Blog On The Motorway Swan diving off the tongues of crippled giants

Another Year Over

At the beginning of January, in this year of our fictional deity 2009, I set out a few goals that I had for the year. Seeing as it's now the end of the year, perhaps it's a good chance for me to look back and see just how I did.

• I will learn to drive.  Not only do I intend to do this, but I intend to pass my test and buy a car: I have started to learn to drive, but only in the last few months, so this one is going to have to roll over into 2010.
• I will start a degree.  I have enrolled on an Open University course in Computing and such related things, and by the end of the year should be onto my second module, and one out of five years closer to increasing my earning potential dramatically: Done!
• I will move house.  Ellen and Rosie and I need somewhere bigger and better to live, with a garden for the little pickle to fall over in without grazing her knees.  And we need to think about school districts and other such boring fare: Not moved house yet, but we're looking at the next few months. I have to say that the last year in this house has not been too bad though, Ellen got the concrete looking quite nice in the end.
• I will start a band.  This is already in the process of getting underway, but then I've been at this stage of assembling a band (all members agreed, about to start rehearsing and it falls apart before we even get a jam) so many times now that I'm going to get this done this year: I really think now is the time for me to realize that this is NEVER going to happen. I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that I will never to an international rock superstar.
• I will work very hard on this site.  I have lots of ideas in mind for what to do with this place, but at the very least I want a redesign and a shift to new hosting done by the end of the year: Job's a good 'un, I think.
• I will diversify my sources of income.  This job just ain't cutting the cheques any more, and I don't really fancy entering this most overcrowded job market right now, so I will be trying to earn some extra cash.  I haven't exactly worked out all the details on this yet, but my first thoughts are to get back into writing freelance, and getting into affiliate marketing: While I don't think they will bring in huge amounts of money, I'm hopeful that the new websites launching in the next few months will go some way to addressing this issue. It's still something I am interested in
• I will finish my Nano novel.  And not just the first draft, but a full working manuscript that I can start shopping around.  Ideally this should be done by November, as I will be writing book 2 as a Nano novel: I never did get around to it, mainly because I realised it was a bit shit, but work has begun in earnest on Blood On The Motorway, which should be launching this year.

So all in all, it's been a bit of a mixed bag, but I think that overall I can be pretty pleased with the way that the year has gone . There have been hiccups and setbacks, certainly, but all in all a good year for me and mine. Next year is going to be much more ambitious (more about that in the next few days) in terms of what I will be aiming to do, but having achieved a lot this year I feel much more able to do so.

I shall be doing another one of these 'state of the union' type things at the beginning of January, but until then, I hope everyone had lovely holidays, and a very Happy New Year to you all.

Pointed absence

Hello there everybody, it's been a while. Those of you who know me personally or follow on Twitter will know that there has been a reason why I have been away for the last fortnight, and to those of you who don't, my apologies but I'm not going to be in a position to talk about it now either.  Suffice to say that my circumstances have changed fairly dramatically, and not in a good way.

But I'll be damned if anything is going to let me stop writing a blog that is now in its seventh year (in one form or another) so while I'm not able to talk about the last two weeks in case it in some way affects what is going to happen in the future (not in a 'Back To The Future' way, you understand) I am going to  continue to fill the Internet with my opinions on all the stupid thoughts that go tumbling through my head on a regular basis.

Oh, and I'm aware that there are some people reading this who I would now really rather not.  It's up to you as to whether you continue to read or not. As you have gathered, I wont be writing about anything that will interest you.  If you want to stick around anyway, it's my web stats you'll be helping.

But enough of that. I just wanted to say, normal service will henceforth be renewed.

Rites of Passage

A manic week this week, so things have been a bit erratic around here. Monday's post got shunted because I normally write these when I am on my lunch break, but about two hours before lunch I got asked to take my first driving lesson, as Ellen couldn't make it.  And so with no mental preparation I took my first driving lesson in 13 years, when my parents bought me ten lessons for my 17th birthday.

I was a little bit rusty, and couldn't really remember where everything was or how to work it, but I got the hang of it again pretty quickly, doing left and right turns, junctions and even second gear, all on my first attempt. I only stalled twice as well, so all things considered I was pretty chuffed.

It was all a million miles away from my last lesson, when I nearly turned myself and my utterly incompetent driving instructor into a giant moving fireball. Coming up to a junction I slowed, only to be told I could make it, so I gunned it and went from second to third gear, only to miss and stick it in fifth. Due the steep hill we were on it caught, and suddenly we were hurtling at 70mph towards a stream of slow moving traffic.

