coffee maker! The back story to this momentous delivery is that I've been hankering for a coffee maker for some time, but have been dithering. I want one that takes paper filters, because I think paper-filtered coffee tastes better and is better for you, but they're quite hard to find. I ordered one through Tesco last month. Over the weeks I phoned a few times to see what was happening and was always told it would be with me soon. Finally, last week they admitted they didn't have any. So I ordered another one from John Lewis, my favourite department store. And here it was! At last!

But (you knew there was a but coming, I'm sure) after I'd hauled it out of its box and assembled it, there seemed to be something amiss. I consulted the manual, and sure enough, that flap at the back should have been fixed on, not sliding around loose. Sigh. I got my battered old Melitta one-cup filter holder back out of the cupboard.

Luckily John Lewis is ferociously efficient, so with one short phone call while the kettle boiled I'd organised the collection of the faulty machine and the delivery of a new one. They're coming tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow is my day off, and here's how it's shaping up so far: 10am, take Bertie to the vet. Noon-4pm: Wait for John Lewis to collect broken coffee maker. At some point, go into town to buy another "doggie boot" to protect second bandaged foot on walks. 5pm: Collect Bertie from vet.

I'd love to go out tomorrow night, but Bertie will be in a very bad way, with both front feet in bandages, both with stitches, owww, owww. So I'd better stay in and hold his paw. Greyhounds take a long time to recover from anaesthetics, so he'll probably be very groggy too. Poor old fellow.

Last night I went to a great party, my friend Colin's wedding reception. It was in Aberdour, so I got the train along with John from work and his wife Penny. I haven't seen Colin's family for ages and it was brilliant to catch up with them. His parents are great fun. Jean greeted me with a big hug, and Sandy told me blurrily how grateful he was for the sacrifice all those Kiwis and Aussies made during the Second World War (he's an ex-Marine). He also confessed that he'd made a hideous blunder in his speech, calling Colin's bride "Jenny" twice, when she's actually Jillian. Jenny is Colin's previous girlfriend. Oops. Poor Sandy. Colin's sisters are also wonderful, Tasha in particular. There were loads of kids there, the boys mostly in kilts and the girls in pretty party frocks, and they had a fab time dancing and running around. The reception featured a great little ceilidh band, and I got up and danced a few times myself. Then we had stovies, a great Scottish tradition, and after a lot more drinking and laughing and hugging, we wobbled off back to the station to catch the last train, along with another couple. Colin is very happy - Jillian has three children already (lovely kids) and they've another on the way.

In keeping with the cross-grained patch I'm going through there was a glitch, but not a major one - I managed to leave my purse behind. But the Dalmeny ticket office was closed, I wasn't asked for my fare on either train, and John loaned me £20 so I could get in my round of drinks.

Today I slept until 1am, a combination of alcohol and a sleep deficit after several days of having to get up early. I feel a bit hungover but not too bad, and work hasn't been too complicated or stressful (touch wood - still a few hours to go).

However, I was a bit disturbed to read my horoscope in today's Observer:

Sagittarius
22 Nov-21 Dec
Calibrate your computer and clear your desk. The apparent motion of Mercury, messenger of the gods, will be backwards from Tuesday, a sure cue for your keys to get lost and your cell phone to die. The mess is only for three weeks, however. Happily, your personal planet, Jupiter, is dazzlingly aspected, meaning you get to be the cheery one when things go wrong. Friends? Galore. Romance? Strictly private.

"The mess is only for three weeks" - aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrggggghhhh.

:: bertie's birthday

Yesterday (my birthday) began with a trip to the vet. Bertie's still limping on his cut pad and the vet thinks there may be something in there, because it's otherwise healing up ok. After that I took him for a walk and made some phone calls and did some other stuff. Bertie went out in the garden and dug a hole under the hedge, so I yelled at him. He came mooching back in -- and shortly after that I found big bloody footprints everywhere. Uh oh. I followed the trail and found him licking a big deep gash in his "ankle". Not on his hurt leg, of course, on the other front one.

I bandaged him up, but then had to go to work not long after his double-limping afternoon walk. While at work I made an appointment for the vet for this morning. When I got home the bandage was blood-soaked, so I redid it, and again after his walk because it got wet. This morning the cut had at least stopped bleeding - but the vet says it needs stitches. Argh! He's going to be sedated for that, so while he's woozy they'll X-ray the other foot, see if that shows anything. He'd have to have a general anaesthetic if they have to cut it open. Because the surgery is in Linlithgow and I'll be at work, he has to stay overnight - so I just left him there. Poooooor Bertie. It's his favourite vet though, so perhaps he'll enjoy having some special time with her.

So - a dogless day! Guilty pleasure - normally I have to organise a good part of the day around Bertie's walks and toilet breaks, so it's quite pleasant to be able to, say, have a shopping trip or a nice lunch out. I might leave for work early and go to the gardens.

