(no subject)

[Poll #1409048]

Also, the Birdsong channel is going from DAB radio. I will miss it. It's being replaced with some trendy concept of "unsigned artists" via some website that no-one will listen to.

There is a BT engineer here

He is installing lines. Well, he's off messing with the wiring up the way, but either way, things are happening.

My Adventure by Richard Aged 34 1/3rd

Today saw very little work done; I know it was a Monday, but the sun, the warm... and the upheaval of having a BT engineer. Following on from an already awesome weekend, however, today has been even better than being in a girl's room when her parents are out. Yes. It's on THAT scale of awesome, as days go, particularly by my standards.

It started with that restless sort of "hmm. There must be jobs to do outside" mentality. I tidied up the rubbish from the fox tearing open binbags, and left the front door open which made the cat delightfully happy, able to wander in and out of the house as she pleased. A magpie also wandered in whilst i was working, then left in a rush when I looked to see what the noise was.

The wooden panel on the pigshed looked loose. Perhaps the wind had dislodged it. "Taptap". Hmmm. Definitely loose. Loose enough for an adventurous small boy to squeeze through? Sure. However, I'm not 12 anymore, right?

I fit. I was inside the pigshed. So I went to get the camera and took pictures in there. Then I wasn't sure if the BT engineer was going to show up, but got a text saying he was on the way. Tried handstands on the lawn; I'm not flexible, but I had forgotten that the world looks quite cool upside-down. I shall try this again.

The engineer showed up and I had to be grown up for a bit, whilst talking about the next plans for the magazine. However, he was messing with my lines, so I had time to kill again; out comes the bike.

After Jen got home, I noticed the moon in the sky, white against the azure. The long shadows, and my bike, freshly checked and tyres inflated, beckoned.

At first it was all about remembering what to listen for. On the downhill, the 20mph on the speedometer and the rush of wind in my ears could mask an approaching car, but soon I found my first stop - Scotland Lodge. Connected originally to our farm, I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. So I carried on, to St. Leonard's Church and then up a public footpath, long overgrown and forgotten. The Frankley works, visible in the distance, looked curiously manicured against the wild and agricultural background.

I carried on again; another farm - not Genners, I don't think, but I'll check the maps later. Beautiful red-brick outbuildings and a view over Bartley Reservoir. No knocking on doors here, I don't know who might be there.

On the way back, I stop and see the old pumping house. That looks interesting, it'll be an Edwardian structure, but there are CCTV cameras atop and fences. No matter; I pull back into the drive near Scotland Lodge to hear fluttering in the nettles.

Carefully bending them with my feet, flattening them as I did decades ago in our old field, I find a juvenile magpie. He's trapped, head caught through the chainlink fence. I can't photograph him, he's too scared and flutters when I move close, so I carefully reach down through the nettles and hold his wings, then draw his neck from the fence. He hops off indignantly into the adjoining fields before calling.

It's getting a bit late (should be home for tea. I won't hear anyone calling at this distance) so I head back up the road, stopping to take pictures of the reservoir, before deciding I want a better angle, so I head off down the other way. A few shots over the wall; more magpies, two fighting over some discarded food wrappers. Up to the Sailing Club gates - clickclick, into 3rd/6th and 14mph is a relaxed effort on the flat. The angle is wrong; I want the contrast of the towerblocks with the evening sun and the fields across the water, but I can't get them.

Heading back; sun behind me, I switch on all three of the bike's lights so I'm visible. And then... as I get into the town. John Carpenter chords. "She'll run, sonny. You need these".

Okay. It's not Christine. But it is a 1965 Rambler Station Wagon. It looks incongruous parked beside a pale blue 80s BMW, especially when they share the same covering of green. And then... beside it... another. Another Rambler. A '66 convertible in rattlecan blue, even the chrome bumpers are painted.

And behind them... a 1960 Mercury Monterey. Bramble-grown, but still with style...

These cars are on a patch of ground beside the prefabs. I approach the disused looking house, and ring the bell.

Allan answers the door. He's a Glaswegian, rheumy-eyed and smoking a rollie. I ask for permission to photograph the cars, he says to go ahead, someone might be buying them soon.

Once I've photographed them, I go back. They're all in poor shape, of course. The Rambler Convertible's left flank is rotten, crumbling, door and trunk likewise. Such a rare car, in such an odd setting.

I'm going to go back and help get them running. Allan used to work around the places in Glasgow I know and Hillhead/Partick. He knows the Crow Road (and looks terrifyingly close to it). We talked industry and politics and rail; he also worked on the rail network (Buchanan St.) during the Beeching cuts.

Then, home; draining the last of the camera's battery to get one last sunset. Jen made me ginger cordial and a cup of tea, and I had to process my pictures.

And as such, with today's exploring the farm too (loose board on the pigshed), I declare the 1st of June to be totally a day of being 12, enjoying the sun (partly thanks to a BT engineer meaning I couldn't do much work at all) and getting some tidying done, but largely being irresponsible.

And now, ( PICTURES. )