Started

The Mrs and I finally started the Marriage Course last night. The introductory session was more searching, and thought-provoking than I had anticipated. There's a bit of 'homework' to do next, involving getting diaries and planning how to spend more time together - one of the main aims of the first week. I'm looking forward to reading back over some of the stuff we thought about in the first session with the Mrs and to the next session.

In terms of going on to run the course I can see two possible difficulties. The first is that the sheer volume of material is very hard to get through in the timings that they suggest, meaning that our first session went on too long. That's OK for a one-off but isn't sustainable for 8 weeks. However, they suggest that the evening needs to start at 7pm, which is too early if you've got kids! The other thing we felt was that the material possibly plunges too quickly into opening up areas of potential conflict without first giving sufficient opportunities in discussion for the couples to appreciate each other's strengths. We'd want to adjust that slightly when running the course ourselves, we think.

The other good thing was that the video sessions weren't cheesy (as we had feared they would be). We'd seen a few clips from the Marriage preparation course and found a few toe-curling moments. Session one of the Marriage Course however seemed to be free of these - which is good. The consensus however was that the camera close-ups of the male presenter's face while his wife was speaking, make him look rather suspicious.

Fog

Hero of the Day

Today's hero is Will Chase, the founder and owner of Tyrells Potato Chips! He discovered that Tesco was stocking his products via a wholesaler, and contacted them immediately to demand their withdrawal. His reason? He wanted to maintain the "integrity of his product"!

The reason that Mr Chase is today's hero is not merely that I am a disgruntled former employee of Tesco's and like to see someone telling them where to go! No, it's more than that. When I worked for them, I had to deal with suppliers on their behalf and I know how they misuse their power in the market place to exploit suppliers up the supply chain right the way through to our beleagured farmers. I know how they publicly decry sweat shops, but cannot trace the sub-sub-sub contractors who actually make their clothes on the Indian sub-continent at sub-value prices. It also infuriates me that where I live Tesco are the only viable shopping option.

So here's a round of applause for Will Chase, the acceptable face of capitalism!

The Pope Must Die?

So the Pope has caused a stink by quoting a medieval source who linked Islam with violence, a view which he has subsequently said he does not share. Having read the Pope's speech online, it seems clear that he was wanting to discuss the relationship between faith and violence, in order to repudiate violence. His choice of examples, such as that now notorious quote, has turned out to be most unfortunate. Had a similar quote appeared in his same sentence disavowing the medieval crusades, then perhaps the legitimate point he was trying to make would have been heard above the melee. Who are the Pope's PR team?

Islamic extremists have now called for the Pope to be killed in the name of their faith, for his remarks. Apparently they don't see the hypocrisy in saying, "if you say we are violent - we'll kill you". Why don't they either agree with the Pope that violence is a part of their faith, or disagree with him by dialogue and peaceful protest? Fortunately calmer Muslim voices are also being heard who have listened to the Pope's apology and clarifications, and who have the integrity to see that a violent reaction to the accusation of violence, doesn't look merely hypocritical but like collective hysteria, which discredits them.

It has long been recognised that the Bush-Blair foreign policy agenda has been the recruiting sargent for many a terrorist group, especially in regard to the Iraq war (against which millions of us protested) .What is not often heard is the reverse, that violent hysterical reactions such as we have seen in the last few days, are the best voting drive available to hawkish neo-conservative Republicans. Fear is the only thing that will make Western voters tolerate the immorality, and illegality, of the so-called 'pre-emptive war'.

In the Muslim world one of the great symbols of evil is the American president and his vast squadrons of bombers. In the West one of the great symbols of evil is the suicide bomber, and his masters. If one is critical of both these things, then the extent to which they feed off one another by driving moderate opponents into extremist positions, becomes apparent.

"God alone knows how we will survive"

Divided By A Common Tongue

You’d assume that if the customer, the builders merchant, and the builder all spoke English communication would be straightforward. Not the case, if the customer is English, the builders merchant Scottish and the builder Northern Irish. Take the following for an example. Around the edge of our roof there is a metal duct that carries rainwater off the roof and towards the drain, which needed to be replaced. To the customer (me, English) these are “gutters” (pronounced ghu-ttars), to the builders merchant (Scottish) they are “rhones” (pronounced r-r-roans) but to our builder (Northern Irish) its “spouting” (pronounced spoit’n) you’re after! Its something of a triumph of international relations that the stuff was bought and fixed successfully at all.

Our family consists of an English husband, a N. Irish wife and their three Scottish children (Boris, Norris and Doris, no less). There’s every possibility that none of us have ever correctly understood anything said to us at home.

There View From Where I'm Standing

As I walked up to the usual place to take my Monday photo, there was a pleasant chill in the air, the first hints of Winter. Thathideousman and the wife disagree as to whether this is a good thng or not. Personally I love cold crisp winter days when the cold air bites the back of your throat, everything smells fresh and clean and your breath hangs around you in clouds when you exhale (it must be fantastic up the mountains today). The wife, on the other hand, is of the 'pack the hot-water-bottle when going to the Sahara' persuasion, whose extremities feel like some ghastly cryogenic experiment, even in midsummer. Needless to say the onset of Winter is something she greets with less enthusiasm than me.

Today's Verse

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort.

1 Corinthians 2:3

Today we pray to the God of all comfort for those who suffer pain, loss, injustice and for whom this world is a cruel, cruel place.

Re-Reading Hebews 2:3

"how shall we escape if we ignore such a great salvation? "

Hebrews 2:3

I had the privilege of speaking yesterday at the Open Door Fellowship at the Nazarene church in Perth, on Hebrews 2:3. I am amused to see that on their website the event is advertised as "A lunch club for the over 50s - Enjoy delicious food followed by an inspirational speaker." Well, at least the food matched the billing.

I had always assumed that salvation was described as "great" in Hebrews 2:3 because of the depth of sin to which we have sunk and the heights of glory to which Christ lifts us. That is to say that I had thought that the 'greatness' referred to was firstly about the scale of what it does to us.

Now this is a fine observation in itself, and indeed salvation is 'great' in this way. However, having studied Hebrews 1&2 this week I have realised that this isn't the first 'greatness' that the author is directing our attention to. Rather chapter one of Hebrews is a celebration of the greatness of Christ the Saviour Himself: His unique relationship to the Father (4), His deity (3,8), His achievement (3b), His coronation (9), His right to be worshipped (6), and His superiority to the angels (7).

The greatness extoled in Hebrews 1 is the greatness of Jesus Himself! The begining of chapter 2 deals with our response to this greatness, with two warnings. Firstly, don't drift away from this great Saviour (1), then secondly don't ignore this great Saviour(3). For when the LORD himself has offered Himself for our salvation, what possible other escape can there be?