Right now though, I'm going to clean up this tip a little and try finishing the bath seal. Oh, and I'll have a look in the garden and see if I can find whatever it was Bertie cut his leg on.

:: diy day

I'm knackered, and I haven't finished yet. This morning (OK afternoon -- I didn't get up early) the plan was to do the sealant thing on the bath. I thought that as the washers on the taps were clearly on their last gasp (not leaking but having to be turned off tight so they wouldn't leak) I might as well change them while I was about it. These are large, elderly taps, so I didn't think it would be easy. And it wasn't.

A couple of hours after starting, I was sitting on the edge of the tub in a fog of DW40, with every single tool in my possession strewn around the floor, clutching one filthy hand in another as the blood flowed from a gash in my left thumb caused by the screwdriver I was using to try and prise the old washer out from under a very stuck nut. The nut was so firmly jammed that I had to carve the hardened washer out so I could get WD40 into the screw and loosen it. It took another hour after that point. While the WD40 was doing its magic (every joint in both taps was stuck) I rewired the light fittings in the downstairs hallway because they've been blowing bulbs too quickly. No, I'm not on drugs. I could have done with drugs, trust me.

Finally, finally, the nut came free. I jammed the new washer on, reassembled the tap and turned the water back on. Fresh water gushing into the header tank stirred up the gunk, so the first trickle through the taps was lurid orange, but still -- new washers! Fab. After a quick scrub round, rebandaging and tidy-up I started to strip off the old silicone seal around the tub, but realised that a) I was starving and b) it was after 5pm and I hadn't walked Bertie. I collected him and was just about out the door when Faye rang.

While talking to her, I realised that I could still hear the header tank filling. Surely it should be full by now ... She could hear it too, it was so loud. What the...

Then, still talking to Faye, I found the culprit. One of the low points of the day, apart from stabbing myself with the screwdriver, came when I went to the toilet midway through the whole episode. I squirted out a lot of liquid soap and (duuuuuhhhh) turned on the tap. No water, dummy! You turned it off, remember? I had to wipe the soap off with toilet paper. Second duuuhhh was that I forgot to turn the tap off. It was running now ... uhhhnnnn...

Anyhoo, I've had a nice bit of steak and am somewhat restored. I'm just going to have a quick clear-out and put the rubbish bin out and then get stuck in to resealing the bath.

Amusing suggestion on the instructions for the sealant tape: if it's for around a bath, then fill the tub to its normal level before applying sealant. But be careful not to get anything wet...

:: new view

Off to IKEA today for ... what? I can't even remember what I had in mind when I went. With IKEA it doesn't matter what you go there for, you end up with dozens of things you never intended to buy, because it's all so cheap and cleverly designed. So, what I got was a pair of curtains, a curtain rail & fittings, a computer desk, some skirt hangers, a bottle of mineral oil for the chopping boards and a new dishwashing brush. I wanted to get some doors for one of my existing bookcases but they didn't have them in stock. Then I went to the DIY shop for some sealant to fix the shower leak.

Since I got back I've put up the curtain rail and hung the curtains (though I'll have to take them down again because they're about two feet too long) and moved my computer downstairs. The new table is actually called a Journalist, heh. It's smaller than the one upstairs (which becomes the sewing table) but big enough for everything. I want to try having my computer downstairs to see if I use it more -- I think I will.

This morning I got up early and took Bertie to the vet. He's been limping really badly and looking so morose I felt guilty. But the vet prodded and poked and said it looks fine. She didn't bother putting a bandage on it, just gave him some antibiotics, just in case. So he must be swinging the lead. She did suggest soaking his foot in salty water ... yeah right. I can just imagine him standing patiently with his foot in a bucket for ten minutes. He's still limping as if his leg is broken.

Right now I'm going to have a nice cup of tea! I'm knackered.

:: meanwhile ...

... back in the real world (as opposed to holiday world), I'm going through a slightly frustrating bumpy patch.

First there was the mysterious puddle that appeared on the kitchen floor every time I had a shower (gap between bath and wall identified as culprit); then one of the car's tyre's sprang a slow leak (new shoes for one lucky car!). The annoying-breakdown rate seems to have speeded up this past week though: Bertie cut his foot on some broken glass the other day, and today as I was tending to him, I caught the cord of the headphones of my radio on the doorknob and ripped them apart. Wah! The car's engine coolant is emptying out at a rapid rate, which no doubt means a cracked pipe or something. And while buying a book and a CD on Amazon to cheer myself up, I managed to have them delivered to Norway. I noticed the mistake right away, but due to various gremlins couldn't put it right. Amazon couldn't put it right either, not even when the parcel was still in the building, as it were. I even emailed the Norwegian post office, but they can't put it right. So I just have to rely on the people who now live in Anthea's old flat to be honest and return the parcel to sender.

