Tuesday 20 May 2014

Keeping Things in Proportion

On how I'm not very good at not being very good at stuff. And a big shiny bicycle.


Time to fill you lovely people in on what I am filling my days with. 

Today I went to work really not liking my job. Now it's lunchtime and I'm blogging at my desk, with a sandwich from the bakers because I was too lazy to make one this morning (despite resolution upon resolution to not keep spending all my money on lunch at work). But I am happier with my job again. This is because there was a bit of a cock-up. A little boo-boo, if you will.

The First Aid tent in Imbsheim, Alsace, that year we went there. 

What Really Happened:

A minor thing that I could not have foreseen went wrong. Had I known a thing that I did not know, I might have been able to make it not go wrong. There is now a plan B, which will make everything okay again.

What I thought had happened:

I personally screwed up the whole thing and it will all be terrible and everyone will think I'm crap at my job and not like me. And the world will probably end.

God help me if I ever wind up self-employed and running the shop (read Campsite). But this cock-up got to me, and I was sad. Then I told everyone and we fixed it. Then I made a little mental list of the stuff I like about my job, and decided that it's quite nice really. But it seems that I take things personally. More so than is reasonable. So I should work on that, and you should all remind me of that.


Exciting Things


Moving on, let's tell you about the fun stuff. As any keen-eyed facebooker will now know, we bought a bike. I am the very proud new owner of half of this beauty.

Cupholders. 
L is quite proud of her half as well. 

I have a history of buying bikes off eBay, with my current project still very much a project.

It works, in a way. One day it will be shiny and I will make it my Everyday Bike. 
This one is new and works and stuff.

It's a long way away, somewhere in deepest Englandshire, but the plan is to take a long weekend sometime soon and put another thousand miles on the little car. There is a tiny tiny chance we'll get it inside, but the roof-rack kit is being purchased. Anyone who meets us on the Northward leg of that journey ought to be suitably entertained by the sight of a huge red bike atop a tiny, short car. Believe me, this is the easy, cheap option compared to getting a brand new one across from the US of A. Besides, new ones only seem to come in a boring grey colour (or should that be color? - this is America we're talking about here) and I'd take shiny red over that any day.

This is a technical scale drawing. The bike will securely levitate above the car. 

Once we've got it back to our own neck of the woods, please consider yourselves invited to come round and try it out. Share in our excitement.


Friday just passed saw me and two lovely friends head out in to the world to fulfil our requirements of (1) coffee and (2) fresh air. We took the car, got Starbucks coffee, and headed to the beach. A prototype for a lovely little regular Tandem Outing. I am attempting to counter my spreadsheet-fatigue by imagining trips to the beach on a big, comfy, chilled-out tandem, with hot coffee in the cupholder. Like a patent-pending new edition of Rock Paper Scissors in which "Tandem" beats "Spreadsheet" every time. I am yet to figure out the hand action that represents each of these things. Or what the third thing is that fits between them. What would be beaten by "Spreadsheet" but win out in a contest with a Tandem? Perhaps a student in an Arts subject with a pair of bolt-cutters? Could be snappier.

Saturday saw a great deal of crafting, in which several grown adults got very excited about milk cartons and papier mache. There were sequins too, but it's a Secret so that's all I can tell you. There was a BBQ and my cat allergy tried to kill me.

Then there was great planning and list-writing, because I'm a sucker for a good list, and because we're going camping! I may have mentioned this already. Yay woop! This time next week, I shall be chilling in a Perthshire camp site. What does this mean for Tuesday Blog time, you ask? Ok, you didn't ask, but here's the gen nonetheless.

Next Week: Smug pictures of a picturesque tent in glorious sunshine OR sympathy-seeking pictures of soggy campers. Uploaded from my phone if I can. Or nothing at all if I'm feeling all rustic and anti-tech (which happens).

Next-Next Week: Comrie Croft Campsite Review. Watch this space.

Now for 3.5 days of work, in which I plan to not screw anything else up. Fingers crossed.

Tuesday 13 May 2014

Things I have Learned From Scottish Country Dancing

Me - On how SCD taught me how to keep smiling and get out of trouble.


This week is a bit flat. It's raining and I have been staring at spreadsheets all day. Today I used the phrase, "these are my favourite excel functions". But there is going to be Pizza soon, so things can only get better.



So this is a post about all of the useful Life Skills I have picked up through the medium of Scottish County Dancing.

Hear me out here. I have a theory.

SCD is real life in microcosm. There is effort, and social convention. Rules that Must Never Be Broken, and rules you can mess with in the right company.It is just that bit more predicable than real life. Dare I say, I am a good deal better at SCD than Real Life. Here is a handy graph to explain this.


Broken down, folk dancing is restricted. There are only so many figures, and they get tweaked and used, and thrown together in different ways. A dance worth it's publication will have these different figures thrown together in such a way that one fits in to the other like Lego, or the right two jigsaw pieces. And most of the time, once you've got the pattern, you get to do it another 7 times over so that you can look smug and pretend you knew all along.