Quote of the Day

"Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad ."
-Peter Kay

Monday Haze

Carn Dearg and Sgor Gaibhre

Victor Meldrew and I enjoyed another stupendous day in the hills yesterday, climbing Carn Dearg and Sgor Gaibhre out on Rannoch Moor. The weather forecast had been good, and I set off with high hopes and no waterproof trousers. As we set off northwestwards up the track accross the moor, the rain started and the mist blew around us and the temperature dropped. Most worryingly the wind swung round to the NE, where the bad weather that day was supposed to be.

Nevertheless, we followed the tracks up to the foot of Carn Dearg and then waded through heather and bracken up onto its grassy ridge. The long ridge to the summit is a lovely walk, gently rising from 750 to 950m, past a series of lochans. As we pulled up the final climb to the summit, fog came crawling round its shoulders and engulfed us in it wet embrace. Victor bemoaned the disappearing views, but cheered himself up by saying, "at least I've got my waterproof trousers if it gets really bad".

Once on the summit, new cultural depths were plummed by my esteemed colleague. It seems that Carn Dearg was his 100th Munro and that a celebration was due. I was handed his camera and asked to wait, he posed at the summit, with a half bottle of champagne spewing merrily around the cairn. "Don't take the photo yet" he said. OK - I thought, not entirely sure why. Then in freezing wind, rain and fog, he took off his coat, his shirt and his T-shirt in order to pose with his bottle of bubbly whilst displaying his repugnant naked torso. He's clearly not a well man.

As we sat for some lunch in the little stone shelter by the summit, the clouds suddenly cleared and wonderful views opened up all around us. 50ft of visibility turned into unrestricted views in every direction - in a a matter of minutes. First Glen Coe appeared, the the Mamores, and Grey Corries. Even Ben Nevis was cloud free! Then the Black Mount, Bridge of Orchy hills and the Lawers Group appeared, followed by the steep cone of Schiehallion. The cliffs of Creag Meagaidh were visibile, and Glen Etive's hills and Criese' ski-tows could be spotted. Way to the south Cruachan's distinctive crag came into view while to its west, mighty Ben Lui graced us with a glimpse. Ben Alder wore its clouds like a hat, long after the other hills had felt the sun on their summits, but even this great, shy, remote mountain eventually felt the sunshine on its cairn. A packed lunch has rarely tasted so good, as we sat on the top and watched a long goods train snaking its way Northwards accross the moor.

Cursory greetings were exchanged with a gruff Yorkshireman on his way to Culra bothy, to while away the night chatting to its legendary spooky occupant! We turned Eastwards accross the wide saddle that links the two mountains, over Sgor Gaibhre and back Southwards to the car, a mile or so from Rannoch station. As we descended, the million-puddled bogs of Rannoch Moor sparkled like a vast sequined blanket laid out before us, shimming in the dipping evening sunlight.

Along with the great views it was also good to see birds of prey, red squirrels, ptarmigan, brilliant dragon flies, and countless frogs. As we climbed up to Sgor Gaibhre a large herd of red deer came running up the glen from the south, over the hill and dissappeared down towards Loch Ossian.

The hills of Rannoch Moor may not be the most absorbing mountains, in and of themselves. They lack great cliffs or crags of Glen Coe, and don't have the majesty of a Ben Lui or the symmetry of Schiehallion. However, they present a nice challenge, 25k+ of walking and some good climbs. They present lots of wildlife and, out in the middle of Rannoch Moor, just enough of a hint of wilderness to make it a really special day out.

Victor's contribution to the wildlife and wilderness theme was to have a particularly flatulent day - depressingly winning 8-4 by the end of the walk. His performance in this regard has only been bettered in my experience by Lord Provan of Mearns who is a legend in the field.

I got back home for just after 7pm - in time to put the kids to bed. But I'm itching to get back to the hills again before winter sets in.

DIY not IV

Before you panic, phone my Mum or refer me for rehab, please note the following. The above picture, taken here this morning, does not indicate that I have taken up IV drug abuse. Rather, it shows that I have found a patch of woodworm in our attic and the advice I've been given is to inject the treatment into the holes in the wood to stop it spreading. The offending stubstance in the syringe is nothing illegal, just V3V complete wood cure, for wet rot, dry rot and woodworm infestation. It doesn't smell too bad either......

Monday Photo

Minor Proceedure: Major Stress (for the parents)

Young Norris' is back from surgery, having had grommetts inserted into both ears and all the "glue" that prevented him from hearing, sucked out. At the last minute the removal of his adenoids was cancelled, on the grounds that his last head cold had cleared OK, and that they probably weren't blocking the eustachian tube (please amend spelling if required).

The surgeon gave us three options, (i) do nothing and hope its OK, (ii) just do grommetts and not adenoidectomy (iii) do both grommett insertion and adenoidectomy. He said it was a matter of personal choice not medical science because, which you will have recommended, depends on which doctor you speak to. So the decision lands with the parents.

Fortunately the wife is a doctor herself and was able to enable us to make an informed choice. She recommended option two, to which I readily agreed. In fact she was proved to be absolutely right as (a) there was a lot of "glue" still in the ear, which would only have got worse as the winter cold season set in and (b) examination while under general anaesthetic showed that the adenoids are now not swollen too badly.

The staff at Ninewells Hospital at the children's suregery department were absolutely brilliant, and prepared and helped young Norris through every step of the proceedure. They were so good that he wan't remotely stressed or bothered about the whole thing. Unlike myself of course! I will never forget the wee-man's face as the anaesthetic reached his brain, a twitch of surprised recognition that something was afoot, and then his eyes closed and his head rolled.

I'll get over it eventually!

To Op or Not To Op? That Is The Question

We won't know until tomorrow if Norris will be having surgery or not. So we'll go the hospital and find out, chat to the consultant and make a decision. The choice is not clear cut, with significant benefits and risks associated with either option.

Monday Returns

Mug

The wife has a new mug. Nice!

Book Note: The Hobbit by JRR Tolkein

Young Boris has become intrigued by "The Hobbit". Every evening, before bed, I read him a chapter of J.R.R. Tolkein's classic children's tale, of the adventure-shy creature who ends up doing battle with a dragon!

It's by far and away the longest and most complicated story that he's been exposed to, and I am happily surprised that he's not just sticking with it, but seems to be taking it in too. There have been a few occasions where I have had to update the language and simply a few phrases as I have gone along, but that's only to be expected with a book this old.

Boris seems hugely entertained with Gandalf the wizard, the messy, noisy and boisterous dwarves, and in tonights episode the savage (and plain bad-mannered) trolls, whose attempts to enjoy roasted dwarf were thwarted when they were petrified by the rising sun. He was also taken with the tale of Smaug the dragon, whose malign conquest of the dwarves city was the cause of the whole adventure in the first place.

One of the reasons I am so delighted that he is so delighted with this, is that one of my most delightful childhood memories is of being delighted as my Dad read this story to me, and him doing so as I recall, with some delight!