My philosophy has been Stoical: to just slog through the practicalities of putting things right and not get dragged down into negativity. Reasons to be cheerful! Etc.

Poor Bertie is not cheerful, however. He's miz. I decided to try and get his paw healed up at home, thus avoiding the horror of trying to keep an expensive bandage dry and clean in the wet and mire of late autumn. The cut was doing pretty well until this morning, when he took off in a giddy sprint and it broke open again. Limp, limp, limp. We might have to limp along to the vet after all. I'll try putting a sock on it for walks, see how that goes.

:: To Bilbao and Back Again

The Basque name for Bilbao is Bilbo; and at times we did feel like plucky hobbits, battling seemingly insurmountable odds to reach our glittering goal: the Guggenheim.

Once upon a time (7 October, 2004, to be exact) Pinky and I decided it would be a jolly good idea to go to Bilbao by train. We had arrived in Biarritz the day before, after a long and stressful journey from Lourdes. We'd found a cheap, comfortable hotel and were put off the idea of driving in Spain by the grim warnings of our guide books. So we thought we'd go to San Sebastian by train in the morning, and to Bilbao -- and the Guggenheim -- the following day.

So we set off to the railway station, where we discovered that our dilatory ways meant we had missed the connection for San Sebastian -- there wouldn't be another train until the afternoon. We decided to go the next day, and the kind man wrote down the times for us.

I'll digress here to explain that although Biarritz and Bilbao are not a million miles apart (72 miles/116km, to be exact) and San Sebastian is even closer, they are, as the man in the Biarritz railway station emphasised, in another country. You can't just get on a train in Biarritz and go to San Sebastian. You have to get off the French train at Hendaye and get on a Spanish train. So we had quite a complicated little list of train times.

After a pleasant day spent doing laundry, e-mailing and eating (a sensational dinner in particular), we were rested and ready for Spain. We set out for the station at 9am, giving ourselves plenty of time for timetable queries: we were going to Bilbao now, skipping San Sebastian.

The ticket office was closed. The ticket office staff were on strike. Uh oh.
We asked around the many other fretting passengers and figured out which platform our hoped-for train would arrive at. And so it did, only a little late. Hurrah! We climbed aboard and got off at Hendaye.

No, no, said Jojo at the Hendaye information desk. You can't get a train to Bilbao from Hendaye. For that you need to go to Irun. We recognised the name Irun from the train we'd just left. That's where it was going after Hendaye. OK, so when is the next train to Irun? Not until the afternoon. Why aren't there trains to Bilbao? You guessed it ... "It's in another country." But the man gave us these train times - we pulled out the nice Biarritz man's list - see, you can go to San Sebastian from here ... Well yes, said Jojo, there is a little train over there ... he waved dismissively ... but it's Spanish.

We went out the door he'd indicated and sure enough, there was a little ticket window marked Tren Vasco. We inquired. Yes, there was a train going soon to San Sebastian. From there we could get a bus to Bilbao, it was quicker than the train. We bought tickets and boarded the Tren. It was a very cute little Tren. It stopped at every single station. It took a very long time to go a very short distance. But eventually we got to San Sebastian. There was a moment of confusion among the foreigners because the station was called something else (it wasn't the main station), but we all got out all right.

Now we just had to find the bus station. We asked at the information counter and were pointed down the road. It wasn't far. We spotted a bus with Bilbao on it and tried to board, but were flapped away by the driver, who directed us to the bus office, back down the road to the station. So we plodded back down, stood in a queue for a while and bought tickets. We had some time in hand, so shot off to a nearby cafe for sustenance - coffee and a bocadilla, or filled roll - for the journey.

Back at the bus station confusion reigned. There wasn't just one bus to Bilbao, there were two. Which one to get on? We handed our tickets to a driver, who checked them, tore off the stubs and waved us on board. We fell gratefully into seats near the front. But what's this? A large Spanish woman laden with bags waved her ticket at us and pointed above our heads. Oh. We were in her seat. The tickets were numbered. We hauled ourselves out and back up the bus to the right seats. Whew. No sooner were we settled than another large Spaniard was standing there, waving and pointing. Eh? We were on the wrong bus! Argh. We climbed down and got the driver to go through his stubs to retrieve ours (all in sign language), then clambered back on the right bus and finally, seconds before departure, sat down in our appointed seats.

It was quite sad to see nothing of San Sebastian but the bus station and a quick glimpse from the highway; everyone I've talked to who's been there has raved about it. Oh well. Another time.

Pinky, in the window seat, said very firmly that we'd made the right decision to go by bus - judging by the speed at which we were overtaking everything. The scenery was dramatic and strange: steep, wooded hills, rising on our left to the Pyranees, with seemingly every valley filled densely with factories and high-rise blocks of flats. Now and then we caught flashes of the sea.

