The Experiential Learning Curve

Crocs don't work in the snow.

Local walk

Harry Lauder's walking stick

Postcard

Sleeping Beauty's perhaps

Bright van

Wedding Cake snow

Snow Odyssey

Squirrel verandah

auditioning for Mr Tumnus

winter blossom

Pix of today's snowfall !

Listening to..

Drunkard's Prayer and Stateless.

Black Ice

I'm aiming to walk up the hill by our house every day. This morning the road up was thick with grit and salt ploughed into ruts by cars and farm machines, then frozen over in the sub-zero night. I picked my way up the hill, slipping a couple of times on the frictionless black ice and doing one of those Tintin flailings; a windmill of arms and legs that doesn't quite hit the ground nor spill a drop of tea. More photos of course and a dose of dazzling sunshine glancing off the white fields.

I didn't get the job, just a rejection letter. The certainty of it is a whole lot better than the waiting, though, and I'm over it already. Not sure what's next, but something will turn up. I was reading an article this morning about the 11:11 phenomenon, and while the actual numeral 11 thing doesn't work for me I get the principle of seemingly recurrent trivial events pointing to some underlying direction or 'prompting' or 'flow'. Not sure if there's my own personal Morpheus out there hinting obsurely at the matrix, but I enjoy the idea. It's a call to tune in to the subtleties, the ebb and flow.

More snow pix

 

 
 

No snow, no school, no news

All the Borders schools were off today in anticipation of further snow dumps. Dire weather warnings evaporated in the morning, however, along with much of yesterday's snow, leaving a slushy mess of a no-news day. Didn't take long for the media blame industry to get started though, and everyone from Government ministers to spineless teachers are being accused of having no bottom in the face of adversity. It was never like this in the Blitz, in my day we battled miles through forty foot snowdrifts wearing only clogs etc. One Head Teacher got himself on the news boasting of having been at his school at 5.30 this morning clearing the snow so his school could open. It was the only school open in his area and I'll bet those kids were glad as they saw friends from neighbouring schools heading out for a day's sledging. Don't get me started.

Our two braved the cold for the sake of snowball fighting, building a snow fort and heading into town for bought hot chocolate; so much better than homemade.

Meanwhile no news back from my job interview so I've given up hope and am rewriting the experience such that I was too good for them and didn't really want it anyway.

They might phone tomorrow.

Future Shock

Look what I can do with a mac

A Gift From Siberia

It's three months on and we're in our tenth month of Winter. Today the snow arrived from the Steppes, bringing London to a standstill and dropping a light fall on us here. The heavy stuff arrives tomorrow apparently.

Here are pics from this afternoon's brief foray into the Arctic temperatures. Photo sessions last only as long as feeling remains in my fingers, the controls being impossible to operate with gloves.

It had to be today that I had a job interview in Edinburgh, of course, opening the curtains this morning to this, and the stern warnings on the radio to avoid all unnecessary travel. It was necessary, needless to say, and they thanked me for making the trip, though it's unclear whether this will be enough to secure me the post.

Three months on we are settled in our new home, welcomed warmly by friends, neighbours and even strangers who have heard our story. A fine return, and the opportunity to make a new place for ourselves.

The job ? Wait 'n' see if I get it first.

old lag

It's always worse travelling East, apparently. I find myself wide awake at 3am, unable to sleep until 4.30-odd then effortlessly sleeping to 11 in the morning. In fact on the first night here all four of us were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 3am, reading, playing on small screens and prowling the silent night in a bewildered fashion. I've caught up with some good radio (ah, the BBC !) and writtten some fine lists that somehow seem less intelligible in the cold light of dawn. It will lessen, surely, or I'm heading West...

It's autumn and windy, colourful, the leaden skies threatening rain but so far not delivering. What's falling in abundance are acorns, which clatter on the roof above our bedroom ceiling like thrown stones through the (sleepless) night. Next morning grey squirrels nip about the grass below collecting them up and burying them (yes, they really do).

Green and Pleasant

There's a foreshortened perspective in England. Something to do with the light, or clear Autumn air, or just that things are closer to each other. Perhaps it's jet-lag, I don't know. Anyway it's cool and green, the smaller roads and lanes draped with that late-summer foliage that's not trying to be innocent and appealing now that the nip of Autumn hints at its demise. It's a privilege of our situation that we were warmly farewelled by family in the Southern Pacific and warmly welcomed by family in the North Atlantic, and a tribute to all that each has done the welcoming at six in the morning. Thanks guys.

