Posts filed under 'Out and about'
…Post-it note?
But of course there is. A free pen. A free cotton bag. A free jute carbon neutral bag. In fact, a free policy booklet that you hadn’t planned on reading in the first place.
Despite Scotland’s happy insistence on state schooling for the majority of its pupils, there’s clearly no such thing as a free education either, if you’re running an exhibition stand. I was struck by the number of IT exhibitors whose products started at a couple of grand upwards. Struck equally by the teachers I spoke to who were enjoying the seminars and the buzz, but had no money really available to spend on their department.
Having just come back from two days on an exhibition stand, at a Scottish schools event, one thing that struck me particularly was the waste that comes with a large exhibition. I was heartened by seeing one company retrieve their quantities of bubble wrap, and rewrap the materials they brought, but they did seem to be an exception.
The talk, however, was free - and teachers enjoy a good talk, so there was plenty of chatting. After two seminars with very low numbers, I was pleased to be in one where a teacher name checked half a dozen opportunities my organisation offers, AND got that response we all long for: the immediate “Wow, how can I get some of that?” That’s the kind of response, from speaker and audience, that you can’t buy.
Thankfully, smiling is free. Encouraging teachers in celebrating their successes. But I discovered that saying thank you to the organisers, when leaving, was in fact priceless - one person in the site office commented “No one ever stops to say thank you…”
Results: one heart at ease; one pair of feet waiting to be freed from their shoes.
September 25th, 2008
Not yet out and about, but the plan is to be out and about, as I’ve finally bitten the bullet and booked refresher driving lessons. Been looking at driving school websites, and for all that they say about refresher lessons, most of them don’t seem to be thinking of someone who’s basically been avoiding driving for 15 years.
My standard preamble is that I took my test in my gap year, and later the same week, went to Poland. I wasn’t insured to drive there, and all I could have driven, realistically, would have been a tractor or a 12 seater minibus. Returning from Poland, I was soon off to university where a) there was no money to drive and b) not much parking either.
And so it went on. Edinburgh is a city where you really can resist driving, given a good bus service (well I think so anyway), and lots that is walkable. Dan hadn’t had driving lessons, which made it easier to continue driving avoidance. I had learned in a medium sized town, I was a bit scared of city driving. And so on.
We’ve got good at arranging holidays that rely on public transport. And far too good at cadging lifts from others. As friends move further out of town, it is starting to get harder to see people as easily - or it takes a lot longer to do so. My trip to Dunfermline probably took two hours, door to door, allowing for bus and train connections, when you can do that in 30 mins by car? (I think. Travelling by public transport means that estimations of travel time by car are not one of my strong points.)
Main shift has come from Mum offering to pass on her car to me. I think she still wants to…and Mum and Dad in particular continue to drive to see us from Peebles, whereas we get the bus to Penicuik, and cadge a lift from there. It’s not really fair, and despite the fuel increases, at least having the ability to do this driving thing would be a big step forward.
So, you can either run screaming from the pavements after October 13, or pray for skills, and confidence, to follow suit.
September 20th, 2008
Off to Dunfermline today, to give a hand to Alison W and her kids. With the eldest now in school, a visitor to the house allows Donn, no. 2, to up the vehicular ante, and fit as many transport books as he can.
Donn’s specialist subject is tractors, for which he will happily count up to 10, identify colours, and whether wheels or caterpillar tracks are in evidence. Multitasking, he will also take in trucks, cars, and trains. Certainly he know more of the Thomas engines than I do, and is quick to see when they are being threatened by falling sandbags, rocks and the like.
It does seem to me that boys tend be conversant with a range of vehicles but like to choose a favourite too. Thomas in Italy has a clear and easy choice for trains, conveniently having a major player named after him. Dan started talking with ‘taxi’, and moved on to cars.
Donn’s commitment to tractors is clear, but what of other options? Who is championing milk floats? Sit on lawnmowers? Snow ploughs? Fire engines, dustmen’s trucks, they get all the glamour, given the option to both drive a large vehicle and have defined activities.
I myself have a liking for trains, but more really for getting to travel through scenery that I might otherwise not get to see. I like walking, too. But small boys have less incentive to wave at pedestrians - short of gaining bionic legs, they’re just not dynamic enough.
Meanwhile, if anyone can trace a copy of “Cars and Trucks and Things that Go” (Richard Scarry), do let me know - someone’s birthday coming up, and all that.
September 19th, 2008
I’m a little concerned by health warnings. Always drink responsibly…sounds like you shouldn’t consider stepping out of the door without a bottle in your hand.
The next issue to focus on is gambling, as mentioned by the coin machine shop by my bus stop. Hanging about, waiting for the bus home, I have plenty of time to admire not just their pictures of Elvis on repeat on the screens by the shop window, but also the injunction: “Always gamble responsible”.
This one could of course be a trap by the grammar police - adjective or adverb, punk? - but it could equally be an opportunity for the punctuation secret service. Just one comma, and it becomes the kind of suggestion you expect to come up in an arty film.
The screen flips to show “Always gamble, responsible”. I should take this as my cue to hurl my work badge into the path of an oncoming bus, before diving into a nearby charity shop for a cocktail dress, as the scene shifts to the nearest speakeasy.
