Guineapigmum moves on

It is time to grow up, venture into the world alone, stand on my own two feet. The guineapigs are guineapigs no more. They’ve left school and are off doing other things. So I called in a PR company and, just as British Petroleum became BP and Environment and Resource Technology became ERT, I paid them many thousands of pounds to change Guineapigmum to GPM; I have, after all, become attached to it.

I’m relaunching my blog which has languished unloved for some time, partly because I want to share my plans for this summer’s Big Adventure, the Shin Swim. A friend and I are planning to swim coast to coast across Scotland. Well, swim and cycle – we can’t really swim upstream and crossing Scotland does mean crossing a watershed as any self respecting geographer will tell you.

Before closing this blog, I do plan to write a post with an update on the guineapigs, for those Edubuzz readers who have been with me all this time. But please don’t leave me – drop in at GPM goes wild!

On islands

I recently spent a couple of weeks working on the beaches of Harris and Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. Life can be tough sometimes. It was the beginning of May, pre-midges and so often hot in Scotland. We did have lots of sunshine whilst the rest of Britain swam in rain but oh, so cold! There was a bitter north east wind for most of the trip which brought in hail storms for at least a couple of days.  Despite the wind, and dressed in our best winter outfits, we walked miles across some of the most beautiful beaches in the world and counted cockles, worms and anything that didn’t escape the sieve. We also found a little time Continue reading

T is for Trees

Tara’s prompt this week is T. Just that, T. So I thought I’d show you some trees.

The twisted pines are behind the dunes at Yellowcraig in East Lothian. All these years that I’ve lived here and I’d never seen them before – we always go straight down to the beach at Yellowcraig and never wander around the back of the dunes. But last week I was helping GP2 with his project on sanddunes for Advanced Higher Geography. Not only did we measure across the dunes from the sea to the trees, we did zillions of quadrats so I had to learn to identify some plants that weren’t seaweeds. GP2 had to learn to identify some plants. We sat in the sunshine and counted and named plants together and afterwards we both agreed we’d enjoyed ourselves. This is not an activity I would ever have believed that I’d be doing with one of my offspring, let alone a willing, happy offspring.

We saw some spectacular strangler figs on our Big Holiday. We have dozens of photos of trees – that’s what you get when you go on holiday to the Australian rain forest – but I thought I should show you these. It’s difficult to get the scale – suffice to say Enormous! We also saw lots of palm trees but this one from Fiji was my favourite.

The day after chemo

Chemo days are long. They start in the middle of the night, 6 hours before the appointment, when I have a lonely midnight feast with a handful of steroids. Middle of the night feast, of course, not midnight. Do you remember those midnight feasts when you were little when you and your friends would hide away a bundle of sugar-hit goodies, and of course it was a secret and your mum didn’t know, but then you couldn’t last until midnight? Either you tucked in to the goodies at 10 o’clock, torch under the blankets, or you woke up in the morning and it was all still sitting there.

Anyhow, back to the chemo. My appointments at the moment are Mondays, and have moved from 9am to 11am. The 11am bit means I can get up at 6 to take my tablets, rather more civilised than midnight. Why not 5? Unfortunately the Monday bit means I have to get my pre-chemo bloods done on Friday, three days ahead, rather than the preferred 24 hours before. The way this drip-drip poison works is to kill off every fast growing cell it can find. Subtle, eh? Fast growing cells include Continue reading

SOAP

Legend has it that teenagers have no affinity with soap. This is of course a complete fantasy, as any parent knows that modern teenagers must have at least one shower a day, preferably more, each involving a clean towel from the airing cupboard.  So I wonder is the acronym SOAP an ironic nod by the East Lothian Outdoor Education team to this proclivity for cleanliness? Or does it have more to do with that early morning whiff that must have hit all of them at some time when they’ve unzipped a tent stuffed with teenagers on a Duke of Edinburgh trip, to try and goad them into action?

Anyhow the Secondary Outdoor Adventure Programme run by the Outdoor Ed team is taking a group of ten Sixth Years from the county High Schools into the Scottish Highlands for a series of weekends over the course of this year. Maybe it was the attraction of building snowholes Continue reading

The Ames Room

We tried to go to the Davis Cup tennis in Glasgow today. Unfortunately, for a number of reasons mostly involving prevarication, I failed to get tickets in time and there was none for sale on the door. So we went along the road to the Glasgow Science Centre instead, and had a very entertaining afternoon. The top floor was the best in my view. There is a relatively new set of exhibits up there called Mind Games, all to do with optical illusions. Whilst the holograms in the Camera Obscura in Edinburgh take some beating, there was plenty to make us think about in Glasgow.  Apparently they used the Ames Room illusion when they were filming the hobbits in Lord of the Rings. Take a look at these!