And I had a head start on the whole lot of it. Teeny Dancing Me.

When I was little I went to dances. Cos my parents did, and that meant that dancing was a Grown Up Big Thing, and if there was a Grown Up Big Thing, I wanted to be doing it. Mini-me was a bit of a smartarse, and took great pleasure in getting the things right. So I joined in, and survived most things by following instructions very quickly. The best way to get someone through a dance they've never seen before, if to give them a snappy little instruction, the split second before they're going to need it, and then while they're doing that thing, give them the next one.
I remember a night in Newcastle where my partner for that dance got me through with nought but eye movements, either glancing in a general direction that I ought to be heading in, or giving me a look that said "stand still and stay there for a mo". Only the two of us knew I didn't have a clue.

So I can read those cues, the tiny bit of body language communication where the exact angle of someone's shoulders tells you that you ought to be doing a reel over there, with those people. So you launch in to the figure, and look like you know it all, and no-one knows that you don't have a clue if you don't look worried, and if you can follow the next little cue about the next little bit.

So my point is this. I have learned to bluff my way through SCD. On stage, or a dance floor, I can usually look fairly proficient. I've been known to bluff my way through calling a dance if there is one set on the floor walking through who know what's about to happen next.

And as I've pretty much spent my whole life doing this SCD stuff, I have spent my whole life not doing all those other normal things that you might do. My SCD frame of reference is bigger than my not-SCD frame of reference. This means that the vast majority of everything I have ever learned, is in some way connected to dancing.

Please make your own, categorised as you see fit.

This in mind, I give you a definitive list of Stuff I have Learned from Scottish Country Dancing. I hope you find it useful.

  • Anything will fit if you only have enough safety pins. Bulldog clips in the same colours as your costume are similarly valuable. I went to work today in trousers with one hem pinned up, as it has been for months. This is normal, right. Oh, and white bulldog clips are like gold. Or drugs, or something rare and valuable.
  • Tartan goes with everything. Right?
  • Bagpipes trump all else in Parade situations. Always have a piper on hand.
  • How to say "bagpipes" in most European languages.
  • Dressmaking is about making the outside look like a garment. The inside is on the inside for a reason.
  • Copying and Covering. Life skills.
I am 17, in America.


  • Everyone looks better when they're wearing a huge expanse of white silk. Just 'cos. It also helps you get served first at the bar, and provides sufficient distraction for you to not get ID'd. 
  • I have stage smile. I use it at work. A lot.

  • How to do stage make up. I am much less capable, and much less practised at "normal" make-up. Also, how to do stage make up in the back of a moving bus.
Count the hands
  • How to invent traditions. Like how it's a Scottish Tradition to paint the nails of Monsieur Le Mayor at every foreign town you visit. 
  • Have multiple plastic competition smiles at your disposal. Rotate them. Pull faces whenever the judges can only see the back of your head. Wink at the judges. 
  • I can tell a sprung wooden floor from the moment I step on it, and am quite violently opposed to carpeting large spaces. 
  • When someone comes towards you at speed, hand outstretched, grab hold of it. Normal, totally.
  • There is nothing you cannot do in costume.
Some analogy about climbing your way to the top.
  • Lighting is everything.

  • Folkies have the most fun.

Ah, that's better. Add to the list in the comments!

Sunday 11 May 2014

A Spot of Market Research

Ladies and Jellywobbles, this is your invitation to join me in a wee spot of camping-related Market Research. I'm going to have holiday. You wanna come?

Here

L and I have booked ourselves and our monster tent a spot there from Sat 24th to Tues 27th May. It seems a shame to go off and have tons of fun without inviting your friends along, so would you like to join us? For a night, for two, for a day out to a castle?

Ecological vandalism notwithstanding.

Experience tells us that the tent has a comfortable capacity of 5, and I don't see Comrie having an issue with us phoning up and saying "that booking for 2 - can we make it 4?"

Or you could just happen to be camping with your own tent at the same site, at the same time. Then we could have adventures and camp fires together and you wouldn't have to listen to me snoring. There is also a hostel for sissies.

Logisisticals - 

Our wee set of wheels is only really big enough for our two butts and all of our comfy-camping accoutrements. If you have a really small butt, no personal belongings, and an affinity for small uncomfortable spaces, we'd be happy to give you a ride. If you have a big butt, a friend, stuff, and/or a concept of personal space, there are trains and buses that go to Perth, Stirling, Crief, etc. whereupon we could pick you up, if you time matters so that we'd have already pitched the tent by then. I think there's actually a local bus that goes past the campsite road-end for the truly self-sufficient.

Bogdan is very happy with his space arrangement, but that is pretty much the size of the boot.