I had low expectations of British Airways, based on research and past experience, but they came up trumps on the flight from New York. Apart from the business of selecting us for 'special screening' (searching all our hand luggage and ourselves, swabbing the bags for drugs) they provided good seats on a nice small plane, good food, a comprehensive entertainment system, quick flying time (6 hours) and friendly service. We took off into a deep blue and burnt umber sunset with the full moon rising on America, and landed into a dark grey dawn with the full moon just setting on England. Being Manchester it was cold (7 degrees), dark and raining. What else ?

This is where the plans run out and I start having to make things up as I go along. This is the blank sheet bit, albeit rich linen paper as it seems now, and the way it always seems to happen best. I feel a list coming on, just as I feel an urge to build a tent on every mountaintop. So far so good.

We rode the subway to Times Square in rush hour

Day 2 in New York so now we're locals, crossing the road against the lights, laughing at lost tourists consulting maps, strolling through Central Park and talking about the streets in numerical shorthand.

A relatively lazy day to finish our Stateside sojourn: here's the bullets.
Brunch at EJ's luncheonette (you don't know it ? A favourite with us locals) followed by a walk to the Metropolitan Art Museum and a few hours looking at art. Altogether more edifying than our visit a few years ago to the Tate Modern, which I thought might be a wind-up. A stroll through Central Park; families playing ball, kids on bikes, people sitting under trees reading, lots of dogs. Onwards to Zabar's deli and down Broadway to the subway station where we rode to Times Square (see above). Last-minute souvenirs, then to Grand Central for tea at the (fabulous and familiar to us locals) Food Concourse.

Back at our hotel in Queens it was a hot and noisy night of traffic, sirens and bursts of rap music from passing cars.

Just because I can

Now you can see how many people have visited my blog (about 6) and where they are (can you guess ?). And you can see where most of the photos were taken, on a handy map. Just click on the photos to go to the online album.

Then again, why would you ?

Weird People sit at the back

The subway, and New York generally, seems to be a good place to spot weird people. Training the kids not to stare at them is harder. Unfortunately they don't just sit at the back of the bus like they do everywhere else.

A mission to New York

At a distance, and with eyes half-closed (as you do) the MTA New York city subway map looks like one of those diagrams of the male reproductive system, though I'm glad it's not mine. Metaphorically tracing our route through New York today would be strangely disturbing however, so let me stay with the literal.

Decoding and negotiating the ticket vending machines was a return to HAL. A New York-style queue of patiently discontented people (mostly curious tourists making mental notes) formed as we tried to figure out the touchscreen instructions and which way to feed in the dollar notes without them being rejected. Finally armed with four Metro Funcards (more American irony) we thundered into New York in one of those distinctive boxy silver subway trains, emerged into the hazy sunshine and did that Gothic cathedral thing of looking upwards and gawping at the high verticals. It was Yosemite again, without the trees.

Food, a signature motif for our trip, is everywhere here, and good stuff too. We bought tasty filled rolls, cakes, coffee and marched through Battery Park to the Ellis Island Ferry. Street vendors sell all manner of quality and dodgy goods, and who can tell the difference ? It's a public holiday today (Columbus Day) but a low tourist season, and all the New Yorkers were at Cape Cod (we saw them queuing on the Massachusetts Turnpike on Friday) so the Statue and Ellis Island Immigration museum were quiet.

Ellis Island is where new immigrants went to be processed before gaining admission to America. Arriving in crowded and filthy ships and after the initial excitement of seeing the Statue of Liberty they waited days sometimes before disembarking and being subjected to questioning, medical examination and a tense wait for a decision. The place processed up to ten thousand people a day. I found it moving and uplifting, the photos of hopeful people who had fled the privations of Europe to find a new life, much like the waves of immigrants reaching New Zealand a century later.

Of course there were also the six million slaves from Africa, and they were the ones who made it here alive. In addition, a large percentage of the Europeans came as indentured servants, with the interesting exception of New England settlers.

I digress. From the Ellis Island experience to Grand Central Station and a grand architectural experience, as well as a superb Food Concourse, and thence to the Empire State Building, once again the tallest in New York, and a stunning night-time view of the big apple under a full moon.

