Names

At some stage before this crazy week started someone mentioned names and how given names often differ from what one is called. 

My Mother was supposed to have been Christened Flora Irene. Unfortunately her Godmother Edith was so miffed at her not being named after her that she added it when asked "How do you name this child?" It, needless to say, caused a bit of a family tiff.

My father was Morris Thompson-Edwards. However my mother refused to marry a double-barrelled name so he appeared on the Marriage certificate as Morris Thompson Edwards sans hyphen.

I was named Graham Barry Edwards. My parents called me Barry but Barry Graham Edwards didn't scan. Since I was 16 I've been known by both fore-names. One of the reasons for my names was that they were not easily shortened. So my parents thought. At school I was usually Bas and in our road simply Ba. Today I'm also known as GB, Geeb and various other things some of which are completely unrelated to my given names and which I shall ignore (as I usually do).  

My brother was named Clive John Edwards and to our parents and some people from his youth, he was and is Clive. Everyone else including me and his wife and offspring only use John or CJ (so far as I know!).

The husband of one of my brother's daughters took her surname on marriage. 

My son Gaz was named Gareth Vernon Spencer Edwards and called Gareth or Gaz. Virtually no one knew his full name until he got married. In Scotland you have to recite your full given name when getting married. His contempt for his chosen names was shown when on signing the register he then signed a deed changing his name to Gareth Macrae Edwards. 

His wife was, and remains, Carol Macrae although uses the title Mrs. In Scotland the taking of the husband's surname only came into general use in the 19th Century. 

Their son is Brodie Edwards Macrae. 

I'm glad that I will never have to be researching the family history. 

However if they do then this public record, boring though it might have been to you, will be of considerable interest to the researchers.

SID 18 Busy Skies

Gaz, C and B are on their was home. As I write this they are above the Indian Ocean just over half way between Melbourne and Kuala Lumpur. It is one of the wonders of modern science that I can open my phone and find out where a plane is on a live map. Anyone who often picks up people from planes knows how unreliable airport sites are with their arrival and departure information. However, if I can see that a flight is in the middle of The Minch on it's way to Stornoway then I know exactly when to leave home so that I will be at the airport at the correct time.

So I shall track their progress across the globe until they land in Glasgow and are safe and sound on Scottish soil. 

When I took the screenshot to the right they were half way across the Australian outback. Their plane is the little red one with the route shown. 

However what really struck me was that with every airline apparently closed down what are all these planes doing in the sky? 

Lots of them will be cargo planes but lots will not. I thought the numbers flying over China and the Far East in particular was particularly interesting . I know from Marcheline that the skies over the US are almost empty. Which made me realise that if there are that many planes when the skies are 'empty' how many are there usually. Actually looking at the pictures now (10:04) London airport looks quite busy and the Frankfurt to Los Angeles flight is somewhere above me. It suddenly brought it home to me that if this is the 'empty skies' level of aircraft pollution what is the 'normal' level. Somehow my academic knowledge had not computed with my perceived knowledge. In short there is one helluva lot of planes up there and, therefore, one helluva lot of pollution.

Oh Happy Day!

No. This is not a post about a hymn. 

Yesterday my New Zealand Family arrived for a visit. Okay not all of them Eldest and Girlfriend came a couple of weeks ago. Now its Wendy and Martin and Catriona (with whom those of you who followed A Hebridean in New Zealand will be well acquainted). So that just leaves the two intermediate children yet to visit but that won't be anytime soon.

The weather is not looking particularly promising but Wendy and Martin lived here so they know what to expect. You don't come to Lewis for hot, sunny weather. You do, however, get peace and quiet (unless the wind is above Force 10).

Their plane was last yesterday evening so by the time we'd finished dinner and a sat and consumed a reasonable amount of cheese (I'm not even mentioning the gin and tonic, Rioja and cognac) it was well after 1am. It was as if the intervening months since we last met face to face just hadn't existed. 

On Thursday Gaz, Carol and Grandson, Brodie return. They have been sorely missed. Is it really only three weeks they have been away. Don't Grandchildren grow up quickly?