NB. Open the post to see the photos properly

 

Life’s a beach

I spend most of my life in, on, under, beside water of one sort or another,  so Water as this week’s theme for the Gallery seems particularly apposite.  It is raining at the moment. It has been raining non stop for about three days.  However, it has not all been rain this summer and so to celebrate the fun days I thought I’d show you some of the watery things I’ve been up to.

Common Dolphins in the Sound of Canna – they have to bring a smile to your face! There were seals and puffins on Skokholm, although I swam around underwater wondering if it might be one of the last dives I would do. It won’t be but I was feeling particularly mortal at the time.  And then it rained in Edinburgh. Torrential rain, hailstones, forked lightning over Arthur’s Seat, thunder and lightning every few minutes for over an hour, floods in Morningside. We sat outside the dive shop waiting for the rain to ease so that we could sprint across the road.

It might have rained in Edinburgh but it was sunny in Donegal when we dashed over for a few days. Continue reading

University musings

Is University education all set to become highly parochial?

  1. Fees of £9000 a year in England.  Currently free in Scotland.   Will any Scottish students ever go to university in England again?
  2. Something in the paper the other day about the low numbers of ethnic minority (or maybe it was AfroCaribbean) students at Oxbridge.  I bet there aren’t going to be many Scottish students applying for Oxford or Cambridge in the future.
  3. Are Scottish students the next ethnic minority?
  4. Why is funding being cut for Arts and Humanities courses?  Continue reading

Apologies, sorry… more snow, cabin fever

Tara’s theme this week is White. I wasn’t going to post anything, and I know everyone’s bored of snow but… it is all so beautiful.

We’re not really snowed in but we can’t really get out.  At least, not in the car; we’re saving a lot of money on petrol.  There was a brief thaw at the weekend and the icicles regressed but the cold has come back with a vengeance this week.   The icicles are now 2m long and there’s an inaccessible glacier teetering off the gutter immediately above our phone line.  -13° C this morning.  I know that’s not really cold, in the global scheme of things, but Continue reading

Let there be snow

“Can I take the car tomorrow?”

Where?

“I need to get back to Uni.”

Just 18, he passed his test in July and already, of course, he’s a far better driver than his mum.  Never mind that the car is buried under a 3 ft blanket of snow and hasn’t moved since the weekend.  Don’t worry that all the roads are single track and covered in slush, with cars abandonned all over the place, and as soon as the plough goes through and clears the path new snow fills it in again.  So what if the AA has had 18,000 breakdown call outs and that the temperature is predicted to drop to record lows tonight?   Even the buses are struggling to reach the village.

The Forth Road Bridge was closed by snow for the first time in its life. The schools have been off all week and Continue reading

Black and white in colour

Tara’s Gallery theme this week is Black and white which seemed too good an opportunity to miss.  This photo of a sea anemone is one of my favourites and my Facebook comrades will recognise it from my profile picture. I took it years ago in the late 1980s on an expedition to St Kilda. There is an underwater cave about 25m down, right below the peak of the island of Dùn in Village Bay; the roof of the cave is covered with sheets of these white cluster anemones (and I’m sorry, we have to do Latin here) Parazoanthus anguicomus.  This photo might not win prizes or be technically the best but I like it.  It evokes for me a wonderful dive site and some great trips to the very edge of Scotland.  Happy times!

This little anemone (each one is about 1cm across) is always found in good places.  It lives along much of the west coast of Scotland, although it doesn’t make it further south than the north coast of Ireland, but the brightest, whitest ones live in the clear offshore waters, and particularly on the specatacular underwater cliffs of St Kilda.  It has a yellow sibling species, which, preferring warmer waters, only makes it as far north as south west Scotland;  rather like Will and Ed the Grundy brothers, the two are only rarely seen in each others company.

Anyone who has dived in British waters will know that they frequently have to justify their strange proclivities to the unbelievers of this world.

“Oh, it must be so cold!”  Well yes, it can be, but so’s skiing. You just have to wear the right gear.  “And surely there’s nothing to see. Isn’t it all dirty brown?”  So, just to show you that it’s not all black and white and dirty brown in underwater Britain, I’ve put in a few other sea anemone-type photos.

And in case this counts as cheating, here’s a post I wrote early last year which has some proper black and white photos.  I was contemplating writing something using these pictures when I remembered that I’d already done it.

Digging around

I was recently pointed in the direction of this series of  videos by a friend.  There’s an archaeological dig going on in Orkney and the team are posting a daily update on YouTube.  Just the thing for the  EduBuzz community, if you haven’t spotted it already.  I’ve found it fascinating.