Perhaps I should go back to my roots as an English teacher. Does it get any better if I substitute “Occasionally gamble responsible”? Sometimes I know when to fold, but mostly I push the chips forward with the air of a James Bond villain?
However these things get written, I can’t help but think they look more like an encouragement to go ahead with the problem behaviour, rather than to rein it in. Maybe the ad men need some people to lose at gambling, so that they can further increase their earnings on a slogan that doesn’t actually work.
Well then. That’s my “eats shoots” moment done. Next week: stray apostrophes, which I have recently learned are known as the ‘grocer’s apostrophe’. I’m sure there’s a link between fruit, and fruit machines, that I can work on.
February 23rd, 2008
Hurrah for a half day on my birthday! I left early today so that I could fulfil a small ambition of mine, and browse the shops on Broughton Street on the way home.
Now Broughton Street may be known for various things, but I’d suggest, increasingly, food. It has the long-established RealFoods at the top, which does health food and much more, but also some brand new places that have opened up in the last few months.
So, started with RealFoods. They are doing all the Gillian McKeith type stuff - lots of alternative grains and so on - but the shop must be a godsend to anyone with food allergies. You name it as an alternative flour, they have it, plus masses of oriental ingredients, along with all the dried fruit, muesli to scoop out of a sack, and so on. I came away with linseeds, and ful medames beans - the latter are very popular in Egypt, so I’ve read, and there’s a recipe I’ve been meaning to try with them.
Broughton Street also has Crombie’s, the high class butcher, well known for its sausages. I decided to play fairly safe, and came away with some very smart beefburgers, which should be good to try.
I missed out the fishmonger at the top of the street, also long established - Something Fishy. I thought it might take too long to finish my shopping and head home, by which point the fish might be complaining a bit. But it is an aim of mine to try proper butchers and fishmongers this year, so I can see what the difference is between supermarket stuff and the specialists.
So, now, to the two new arrivals. Artisanal coffee, chocolate and honey can be had in a fairly new shop that also sells takeaway coffee. Their owner only sells the coffee beans that he likes, but will happily recommend and let you sniff them to see which you like. I made off with some Sumatran coffee which I think is meant to be his favourite. My bag certainly smelt wonderful all the way home.
The other newcomer is a shop selling all the things you might need for cocktails. Again, its owner is chatty, and knowledgeable. He didn’t seem put off by me saying I wasn’t too good with drinking spirits, but told me more about fruit syrups, and so on. He also has glasses and all the other kit for making cocktails. I am hoping he will stock some fruit purees so I can finally try a Bellini (prosecco and white peach pulp).
I didn’t go around explaining it was my birthday - thought that might be a bit obvious - but it was nice to have time to browse, and equally to chat with the shopowners. Certainly RealFoods has so many different lines of stock that you need a good forty minutes just to look round and see what they have.
I should add that it’s been a happily foody morning too - my colleague who does her own bean sprouts, and has been coaching me with my first attempts, gave me some mung beans to try sprouting. My manager found a couple of mini bars of dark chocolate to slip inside my birthday card. And the piece de resistance was battenburg cake, brought in or for another newer colleague who shares the same birthday. (Can’t resist marzipan and cake combined.)
Meanwhile, it’s now about time for a cup of tea. Nice thing about birthdays - the everyday pleasures as well as the special treats.
January 23rd, 2008
Mid-January appears to be a good time to do many things. Bump your car (18 Jan being day of most traffic accidents in the UK). Be depressed (24 January coming up for that one - evidently the day of the year that is most ‘difficult’ for people). Do your tax return (for the self-employed - I think that’s another one to avoid if you can). Beyond that, there’s braving the ‘really honestly end of the sales big savings now!’ sales.
Out and about today looking for some shoes for Dan. I think I was probably aware previously that part of the ‘buying a lifestyle’ that affects our society today extends to the rest of the shopping experience. But today, as after Christmas when we looked round some clothes shops, I increasingly realised how much the music played in shops is part of the deal.
If you want to live in a ‘hood, you may find that Schuh is the place to buy your box-fresh trainers. I can’t quite remember what the outdoor shoe shops offered…which is perhaps the point. They could have played “I’m a lumberjack”, but then they would have to sell high heels, as the song goes, which would make it harder to climb mountains. (I’m sure they could get round that by discounting ski poles at the same time.)
So where did I feel more at home? Rogerson’s shoe shop, which sells Ecco and various other ranges. They played soundtracks. I didn’t have to look cool in front of the sales staff. In fact, Dan commented on the soundtracks, and was told they have three or four albums on rotation, including Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and a classical one.
This is the place where the music seems designed to make you go ‘ahh’, in the same way that you go ‘ahh’ when the shoes are comfy - and potentially a bit pricier than you might go for. Whereas if you want to get something tight-fitting, and need to go ‘ow!’ at the same time, head for somewhere that plays Prince, perhaps. At least you’ll be following in his (high heeled) footsteps.
January 20th, 2008
A bit of a breakthrough. Having tried to track down a plain black cardigan for what seems a long period of time, I finally found one today.
