Sunday 22 July 2012

When I grow up.

Last summer I lived in a caravan for three months whilst lending both hands at one of the world's cutest small campsites and hostels, in Nethy Bridge in the Cairngorms.

It's so funky it's even in this book.
Gets three smiley faces as well. 
Little campsite, 4 small tents max, self-catering cottage sleeping about 5, 6-8 bed hostel, and (last summer's building project) a small, wooden and very cosy hut. The campers get a little bit of shelter, a chiminea campfire, use of a toilet at the back of the main house and an outdoor shower.

I really rather liked the idea. It's the starting blocks from which my imagination has somewhat ran away with itself.

A little OTT, but feel free to drool over the pretty bell tent.

I want one. Or something not quite the same but like it. 

I have a silly little dream that might just be, God willing, achievable. 

What I lack is money and know-how, but those things exist in this world, and I have time. What I also lack is a proper, structured, grown-up, convincing plan. I'm working on it, albeit slowly. For now, here are my silly ideas.

Think, discuss, comment (I like comments). Please don't be too mean, I'm only little. 

Ideas hereafter will be presented in through the medium of the academic's friend; the trusty* bullet point. 

  • Christian Retreat Centre. Bring your alpha course, your small group, your leadership team, a small-medium sized bundle of your congregation. I'll pitch and set up enough comfy, stove-heated, classy looking tents (big cheer for bell tents, even bigger cheer for yurts) to keep you all dry at night. I'll make you breakfast in the morning and find you a big space to use for worship and group sessions. Heck, I'll even ship in someone to do the talk for you if it helps. I'll fix up some outdoorsy activities to tire you out in the afternoon and turn out a good-looking spread of food at teatime. Campfires, God songs, space to think, walks in the country, time for chillin' with the big guy. Good for the soul - woodsmoke and marshmallows. 
I have a very large woolly jumper that I try very hard to maintain a good log fire smell in. 
  • Outward bound team-building. Same deal but with more mud and a bit less Jesus**.

  • Campsite. Open space, little cute shower block, composting toilets, stuff for kids to fall off (sorry, play on) firepits, camper's shelter. Wildlife, open water, peace and tranquillity. Just need somewhere both scenic and accessible, funds to get a business off and running and a roof over my head. Water and leccy help too. Cute little pitches. Breakfast in the morning if you want it. 
  • Further variation would be to offer a pre-pitched and ready-to-roll bell or ridge tent or similar. Apparently it's becoming a thing, and there are presumably worse bandwagons I could jump on.

  • One of these. Well set-up, candlelit and comfy, rented out by the night for families and little groups. Water, leccy, toilets and showers need not be built in if nearby. 
please?

  • Camping in ruins. Take the shell of an old croft cottage, make it stable, clean out the fireplace. Put up a big sturdy pole just outside either end and stretch a bit of canvas shelter over half or all of it. You now have somewhere dry and sheltered in which to pitch your tent. It's also atmospheric and a little bit bonkers.
Ahh...


Ideas are wonderful things, aren't they folks? Mental pictures of these keep me entertained through my tedious spreadsheet-facing working day. Hope they do a little to help with yours. 


Footnotes to avoid complete and utter derailing:

*Trusty? We named these useful black splodges after things you shoot out of a gun with the intention of putting a terminal hole in some poor bloke's head! This is surely the most violent form of not-quite-punctuation. If the comma had a more testosterone-fuelled, aggressive name would our schoolboys be more keen to use it? Why bullet? Yes, I get the small round dots, but that's as far as the analogy goes before it falls on its knees. 1) How small are these bullets please? 2) How long did it take to train the mouse with the tiny gun (for the tiny bullets) to shoot them at points on a page equally spaced and completely in line? ... and ... 3) After all that training, isn't there a much better use that highly-skilled mouse could be put to? Sure G4S would love it. 


**Jesus is, of course, free to come and go as he feels but plays a less pivotal role in the morning's entertainment. 

Sunday 15 July 2012

Out with the old...

Why hello dear blog? It's been a while. How are we today?

So yes, I've been quiet on the blogging front yet again for quite a wee while. What excuses will I pull out of the bag this time? Too busy, too tired, more important stuff going on. Blogging being less productive than going to work, or packing a box, or putting the oven on (the oven is on and warming and there will soon be quiche and duck spring rolls for tea tonight ... mmm, happy tummy.), or even (yes, really) walking the dog. Yes it is less productive than those things, and mostly they come first, but it is time that I remembered that I am me, and shoehorning one or two more things in to each day seems to just be what I do.