After a couple of hours we arrived in Bilbao. Entering the city was quite dramatic: the motorway off-ramp curves around past tall blocks of flats, many of which had banners hanging from their balconies. Consulting our dictionaries we think it was a complaint about the noise. No wonder, with three lanes of traffic speeding past their livingrooms.

Bilbao bus station is a work in progress - bulldozers, potholes, chaos. We could see a gleaming tram stop and we'd read about the state-of-the-art system, but we hurried for the taxi rank, tired beyond belief of public transport. Take us to the Guggenheim, and step on it! It was wonderful to be whisked straight there with no hassle.

And there it was, the wonderful gallery, glistening like a spaceship that's just stopped off to refuel. And there was Jeff Koons' Puppy, huge and blooming lovely. We had a happy few hours wandering the place, marvelling at every single thing. The huge exhibition spaces, the vast canvases (Jim Rosenquist, Bill Viola - fantastic), the monumental sculptures. We had a late lunch in the gallery cafe and sat around outside for a while enjoying watching the children playing in the fountain. Then it was time to go back to Biarritz.

We took the tram back to the bus station and yes, it is state of the art, clean and quick. We had decided to be clever and get the bus all the way back to Irun. We couldn't get a bus to Hendaye, of course, because - all together now - "it's in another country". So Irun it was. Each destination had its own ticket office and its own queue. The queue for Irun was so loooooooooooong it had two ticket offices. Both with looooooooooong queues. We queued. For a very loooooong time. Finally we had tickets. Now, where was the bus? The station was boiling with people, all either queuing for tickets or outside a bus, or rushing around looking confused and panicky. We were in the latter category. Finally we found the right stand and went back to queuing. At last, at looooooong last we got on the bus and were off.

After a couple of hours, we arrived in Irun. I had been slightly fearful of finding that the Irun bus station was miles from the Irun railway station, but in fact they were right next to each other. Phew! Now all we had to do was get on a train and we'd be in Biarritz.

Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!

No, said the man in the ticket office. There's no train to Biarritz. And there's nothing to Hendaye, either. "It's another country," he explained. This is where things got a bit murky. There was a mini-bus that could take us to Hendaye, but it would cost us 100 euros, 50 euros each. If we were going somewhere in Spain, obviously it wouldn't cost as much, but to cross the border - well, it's another country. While we were arguing with him ("100 euros? are you insane?") another man was waiting who spoke both English and Spanish. "I might be able to help you, I don't know," he said. I don't know if he actually said anything harsh to Senor Ticket, but at the very least he let it be known that he was bilingual. And when we started yelling at Senor Ticket again, he'd changed his tune. There was a taxi stand, we could try getting a taxi to Hendaye. He waved us off. There was no mention of a mini-bus.

Hmmm.

So we went to the taxi stand and asked how much to go to Hendaye. "Eleven euros."

Five minutes later we were there. No border guards, no border at all, as far as we could see. "Oh, the railway station," said the taxi driver. "In that case it's only ten euros. See?" He showed us his laminated list of fares. Bargain!

We headed in to the station, finally in France, and finally on the last leg. There was a looooooong queue at the ticket office. The time showing on the departure board for the Paris train matched that of the last train from Hendaye to Biarritz, on the piece of paper given to us the day before. We had ten minutes, obviously not long enough to join that queue. We turned to the automatic ticketing machine. It wouldn't take our cards. We didn't have quite enough change. We raced around begging people to change notes. At last we had enough coins. The machine spat out tickets. We hurried along to the platform and presented the tickets to the guard. He glanced at them and said to a colleague (in French, naturellement): "This train doesn't stop at Biarritz, does it?"

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Yes, it does," said the colleague calmly, not realising how close we were to going postal on her ass.

It was a sleeper, and the seats-only carriage was right up the front of the train, a very long walk. We climbed on. We found seats. We sat down. And wouldn't you know it, here came a Spanish woman, waving her ticket and pointing. We were in their seats. Wearily, we dragged ourselves up. There was a sudden flurry, a thump, and I turned to see Pinky slumped in her seat, apparently unconscious. In front of me another woman stood frozen, a large case in her hands. She'd been putting it in the overhead rack and it had slipped and hit Pinky on the head! Everyone except the perp rushed to the pink one's aid. She came round and was thankfully unharmed. I gave the offender a very harsh look, and she said "perdon" in a grudging manner.

We shuffled down the other end of the carriage and found other seats and the rest of the trip was hassle-free. We got to Biarritz station at about 11pm and I phoned a taxi.

The driver was surly and uncommunicative, but we didn't care. He drove at about 150kph through city streets but we didn't care about that either (as Pinky said, it saved us putting seatbelts on; the g-force kept us pinned to our seats). We were back at the hotel in a flash.

The ordeal was over.