Sister and Kinnoull

That Hideous Man's little sister bravely fought her way out of the smog and grime of the great city that is London, for a few days of therapetic relaxation (being beaten around the head by Boris, Norris and Doris mostly). During her stay here, we managed to wander up Kinnoull Hill and inspect the now familiar view from the summit. We're pleased to report that both view, and summit, are still intact and most pleasant indeed.

The first picture is the view NW over the river Tay, the second is Perth from the summit. It looks alright from up there!

Postponed?

Now the doctors seem to have changed their minds. They might be postponing Norris' operation after all, with a hearing review in a month or so?

If his hearing fails in the winter and all the associated bahavioural problems recur, then we'll be most unhappy if he ends up at the very end of the waiting list again. He's in his pre-school year now, when his social and academic development becomes increasinngly more important.

I wish they'd make their minds up!

Pre-Op

Number two son, aka Norris, was checked out in hospital yesterday prior to his operation next week. The report was a mixed picture; although his ears are working better than before (and his behaviour equally much improved) his adenoids are still too big. Also, with such a bad history of glue-ear alongside the adenoid problem, there is every chance that the winter will see his hearing ability once again decline significantly. So, despite passing a hearing test, he's off for surgery next Tuesday in Ninewells hospital in Dundee - the same place from which I emerged several years ago minus tonsils!

Book Notes: The Marriage Book (N&S Lee) Sex, Romance & The Glory of God (Mahaney), Lovers for Life (Wolf), The Good Marriage (Wallerstein/Blakeslee)

Having just clocked up our first decade of marriage, the church wants us to host a 'marriage course' in our home! The Marriage Course is really a set of videos to encourage couples to think seriously about how to develop their relationship, with sessions on such diverse matters as comunication, sex and in-laws! The sessions are informal and there's chat and food as well as the videos. First though we have to do some training in order to be able to run the thing successfully. Hopefully it will be up and running sometime in the New Year.

The Marriage Book, which accompanies the course is a really useful resource. I have to admit that reading it caused me a lot of serious (if not occasionaly painful) self-reflection and repentance. The difficulty with reading a book like this is to remain self-critical not become spouse-critical! It would be too easy to go through it with a pen underlining the bits I think SHE should read. That however would be to miss the point almost entirely. I've read a few books about marriage recently (10th anniversary and all that) and this is the one I have recommended to a few folks and bought for a few more. Theological, it ain't - but sensible and practical it is. If there's a fault with it, its probably that the autobiographial bits are a bit long; but this doesn't stop it being a really useful starting place to think about this wonderful, bizarre, amazing, strange, painful, joyful, perplexing, and inspiring thing called marriage.

A rather different book on marriage is this little hardback written for husbands by C.J. and Carolyn Mahaney. Unlike "The Marriage Book" this book is specifically about the place of sex in marriage, and its relationship to all other aspects. Using the biblical "Song of Solomon" as a starting point it is a celebration of God's purpose in creating sex and marriage and is full of advice and encouragement to see it flourish.

Again, it's the autobiographical stuff that gets in the way. "Those bonking Mahaney's" are at it all the time, it seems. By the end of the book you wonder how they had time (or indeed the strength) to sit down and write it, before dragging each other back to the bedroom. The 'poetry of seduction' section is the funniest and cheesiest thing I have ever read, so bad its worth buying the book for alone! Having said that, it is refreshing to see a Christian book which addresses the reality of who we are, rather than prudishly hedging issues. The Bible isn't remotely embarrased in it frank discussions of sex, certainly historically Christians have been.

This book on marriage however, is less useful. Advertised as being written by a marriage counsellor for several decades, it should have been really useful and insightful - but it dissapointed.

It's not that it wasn't helpful at all, just that her starting point in every issue seemed to be stereotypes. Men are like X, women like Y therefore........ So when her stereotype fitted us and our marriage, the ensuing wisdom was OK; but when the stereotype was misplaced the result was irrelevant advice. This becomes rather weary reading. The rather explicit sexual advice will also be a bit much for the staid reader! Personally I found it rather amusing.

An altogether much better secular book on marriage is this one by Wallerstein and Blakerslee. The authors, psycholgists by trade had done some research on divorce, analysing its causes and effects. Following that work they then then did an extensive study on long-lasting marriages, by way of comparison, examining the factors that made them survive and thrive. The results are a book which is less didactic and more analytical.

Of particular importance is their identification of nine 'tasks' or accomplishments which characterised most of the life-long marriages they studied and which were absent in the ones which broke down. These include such things as "separating successfully from family of origin" to "sharing laughter and keeping interests alive" to "making a safe place for conflict". This was the first book on marriage I ever read and the relevance of its findings actually grows with time. After 'The Marriage Book' this is probably the next best read mentioned here.

We're not going to host the Marriage Course under the illusion that we have anything to teach anyone else, simply the knowledge that the more you are prepared to work at it the better it gets. That, and the commitment to keep working at it as a lifelong excercise, because it is so completely worthwhile.

Gloomy Monday

Book Notes: As Use on the Famous Nelson Mandela by Mark Thomas

The UK is a country which, although involved in the arms trade, does so within strictly controlled limits which prevent anything we make, license, trade, advertise or broker being used by repressive regimes; right?

Wrong, dead wrong.

In this appalling book, Mark Thomas goes undercover and shows just how easy it is to become an arms trader. As soon as he gained the trust of the dealers he was able to set up deals between UK companies and ghastly governments with lamentable human rights records. He discovers the tricks the trade uses to circumvent all the official paperwork, and the amazing extent to which the government are aware of this - but do not prevent it.

Just as depressing is the fact that posing as a go-between for a dodgy government, he was offered torture equipment at a highly regulated London arms show.

Mark Thomas (OK, let's be realistic and call him Mark "effin" Thomas) will appall the only-slightly-sensitive with his repeated volley's of expletives which he hurls at the reader; however he will shock the genuinely sensitive reader with his revelations of the money-making barbarity in which our country is involved. Then read his chapter on the 'export credit guarantee department', the mechanism through which our taxes pay for much of this; and get very very angry.

www.howtobeanarmsdealer.com

Nice Present

Thanks Dad!

Don't Stand in Silence

There is more persecution of Christians, both in scale and severity, than ever before. Wherever Christians are a minority and present a alternative to ideologies like Communism, religions like militant Islam, or corruption such as drug trafficking they suffer.

The "Don't Stand in Silence" roadshow is visiting eight UK cities shortly, highlighting the plight of the persecuted church and helping Christians here to pray and campaign effectively on their behalf. The speakers at the events will be both UK campaigners and exiled church leaders from other parts of the world.

Full details of the events are here http://www.dontstandinsilence.info/Roadshows.htm

Don’t Stand in Silence is a campaign run by Christian Solidarity Worldwide (CSW), a human rights organisation which specialises in religious freedom, works on behalf of those persecuted for their Christian beliefs and promotes religious liberty for all.

Monday

Smoke in the hills this morning.

Book Notes: The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh

This book is a very moving, profoundly disturbing and brilliantly written story.