I'm perhaps guilty, and I'll admit this in a very small voice and we'll not mention it again, of feeling that this blog while providing light entertainment and possible writing catharsis for me, lacks either purpose or a particularly wide audience. Nothing's changed in those respects whatsoever, but today I was blessed with a loving reminder that there is at least one soul out there who likes to know what I'm up to.  'Nuf said.


For your viewing pleasure, a photo of a quiche to keep you happy whilst I nip off and put mine in the oven. May I point out that this is not the actual quiche I am about to eat, mine being much plainer, less home made and having come from the co-op with a yellow sticker on it reminding me that it passed its date yesterday (Pah, I say!) and that therefore I ought to be taking a telling off from my Grandad right now. Fret not, my Grandad knows little of the interwebs and nothing of the Water Barrel or the Rowan Tree.
Quiche and oven have now been introduced and are getting on like something much smaller than a house with is very warm but not (one can only hope) on fire. Here begins the catch up.

The real deal, if you felt like a look. 

My problem here is that I sit down to write and want to tell you absolutely everything, all at once, with order or form completely lacking. There may be two more posts to follow this tonight. Not a sustainable way to blog. Ho hum.

Job in hand here. What have I done. I quick looksee tells me that when last I popped up on your screens I was being a secret agent and it was May Day. I suck at this regular thing. Since then many things have changed and others haven't. I may need to resort to bullet points. Order plays little part here.


  • The gorgeous and very chilled-out baby I stole and cuddled this morning at Church was born, has been dedicated (in a very girly frock for such an already beefy burpy manly baby boy) and is fast growing into a thing that gets quite heavy after a few minutes. 
  • My smartypants flatmate graduated, wore a very short skirt, and isn't actually my flatmate any more. I unmade her flat-pack furniture in next to no time, only attacked it with a screwdriver when completely necessary and felt very proud of myself. Anyone want a wardrobe?
  • I moved out of the flat! We all moved out of the flat. It was busy and slightly stressful and a complete work-out designed for someone of much greater stamina and upper body strength than me. All of my material possessions have been boxed up (or binned or charity shopped) and strewn around the city in the garages, cellars and spare rooms of my most generous friends. Furniture included. Beds and sofas got moved with the help of a lovely man and a (probably lovely) trailer. All else got moved in the gallant little Percy with some TARDIS-like fitting in of stuff. One run saw the back window on one side get rolled down, a large chunk of wardrobe slid in atop numerous boxes, not quite fit by a few centimetres (I am young and hip and blog in metric), and be secured using some highly structural gaffer tape. On my final run I managed to fit two bikes, two upright hoover-type things, a chair, four Mexican hat plants and a good few boxes. That final run was at midnight on our second incredibly long day of clearing and cleaning. 
Mexican Hat Plant.

Mexican Hat. Different.
  • I still have the shop job and the office job. The cleaning job is no more. At very long last. I became progressively more frustrated by it, put out by the crazy hours and unsettled by the empty dark buildings as the end drew nearer. I think my successor  will be more methodical, rigorous and therefore far better at it than me. I'll miss some aspects, pretty early mornings and a decent hourly rate. I won't miss the cold early starts in this northern land where sunshine takes a winter holiday.
  • I live in a big pretty house. There is a TV with a digital thing box, two bathrooms, a huge bath, a proper kitchen with gas and a garden. A proper big garden with a greenhouse and vegetable rows and a trampoline that the dog likes. Oh yes, the dog. She's a rather energetic border collie who we're struggling to tire out quite as much as she'd like. Walks morning and night are tiring me out something rotten, but when pushed I'd probably admit that it's quite fun. 
  • We've another move on the cards, but that'll be another story for when it happens. 
  • I've applied for a few jobs that I'm almost qualified for. All long shots and all would involve a move to another city, but it's probably about time I started to do something profitable. 
  • I have ideas, and a notion to get moving with them as soon as I absolutely can!
  • Percy has gone to the great scrapheap in the sky. We are wheel-less and I am sad. 
That'll do you for today, I'm afraid. I'm off to finish a job application before I call in for the night before an early dog walk and a day at el officio. Apologies for teasers. Hopefully this week I'll get to writing a bit about my plans for my life and my plans for this poor little neglected blog.