Orkney Island tomb dig

As an aside, Number 2 son did his work experience last year with a local archaeological consultancy.  He’s got no plans to be an archaeologist, as far as I know (and after all what does a mother know about these things?), but he is interested in things environmental and did have a great time with them. They looked after him really well.  He spent time in each of their departments, cleaning tiles, doing drawings, washing tiles, database searches, washing more tiles, and spent a day out on a job with one of the team. Before washing yet more tiles.  He loved it and came back buzzing each day. Just what work experience should be about!

Onwards and upwards

Life has moved on in the Guineapig  Household this summer.  In fact, I was wondering if it was time for a name change but I’m really quite attached to Guineapigmum so I think I’ll stick with it for the time being.  The biggest change is that Number 1 son, GP1, is now in residence at one of those institutions where teenagers practice sleeping, drinking and spending their parents’ money.  Yes he’s now at university. It’s not quite as far afield as originally planned. He got cold feet at some point during the summer (it may well have been the point at which he hitched up with a new young lady) and changed his UCAS options. He’s now in halls somewhere on the outskirts of Edinburgh and learning to cook, drink (did I mention that?), run up phone bills and play. And he’s home almost every weekend.  Well, you get fed at home, don’t you?

He didn’t work quite hard enough during 5th year Continue reading

Up in the air

shadowlandsIt’s one of the best sort of Saturday phone calls to get.  “Are you doing anything this afternoon? Would one of you like a balloon ride? There’s a spare place!”  (I was just typing “Someone’s dropped out” but thought that might not be too appropriate.)  Four of us into one place. Hmm.  GP1 wondered why we might even consider that he’d be interested and so then there were three.  “Why would I want to do that?”  To be fair, he truly hates heights.  Well, I gave in and just pulled rank. Someone had to make the decision, tough though it was.

Pete, partner of our diving friend Sue, runs Alba Ballooning and was planning on flying – or should that be floating? – from the edgballoon-colourse of the Pentlands that afternoon. And what a glorious, clear, sunny afternoon!  We took off from near Easter Howgate, to the east of the Pentlands and flew east and northish across Midlothian. There were spectacular views of Edinburgh and Arthur’s Seat, the Firth of Forth, the Pentland and Lammermuir Hills and across East Lothian to Berwick Law and Bass Rock.  It was quiet and still as we drifted along. Quiet, that is, until Continue reading

Ticking off

islay_se-coast

Last week I saw:

  • A solitary raven;
  • Two hen harriers;
  • Three golden eagles;
  • Six or maybe seven distilleries;
  • Lots and lots of Barnacle geese and White fronted geese;
  • A pair of slightly mamillate hills;
  • A narrow channel with water zipping past, into which we had to dangle a camera on a rope;
  • One wave power generator;
  • and some rain.  A rainbow.  A ferry or two.

We stayed in a dilapidated hotel, bits of which were being renovated. “I’ll upgrade your rooms for the same price” said the landlady, “if you’ll sleep in the single beds and don’t use the doubles.”  What?  We were the only guests.  There was a Spanish Chinese chef, new to the job; despite the promises of signs in the bar, we had to negotiate at length for any food other than breakfast at a specified time.  Arriving back in at 0845 after a 6am start, we thought we’d be in time for bacon sandwiches but no. The cookers had been turned off and weren’t going on again.  Still, it had the benefit of being only yards from the harbour and our boat, always a bonus at 6am.

Where was I?

american-memorial

Speaking up for education

education-changeI was struck, at the school bus meeting, not by an angry parent but by the general negativity in the room. Scattered amongst the “what about your expenses” and “you’re not listening to us” comments were mutterings about the Curriculum for Excellence. Why, people were asking, was money being wasted on this scheme that people clearly didn’t want? Now, I can’t profess to knowing a huge amount about the CfE  but from what I do know, I wish it had been introduced early enough to benefit my two guineapigs, now in the closing stages of their school careers.  I think there’s a huge selling job still to be done.

I’ve always thought that it must be extremely difficult to introduce real change in education, change beyond tinkering around the edges.  The problem is that everyone thinks that their experiences were the best.  They want the system they know for their children.  The popular pundits tend to bolster this view. And children are in education for such a short space of time.  Yes, I know it seems forever on that first day when they walk up the road in their smart new uniform, clutching their superman lunchbox and you’re choking back the tears, but believe me, it zips by.  Continue reading

How to spend Christmas Eve. 1st Instalment

So how do you like to spend Christmas Eve?

Option 1

A leisurely walk, maybe, in all that glittering new snow. Build a snowman and throw a friendly snowball or two at your offspring. Back home to a nice warm fire and listen to the Nine Lessons and Carols while making a few last minute mince pies and icing the Christmas cake.  A pleasant family evening meal then enjoy a glass of port and one of those mince pies while wrapping up the last presents in front of that roaring fire.  Perhaps venture out to Midnight Mass, although all that snow might pose a bit of a problem.  Wait up until the small hours when your teenagers might possibly be asleep and do the Santa Claus routine. (I did wonder about getting up early and doing this bit in the morning, but teens can be very unpredictable.)