Bao Ninh's story is billed as the first Vietnam War novel, published in the west, from the North Vietnamese perspective. However - this is to misrepresent the book as it leads the reader to anticipate that the authors purpose would be to castigate the decadent capitalist pig-dogs and their colonialist aggression and to honour the valiant workers of the North. This is not the case at all.

In fact the book is a solemn lament over the suffering caused by war. Although the main character (a thinly disguised autobiographical figure it seems) survives the conflict; his mind, his youth, his love and his family are all ripped apart.

The narrative repeatedly cuts between idyllic scenes of pre-war youth, post-war body recovery work, the horrors of conflict and the post-war turmoil in which the battered survivors struggle to piece together a meaningful existence in the conflict's wake.

This book is as appalling as it is beautiful, evocative as it is poignant. The obvious point about the awful futility and tragedy of war needs to be made repeatedly, imaginatively and powerfully today. Here it is.

I-Spy

Has anyone seen my glasses?

Over in N. Ireland last week we were introduced to the joys of Sea Kayaking by the family. It appears to have gained the status of being their current activity of choice (although their critics might say obsession). Their many adventures in the field are well documented here.

Needless to say, we had to have a go, and it's brilliant. Just when you think you are really getting the hang of it, a larger, stronger or just different type of wave springs up to capsize boat, person and ego with equal vigour. I emerged from one such glorious inversion of base and apex, laughingly grabbing the boat and paddle - only to realise that I was without glasses! Much searching and hoping didn't reveal said spectacles which to this day lie somewhere off Castlerock beach, as elusive as the proverbial needle in haystack.

In a state of much blurredness I managed to get through the next couple of days by borrowing the wife's glasses (not my prescription) and a very old pair of my glasses. When I finally got the opticians he took great delight in asking me if the things I was wearing on my nose merely assisted my vision or also were useful for viewing Sky televsion. sadly they did neither very well.

Sadly no pictures of me capsizing were taken that day. This is more than made up for by the fact that several of the wife were. Enjoy.

PS If you see any glasses on Catlerock beach......

Spot the Dolphin

At Broughty Ferry near Dundee, yesterday the wife started pointing at the water in a most excitable manner. Her attention had been caught by several dolphins swimming just off the shore, rolling, jumping and splashing in the Tay Estuary. Their attention was caught by the ship in the photo which they then followed out to sea. Simon managed to catch one with the camera.

Ten Years

That Hideous Man and his Mrs Hideous, are celebrating ten hideous years of marriage!

Morning!

Kids Fun

Today, Boris, Norris, Doris and I had a great day out on the Strathspey Railway. With bright sunshine, fantastic views of the Cairngorms, a nice old train with really friendly crew, the kids had a ball. There are great walks from Boat of Garten, and although Aviemore is a dump, the train is soon underway, back up the line to such pleasanter places.

Having travelled on about 10 or so of the preserved lines in the UK (which is a a little sad I realise) I'd rate this one as amongst the best. It might not have twenty gleaming mainline engines to show off, but it has the Cairngorms and the friendliest staff.

Boris and Norris love standing on the bridges while the engines go underneath, getting absolutely covered in smoke and soot.

The Curse of Bodger Derek

Bodger Derek is like the wind. We cannot see Bodger Derek, but we can see the effects of Bodger Derek everywhere we look, hence we know of his existence.

Who is the former occupant of this house who has gone through the place like a whirlwind, inflicting hamfisted botched DIY jobs in every room? Step forward Bodger Derek! Let's consider the evidence.

*A patio cleverly designed to channel rainwater through the underfloor vents (a D'Oh rating of 9)

*A patio built too high for the damp proof course to cope with. (a D'Oh rating of 9)

*Botched electrical work (D'Oh 7)

*Botched plastering (D'Oh 6)

*Covering up an inability to edge wallpaper neatly by staplegunning lengths of braid to the borders. (D'Oh 5)

* Filling in the 'air-gap' between the path and the stone wall of the house to create a bridge for damp (see photo of my excavations) (D'Oh 9)

A word of advice. Next time you are buying a house, get your solicitor to search and make sure that it has not inherited the curse of Bodger Derek.

Monday Comes Around So Soon

Doris Joins the Monkeys

While Boris and Norris' mischevious monkeyesque behaviour has been well documented here over the last few months - today little Doris has joined in the fun. In the picture you can see her hand after she had just excavated the contents of our gas 'living flame' fire, gravel, fake coals etc. Her face and clothes were equally sooty and disgusting.

I need to find the person who told me, "the jump from two to three children is easy - you'll barely notice the difference" and give them the long overdue slap they so richly deserve.

Monday Morning Again

Who Woke Me Up At 6:45 On Sunday Morning

I'd never realised how noisy a hot-air balloon is, until this thing fired it burners repeatedly outside my house - very early on Sunday morning! There was just time to grab my new camera before it sailed away eastwards.

Holiday Highs & Holiday Lows

Thathideousfamily have once again been on our summer holidays. This year however, we stayed in the UK and avoided the delights of budget airlines, dubious provincial airports, psychopathic car-hire attendants, sunburn and dehydration; and instead braved the delights of good old Blighty. It had several highs and lows.

Holiday High: The Factor's House at Carie

The wife discovered this place online, and its probably the best holiday cottage we have ever hired. Although the house is a bit smaller than it looked on the online photos, it was a fantastic little place - equipped with every comfort you could ever ask for. The kids loved playing in the burn, in the huge gardens, and down at the shore of Loch Rannoch. The owners of the estate live in the main house several hundred yards from the cottage we had and they couldn't have been more friendly, helpful or unobtrusive if they had tried! We'll definitely be back.

Holiday High: Loch Ossian

We had a wonderful half-day walk along the shores of Loch Ossian, in the bleak centre of Rannoch Moor, only accessible by train. We left the railway at Corrour halt, and walked the well-made track to Loch Ossian and ate our lunch by the youth hostel there. The views the length of the loch, over its tree covered island, to distant Ben Alder were just stunning. The YHA warden lives out on the moor all year round and says he loves it. Still, it must be a little bleak in February. Sadly our enjoyment of this wonderful place was cut short by the railway timetable (there is no afternoon southerly train) and we had to catch the luncthime train or wait until the evening. We went back there again later in the week to climb Beinn na Lap - and I can't wait to go back there again.

Holiday Low: Midgies

The Scottish midgie is undoubtedly the foulest creature on earth. At Rannoch this year there was little wind, and following a mild winter the midgies hung aourd us in clouds. Although the Carie estate had bought lots of the new midgie-eating machines, they were no match for this ghastly plague. I react to their bites, and despite taking every repellant and treatment available was covered in itchy irritated red lumps. There were so many in the house that we were hoovering them up in piles from the window ledges.