The rest of our plans have not yet been planned. Past form tells us that the following things are likely to be included if at all possible:

  • Sitting around
  • Sitting around in a hammock
  • Sitting around playing scrabble
  • Sitting around playing folk music
  • Going for walks 
  • Occasionally going for big walks
  • Buying fancy sausages from the butcher in the village, and fancy bread from the baker in the village
  • Feeling smug about supporting local economies. 
  • Visiting castles, more often Historic Scotland properties, cos' L has a fancy membership thingimy

  • Interpretive Dance
  • Afternoon tea
  • Sitting around a camp fire
  • Sitting around a camp fire eating
  • Sitting around a camp fire drinking (the cranberry gin might be about ready)
  • Climbing trees
  • Getting stuck in trees
  • Getting rescued from trees.


So... have I sold it to you? 

If you think you might happen to camp there at the same time - whoopee, I'll see you there. If you think you'd like to join us in the Bell Tent of Wonder, probably best to call, text, email or fb message. Unless you are the lucky owner of a very fast and accurate carrier pigeon, in which case I excitedly await* its arrival.


Happy Camping, peeps.


*There I go, tap-dancing on your split infinitive rules. *Raspberry*

Tuesday 6 May 2014

The 1986 Jabot Drinking Game, with added Stick People

This week. In which I have a stressy brainfuzz and probably won't be in the Commonwealth Games.

This post is about stuff that it is difficult to photograph, like drinking games that I've just thought up. So there are some hastily-drawn stick people. You're welcome.

Sometimes I get myself all wonky and out of sorts. It happens when my own estimation of what I can do outstrips what I can actually do. I am a single person (by which I mean that there is only one of me, I am not in fact a whole travelling band of circus performers, even if that would be fun) and therefore only have the capacity of one. Turns out I can do a  reasonable number of things with a reasonable degree of success, but not all at once. I can get by at most things, but there's no one thing that I'm ever likely to become Olympic Champion of. This hasn't stopped me landing myself in a place where I have responsibility for a number of small, slow-burn things. Like committee positions, dance classes to teach and band gigs to organise. Unfortunately I am somewhat antisocial, yet I seem to keep matching myself up with things that require me interacting with people. I know that I "do" social interaction. I can even, on a good day, turn on Funny Me and play host of the party. But man, does it take it out of me. 

Sometimes these things require me to do grown-up things which ought to be simple. Sometimes, God forbid, I have to pick up the phone and speak to people. This strikes fear in to the heart of me, which is entirely unfounded, but happens anyway. This week I let my phone go to voicemail, then went for a walk, came home and listened to the voicemail, and replied by email telling a porky-pie about my phone being broken. And that to someone I like, and I like to talk to and have stuff in common with. Daft. And terrible economy of effort. 




So this week stuff got on top of me a little, and I had a bit of a fuzz for a few days. Then I went for a bit of a walk, answered some emails, and had a quiet weekend that helped me get a handle on myself again. S'all good now, folks, but I cannot help but analyse. I reckon I can pin this down to two things.


The week. Getting on top of me.

#1 Work


I work in a job where mostly I get to hide in a back office and interact with sensible adult colleagues, but occasionally I have distant contact with people. This week we had get people to tell us stuff. On a computer! People don't always go for that, so it was a bit stressy. Well, long story short, I fell victim to one of the classic blunders - The most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia" - but only slightly less well-known is this: "Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line read the comments"!
Never read the comments. First rule of the internets.

#2 Dancing


Can a hobby cause stress. Definitive answer as decided by me - Yes! It is possible for the fact that my hobby exists in the world to chip away at the bits of it that make it enjoyable. Time, energy, logistics. I am such an old fart.

This year the Commonwealth Games are going to be in Glasgow. That's pretty cool, huh? A big shiny thing, in Scotland. There might be some cool Scottish Stuff. 

In 1986 the Commonwealth Games were in Edinburgh. There was some shiny Scottish Stuff. This is a wee chunk of the Opening Ceremony, featuring both of my parents. 6:35, if you care to spot them. No pressure there then.

I'm working on a drinking game to go with this video. Do a shot for every perm, or outrageous Jabot. Bottoms up if they're on the same person. Give up and reach for the bottle if that person is related to you. (I'd have embedded the vid but the Youtube function on this blog thing is playing silly buggers)

I hope to market this and get rich.


This year I was brave enough to apply for a spot as a performer for the Ceremonies, and even brave enough to go to Glasgow for the audition. There was funky modern dancing to be done. My niche is doing the right stuff in exactly the right way, in the right order. Preferably with 7 mates and an accordion nearby.

This is me being Brave. The sword and shield are imaginary, but they still help somehow.


The upshot is that I doubt I've made it, which may turn out to be for the best. But I know people who have, which is like fame by association, right?

Go for it, guys!

(like, actually, really. I mean it)
I shall watch it online, with a quantity of alcohol, and cheer you all on. And I'll spend the time and the leave and the money on Market Research.

Right now I am off to teach a Beginners' dance class which will involve Palindromes. Because I can. Oh, and today I learned what a split-infinitive is. With that in mind it is time for me to boldly go away.