My Fat Scottish Wedding
Been a busy time recently, big project on at work, looking at places to move home to and trying to catch up with people that I've neglected in the last few months. Oh and eating too much and getting fatter again...
Last week I saw the last match of the season of the Loan Wolves, the softball team that Fechtbuch plays for. Sadly they lost but it was very exciting, especially in the middle innings. They had actually technically won at the bottom of the fifth innings (If I've got that right) as they were in the lead and had been offered the light - one of the team was coerced into agreeing to play on by the opposing side which turned out to be a bad decision. Hey-ho, was a noble one anyway.
Last weekend I went up to Hereford for my brother's wedding which was 'interesting'. I don't know if it was just cheap or a sick joke by my brother, but the hotel we were staying at and where the function was held doubles as a retreat for nervous Catholics.
So the ideal location for a family of crazed hard drinking Scots protestants then. All I'll say is that the carpets in that hotel will never be the same again and I'm really, really sorry. Although perhaps not as much as I should be, as the bells from the adjacent abbey woke us up religiously (literally) every morning, ringing at length at some ungodly hour (I suppose that should be godly hour, waking the monks up for Lauds I suppose?)
I also remember telling an ex-SAS man that he played a mean "Puff the Magic Dragon" and getting away with it, because it was true, (old story).
Bryony and I both took our bikes with us, both having spent some of our childhood there. So the rest of the time we spent riding around, visiting old haunts, meeting old friends and sobering up.
One night while riding back from the pub, a somewhat incomprehensible insult was shouted our way in the local accent (think West Country crossed with Welsh). He shouted "You moight think yer savin' the world but you've still got a hole in yer ass". I don't know what that means either.
On a saner note, looks like we have a place to move to in Kingston, subject to the usual reference check. So I should hopefully be moving in on September the fifth. We're hiring help this time so you don't need to run away or make excuses. It has a garage so there is plenty of bike room. With luck there will be space to leave both the turbo trainer and my rowing machine set up. I shall need it because I'm definitely getting quite seedy now. I'm going to try and fit in a good 100 mile ride in somewhere before the end of September, just to keep on top of fitness, especially after having done virtually nothing this month.
Last week I saw the last match of the season of the Loan Wolves, the softball team that Fechtbuch plays for. Sadly they lost but it was very exciting, especially in the middle innings. They had actually technically won at the bottom of the fifth innings (If I've got that right) as they were in the lead and had been offered the light - one of the team was coerced into agreeing to play on by the opposing side which turned out to be a bad decision. Hey-ho, was a noble one anyway.
Last weekend I went up to Hereford for my brother's wedding which was 'interesting'. I don't know if it was just cheap or a sick joke by my brother, but the hotel we were staying at and where the function was held doubles as a retreat for nervous Catholics.
So the ideal location for a family of crazed hard drinking Scots protestants then. All I'll say is that the carpets in that hotel will never be the same again and I'm really, really sorry. Although perhaps not as much as I should be, as the bells from the adjacent abbey woke us up religiously (literally) every morning, ringing at length at some ungodly hour (I suppose that should be godly hour, waking the monks up for Lauds I suppose?)
I also remember telling an ex-SAS man that he played a mean "Puff the Magic Dragon" and getting away with it, because it was true, (old story).
Bryony and I both took our bikes with us, both having spent some of our childhood there. So the rest of the time we spent riding around, visiting old haunts, meeting old friends and sobering up.
One night while riding back from the pub, a somewhat incomprehensible insult was shouted our way in the local accent (think West Country crossed with Welsh). He shouted "You moight think yer savin' the world but you've still got a hole in yer ass". I don't know what that means either.
On a saner note, looks like we have a place to move to in Kingston, subject to the usual reference check. So I should hopefully be moving in on September the fifth. We're hiring help this time so you don't need to run away or make excuses. It has a garage so there is plenty of bike room. With luck there will be space to leave both the turbo trainer and my rowing machine set up. I shall need it because I'm definitely getting quite seedy now. I'm going to try and fit in a good 100 mile ride in somewhere before the end of September, just to keep on top of fitness, especially after having done virtually nothing this month.