Emotionally Drained

Apart from my times in New Zealand when I posted on my other blog this is, I'm pretty sure, the longest period between posts since i started this blog in 2007. 

I've been very busy helping my son get his house finished. It's nearly there. I've also been working on my own house in my 'spare' time.

Yesterday was the turning point.

I'm in Glasgow for a few days and yesterday was one of the most emotionally charged days I can recall for a long time.

The first thing I did was take my beloved Nighthawk to be sold. As she sat there all valeted and gleaming at the Car Auction I steeled myself to walk away. Writing this (after the rest of the day) I want to go back and bid for her, ask for her forgiveness, and take her back to Lewis for a long and happy retirement. As it is I can only hope that her new owner gets as much enjoyment and is as happy with her and as good to her as I have been.

In the afternoon a couple of friends and I travelled over by train to Edinburgh (an impossible place in which to park a car) to see an exhibition of Joan Eardley's paintings at the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art (Modern Two). 

Then we went to the Edinburgh Festival Theatre to see Matthew Bourne's ballet company perform his production of The Red Shoes. I love ballet and have done ever since I saw a production of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake at the Royal Court in Liverpool as part of the Commonwealth Arts Festival in 1965. In New Zealand we used to go to (and I have blogged about) several productions each season at the Napier or Hastings theatres. I've been to far too few productions in the UK. 

Even if one does not like ballet I challenge anyone to go and see yesterday's production and not be moved. For me it was one of the most magnificent, dramatic and emotionally challenging ballet production I have ever seen. The standing ovation was well deserved.

We all arrived back at Anna's in the hour before midnight. Cheese and wine appeared as if by magic and disappeared down grateful throats as we reminisced on a wonderful afternoon and evening.  We eventually made way to our beds and slept....and slept.

We've Been Together Now

for 12 years and 100,000 miles. Okay it's not quite as poetic as saying for 'for 40 years' but when one is talking about a car then it is quite a long time. Many of those years weren't even full years because I was in New Zealand for six months of most of them. To reward the Nighthawk for her service to me during that time I decided that she could have a makeover; well a tarting up really. So she spent a few days in Nomie's Body Shop in Stornoway (where else would one go?) who did the honours. She looks good as new.

Yesterday after six weeks of not driving after my knee surgery I was back behind the wheel. Whether we'll be together for another 12 years remains to be seen but for the time being we make a good team and we'll be staying together.

When new

12 years later

TW3

That Was The Week That Was. Remember that programme from half a century ago? Of course you don't. Well not if you're younger than I am. I wrote that start to this post this morning whilst it was fresh in my mind knowing that I had a day when I wouldn't be able to finish it until this evening. Coincidentally it's been in the news today.

Those of you who followed my A Hebridean in New Zealand blog will know that Pauline and I went on safari in New Zealand's Northland each year. Well last week Pauline visited Scotland and we went on a Highlands and Islands safari.

There will be more detailed posts on both our blogs (bearing in mind that Pauline's away for ages yet) but just to prove that Pauline woz 'ere here are a few photos.  

The most amazing thing, though, was that it didn't rain on us during the day all week. Pauline has a reputation for bringing good weather and she certainly came up trumps last week.

Day 1: Straight off the plane from Dublin and a visit to Fort George near Inverness

Day 1: The Ledgowan Arms in Achasheen for the first night

Day 2: The road to Applecross on the West Coast

Day 2: Pauline and the Nighthawk on the way over the 'top' to Applecross

Day 2: On 'the top' looking over to the Cuillins on the Isle of Skye.

Day 3: The Broch at Dun Carloway, Isle of Lewis

Day 3: The Standing Stones at Callanish, Isle of Lewis

Day 3: St Moluag's Church, Ness, Isle of Lewis

Day 4:  St Clement's Church, Rodel, Isle of Harris

Day 5: Uig, Isle of Lewis

Day 5: Uig Sands, Isle of Lewis. As good as New Zealand (but slightly colder!). 

Day 6: The ferry, a journey through the Highlands and a night in a superb hotel.

Day 7: Surveying the scene at Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness

Well that was the week, that was. And a most enjoyable safari it was too. Enjoy the rest of your holiday Pauline.

A Little Bit of This and That

Those of you who also read the blog of my brother CJ, John, Scriptor Senex will have a reasonable idea of what has been happening in Eagleton over the last few weeks whilst CJ has been here and since Jo arrived earlier in the week.

The Nighthawk has had its brain re-programmed and is now as right as rain and raring to take me and my visitors wherever they may wish to wander. This particular journey was with CJ to Callanish.

CJ and I went to the shore at Barvas accompanied by magnificent skies:

 and whilst CJ searched for pebbles I photographed the surfers

CJ and Jo at the Butt of Lewis with CJ using Jo as a photographer's rest to photograph a gannet

On the way from Ness I was left musing as to what the Council was doing allowing such a plethora of road signs on a main road where the high volume of traffic (note position of tongue when uttering this statement) could cause a pile-up whist drivers' concentration was distracted. 

If anyone thinks that the people of Lewis in general and Ness in particular are staid and unimaginative then think again. However the real reason I included this was so that Spesh would suddenly realise that David had a job to do before this 'summer' is over.

The weather has been such that the young sparrow have been sheltering from the strong cold winds and taking advantage of the stones warmed by the sun at the same time.

 or sheltering in the lee of the garage. It's a hard life arriving in the world to a 'summer' like this.

Thankful Thursday

Rabbie (Robert/Robbie) Burns knew what he was talking about when he penned To a Mouse:

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley,

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,

For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!

The present only toucheth thee:

But och! I backward cast my e'e,

On prospects drear!

An' forward, tho' I canna see,

I guess an' fear!

Today has been a Very Strange Day.

It started off well enough as I left Anna's for Ayr Hospital and my cancer review. All seems to be well. For that I am exceptionally thankful.

A friend had major cancer surgery today and I've just heard that she's some through it. For that I am exceptionally thankful.

Another is recovering from a heart attack and angioplasty and for that, too, I am exceptionally thankful.

And as I drove down the M6 past Penrith and the Morecambe turnoff a white transit van suddenly and inexplicably with no warning pulled out in front of me at 70 mph. I braked severely and instantly and a collision was avoided. However I suddenly realised when I put my foot on the throttle that I had no power, the engine had cut and unfortunately would not restart.  I was in the centre lane with a car on my inside and no hard shoulder to escape to (a new access is being constructed) and I was on a bend. That was scary. The car drifted to a halt in the nearside lane with about 15 metres to a little break where I could get about half the car off the carriageway. So I drove the car on the battery and starter motor into the gap.

And from safety behind the barrier phoned the police and the breakdown service.

The Highways Agency came and removed the car to the hard shoulder about 100 yards further on having stopped the traffic on the motorway in order to do so.

Eventually the breakdown service came and, to cut a long story short, the car suffered from a moment of severe fuel starvation (which showed up on the inboard diagnostics) presumably as a result of my attempts to accelerate again after the severe breaking when the engine may have stalled.  However I'd done some damage driving the car on the starter motor to get it out of trouble.

So instead of having the car taken to my brother's on the back of a wagon

and sorting out a repairer tomorrow morning I decided to have the car recovered to a garage here in Morecambe who have ordered the parts and will have it repaired by 1030 tomorrow at the latest (they say).

So my beloved and faithful Nighthawk lies ignominiously in a garage in Morecambe and I'm typing this in a Witherspoon  near the Travel Lodge where I shall spend the night. So far as I can recall it's the first time in its 11 years that it has caused me grief. Or perhaps it was I who caused it grief. 

So whilst I was standing at the side of the motorway I played the Glad Game: it wasn't raining (it had been torrential with flooding when I left Ayr) and I wasn't hurt and neither was anyone else.

I have a great deal to be thankful for this particular Thursday.

Glasgow

Boredom warning.  This is one of my 'diary' posts.  If you don't speed read then I suggest that you skip the next three paragraphs.

Yesterday I drove from Lewis (of course I took a ferry across The Minch: on this occasion via the Calmac ferry from Tarbert on Harris to Uig on Skye) down to Anna's in Bishopbriggs.  The A82 is an attractive drive but there's no dual carriageway so it's sometimes a bit slow going.  Then we went to pick up Anna's daughter Cesca from Glasgow Airport.  She'd just returned from a visit to her brother in Napier, New Zealand.  It was a long day.

So this morning started a bit later than usual.  We had nothing planned but I had noticed that a front tyre was wearing unevenly despite the fact that I'd had a Honda Dealer check and adjust the tracking last time I was in Glasgow on the way to collect CJ.

Well, well.  It's amazing how a day can evolve when you don't have a plan.  I took the car to ATS Euromaster to have the wheel alignments checked.  That was where the expensive fun started.  Firstly the perfectly good rear tyres turned out to be different sizes and therefore unlawful.  The nearside friont tyre was fine.  The offside front tyre was legal for the UK but not for France (where I will be on Tuesday).  I was, however, far more concerned with safety than legality.  I couldn't have different tyres on the same axle of course so from having what I had assumed were four perfectly good tyres when I left home (the car having recently been MoTd as well) I ended up having to replace all four tyres and pay to have the wheels aligned.  I watched as they set up the machine - the wheels were way out.  What was worse was that one of the bushes had seized and the rear wheels could not be adjusted.  Fortunately the problem is not such that it needs to be addressed before I get back to Lewis.

So £400 later I was definitely in need of the Glad Game.  Sure enough the incident produced a very interesting time.whilst we were waiting for the car.

Firstly we went for coffee.  Now the Finneston area of Glasgow was, until fairly recently, not noted for its café culture. In fact Finneston culture was something of an oxymoron.  Now it is a thriving and burgeoning area awash with cafés (and computer repair shops).  We had coffee and cake at Piece opened by Lauckner and Moore in Argyle Street.  For me the coffee was perfect.

Just around the corner from the garage is The Northern Rotunda and one of the cranes left from the days when ships actually came this far up the River Clyde.  Please don't ask why the Rotunda is leaning.  It isn't in real life, of course, but it was better, in my judgement, to have the Rotunda leaning in the photo than the crane.

The Southern Rotunda is on the South bank of the river.  There was a logic to the names.  The two were joined by tunnels under the Clyde.  The passenger tunnel was only closed in 1980 but I've yet to meet a Glaswegian who even knew the tunnel was open in their lifetime.

Their story is fascinating.

We then went for a wander over the The Clyde Arc (known locally as the Squinty Bridge).  I had not realised how much had altered and developed since I used occasionally to frequent that part of Glasgow.

Looking back to the North bank one can see the crane from photo with the North Rotunda above and The Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre (known affectionally as The Armadillo) together with the new Hydro Arena which will be for concerts and other entertainment events.

Along all the railings of the bridge and the surrounding area are crosses each with the name of a service person killed in action in Afganistan.  The huge number of crosses is both moving and a very stark reminder of the huge loss of life and sacrifices being made by our armed forces.  The explanation is here.

There is a lot of new housing on the banks of the river:

and the occasional water taxi.

Exeter to Ambleside

It's been quite a day:  350 miles or thereabouts of mostly hellish driving in pouring rain and, when we were on the motorway, crawling traffic.  We arrived in Ambleside about 1830 and eventually located the Lakes Lodge hotel CJ booked this morning on line which has turned out to be excellent even if reception and breakfast room's predominantly purple is not quite to my taste.  Bedroom beautiful.  Wi-fi free!  We had decided that our 'usual' hotel, The Queens, was now off our list because of the service and terrible meal we had last time.

After dinner at a very pleasant restaurant CJ retired to the hotel and I went for a walk.  We spent many holidays in and around Ambleside and I never cease to be surprised at the changes which have taken place.  Of course I shouldn't be surprised because around half a century has lapsed since those days.  Now there are lots of art galleries (there used to be Heaton Cooper and he was all I can recall) and more outdoor clothing shops than you can shake a stick at and I couldn't begin to count the restaurants and coffee shops.  Surprisingly there are a lot of secondhand (or whatever the current PC term for such emporia is) book shops at a time when such places are closing down left right and centre because of charity (goodwill/op shops) and Amazon and eBay not to mention Kindle and other ebooks.

Perhaps the main thing though is travel.  It used too be a major journey to get to the Lake District from the conurbations.  Now its reachable from the North of Scotland or the South of England in a day and Liverpool in a couple of hours.  One can 'do' Ambleside as a day trip from Liverpool. How things change.

Some Westfield enthusiasts are staying.  The Nighthawk is the centre of the three staid cars parked against the hedge.

The Lakes Lodge

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.

Stuck: Update

The Specialist took one look at The Nighthawk and said that he'd come across this complaint before and that it was a problem that could only be cured at the Honda Hospital.  So CJ and I lost a day's gallivanting and The Nighthawk will be attending the Honda Hospital in Glasgow next Tuesday.  There is no guarantee of a quick cure.  There is a guarantee of a large hospital bill.  

Don't you just love modern cars with all their electrowizardry?

Stuck

The trusty steed isn't happy.  The Nighthawk's in Casualty/ER/A&E waiting for a diagnosis.  It's like so many things that happen to us as we get a bit older - bits keep getting tired and failing.  Mind you she's still a youngster.  Actually this problem has been partially showing itself for a while but every time a doc looks at her she's pronounced fit or undiagnosable.  The problem?  The tailgate (for the Nighthawk is a tourer/estate/station wagon) opens and closes by using a button on the key.  Yesterday when CJ and I arrived back from our day out I opened the tailgate but when I closed it it failed to lock which in turn prevented her from being secured.

This morning I took her to the Wirral's only Honda Hospital.  Given that the Wirral peninsula has a population somewhere approaching 500,000 people I was surprised there was only one hospital dedicated to Hondas.  I was less surprised to learn that they were unlikely to be able to look at her this week. It seems that car hospitals have the same problem as the ones we humans use.

I managed to find another general hospital who kindly offered to look at her but the latest news is that the problem needs a specialist.  Fortunately one will be visiting the hospital today.  It sounds as if she needs a rear lock motor transplant.  Oh dear.

