Review of 2008

Back in January I set out some vague goals for 2008. I've managed some and missed rather more. I just can't believe (for instance) that I failed to get around to using starlings for musical notation. I focused on two main projects. HIM II, Eroica and Amsterdam marathon.

The 'Eroica' bike race was my main goal and I managed to buy and lightly restore a vintage Holdsworth, get together the appropriate kit and facial hair and race the bike over the 205km course. The race was gruelling but the feeling I got from completing it was worth every turn of the pedals. The spirit was truly heroic.

I managed three other bike events during the year. 'The Dragon' was fairly tough but I finally completed the 180km 'long' route after two years of 'short' route ignominy. I followed this up with the festival of mechanical failure that is the Woodcote Sportif and a leisurely two day version of the Circuit of the Cotswolds with Julia.

On the running front 2008 was not as successful as I hoped. I failed in my goals for half and full marathon although I did run a marathon PB in Amsterdam. I really enjoyed the trip and I would very much like to go back to Amsterdam as a tourist.

I didn't make it to the Alps in 2008 but I did discover the majesty of the Cairngorms and the convenience of the Caledonian Sleeper. Indeed Richard and I managed to cram in two visits bagging both Cairn Gorm and Ben Macdui in near whiteout conditions.

Musically things have continued on a gradual upward trend. The guitar playing has improved a little and the Humphrey Institute of Music week proved to be rather more musical than the first edition. We have a new hardcore and big plans for 2009.

Educationally things have picked up . I began B713: Fundamentals of Senior Management (first of the MBA courses) in November and I am just about keeping up with the work. I failed once again to make the move into research.

Personally it has been a difficult year with the break coming in March. I've done a lot of soul searching and self analysis and come to some useful conclusions.

Over Christmas I'm going to make a list of 2009 projects and read the latest edition of my new favourite magazine 'It's FAT'

Let's do the Cairngorms again

Continuing my tour of the UK's more remote regions Rich and I got the sleeper out of Euston to Aviemore. It is always magical to use a sleeper and waking in the highlands makes it even better. Full of Scotrail carbohydrates we took the bus to the ski station and walked off into the wildrness. for 30hrs we saw almost nothing but endless variations on white. I can see why those from Northern latitudes have so many words for snow.

We climbed a long icy arm of the main plateau. There were two main butress structures each filled with fresh and frozen snow layers. We had to jump a couple of drops and Rich managed a magnificent textbook ice axe arrest. I led the climbs cutting away unstable layers of snow and kicking footholds in the flozen layers beneath.

Once on the plateau we had to rely on Rich's navigational skills to find the top of Ben Macdui (Scotland's second highest peak). It was snowing steadily and we were enveloped by cloud. We were the only people to reach the top that day and the summit cairn was ribbed with ice and covered in snow.

We dropped off the top into the col and dug a snow pit. My hands were freezing and once the tent was up they started to thaw painfully. It was fully dark by 5pm and talking through life's many difficulties and burning spagetti too us through until 8pm when we turning in.

A small tent on the top of a mountain in minus 7 degrees may seem like a strange place to be happy but I was and slept fully 12 hours until my alarm went off. Rich made hot chocolate and we pulled the tent down. A foot of snow had falled over night burying the ice axes we had used as tent pegs on the windward side.

We trekked back on a northward bearing to the butress we had climbed. We were more adventurous on the way down and took a more direct route. We had to wriggle (bagless) down one section and throw the bags down. It was wonderful.

I saved the falling through the water ice until 30mins from the ski station and we enjoyed our hot chocolates very much. Dinner at the Cairngorm hotel was excellent. Neeps and tatties away!!

The train delivered me to Euston on time and the Bletchley express had me in work by 9:30... Wonderful

Humphrey Institute of Music II

It wasn’t the finest specimen of Nelmes that picked up the enormous estate car from the hire company. I was pale, fevered and coughing like a Rottweiler on capstan full strength. I’d been ill for days and I suspect that the physiognomy was showing the strain too. The car hire people were very efficient and in no time I was driving northwards to pick up Julia and her ethnic drum collection. I left my electric guitar at Brennan Villas for want of boot space. The car was a joy and we rolled up to the Priory only about 20 minutes late. The pile of catering supplies was pretty impressive and in the end we had to leave Gareth behind (well something has to give) for Verity to collect.