Holiday High: The West Highland Railway

We caught several trains out accross Rannoch Moor, on the West Highland Railway. It well-deserves it reputation as Britains most spectacular railway line, as it winds it way high accross the Moors, between Mountains, and through snow tunnels. The constantly changing scenery is breathtaking and beautiful, and from the train you can see far more that from the car. This isn't just because this line goes nowhere near any public road for a large section of its length, from Orchy to Tulloch; but also because catching the train relieves me of driving duties and enables me to enjoy the views. The only flaw on this railway line is the infuriatingly few number of trains which run each day. The Mallaig-Fort William train which should continue to Glasgow as an afternoon service terminates there, even in peak tourist season. The best train to catch up the line though, is the morning sleeper. We got on this at about 8:30 at Rannoch, and went round to Fort William. Its a bigger, smoother, quieter, more comfortable ride than the usual chuggy-Scotrail effort, with large windows to enjoy the views. Boris and Norris were delighted when we got to Fort William, just in time to see the "Harry Potter Train" in full steam - about to take an excursion to Mallaig.

Holiday High: Old Friends

The other great thing about not going abroad this year was that we had time to visit some old friends. Last week it was the turn of the legendary 'Solihull Five' upon whom we unceremoniously imposed ourselves for a few days of merry mayhem. Sometime in the early 1600s, John Seldon said, "Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes; they were the easiest for his feet". This is certainly true in the case of the artist formerly known as Pogdalot, his charming McWife and their vast army of lovely little girls. Together their conversation is quirky and fascinating, their laughter infectious, their home welcoming and their eccenticities always endearing.

Holiday Low: The M6

The worst thing about living in Scotland is that so many people and things are at the other end of the M6! The M6 is Britain's foulest motorway. Apart from a brief respite through the Lake district and the occasional train screaming past, this road is mostly tree-lined and interminably dull. It is overcongested, far too long and its service stations ghastly souless holes into which no sane person should ever venture.

Driving down the M6 last week I thought something was odd. We were driving to our holiday, but the M6 wasn't covered in roadworks. Usually as soon as the holiday season arrives the powers-that-be make the road as impassable as possible, with billions of cones, queue's, contraflows, hold-ups and irritation. Why not this year, I wondered? Then it dawned on me, it was only the Scottish school holidays, they must be waiting until the English schools are off as well, before digging up the only motorway connecting the North and South!

Holiday High: Hadrian's Wall

On the way back Northwards we came off the aforementioned motorway at Carlisle and went to see Hadrian's wall. we drobe accross and inspected the wall and Birdoswald Fort and museum. Boris was very interested, Norris tried to be interested but was undermined by his attention span, while Doris was just happy to be out of her car seat!

The wall was built to keep the troublesome Scots out of the Roman Empire, and was the empire's North Western boundary for 300 years. Apparently the Roman's conquered Scotland but had to withdraw their troops in order to defend themselves from Barbarians invading accross the Danube. They pulled back to the border and fortified it, making England and Scotland the two distinct entities they are today. Just think, if it wasn't for the Barbarian incursion accross the Danube, we wouldn't have Alex Samond!

Holiday Low: The Great Blair Drummond Rip-Off Park!

If you like being ripped-off, you'll love Blair Drummond safari park! We were a little shocked when we saw the entry prices to Blair Drummond, but having told the kids, and driven a long way, we took a deep breath and went in. At least, we assumed, the high entry fee would cover all the activities in the park. Well, anywhere else in the world it would - but not Blair Drummond!

The sea lion show was OK - but extremely short, the animals to admire all fine, the safari drive again no problem. However, right in the centre of it all are huge, brightly coloured rides and attractions, all of which besotted the kids - and all of which cost a lot of money. Dragging the kids away from these to see animals was of course, a struggle but we managed it and they were quite taken with the large bears. Thoughtfully Blair Drummond had mounted telescopes in the viewing areas to make sure that you could see the creatures even when they were far away. However, guess what, the telescopes only operate for a few minutes at a time with the insertion of all your remaining change. The whole place is a giant money-extraction machine, even to the extent that a map to find your way around the place costs several quid.

And to think we gave up a bright sunny day in the mountains (which are better, and free!) for this! Never again.

Holiday High: Great Big God III

Great Big God III is the kids worship CD from the UK branch of the Vinyard churches. Boris and Norris absolutely love this CD, and it gets played to death in our car and at home.

I'll be completely honest, I do have one or two reservations about this CD, but I have put these aside for very good reasons.

GBG3 is musically very strong, and although there are a couple of ropey vocals, the standard of songwriting and playing is superb throughout. The kids singing with the adults are unusually good, the lyrics exceptionally clear and the songs without exception singeable and accessible. My kids just love the sound of this album, and sing its songs all day, without any persuasion!

Why then, the reservation? Well, I think there is at least one theological howler, some clumsy lyrics and Iwould love to be able to re-balance some of the emphasies in the songs! The greatest fault in the English tongue is the fact that 'great' rhymes with 'mate', God is definitely the former, but not the latter; perhaps the obvious rhyme was just too tempting and it spoils an otherwise superb song. The constant message that the cross shows us God's love is excellent, I would just love them once in a while to go beyond that and tell the kids that the cross does more than that, it actually achieves our salvation too! I also was a bit shocked by some of the anthropomorphisms used about God, which initially struck me as irreverent.

Having said that, I am delighted that my kids are singing that the cross shows God's love. After all, his love caused the cross, and demands a response of love from me. Love is the basis of everything that happened at Calvary, and this is a good place for kids to start learning about it - they have the rest of their lives to grow into understanding more about what the cross actually acomplishes, rather than just demonstrates. As for the childish anthropomorphisms, I have had to think again. In the Bible, God frequently uses this type of condescension to communicate Himself to me, why then should he not to a child? If I think I am closer to God's stature than to that of a child I am enormously wrong! In fact, against the scale of God, I am barley bigger than a child, and if God will allow Himself to be described in adult language, then the descent to child-language is barely perceptible.

As a Christian parent I rejoice to hear my kids singing things like, "I want to be like Jesus" - exactly the kinds of values and aspirations I long to instill in them. It's good to hear them sing "I will praise you" a song which worships God in good and bad times alike, in open defiance of the prosperity error so many of the charismatics flirted with in the 1980s. I love hearing my kids singing the Palm sunday song, "Hosanna", and am moved to hear them singing a Psalm-like song in which a child brings her pain to God. I have also wondered what our neighbours have thought when their kids have gone home from our house happily singing, "My God Never Goes to Sleep"!

It's great to hear such great creativity, and musical talent, being harnessed and used for the Glory of God. My kids love this music, sing this music and talk to us about what it means. My reservations are not all wrong, but we can't deny we've been blessed by this terrific little album!

We've had a great holiday! I think the pictures speak for themselves.

The Best Coffee Shop Award

My vote for a 'best coffee shop' award would undoubtedly go to Perth's "Bean Good".

I have never tasted such well produced coffee, with such a consistent texture and taste, anywhere, ever.

I was lured into the cafe on their opening day last year as they were giving coffee away all day. Needless to say that was a BIG cafeine hit day!

At one extreme on their menu is their espresso. They serve it short, strong, smooth, powerful and with a creme that rises up fantastically from the shortest measure. At the other extreme is their enormously rich hot-chocolate, called the "chocolate soup". I like to have one of each!

My love of this coffee shop was exposed a few weeks ago when my wife went there with a friend. They immediately recognized little Doris, knew her by name and brought out her 'favourite toy'! Full marks for child-friendliness and personal service, none for discretion!

Either way, they've just launched a website: www.beangood.net

Book Notes: Becoming Conversant with The Emerging Church by D.A. Carson

I have just finished reading Don Carson's contraversial book, "Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church: Understanding a Movement and It's Implications".

The Emerging Church is seen by many as the answer to the most urgent need of the church in the west - to re-engage with a culture, radically alienated from the gospel. The argument is that the church is hoplessly locked into a modern-enlightenment frame of reference which neither does jutsice to the narrative nature of scripture nor engages with our post-modern times. The 'emergent' response is a 'new kind of Christian', freed from such shackles, able to engage in realistic mission, within our culture; by seriously reckoning with the contemporary cultural shift.

Much in this Carson welcomes and salutes. However, this book is an attempt to expose the movement as being one of compromise with unBiblical standards and doctrinal naivety. Carson alleges that much of the emergent movement is simply selective in its use of the Bible, and lacks integrity in its failure to be as counter-cultural as scripture demands. He sees this as being based on a non-Biblical epistemology in which truth is deemed as insufficiently knowable; and propositional truths ruled out of court despite their scriptural prominence. Finally, Carson says that the emergent conversation misreads post-modernity, and has misread 'confessional evangelicalism' too; over-reacting against unrepresentative extremes.

One problem which Carson admits is the huge variation in the subject matter - making his generalisations almost meaningless in practice.

In terms of my own view of this book, I'd make the following three points. Firstly, as I am rooted in the 'confessional' side of the equation I don't know enough to judge whether the criticisms levelled are accurate or not. I think before assessing that it would be fair to read a less critical book like Gibbs/Bolger. Secondly, however, I share Carson's view that much of what I have read from the emergent stream does misrepresent me as a 'confessional evangelical'. Thirdly, while some of this book is fairly harsh (but if correct, then fair enough) the emergents shouldn't complain too much, as their movement is deeply critical of its forebears.

All movements in recent church history, house-churches, mass-evangelism, seeker-friendly have had valid contributions to make; but have stood in need of some correction too. The emergent church claims to be romancing our culture for the gospel. If it turns out instead to be seducing the church from evangelicalism, then it too must respond to correction as graciously as its image would suggest it should.

Gibbs/Bolger is on my reading list!

Book Notes: The Joy of Hillwalking by Ralph Storer

There should be more hillwalking books like this! I have, over several years, picked up quite a few books on walking, from Poucher, Butterfield, McNeish to the standard SMC guides. Most of these are route guides, suggesting everything from campsites, to car park to lines of ascent. These have proved to be very useful over the years, and comparing and contrasting the different options offered has been fun. The SMC are the most cautious and least ambitious route-makers, McNeish in the middle and Butterfield at the other extreme. At times it seems that it is not possible to have two mountains within 30 miles of each other without him wanting to link them together into one monstrous outing!

However, before even starting I have digressed - for "The Joy of Hillwalking" is not a route-guide type of book at all. It is rather, a book which humorously reflects on the whole business of hillwalking, climbing, camping - and many aspects of life in the great outdoors.

Storer is, of course, no stranger to writing moutain guides (with dull titles like "50 more routes on Scottish Hills), but this book is his reflections on decades worth of climbs done in mountain ranges all around the world. In it we find out how much he despises the sport of bagging, his love of wind, rain, scrambles and snow, and countless hilarious scrapes he has got into on various expeditions. Not a few of which are entirely unsuitable for a junior audience. He regales the reader with tales of falls, injuries, navigational blunders, other walkers foibles, camping disasters, and flaming tents! Alongside this, he describes engagingly the wonderful sense of isolation in the hills and the love and respect for the mountains it engenders.

Storer seems to have spent every weekend and holiday in the hills, and apart from a job seems to have no ties, attachments or responsibilities to get in the way of his outdoor pursuits. If he did, perhaps he'd be a little more sympathetic to those of us for whom a Saturday Munroing is a treat, and a month-long cross-country expedition an impossibility.

Hill walking books which evoke the sheer joy of the whole thing are few and far between - and this is on occasion laugh-out-loud funny - especially if the blunder in questions in one in which you can vividly recall yourself! The only other book of this type I've come accross is "Mountain Days and Bothy Nights" - a really entertaining book on bothying in Scotland.

Boris, Norris and Doris: Munro Baggers!

Boris, Norris and Doris have all completed their first Munro, Beinn na Lap on Rannoch Moor. On a day which started in sunshine, but became increasingly cloudy, we got the train to Corrour, walked to the beautiful Loch Ossian before climbing the long western ridge of the Mountain. We spectaularly missed the feint path up the hill and our two little boys marched through the tussocky grass well. The views down the Loch towards distant Ben Alder were fantastic.

Sadly, by the time we were high on the summit ridge (which seemed to go on interminably) the view had gone and we were surrounded by cloud in falling temperatures. We didn't linger long to enjoy the moment, save for some hastily consumed chocolate, but chose a quick, steepish descent off the hill towards the end of the Loch by the youth hostel. As we headed back towards the station, a short rain shower persuaded us not to stay out playing on the moors but to get the kids to the station into shelter. Sadly, on the West Highland railway, there is no afternoon train southbound, so we had to wait until 6:30 for the next one. This wait (which had the potential to be "difficult" with three tired children) - turned out to be a great end to the day. A wonderful cafe has opened at Corrour station, with sofas, books, kids toys and nice coffee. We had our evening meal there, watching the rain lashing the mountain we had just climbed, before the evening train took us back to Rannoch, the car and a holiday cottage.

The next day in Fort William, Boris and Norris bought themselves Munro charts. Two more sad munro baggers in the making, I fear! All this is much to be encouraged!

Hypocrisy's Sweet, Sweet, Aroma

What follows is a verbatim record of a conversation between myself (ME), the wife (W), and young Boris (B) aged 6.

ME: Hello wife - I didn't expect to see you this lunchtime, your meeting must have been cancelled. Here, have some of my chips.

W: No. I would rather come in and eat something healthy - and chips are NOT healthy food.

B: Mummy, you said you wanted a healthy lunch, but I can see you taking a penguin biscuit from the treat box. That isn't very healthy food is it, mum? Mum!?... Mum.....!!

B: Daddy, where has Mummy gone?

Espresso Perfecto

For ages I have been trying to make espresso's as well as they do in a cafe in Perth called, "Bean Good". I have a good machine, I use the same excellent coffee as they do - bought from "The Bean Shop" in Perth, who import, roast and blend their own fantastic coffees. Why then, were my espresso's less creamy and more bitter and why did I have to run enormous lengths to achieve the kind of creme that rose from the tiny cups at 'Bean Good'?