My instructor's response to this was to scream loudly at me, like Steve Martin in Planes Trains and Automobiles, so perhaps you will understand why it's taken me thirteen years to get back into a car. But I digress.

I decided to make up for this with a double post yesterday, although the more observant of you will have noticed that only one surfaced.  Cross Blogination was written yesterday (hopefully it will surface tonight) but rather than having a nice night in last night, I spent the evening at York District Hospital, as my daughter hobbled around and me and her Mum sat waiting.

Anyway, everything is all right, there's nothing wrong with Rosie, but it got me thinking that surely the hospital visit is a rite of passage for any parent. Chances are that we will all end up there with our children for something or another, and I couldn't help but feel thankful that we have been so lucky with her. 

She is two and half now, and there's been (touch wood) nothing major so far, while we have seen other parents go through nightmares.  I know for any readers across the pond that today is Thanksgiving, so while I utterly abhor the way you celebrate the genocide of your indigenous peoples with mashed potatoes with little marshmallows in, I can join in today in at least giving thanks.

Oxford, Part 2

Today's post will be a bit like Jaws 2, in that it will be roughly 17% less interesting than the first one, but different from Jaws 2 in that it wont culminate in Roy Schneider coaxing a giant shark to bite a huge power cable.

Sunday started with another continental breakfast, where I decided to discover whether man can live on croissants alone (tip; you can't, I was hungry after only a few hours).  After breakfast we headed back along the grass verge to the bus stop, stopping approximately every five metres to wrest the pushchair from the mud, and waited for the Tube bus.

Now it seems to me that one general rule of dealing with the public is to not greet them with a barely concealed contempt, but on every attempt to use this service this was exactly what we encountered. The driver would see the folded pushchair and sigh and tut and stomp about without saying a word.  But again we negotiated our way on the bus and headed back to Oxford to see Christ Church College.

When we arrived we discovered that (presumably due to the religious nature of the place) Oxford doesn't really do the same Sunday opening hours as the rest of the country. Pretty much everywhere was closed when we got there, and Christ Church was closed until 2.30 in the afternoon, so we went for a wander to occupy ourselves.  At precisely this time the heavens opened up on us, mocking the weather reports that had promised us a sunny day.

We first visited the Museum of Modern Art, which consisted of one room with a tv screen showing an interview with a french student about precisely nothing.  Now I understand that film and television can be art. Look at the works of Scorcese or any of a thousand other directors and there is art there. One static camera conducting the worlds most boring interview does not to me constitute art.  There was a man there sat silently in the corner, who we presumed to be the artist.  Thankfully Rosie kicked up a fuss, giving us the excuse to smile politely and beat a hasty retreat. So we left, back into the rain. We visited the open market, which was closed, and another museum, which was also closed.

Soggy and becoming dispirited we killed time in a milkshake cafe for a while, before heading back to Christ Church, which was now accepting visitors. We paid our £12 in entry fees and entered, just as the rain topped and the sun started to shine again.

Christ Church is arguably the most famous of the colleges, and it's not hard to see why, its breathtaking architecture and history simply stunning. The tour includes a look at the mighty great hall (home to some of the scenes in Harry Potter which gave me a big geeky kick) and the Cathedral, which I found less impressive than Ellen, but then I grew up in the grounds of Canterbury Cathedral. 

One thing that really grated though was that at the end of the tour, as we approached the Picture Gallery, home to works by some of the great masters, small print informed us that there is a supplemental charge for entry, and that the masters wouldn't necessarily be on display anyway.  If you're going to charge extra, that should be made pretty clear from the start, and we were not alone in thinking this, almost everyone left the tour grumbling and disheartened. But that's not to detract from the sheer magnificence of the place, which is otherwise well worth the visit.

We headed back to the hotel, making sure we got back reasonably early so we could give Rosie an early dinner and hopefully settle her a little earlier. Once back in the hotel we popped into reception to book a table, only to be told that they didn't serve dinner on a Sunday evening and that the kitchens closed 15 minutes earlier.

We stood dumbfounded for a moment.  This left us with no options for dinner, since we were deep in the countryside and didn't drive.  We stood in silence for a moment, until thankfully one of the staff offered to drive us in his car to a local pub he thought may be open and serving food.  This pub was closed too, so this poor bloke had to drive us around all the villages looking for somewhere to eat.

Then quite randomly we happened upon an open but empty Thai restaurant in the middle of a sleepy village. As soon as we stepped inside we knew that our turn of misfortune had worked in our favour. They immediately fussed over Rosie, bringing her chocolate and vegetable carvings and generally being thoroughly lovely to all of us. The food was beautiful too, light but filling.  The whole evening turned out to be one of the highlights of the weekend.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to Oxford and started the epic nine hour journey back, taking in three coaches, a bus and a taxi. Miraculously Rosie remained lovely throughout, cuddly and quiet and generally well behaved before slumping into a deep sleep a few minutes into the last and longest coach leg.

So all in all a successful weekend away, a fitting celebration for Ellen's birthday, filled with happy times and history, food and wine.  We spent a fortune in the end, and may have to resort to eating potato peelings and air before the month is up, but it was worth it. 

Apologies if the last few days have been the equivalent of your parents insisting you see all the photos they took of the desert after a week in Egypt, your eyes glazing over after the fifth picture of a camel*.  Sometimes there's just no way of escaping a holiday bore, but at least here you can just shut the browser down in defiance. I wouldn't even know. Go on, you'll feel better.

*I had hoped to get some photos on today, but was distracted by good telly last night, so I may have to save them for another post. There wont be any of camels, I promise.

Oxford, Part One

This past weekend Ellen, Rosie and I decamped from our beautiful city to another beautiful English city for the weekend to celebrate Ellen's birthday.  Three days in Oxford was exactly what the doctor ordered, so forgive me if for the next few days I record the event for posterity. If nothing else it might be nice for Rosie to have a record of a holiday that she was too small to remember down the line.

We had a small hiccup on the first morning. Having opted for transport by coach we were due to leave on the 9.50 bus, so set the alarm for seven and book a taxi for nine. And then woke up at ten, just as our coach was probably pulling onto the motorway. I had obviously hit the alarm off switch rather than the snooze button, and while Rosie usually serves as a very effective second alarm clock this morning she opted for a lie in followed by quietly playing with the teddies in her cot.

Having hastily rearranged transport by train (at considerable expense) we arrived in Oxford around the same time as we would have anyway, and we caught the Oxford-London Tube bus to our hotel, a few miles outside Oxford in the small hamlet of Aston Rowant.  Once aboard however, things took a turn for the crushingly slow as the packed coach managed to take 45 minutes to even get out of Oxford.  We got off the bus near the hotel and discovered we would have to track through half a mile of grass motorway verge to get to the hotel. Travelling is never easy with a small child and so far it had been stressful from the point of waking up, but thankfully Rosie had been angelic throughout.

Once we arrived however, every moment of stress was worth it. We were booked into the luxuriant Lambert Arms hotel, and once we were in our room we crashed onto the beds while Rosie ran laps around the room, glad to be able to stretch her little legs.  We went down for a glorious meal in the restaurant and a bottle of wine, then went back to the room to put Rosie to bed.

This was the first time that we had tried sharing a hotel room with Rosie, and one of the first times she had a bed to sleep in rather than a cot.  When we had been planning the trip we had talked about putting Rosie down and once she was asleep returning to the bar for a few more drinks.  How very naive of us.

After about an hour of laying still in darkness as Rosie got out of the bed giggling every 30 seconds we abandoned any notion of her getting to sleep and decided to investigate the telly, which had a film on demand service so we selected the new Star Trek film and settled in with a bottle of wine from the front desk.  Rosie finally crashed out at about midnight, with us only minutes behind her.

The next morning, after enjoying a hearty continental breakfast we caught the Tube bus back to Oxford for a day of sightseeing.  Undeterred by the rain we took one of the walking tours of the colleges that make you feel like an absolute tourist, our tour guide having an excellently laconic delivery that pointed to the fact that he really regretted the fact that his Oxford University education had led to nothing more exciting than dragging tourists repeatedly around the root of his failure.

After a messy (for Rosie anyway) pasta lunch in the covered market, and with the weather clearing up a bit we walked down the the massively impressive Magdelene College and walked around their lovely grounds watching the deer.  This is exactly what these kinds of trips are for, soaking in history in beautiful surroundings and hanging out with your family. I know that as Rosie gets older it will be harder and harder to hold her interest in these kinds of trips, so we soaked every ounce of enjoyment from the day before heading back to the hotel, snapping photos of every beautiful view as we went. (I will try and get photos up tomorrow.)

Once back we fed at the excellent restaurant again and then retired to the room, this time forewarned of exactly what awaited us. Rosie didn't disappoint, staying up to midnight again, but as a result we didn't feel guilty about settling down to watch the X factor on our holiday, armed with a few bottles of wine bought from Oxford, my little family safe and happy and warm and exhausted from all the walking.

Tune in tommorow for the thrilling climax to our trip wherapon Rosie battles dragons and I am arrested for public nudity. Or possibly not.