Finally back to the scrotum and our hotel. Oops, did I say that out loud ?

Queens

New York, and the last city of our tour. The GPS did a major HAL coming in to New York but amidst a lot of honking horns, a man waving his fist at me and some diatribe from me towards the unit, we managed between the two of us (Carole and me) to find our hotel, then to the Avis return depot at LaGuardia Airport via the petrol station where I received the legendary New York surly service. I complained to Avis about the GPS (loud enough that she could hear me) and received a $50 refund for my inconvenience. It was the least they could do.

Driving in America's been fun though. You can do relatively little in America without a car, it seems, including getting from one end of a mall to the other. The car (a Dodge CaraVan) was spacious, comfortable, powerful and I want one.

Tomorrow, the New York subway...

Roads paved with gold

The best view of the New England Fall was on the Massachusetts Turnpike, the main road out of Boston. It appears to cut through a forest of maple, sycamore, beech and aspen trees, all of which are 'on the turn', blazing yellow, gold and orange in the brilliant morning sun. It was breathtaking. The Mohawk Trail, a fifty mile stretch of road through equally pretty forest, had the charm of the canopy of trees over the road, and the entertainment of a bizarre gift shop at the hill summit which sold such oddities as souvenirs of San Francisco, rabbit pelts and truly terrible coffee.

Another city, another budget hotel. Yesterday we took the subway into Boston, visiting Trinity Church and walking through the Beacon Hill district experiencing the English familiarity of this most symbolic place for American Independence. Charles Street raised a smile, and gave us the chance to photograph some of the shots you see in the slideshow. The Science Museum was closing within an hour of our getting there, but we hit the gift shop and Simon enjoyed icecream chilled with liquid nitrogen. We finished up in Quincy markets, sitting at the curbside on a concrete rotunda eating excellent pizza slices and listening to a full orchestra playing in the street, surrounded by market stalls selling all manner of things. Bustling with people, the air filled with the smells of every kind of food imaginable, a clear cool night with a bright moon to finish our short visit to New England.

Entering the Twilight Zone

Rod Serling could have created some gripping moments with the GPS, had it been invented in 1960. This thing usually conveys us safely from one set of coordinates to another, naming all the streets and points of interest and apparently having a special satellite up there just watching out for us. We trust her (yes, her), smile forgivingly at her sometimes strange pronounciations, share her sense of effortless accomplishment when we reach our destination. Then just occasionally she does a HAL; directing us to keep left, then springing a right-turn, introducing a full-reverse arrow thing on to the map screen, giving a different instruction to what's clearly marked on the display, our little blue car icon careering off the chosen pathway into a dark tangle of unknown streets. We switch to old methods, scrabbling with maps, reading road signs that are OUTSIDE the car, turning aside from The Route.

There's a silence then she says "Recalculating", but what she really means is "What are you doing Dave ?" It's touch and go. We've even switched her off a couple of times recently. The errors are getting more frequent, and more bizarre. Should I worry ?

This is a place

The biggest mall in New England has 7000 car park spaces and several miles of corridor. That was our exercise for yesterday. We had to work off the pumpkin pie somehow, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But surely even 7000 carloads of people couldn't buy all these clothes, or eat all this fast food ? There's a bit of a retail meltdown in America, apparently, and prices are keen, but there's just not many people around in these big shopping centres, except in the queue for McDonalds which was never less than 10 long. As with the desert, the mountains and forests, I'm struck by the scale of American shopping. Our latest hotel is on a 35-mile main trunk road into Boston which is lined with palatial retail parks like giant fiefdoms facing each other across the four-lane roadway. Every one seems to have McDonalds and a Dunkin Donuts. My idea of building a fast salad empire in the US is faltering.

The pumpkin pie was delicious by the way. Clam chowder in a breadbowl, similar, and there have been some good Caesar salads though I only managed to finish one of them. Coffee, on the other hand ... don't get me started.

Spongebob Rules

Billy Connolly once described taking his two girls on a journey back to his roots in Scotland, trailing around the places of his childhood and telling them stories of his life there, immersing them in the history, the music, the culture of the place.

Asked upon their return home to America what impressed them most about this odyssey they both replied 'Sesame Street on the hotel TV'.

Why am I telling you this ?
Spongebob Squarepants. Say no more.