The cafe and the bean sellers have given me three tips. Firstly use freshly ground beans (this one isn;t possible in my case - but I've taken more care over the freshness of the grinds). Secondly they recommended harder tamping than I had been doing. My Gaggia machine came with a rather flimsy plastic tamper that was only adequate; the Bean Sho[ have sold me a lovely heavyweight metal tamp, with a slight curve to the base - which compresses the coffee perfectly into the basket. This has made a huge difference to the quality of the coffee that comes out; in conjunction with their third tip. After a chat with the folks in the Bean Shop about how my coffee was turning out, they diagnosed that the flow-rate through the coffee was to high. The first answer to this was heavier tamping. Finally though, they adjusted the settings on their grinder slightly finer, again slowing the water flow through the beans in my brew head.

The results have been stunning and highly addictive. Young Norris is a big fan of my coffee machine, and hugely enjoys helping to tamp, and press the buttons. If he had his way, I'd be flying on 20 espresso's a day.

Book Notes: It's Not a Runner Bean by Mark Steel

Well this book proved to be a bit of a dissapointment really. His book on the French Revolution is astute, funny, and unashamedly biased historical satire; his "reasons to be cheerful" - in which he satirises his own revolutionary socialism in the Thatcher era, is even better. So, I got this one with high expectations - but was let down. It's not that it is all bad, there are some very good one liners, which raise a laugh - there just aren't many of them. Steel's stock-in-trade gag is the ludicrous comparison - and even these were in short supply. The social comment and political fervour of the other books seemed to be a bit lacking too. It's not that I didn't enjoy this, just that it falls way short of his other stuff.

Perhaps it is just that this is a collection of his articles chucked into a book that is its failing, and that the other books work so much better because they were actually supposed to be, books! Nevertheless, if anyone had enjoyed "The Mark Steel Lectures" on Radio4, and wanted more of the same; they'd be better off with "Reasons..." or "Vive la Revolution".

Happy as a Pig in Muck: Days in the Fannich Hills

North!

The A9 is a road which never fails to fill me with excited anticipation. Once past Perth, the hills seem to grow higher and steeper with every mile, getting progressively more enticing as the journey unfolds. The long trip up the A9 for me, means the beginning of my annual walking holiday in the Highlands. This year, all the studying mountain books and drooling over OS Maps since Christmas came to a hurried rucksack-packing finale on a June Friday. Unfortunately one of my hill-walking partners was relocated to South America, while the other failed to reach a satisfactory outcome in spousal negotiations, so unusually this year, I was on my own. Any negative thoughts that solo walking meant having to do all the navigating, were soon offset by the joy of being able to indulge my idiosyncratic (my wife uses a less kind adjective) music taste in the car. I arrived in Ullapool mid-evening, in time to buy some fish and chips, and watch the fishing boats unloading the day’s catch, while clouds gathered around the distant shapes of Beinn Dearg and The Fannichs; the latter my destination the next morning.

All I needed was a good night’s sleep – a proposition rendered impossible by an old chap who climbed into the bunk above me at the YHA; and snored voluminously all night - through a vast moustache.


Into the Fannichs (click here for pix).

The "Mountain Weather Information Service" is an excellent website which gives helpful guides to hill conditions. Many YHA’s and bunk-houses do walkers the service of displaying their predictions. On the basis of the MWIS forecast, which assured me that the high ridges would have perilously high winds in which I wouldn’t be able to stand up, I opted for a low-level walk on my first day. From the A832, I took the track to Loch a Bhraoin and from the footbridge over its outflow, followed the Allt Breabaig into the glen. It’s a delightful burn, which changes character several times as one ascends its length, meandering widely, carving little gorges, and tumbling through boulders. It also treats the walker to some lovely waterfalls to stop and enjoy en route. The track crosses the river at a ford and then works it way higher along the glen on the East side. This ford is easily missed, but is worth finding because the path which continues on the west bank, soon disappears into a bog.

By mid-morning, I had walked from the A832, round Loch a Bhraoin, and up to the coll above the headwaters of the Allt Breabaig. Realising that wind wasn't as bad as MWIS predicted I thought I'd see what it was like on the ridge, so climbed East onto it, between Sgurr nan Each and Sgurr nan Clach Geala. Again, wind predictions proved to be alarmist, so I climbed the ridge to the first of these, and back. By now the wind had dropped, so I climbed Sgurr nan Clach Geala, probably the finest of the Fannichs. The corrie, between it and Sgurr Mor, is breathtakingly gorgeous and there were enough gaps between clouds to see the whole view, from the grandeur of Torridon to An Teallach’s pinnacles – reaching upwards like a hand trying to grasp the clouds. The first hints of the promised wind started on here, so any thought of going across to Sgurr Mor was abandoned in favour of an exit via the smaller Munro of Meall a Crasgaidh. While it’s summit was a little blustery, it wasn’t dangerous thanks to a quick descent off its sheltered westerly flank.

I got back to Ullapool for the evening, where other walkers told me they that my days experience was by no means uniquw because the MWIS can be prone to a little hyperbole. That night, needing little more than a good sleep I settled into a deep, peaceful slumber when the old fellow in the ‘bunk-upstairs’ started up - now snoring like a distressed animal.


When it’s just too much!

Sometimes the Mountain weather forecasters get it exactly right. My second day in the North was just such a day; with just as much wind, rain, and fog as mwis.org.uk predicted. Summer had turned to winter within 24 hours. The hostel remained full for much of the day with gloomy looking outdoors-types wandering about with maps or staring bleakly through rain lashed windows. Ullapool isn’t such a bad place in the rain, it has several café’s and pubs, at least two bookshops. My highlight was a trip to the harbour, buying some fresh fish and cooking back at the hostel. It was a frustrating day for me, but I made the right decision not to go up. I subsequently discovered that the Mountain Rescue Service had had a very busy day with two hypothermia's and a Duke of Edinburgh expedition party cut-off behind impassably swelling rivers by Slioch.


At least it keeps the midgies away!

With the promise of improving weather, the following day once again I headed off round Loch a Bhraoin and up the track alongside the Allt Breabaig. Two days previously the Allt Breabaig had been a pleasant burn, but two days of heavy rain had transformed it into an angry torrent, the crossing of which was unthinkable. The path was tantalisingly within sight on the far bank of the river, but, stuck on the west bank, I struggled through bogs, peat hags and swelling tributary streams, also in spate. It took nearly three exhausting hours to make the coll, twice as long as the same journey two days before. Anyone walking in the Fannichs planning a descent down the Allt Breabaig should ensure that it is ford-able, or face the prospect of being cut off, miles from the car, when almost at the finish-line!

Sgurr Breac is a charming mountain, nicely situated to the west of the main Fannich ridge, with nicely sculpted corries and steep cliffs. I know this, because I had a great view of it from Sgurr nan Clach Geala two days previously. When I turned Westwards from the coll to climb it, I couldn’t see a thing. A compass bearing lead to a ridge upon which a feint, scratchy path intermittently lead towards the summit. As I sat by the cairn, the wind increased, the visibility reduced and the temperature plummeted. Ah- Scotland in June!

