Dan Germain

country hazards, part 5

Getting up early means that the sun gets right in your eyes when you're driving. Hazardous.

how i do art

The short answer is that I don't do art. Not very well at least. But I can sometimes be quite good. I go to galleries and look at stuff. When I visit big cities I dutifully go along to the places you're supposed to go to. But I'm still learning the moves. There's a stance that experienced gallery goers have. They look like they know what they're doing. I'm usually trying to work out which room's next and whether I've missed the famous one yet.

I still enjoy it though, especially when I find something that amazes me. Rich sixteenth century Italian blokes painting other Italian blokes of a similar ilk, sometimes on horses. That doesn't impress me that much (although they're better at drawing than me). But beaming Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata at the Moon via Morse code, and then collecting the reflected code and turning it back into music, give or take a few notes that got lost because they bounced into the wrong crater. Or being able to phone a glacier. That impresses me.

Read more about Katie Patterson's Earth-Moon-Earth and her glacier thing.

back like burt bacharach

Thanks to Paul for looking after the place while I was away. It was good to have him blogging again. His posts are all here. I liked the one about the train station best, and am full of admiration for him and Russell climbing that mountain like they did.

I was away due to the birth of my/our second child, Violet. She's pretty small and smiles when milk-drunk. Our older daughter Ruby has got a new mask (above). She thinks it's a crocodile but it is clearly a dinosaur.

Anyway, this is a baton change of a post. More searing insights coming up very soon. Just wanted to say hello, I'm back.

The slog.

So yesterday Russell and I hiked to the top of Ben Nevis.

It was a long day - a 10 mile round trip, and Britain's highest mountain to get up in the middle of that. I'd not been out in the mountains for over a year, and Russell has not done that much mountaineering, but it was a fine day - tough but good.

We were even blessed with a fair bit of snow above three thousand feet, which made the going even harder, but added to the majesty of the mountain.

Even when the conditions got wintery Davies drove on.

Of course tea and the odd Mars Bar were taken, but onwards we went, mile after mile, higher and higher.

And soon we reached the summit, I pulled a funny face to acknowledge the significance of the occasion, Russell looked tired (to signify that he was feeling tired).

We took lunch on the summit and had a little snooze, though not too long, as the weather closed in (I think Russell might have some good pictures of the almost 'white out' conditions).

The walk down is always a bitch, so we approached using an ultra new alpine style of mountaineering, which involves listening to ipods and using an air guitar (as required).

Tea and a chin-wag followed in the shadow of The Ben.

Before the obligatory bath (separate).

The legs are a little stiff today, but nothing too tragic - more that good feeling you get when you've used them properly.

Well done, Russell. Well done, Mother Nature.

Ps. Great pictures by Russell here.

 

(This post was written by Mr. Paul H. Colman, I think that's it now from me, Dan is coming back. Goodbye.)

More of Scotland.

The trip goes on.

The journey from Glasgow to Fort William wasn't that demanding, but we took tea, a biscuit, and a view anyway.

We saw an old enemy of mine - a certain mountain that once chewed me up and spat me out down her side. I tipped my cap, out of respect.

 

We then had a fine supper and discussed intellectual matters of the highest order.

Tomorrow it's The Ben.

Until then, good evening.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, guide.)

Doncaster.

Word has clearly got around that we will be passing through many towns and cities on our quest to walk up the Nevis. So all along our route local bloggers and fans have come out to wish us luck, say hello, and cheer us on.

Doncaster was particularly moving.

(Paul H. Colman wrote this, amen.)

Off to Scotland.

Off to Scotland this weekend to stroll up Ben Nevis (should the weather allow it). I feel quite modern as I'm writing this from the train, while Russell pens his latest campaign column. Internet on trains, whatever next - phones in cars?

Just passed Newark, not sure where that is, but about an hour and half outside of London (on the way to Scotland). We've just upgraded to First Class, the sun is shining, I've got a bacon sandwich on the way. So far so good.

(Written by Paul H. Colman, man.)

On the terrace.

We are lucky enough to have a terrace at work, so I took my computer and my weary body out there for a bit of al fresco working this afternoon. Nice. The city, the breeze, the quiet, all a pleasant change from the hustle and bustle of the office.

Then the wireless went a bit funny, so I had to come in. Still, was jolly pleasant while it lasted.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, not for very much longer.)

Some things...

...are yellow, and that's fine and dandy, they need to be.

But some other things...

...are grey. All grey and serious.

It's the way of the world.

I shouldn't laugh.

But I did.

I laughed for all of us who think a phone is something to call people on. To use to check how mum is doing. Or to call Aunty Helen on to apologise for not sending a thank you card sooner.

I laughed for all of us who don't want a phone you have to cradle in your arms and gently caress every time you want to check if Jonesy is coming to the pub.

I've stopped laughing now, but I'm still smiling.

(This post was written by Paul H. Colman, the one in the hat.)