In the meantime CJ and I are grounded!

Cars, Punctures and Spare Wheels

In a recent post Thank You, Firestone Pauline mentioned the number of punctures that she has travelling on metaled (gravel) roads in New Zealand.  I have travelled over metaled roads and been remarkably fortunate but I was also with Pauline when she was about to take me to the airport and we discovered that one of her tyres had been completely flattened by a puncture.  Pauline's car carries a space-saving wheel which limits your speed but is quick and easy to use. 

When I arrived back in Scotland and Pauline wrote that post it made me think.  My car here doesn't have a spare wheel.  Strictly, therefore, I understand that it is not road legal in France where I travel.  I imagine that there are a great many UK cars similarly breaking French law.  I've had the Nighthawk for about - no, actually I've just looked it up - I bought it on the 28 May 2004 - and I've had it for 7 years.  Odd really because I still think of it as a new car.    I must get an MOT this week too.

Anyway as I was saying, the Nighthawk has a kit which injects stuff into the tyre in the event of a puncture.  I've never had to use it.  I've never had a puncture in those 7 years.  But Pauline made me think and I bought a space-saver wheel.  Not ideal but as the 'proper' wheel is hugely wide it would be a very tight fit in the allocated space.  There are limitations on the speed but it was only when I removed the supplied kit that I discovered that it has even more severe limitations.  It can be used at a max speed of 80kph/50mph.  If, however, I read the instructions correctly the car can only be driven for 10 minutes once the kit has been used.  Really?  Anyway reading various blogs on the subject it seems that even if you manage to get the tyre inflated with the gunge it is unlikely to be repairable once so filled. 

I think I've done the correct thing!  No more kits for me when I buy another car.  They can give me a proper wheel or lose the sale.  If I ever buy another car that is.

Old Age Doesn’t Come Alone

The ferry bringing David was coming in.  The Nighthawk was making her way towards the ferry terminal to meet him.  Fuel was fairly low and there was plenty of time so she decided to have a drink and called in at the car café.  Then her driver did something he’d never done in the 49 years he’s been driving.  He put the wrong fuel in the car.  Well he put some wrong fuel in it.  So now the Nighthawk is sitting on the garage forecourt waiting for the doctor’s doors to open tomorrow so that she can have her stomach pumped.   Poor girl.

Fortunately I have wonderful neighbours and within 10 minutes I’d been rescued and David had been picked up from the ferry (thank heaven for mobile phones) and we were home within half an hour.  Albeit carless.  Well not actually because my neighbours are going off on the ferry in the morning with their campervan leaving one of their cars for me.  And (oops sorry Adrian) Carol’s offered me her car.  It’s moment like this that I realise how lucky I am to have the friends and neighbours I have.

All I have to do now is gird my loins for the laughter when Spesh realises what I’ve done.  I’ll never hear the end of it.  Ever.

The Nighthawk

I have never been particularly emotionally attached to any of my cars. That's not to say that I haven't liked them or enjoyed them or relied on them. I've had some wonderful times in my cars whether it be on the bench front seat of the Standard Ensign (which was my first car) in Bowring Park with Pat Stapleton or the adventures all over Britain and Europe with the many and varied cars and vans that I've had since then.

I very much enjoyed driving my little Peugeot 206 van and the Renault Kangoo van took Mo and me through France and over the mountains into Andorra and back down onto the Med.

I'd like to do a blog on my various cars if for no other reason than just to remind me about them and awaken memories. But somehow my present car is different. Called 'the hearse' by a neighbour of singularly morbid mind I decided to give my Honda Accord Tourer the name 'The Nighthawk'. It seemed appropriate because its colour is Nighthawk Black. I suppose that's to distinguish it from all the other blacks. Frankly I can never tell the name of one black from the name of another. I notice, though that the upmarket car interiors colour is now 'piano black'. I shall be leaving the Nighthawk behind in eight days when I go to New Zealand.

But when I get to New Zealand I'll have something completely different:

The Nighthawk meets The Garage

Having driven about 3000 km since I left home I was a litle alarmed when going round a corner a few days ago to hear a graunching noise apparently coming from the offside front wheel of the Nighthawk. In the normal course of things because I'm in France I would have gone to a French garage. With a bit of brushing up on technical terms I could have got through my side of the explanations. Understanding all their explanations if there was something fundamentally wrong might have been a problem. I was quite excited by the challenge. However Charroux has The Garage Cole & Fils run by an English family. So I took the car there for a checkup. Fortunately after having removed all the wheels and parking brake drums and front stoneguards and about half a hundredweight of stones from there and the suspension the car was given a clean bill of health.

Every garage has its Deux Chevaux