Careful navigation is required on the ridge between Sgurr Breac and A’Challeach in bad weather. I was grateful to have my GPS with me to double-check my compass work. I realised on the ridge that a walk that would have been a pleasant amble in sunshine was turning into quite a challenge. There are times in the hills when you realise just how alone you actually are. The Northern ridge of A’Challeach ends in steep cliffs which need to be avoided, but Eastern side of the ridge is too steep to descend immediately. In fog some pacing is required to ensure a descent eastwards is taken between these obstacles down to the burn flowing from the Loch Toll an Lochain.

Cold, tired, hungry and feeling somewhat battered by wind rain and cold, I got back to the loch, and up the track to the car. I met one person in the hills all day, he trudged past in the gloom and paused, only to lift the gore-tex hood from over his mouth and grimly mutter, "At least it keeps the midgies away".

Back in Ullapoool that night, the old chap in the bunk above me snored like the roaring of an injured sea lion- all night. Next year, I’m going to a B&B!


Happy As a Pig In Muck

On my last day in the North, I set-off to walk the main Fannich ridge, from Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich, via Sgurr Morr, Meall Gorm and down to An Coilleachan. Although the summits were in cloud, the ridges were clear and I had some breathtaking, if fleeting, views of the whole Fannaich range, of the bulk of Beinn Dearg to the North, and Fannich Lodge down amongst the trees to the South.

The walk-in from the A835's Tromdhu bridge, where the Abhainn an Tourain Duibh enters Loch Glascarnoch in the famous Dirrie More; is long. A new bulldozed and signposted track through the adjacent woodland significantly speeds up the access, as it drops the walker near a footbridge at the bottom of the climb up Creag Dubh Fannich, the first top of the day. The walk from here to the top of the first Munro, Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich seemed to take an age, but the sight of Loch Gorm and Loch Li nestling underneath the day’s long ridge ahead, spurred me, with lengthening strides, up into the heart of these hills..

The beautiful sweeping curved ridge to the graceful summit of Sgurr Mor is spectacularly wonderful - even in cloud. When I climbed it, only the top of it was truly hidden in cloud, and it looked magically mysterious. This craggy elipse, faded up into the mist above, looking like a helter-skelter descending from the heavens.

Amazingly I didn’t meet a single person on this magnificent walk until I was on the descent from Meall Gorm, the third Munro of the day. On the southwest top of the hill I met a lady in the process of completing the Munros before her 60th birthday.

The bealach between Meall Gorm and An Coilleachan has a distinctive little lochan which is on the 1:25,000 maps, a nice feature to aim for if you approach it through think cloud on a compass bearing, as I did. Gaining the summit of An Coilleachan is a straightforward clamber up through boulders, followed by a return to the lochan on the bealach. The map and compass insisted that from here the descent was due North off the side of the mountain into the fog! It proved to be better than it looked and I was soon down to Loch Gorm.

Here I met the almost Munro-completist that I'd seen earlier in the day, also on her way down. A quick map conference revealed that I was planning a descent the way that she'd come up, by Loch Odhar. She advised against it, saying that it was a quagmire and so instead, together we navigated a route over Meallan Buidhe. She'd also noted where bridges and paths were - which made the return trip easier. These routes in from the North and West, will no doubt become more popular now that access to Fannich Lodge by car is no longer permitted.

It was good to chat to her on the way down too. A Duke of Edinburgh expeditions examiner with a vast amount of hill experience and knowledge - she had many good stories to tell and insights to give. Hill-people are consistently interesting, friendly and engaging. We looked down into Dirrie More, and dreaded the thought of its desecration with vast pylons. Standing on Meallan Buidhe, looking back up into the mountains as the sun illuminated the days route, the vastness of it all was humbling. Some see creation as pointing to a creator above and beyond it, others see the world as simply glorious in its own right. I am of the former persuasion, but amongst us all in the mountains, there is the camaraderie of an acute sense of our own finitude.

Route finding in the far North seems to be much harder than in the Southern Highlands. There are two reasons for this. Firstly the number of people are, far fewer, so even established routes rarely gain good paths; and secondly the cairn-building hobby so marked in the South, has not reached the North yet. In the Southern Highlands, it seems that every navigationally significant point is marked with a cairn; not up North. Whether this is simply because there are just fewer people there (and so therefore less chance of there being people who like building little towers out of stones) or whether it is that the kind of walkers who venture up there are less inclined to this activity; I couldn't say. However - without the aid of these things, and with long walk-ins to truly remote mountains, in pretty foul weather, walking is certainly more tiring, and more consuming of both physical and mental energy.

Percy Cowpat and his little brother referred to me as the "SMB" - which stands for "Sad Munro Bagger", a term of abuse for hillwalkers, dished out with some glee by those who class themselves as "real climbers". They may have a point too, for I left the Fannaichs cold, tired, aching, and with saturated boots. Back home I reclined contentedly in my chair and put 9 small ticks in my Munro book - as happy as a pig in muck.

Book Notes: The Orange Girl by Jostein Gaarder

I've just read "The Orange Girl" by Jostein Gaarder, or as the cover of the book says "by the author of Sophie's World". I bought this book for three reasons, firstly I was eating on my own in a restaurant/bookshop in Ullapool and wanted to read, secondly because I had enjoyed Sophies World so much and thirdly because it was short! It has, however, had a serious effect on me.

The book is written from the perspective of a fifteen-year old boy who discovers a letter, written to him by his late-father during his final illness. The father he barely remembered left him an intriguing and complicated letter, full of puzzles and mysteries. The initial mysteries are well told but quickly solved, but Jan Olaf's letter to his son contains thoughts about life and death from a dying man which take much longer to digest and cope with; never mind answer.

I suppose if I am honest the book is so engagingly disarming that it opened me up to think more seriously about my own mortality than I am entirely comfortable with. The dying father, dropping his beloved son off at nursery, and sitting at his PC to write, was something I could imagine doing if I knew I was incurably ill. The father's desperation not to be severed from his child, and his bitter struggle for life pours from every page. Yet (without spoiling the ending) the book ends up with a wonderfully positive, life-affirming outcome.

Strangely, with these thoughts in mind, at church this morning the sermon was on "the faithfulness of God to all generations" (Psalm 100). The message was that even if we die - God will continue to care for those we leave behind. The minister got four of us to line up in a row on the stage, suggesting four generations. I was representing the father. As each generation died off and left children behind, the message was that God continued to care.

The combination of these thoughts is both disturbing, reassuring, sobering and troubling. There's no point worrying though. As has been noted, its success as a life-extending measure is hardly admirable.

As for the mystery of the identity of "the Orange Girl", I won't spoil that for the reader, suffice to say that her title does not indicate that she's an Ulster Unionist.