Now I know this is not exciting reading. Cardigans. Socks a couple of days ago. It’s just a good job we don’t have thermal vests as well.
Jasper Carrot once talked about signs of aging. Interest in lawnmowers was one. Going past a shop window and going back to comment “Nice cardi!” appeared to be the nail in the coffin.
A couple of years back, as a course we ran for the students we work with, one of them was worried about whether she had to go out and buy a suit in order to do her teaching placement. I suggested no, and that a top and a pair of trousers that she could move about in comfortably would do the trick.
The problem was the next line when I said “Something like this”, and pointed to what I was wearing, which fitted the description. The look I got back from the twenty year old suggested I was firmly in the nice cardi brigade.
It’s all very confusing, when tank tops and parkas that were no-nos in my generation become cool again. And puffball skirts (only had one friend who could actually manage to look good in one).
Even the fashion writers concede that much of current fashion is really suited for very thin (and possibly only teenage) girls. It also seems to help if you like loud prints, judging by the clothes rails today.
So maybe a plain black cardi is a rebellious statement in this day and age. It’s a good job we don’t have to select which lawnmower to wear to work as well.
January 17th, 2008
Now that all the Christmas socialising has died down, nice to have a few extra people to see. Out to lunch today with someone who used to go to the same church in Edinburgh, plus her husband, and a few other joint acquaintances.
How do you pick up when you’re not seen each other for several years? Or, with another friend we saw last Saturday night, several months, when she’s been on the other side of the world? Thankfully, fairly easily, it turns out. Put some people together around some food, and it usually all works out.
We’ve lamented the fact that we’ve had some good friends move away over the last few years - with a couple more to go from our church small group later this month. The one consolation, it seems, is that we do seem to be able to pick up again with people, whether the gap is short or long, the distance near or many countries away.
Maybe it’s part of the Edinburgh Factor. (Nothing to do with house sales, although I’m sure Edinburgh’s attractiveness as a city will continue to keep people doing well in that sense.) Over the years, I’ve termed such friends who move away as Edinburgh Ex-Patriates - they don’t talk about if, but WHEN they return.
And even if it’s just a weekend, it’s great to have them about. Maybe Edinburgh is a more transitory city than some - though equally, should you stay, it seems to get smaller by the year, as your networks of friends of friends grow greater. And if you’re going to ‘lose’ people - which is probably inevitable as time goes on - you might as well be somewhere they want to come back to.
January 12th, 2008
An opportunity to rib one of my colleagues about a misspelling in a recent email. Trying to indicate a street near our office as our meeting point in case of fire, he alerted everyone to meet at ‘Gentile’s Entry’. (Edinburgh residents can work out the original version.)
For a cultural organisation, you could argue this was a problematic choice: where are our Jewish, and any other faith, visitors meant to go? But I had the opportunity to hear a more regular mis-pronunciation the same day, heading up the close that leads up to the Royal Mile. A tourist stopped me and asked for ‘Princess Street’.
‘Princes’ is not used in so many place names, I’ll grant you, which I think is why ‘Princess’ seems to be said by various visitors to Edinburgh. It made me think that there are probably not so many mispronunciations that give you another word instead of your original choice.
Dan and another friend who grew up in London used to come up with alternative pronuncations for London areas. ‘Streatham’ became ‘St Reathams’, and so on. Dan equally was very pleased a few years back to hear me saying ‘An-tig-u-a’ for another Edinburgh street name, rather than ‘An-teeg-wa’. I had to make the joke against myself for a long time to stop that one being repeated back at me.
My brother came up with two of my favourite mishearings of place names. When a school friend got into an Oxford college (Somerville), he managed to understand that she had got a job at the then local supermarket (Somerfields). Equally, when I got the news of where I was going to be during my gap year teaching (Warsaw), he thought I would be just up the road, so to speak (Walsall).
New housing estates breed rather odd names (Edinburgh will currently offer you Q, The Visio, along with the lovely East Pilton Farm Rigg - try saying that to your taxi driver after a hard night out). I can’t help but think they’re missing out on some great mispronunciations to come.
January 10th, 2008
Blog writing is a dangerous thing. Yesterday I learned that one friend reads this blog ‘most days’; another met me at a group yesterday and mentioned she’d read the Robin Hood post from the day before. That’s immediate feedback for you!
Of course, they could have also posted a comment, and then I’d have known about them reading it. But there again, am I posting comments on others’ stuff? I read most of one friend’s film blog posts, but tend not to comment - don’t correct a man with superior film knowledge, eh? Or something.
All of which could mean there are others reading it, that I have no idea about. I don’t know if there’s some way of telling who’s read it, whether or not they leave a message. At least a few people I know who’ve mentioned something, I don’t even remember telling about the blog…
Anyway, can’t help but feel that it’s gratifying for people a) to have bothered reading it and b) to have said something after, one way or another. It makes me inclined to keep going, at least. This is bad news for the casual reader, who hoped for something light and frothy about the next series of Big Brother. For everyone else…maybe I’ll have to up my bus usage so I have enough to write about. You have been warned.
January 10th, 2008
Next Posts
Previous Posts