Lost in the Falkirk Triangle

The Nineteenth of February Two Thousand and Twelve. Sunday.

I've just got back from a very pleasant short break in Scotland. Had a lovely time, but as often happens I didn't have time to pursue everything that I wanted to during my time away. Yes, I got to eat all the macaroni pies that I wanted, that goes without saying. But I didn't get in all the UFO-spotting that  I wanted to.

What's that you say, long term follower of this blog? (do such people exist? I'd imagine them to be rarer than actual Ufonauts). I pooh-poohed the existence of flying saucers in an earlier blog? Maybe I did but that doesn't mean that I don't think they're cool. And it seems a wasted opportunity not to at least look for some proof of extra-terrestrial life when I was so close to a global hub (if not hub-cap) of UFO activity.

My hotel was just on the outskirts of the shaded area. The skies were clear as I walked back from the bus last night but all I could see was Orion looking down at me as if to say 'move along, mate - nothing to see here.'

But something is going on, that much is certain. The guide on the Falkirk Wheel pointed out that not only is Bonnybridge a centre for UFO activity, but it also has a high percentage of lottery winners. You can't tell me the two things aren't connected.

Also, it's clear the Falkirk Wheel is based on an alien design, or at the very least has been constructed with the intention to contact life beyond the Earth.

Anyway, I feel a fool for not investigating further. After all, no less a leading light than Michael Aspel has deemed it worthy of study. I can't embed this extract from his in-depth examination of the phenomenon so follow this here link. The chap does stop it dead on ten minutes so if you want to watch the concluding 90 seconds follow the link to the next part at the end.

Actually, rather spookily it's all connected. In checking where the largest lottery wins have taken place, it turns out that the UK's biggest winners come from... Largs. It doesn't mention it here but as I understand it this couple are responsible for reinstating the cheeseboat. I'm glad to see they're using their money for worthy causes.

No more about cheese, I promise.

Okay, just this, then.

More soonliest.

The Battle of Largs

The Sixteenth of February Two Thousand and Twelve. Thursday.

And so my long winter hibernation comes to an end. Yes, the blog is back. Next week I'll set about finishing off the Nanowrimo novel that petered out last November, but for now it's the usual nonsense.

Mind you, I was enjoying a long bath last night (you can tell when you're enjoying it, you don't notice the water's gone cold until your toes go numb) when Twitter led me to the wit and wisdom of The Bloggess (haven't figured how to make links on the phone app, you'll have to copy and paste - it's worth it (am now at home and have edited it so it becomes a link - yay!)). I believe the term is 'she's won the Internet'. I thought I can't even come close to that level of aceness, I might as well go back into hibernation.

Then I had some Norwegian cheese and got on with it.

I'm enjoying a brief sojourn in Scotland at the mo. I'm staying near Falkirk at a Travelodge near the motorway. Bit of a walk to get there - don't mind that - but unfortunately it's at one point of a triangle formed by it, Polmont town centre and the railway station. No cheap fried breakfast en route on my daily trips and no nearby shops. I wasn't going to pay Travelodge's obscene prices for UHT and a croissant so a visit to the Co-op (checking where the chippy was as we went) was called for.

Stocked up on the essentials: variety pack of cereal (it was Honey Shreddies this morning), bottle of proper milk (put on window sill to keep cool - see photo), Irn Bru, crisps, juice, gimmicky tubes of Heinz instant soup and cheese.

But which cheese?

Turns out the best offer was on Jarlsberg Norwegian cheese which is made to a secret recipe which is telepathed to a head cheesemaker ((insert Life of Brian joke here) they daren't write it down!) at fromageries around the world from the mind of of a preternaturally old Viking woman kept alive, lo, this past milennium by the cheese's life-giving properties.

At least I think that's what it said on the label. Tastes very nice, anyway.

This led me to investigate the links between Norway and Scotland. Famously, there's a strong Viking influence here. Also, the two nations went to war from 1262-1266 - over the Hebrides or cheese I can't remember which (I got all this off Wikipedia). There was a series of skirmishes, the most significant of which was The Battle of Largs, the conclusion of which was indecisive (although it favoured the Scots). This is commemorated in Largs by the daubing of Scots pickle on a life size cheese longboat every year, although a rise in lactose intolerance has seen this practice diminish in recent times.

Anyway, I'm off to Brodick on the Isle of Arran today. I'll be sailing from Ardrossan, not too far from Largs, but unfortunately I won't have time to pay a visit so further research is impossible.

On a happier note today's third photo is of a small leaflet left by some religious nut while I was eating my Quorn chilli the other night.

More soonliest (no, honestly (as sung by Lynsey de Paul, the theme to the sitcom with John Alderton (but not the sequel 'Yes, Honestly' starring Liza Goddard)))

Hard Cheese

The Seventeenth of February Two Thousand and Twelve. Friday.

A couple of days ago the Arran ferry crashed into the pier at Ardrossan. All sailings were cancelled on Wednesday while they were awaiting a replacement vessel from Campbeltown (good name). The new boat was called the Isle of Arran - strange that this wasn't the route it was being used on.

Typical of my recent slack attitude that I didn't check if it was running today. Of course it was, but the initial backlog from yesterday and the fact that it was a smaller boat meant it was running late all day. The gangways didn't fit, so we had to enter and exit through the car deck. It was all a bit hit and miss. Still, we got to the island, albeit a little late.

I'd planned to get a cake and some coffee and write my postcards - that part of the plan went fine. I even made the post - I heard they for there the next day. The drizzle lifted somewhat and I had a quick walk and took in the sight of Goat Fell revealed across the bay. But it was becoming clear I was going to get back later than planned. The return ferry was looking like it was going to be more than an hour late. Ok, I was going to miss City v Porto, but that wasn't the end of the world.

There was a chippy nearby so I opted for cheesy chips for tea - I still had an emergency can of Irn Bru. There was even an abandoned copy of the Scottish Daily Mail - the only time I'll read that hate-filled rag. Besides, it's the writers not the readers who give the paper a bad name.

Er, no. Take a look at Exhibit A reproduced at the foot of this entry.

My only real prob was that the trains back to Glasgow from the harbour were so infrequent. We were going to be late enough that I wouldn't have much of a wait for the next one but it would miss the connection back to Polmont where I was staying. A quick look at the timetable showed that there was an earlier train from the town centre. If I got a move on I could make that.

I disembarked and jogged to town, getting there in plenty of time. Or so I thought. I checked the timetable again and discovered that it was an earlier one that started on town - I wanted the one from South Beach, the next stop. 3 minutes - I couldn't possibly make it.

And that's what I thought all the while I was jogging to the next station, setting myself up to fail. Even when I saw a train moving as I turned the corner I convinced myself it was departing rather than arriving. By the time I realised my mistake it definitely was too late. If I had just kept running I would have made it. I was being taunted by a train-shaped metaphor for my life so far.

But then I did what I always do and moped for a while and then came up with s creative solution. I had time to kill so why not go to nearby Largs and look for evidence of the cheeseboat?

Well, that's exactly what I did and I found it! There's a photo below. I had to look through the railings at the station so I'm afraid it's not very clear, what with it being covered in pickle and it being dark. But if you squint you can just make it out.

And the moral of this story is: always have cheese on your chips.

More soonliest.