Ah yes, walking.

I have been doing some. Honest.
Nothing spectacular, and with mixed results, this weekend being a case in point.

Saturday I did one of my regular local jaunts - 6 miles/800 ft - no sweat. Actually, I was freezing..

The whin bushes on this stretch of road are just about over, but they started flowering in January !

Cast a clout ? I should coco. Bloody freezing

Got to breath in on this bit of the path !

Yesterday, as a loosener, I took the long way round to the shops and "hit the wall" after about a mile of walking on the level. Dead buggin' !!

However, the weekend was not a total write-off. I hate to hear a grown man sobbing so.....


There you go, Danny

"What,"

I hear you ask, "is an old Trot like you doing to contribute to the outpouring of jollity and celebration that is currently engulfing the entire nation from Croydon all the way to Watford ?"

Fair question.

How about some jolly celebratory music for starters ?





And then a true (aren't they all ?) story ?

Once upon a time, I was walking round a building site in Maghull. It's where Myrrzeezide kinda morphs into rural Lancashire. My companion was a fearsome looking Scouser - shaven head and tattoos on his spit - of the Blue persuasion. On rounding a corner, we espied a guy from the Portaloo company connecting  up the hoses to pump the contents into a waiting tanker.
He was wearing a LFC top.

"Oi" shouts my companion, and the Portaloo guy did a rather superfluous double-take. "You" came the second shout, accompanied by a totally unambiguous pointing finger.

The poor shit-shifter was now obviously shitting himself and  apparently suitably set up for the coup de grace - delivered from close-up without a hint of a smile.

"You taking the piss ?"

There's no answer to that.

Say hello to Tosh

Tosh has joined us recently, and will be helping me with the blog in place of the sadly deceased Dell-boy. He has an impressive CV, packed with bytes and hertzs, and I am expecting great things from him once he finds his feet.
The headhunting process was exhaustive and time-consuming and resulted in my failing to respond to comments on the previous post, a gross discourtesy on my part which I have now rectified.

So, onward and upward (or not, as the case may be).
Surely this is now the only blog featuring both tosh and balderdash ?

My computer ist Kaput

and I am not minded to replace the bugger.
I write this in the library with all the other silver surfers.
The smell of pee and Werthers Originals is overpowerin.
The library software tells me that Alan Sloman is "tasteless" and "offensive"
 and preven the good burghers of BOA from viewing his blog..
So it goes

There are fairies at the bottom of our golf course

Well, if the truth be told ( Really ? Well alright then), more at the top than the bottom. And not exactly on the golf course. And of course they're not really fairies- more sort of elfy pixie things. Certainly the ones I've seen anyway.

When I say “top of the golf course” I allude to the fact that Bridge of Allan Golf Course is uniquely registered with both the Scottish Golf Union and the Mountaineering Council of Scotland.

I resisted the temptation to attempt the diretissima straight up what used to be the first fairway, and strolled round the road past Sunnylaw farm and approached through the fields

And here we have – The Fairy Knowe. OK, it's not exactly Stonehenge but it is an Ancient Monument (I'll do the jokes,thank you, Danny !). It used to be much bigger than it is today. Like, I suppose Christmas selection boxes and knickers.

When it was excavated in the 19^th century, a burial cist was found inside with traces of pottery, clothing and human remains. Extensive tests revealed that this dated from the “Very Long Ago” period.

The fairies who lived here were apparently wont to rush out and grab any passing local drunkard and hold him inside the knowe for a year and a day, a business model later copied by The Priory.

Anti-photography at it's best ! The Fairy Knowe is almost out of shot (little technical term there), but we have a rather good view of Carleatheran. In outdoor light, that little screen thing at the back of the camera appears completely blank to me so I just point in the general direction and press the button.Or fumble trying to find the button because I am holding the camera upside down.

At this point some weather could be seen approaching from the North, and it began to sleet but I wanted to check on something else while in this neck of the woods. In fact, this proved surprisingly rewarding, and will form the basis of another post when I complete some bits and pieces. Bet you can hardly wait, eh ?

A walk in the woods

The combination of some lovely Spring sunshine and a wife like a bear with a burnt arse made the call of the wild seem irresistible this afternoon. With no clear plan in mind I packed an apple and set off up and east.

Soon I was on the Back o' Dykes road, where the eVent membrane in my new shoes was soon put to the test.

Just past this point I caught a whiff of exotic cigarettes (exotic as in foreign, as opposed to illegal !) On rounding the corner I discovered a rather striking lady of a certain age, standing beside some highly expensive looking camera equipment and smoking a Portuguese ciggie. Apparently she was waiting to take a picture of a nuthatch returning to the nest. Unfortunately my stock of ornithological chat-up lines was soon exhausted, so I bade her farewell and continued to Logie Old Kirk.

The church dates from the 12th century as do these two original hogback grave stones.

In my cyber personality I obviously have a professional interest in this stuff and there is certainly plenty restoration work to be done. The old stones were often carved with symbols denoting the previous occupation of the deceased

Think this was a tailor or perhaps a shoe maker from nearby Pathfoot.

Big shovel ? Stoker ? Probably a maltster I would say.

Pirate ? Naw. It's a memento mori, a reminder that we are all going to die and that the sands of time are quickly running out.

Yes well.

Moving swiftly on.....

Remember I told you about the Airthrey Hill copper mine a few weeks ago ? No ? Sure you do.

Anyhow this another copper mine just up the burn from Logie Kirk. It's is a horizontal adit or “ingaun ee” into the bank of the burn, typical of much early Scottish mining. Seems to have been a bit of a flop commercially, though.

 Big gate ! 18ft.

Enticing !

When Lord Abercromby improved the estate in the mid 19^th century he planted this wood and built a folly called The Hermitage. He even went as far as to advertise, presumably in The Guardian, for a hermit to live in it.I can imagine the interview. The earnest girl from HR asking “Tell us about an incident in your life when you lived alone without talking to anyone for 20 years while living on acorns and drinking your own piss. And how do you think this made you a better person ?”. However the post remained unfilled and is probably one of the 100,000 (or whatever) vacancies that the Stirling Job Centre Plus claims to have on the books

 

Is this a zen garden of contemplation ? Or is it the University water supply ? Or both ?

Spotted this on the way home. The coping seems to have been cast in situ. I assume there was some kind of former and it was run like a cornice.

And so, before returning home, a visit to the new Tesco Express for a bunch of flowers and new batteries for my taser.

 Todays clip has embedding disabled so just click on the link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-CXyhrZVcA

Gartmorn. Damn!

In the absence of the capability to undertake anything more strenuous, I was reduced to a stroll round Gartmorn Dam.Starting at Sauchie and finishing at Coalsnaughton, two of the scenic highlights of the 62/63 bus route.

It's a really interesting piece of water about which I may blog again when I'm in better fettle