Option 2

You’ve spent the 23rd cleaning, emptying the fridge, putting the rubbish out, packing, having a family meal with leftovers.  All that snow has been beckoning but has been firmly ignored.   Come the late evening, there’s just time to collapse in front of the fire with a glass of port and a pile of presents to wrap.  Early start on the 24th, pile into the car and head down the frozen motorway towards the green fields of the deep south of Somerset.  Brave the traffic jams on the M6/M5 parking lots but arrive in time for a warm welcome, a glass of wine and a huge evening meal, courtesy of Mother-in-law.  Head for the midnight service in the tiny village church and then the Santa Claus bit. Maybe next year I’ll set an alarm for the early hours so that we can sneak in unheralded. When do they grow out of stockings?

Option 3

Same scenario on the 23rd.  Tramp through the snow to load the car in the early hours of the 24th and set out a little nervously on the frozen motorways for our Christmas adventure.  The main roads are more or less clear so we decide not to take our normal route via Biggar through the hills of the Borders.  Good decision.  But in this version, the car breaks down near Glasgow.   Stops.  We turn round to head back along the M8 to home and the other car but it stops again. refuses to go any further. So, at 0830, we call the 4th emergency service, the AA.

With the prompt arrival of a 911 breakdown truck, things didn’t seem too bad initially.  After all, we weren’t that far from home.  But, as we drove off, our rescuer was told to drop us at the nearest services rather than take us home, and the AA would take over from there.  So it would be that, rather than icing the Christmas cake or heading down the road to that welcoming dinner in Somerset, we were destined to spend the day at Harthill Services.

Option 3, our choice of course, went something like this:

“There’ll be someone there at 11 to take you home.”

Just time for a cup of coffee and bacon rolls, then.

“It’ll be 1pm before we get to you.”

More coffee, keep the coats on (the snow outside was deep) and make use of the free WiFi.

“There’s someone on the way – 2.30”.

Buy a pack of cards.  Harthill Services is a petrol station with a small cafe, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure.

“The earliest we can get to you is 4pm.”

Groan.  Start wondering who we can call.  Whose numbers we’ve got and who would be brave enough to venture out in the deteriorating weather. And then, at 4.30ish:

“It looks like it’ll be midnight before we can pick you up.”

More to follow…

Neglect, n.

Neglect.  As in My blog has fallen into a state of neglect.  I haven’t written anything. It has accumulated spam comments (now deleted, I hope).  There are real comments, including some from Reluctant Memsahib, one of my favourite reads, and I haven’t responded.   I’ve been busy. I’ve been away. I have lots of excuses.  I don’t really like excuses, though.   My sister has taken me to task. “Why doesn’t your blog work? It won’t load” she asked.   I think it’s sulking.

It’s not that there’s a shortage of material.  The holiday, for instance, is begging to be told.  Stories about the fading American lady in Fiji Continue reading

Boys: a miscellany

One hitherto unforeseen advantage of trundling round the house with the vacuum cleaner is that it gives you space to compose blog posts in your head.  One disadvantage is that the instant you switch the machine off, those wonderfully crafted words disappear, sucked up as far as I can tell into the Dyson. 

Anyway, there I was, mulling over the apparent impossibility of getting GP1 to even think about doing any revision for the forthcoming prelims or perhaps even making a list of what he needs to do.  I don’t ask for much.  His younger brother, on the other hand, also faced with exams, comes out with such gems as “Mum, if I do this past paper could you mark it so that I don’t cheat?”  You’d throw up wouldn’t you, if he wasn’t your own son.  So I just laugh, lavish praise,  agree and wonder why the application genes couldn’t have been divided equally.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to auction tickets for someone to accompany me to Parents’ Evening tonight.  Continue reading

A bloggy good idea

I don’t often post about the work I do, having been jumped on from an enormously great height early on in my blogging career.  Yesterday I was in Inverness presenting some work I’ve been involved in to the relevant SNH staff; this post isn’t about that work, before anyone gets excited, but is about some discussions en route.   Five of us in a car from Perth, thanks to the rail strike (for once I had bought a ticket ahead of schedule  🙁    ), did prompt a certain amount of chatter.

The guys were discussing the problems of an internal newletter they were planning to produce.  Once a month? Every 2 weeks? How long? Paper or email? Would people read it?  “Why don’t you make it a blog?” said I.  “Blog?” they chorused, as though I had just suggested Continue reading