The journey is something of a Day Nurse haze but with Major calling the shots we found the manor with remarkable ease; pulling in just before sundown. The lady running the place was a little eccentric but we were soon settled in.

The manor has a dilapidated regency charm makes up for the lack of gothic horror. The views over the rolling farmland of west Wales also added light and charm in place of the brooding menace of Maesycrugiau.

The early arrivals (Jackie, Rich, Me, Verity, Julia B, Duncan, J Whippers, Chris and Prior) tucked into a Gareth special mushroom chilli and we got down to some plank spanking. Almost from ‘the off’ the shakey egg proved a favourite. I’ve never really experienced the power of the egg before but it has remarkable rhythmic potential and exerts a powerful influence over the user. We almost had to prise it from Madge’s dead hand by the end of the evening.

Even on this first evening the music was outstripping the first HIM gathering. Duncan wasn’t engaged with the ‘big white telephone’ and Verity and Julia egged each other on considerably on the vocal front.

The strengthening of the cohort continued during a Saturday I spent mainly in bed. Beccy, Nina and a truck load of supplies arrived. Roo and Sue popped up from somewhere and we were quite quorate. I managed to pep myself up sufficiently to drive people into Newcastle Emlyn to procure towels (that is pronounced TaoWells by the way) before popping off for a tactical nap before dinner. Gareth was Chef de Cuisine for the evening and also managed to help me out with the blasted bow tie. Rich and Jackie were doing his bidding and our resident law enforcement officer wafted in and out in a Jeeves piny throughout.

Richard’s trumpet voluntary heralded a culinary extravaganza in several acts. Poultry was dismembered and vegetables spotted amidst the spread. Julia refused to stop goggling at me until I’d blown a (half reasonable I thought) note on the trumpet. Looking at the picture it is clear that, were I a boy wizard, I’d undoubtedly be in Slitherin House.

The session was planned around a couple of Neil Young songs but in practice we worked our way through most of the HIM book. To increasingly inebriated cries of ‘make your music’ and ‘bring us your tunes’ Duncan ‘guitar monkey’ Humphrey was whipped mercilessly through most of the popular canon. Chris shook eggs, Whippers and bass apprentice Roo boomed. I thrashed rhythmically and Duncan twiddled without shame. Verity and Julia, who were looking increasingly rock and roll glam, sang, giggled and drank (copiously) as the whole thing reached a crescendo of alcohol fuelled creativity.

When I retired at about 2am it was at the point where Julia and Verity were singing unconnected snippets of unrelated songs at Duncan who kept saying ‘I can’t get it from that’. Believe me; nobody could have got it from that.

When I staggered downstairs at 11am Verity was emerging from the lounge-ballroom still in her evening dress with a tray of glasses. She dropped the lot with a CRASH and a little intoxicated grin. If I’ve seen a greater spectacle of rock n roll decadence I don’t recall it.

Sunday featured the Welsh Slurry Walk. The sun was bright and Roo and Sue led us on a walk over varied and beautiful terrain to a pub with the sign of a hanged man with someone on his shoulders. Some of the countryside was so attractive that we covered it twice – getting slightly lost on some horsey type’s land. Still the old Nelmes charm did the trick and the owner led us to safely away from her randy stallion.

Beccy was Chef de Cuisine and she provided us with what Julia would probably refer to as a Mighty Meaty Bastard of a meal. I don’t think anyone really spoke during dinner and I assume that the heads-down-shovelling was meant as a heart felt sign of appreciation.

Music continued with a full woodwind version of Hey Hey My My and a Bottle Orchestra rendition of In the Bleak Midwinter. I reigned supreme at marbles and the conkers tournament fizzled out in the face of the unrelenting booze.

As the week progressed the numbers dwindled and chairs were drawn closer to the fire. The pace slowed and the incidence of literary discussion increased. I actually enjoy the latter part of the week. We started to fall into a pattern of running in the morning and wiffling the day away on music and reading. Soups and breads, a veggie curry night and a little time to reflect seemed perfectly to meet my requirements before; all too soon, it was time to return to real life