So I am here and manageing to read blogs. I even wrote a whole post on the subject of The Peats and then Blogger threw a fit and the post, which had been saved and worked on for several weeks just disappeared from my Dashboard. Well, to be exact, the content of the post. The actual heading and one photo remained. Sometimes I do wonder what happens behind the blogscenes.

Four Fast Days

I can't believe that I'm sitting here tonight after four days with my niece Helen and her husband Ian and that they have already left this evening for their home in the South-West of England. We have been to the southernmost and the most northerly points of Lewis and Harris.  We have been to the East and to the West.  We have driven and we have walked.  We have eaten vegetarian food (although not in the café at the Garenin Blackhouses where there was nothing a vegetarian could have for lunch so we went on to Callanish Stones café where there was plenty) and we have talked from morning until night.  It has been an enjoyable and an enlightening few evenings.

For nearly two weeks before they arrived the weather was idyllic.  For the four days they were here it rained and for the first three it blew a gale.  We were exceptionally lucky though in that we never actually got soaked: we always managed to get out of the car for a walk without getting too wet.  I have neither the courage nor the heart to tell them that when I went into town after they had gone into the airport departure lounge this evening that the sun shone and the sky was blue as the clouds dissapated.

South: Helen saw her first seals in the wild in South Harris.

North: I didn't think to take a photo of the lighthouse at the Butt of Lewis because I was too busy
trying to photograph one of the Swifts flying around.  I can't recall seeing a Swift on Lewis before.

West:  At Mealista - the end of the road in Uig - Ian looked out over the Atlantic to the Flannan Isles and North America
(we got a glimpse of the former but the latter was obscured by distance). 

East: At Garry Sands where our children used to play so often and whereI now go all too rarely.
 Helen being a typical Edwards is taking a photo of an Edwards taking a photo.

An Unconventional Decision: Another Edwards

Helen and Ian have, as those of you who read this blog know, just married.  When a lady marries the convention is (was?) that she adopts the surname or family name of the husband.  Ian has decided that he will adopt Helen's family name and become an Edwards. 

I think that's a really interesting approach and it's good to welcome another Edwards into the fold - particularly one as special as Ian.  

It's going to make the task of anyone researching the family tree in years to come a little 'interesting' though!

The Journey to Exeter

I am ensconsed in my bedroom at the Woodbury Park Hotel near Exeter having traveled the 240 miles down from the Pennine foothills via the M6 and M5 and arrived at around 3.30 yesterday afternoon (although it seems like an age ago).  It's just over three hours to The Wedding.  My niece, Helen and her partner Ian are tying the knot.  The Nighthawk and I have official duties ferrying the Bride and CJ.  So yesterday afternoon I took The Nighthawk to get a good wash and brush up so that it would be respectable after the 5 day journey from Lewis.  I might as well not have bothered.  It's poured this morning and she's filthy again.  The roads around Exeter seem uncommonly mucky!  The garage is too far away for me to have another go and it'd probably be just as mucky again when I arrive back here.  C'est la vie.

Happiness Is An Evening With People About Whom You Care

Just over a year ago I wrote the following posting.  For various reasons I didn't post it at the time.  I am staying with my God-daughter at the moment for a few days.  Tonight we shall be going out to the same restaurant again.  Now I feel free to post my thoughts from a year ago:

I regard myself as one of the luckiest people alive. I have few worries and a lifestyle which suits me very well indeed: living in Napier in New Zealand and the Isle of Lewis in Scotland - two of the places best suited to my temperament and lifestyle. I am very content, even happy.

Occasionally, however, something happens to take that happiness to an exceptional level.

Last Wednesday evening was one of those occasions. I was visiting Lesley and Geoff. Lesley and I have known each other since we were both aged 4 and Lesley regarded me as a "horrible little boy" (I'm no longer a 'little boy' and I'd like to think that I'm no longer quite so horrible!). After going to see my Goddaughter, Louise and her partner Gerry at their new house we went out to the Pho Thong Thai Restaurant in Mossley.

The food, the ambience but above all the company and the fun were truly exceptional and made it, for me, one of the most memorable and enjoyable of evenings.

No blog posting would be complete without a photo or two so here they are: