Fat Boy Slim and the Blue Horizon

The effects of my walk in the hills really struck home today and I've had no energy.

In fact, I laid on the sofa this afternoon and dozed my way through two Will Hay films. I make no great claims for his films but they are great comfort viewing for me, even though I've seen all of them many times. They take no effort to follow and I still laugh at the corny jokes! I emerge from watching them wrapped in a warm glow of good feelings.

If one can see beyond the quaintness and the black and white film, I believe that there is someone and something we can all identify with in his films.

Do you have a favourite "flu film"?

OK, the song has little to do with today's post other than a tenous link to my hill walking yesterday when for a few short hours, as English/Scottish as I am, I was an Irish rover on my first hill walking expedition in County Donegal.

My mate Declan took a day off of work, drove up from Dublin and we headed for Mamore Gap in Donegal from where we struck out in to the Urris Hills. The day was glorious, too hot for walking in truth, a fact that struck home later.

The initial climb out of the Gap was hard work and reminded me of how unfit I am. Declan seemed to find it a bit easier, despite being a big man, but then he is a fair bit younger than me and gets to the gym from time to time. The effort was worth every puff though because when we made the ridge we were like a pair of High Kings, our lands laid out below us, the views impossibly perfect.

After walking the ridge for a couple of hours we scrambled down a scree strewn hillside towards the strand at Crummie's Bay, beneath the old fort at Dunree. We lunched here. It was about 2.30 pm.

After our lunch, which included the now obligatory rich fruit cake with a slice of Wensleydale cheese, we walked across the strand and tried to find a way up to the fort but were thwarted in our none-too-persistent efforts. I started to feel a bit "peely-wally" at this point and additionally my sweat was washing suncream in to my right eye - an increasingly painful experience forcing me to walk with one eye closed.

Turning around we started to retrace our steps but I was finding the climb back up from the beach a real struggle and Dec took charge of the situation. Rightly summizing that I had a touch of heat exhaustion he selflessy doused me in his own precious drinking water and made the decision that we would walk back around on the road to our cars. I'm pretty sure that I would have got us in to difficulties had I kept climbing (and there were several hundred metres of ascent left ahead of us). By now, even the road walking was a struggle for me and Dec went on ahead whilst I flopped beneath the shade of a tree. From somewhere I got a little second wind after this and managed to get a fair way back towards the car park before Dec returned in his car to where I was having a rest in a hedgerow, his air con on full blast - what a top bloke!

Once returned to civilisation I recovered pretty quickly thank goodness, although my eye remained very sore and even this morning still isn't quite settled. Needless to say, I've drunk plenty of fluids and slept like a baby - one with aching legs and a painful eye!

So what do I think of my day? I think that Donegal is a gem of a place for walking. I also think that I need to start taking my fitness seriously again. Most of all I think that I couldn't wish for a better pal than Declan...the REAL Irish Rover.

Not satisfied with the near Mediterranean weather we have been blessed with on the lough this week, I thumbed through some old verse I'd scribbled down and found the attached (for which I make no bold claims). All of a sudden, as I remembered sitting at my desk and looking out on that miserable winter's day, I was made grateful once again of the restorative effect of the sun on one's face.

The grey green ocean fills the lough
The dirty sky is full of rain
The birds conserve their energy
The ferry runs on winter time.

The waves rush up against the sand
The wind pushes it’s weight about
The distant hills wear cloaks of mist
The doors stay resolutely shut.

And this is what the lough looks like on days such as those...

I've chosen to share this Loudon Wainwright song because he says much better than I ever could what love is between a brother and sister. He also distills in to one line the sweet longing of looking back at photos from childhood, when such things were more rare than today, as he sings "Whoever took that picture, why, they captured our whole world". I'm getting goosepimples just typing those words!

I have a brother who is seven years older than me but there are only fifteen months between my sister, who is the youngest, and me. This means that we pretty much grew up together, playing, fighting and sometimes being a comfort to each other. My sister has a much nicer spirit than me and as we've grown older she has been the glue that has kept us all together.

As with Loudon, there is a black and white picture from my own childhood taken of my sister and me. We are in a swimming pool on holiday. It is all in that picture - whoever took it (my Dad I expect) captured our whole world.

I'll start with a bit of a rant, but will finish with something nice!

My rant has been induced by the sudden popularity of the verb to REDACT, occasioned by it's selection to describe the wholesale censoring of MP's expenses before Joe Public gets a shufty at them.

The act of redacting in this instance is as reptilian as it is unexpected, but my point is a wider one and it is this - who gets the job of scanning dictionaries for governments to select arcane, seldom used (if irritatingly perfectly good English) words to obfuscate matters...and why?

I'm pretty well read and have a reasonable standard of English but had never heard of redaction before now. Sometimes the word isn't new to me, it just feels wrong e.g. "PROSECUTE a war" (US in Iraq meaning to go to war), EMBED a journalist (US in Iraq again, meaning to attach a journo to a military unit and thereby and control their activity/exposure). I'm sure that you have your own examples.

I don't have the answer, but if the purpose is to detract from the matter it describes then it seems a bit self defeating. I don't believe that these words are used in the contexts I've quoted in normal parlance either; someone somewhere must be sent off to trawl through Chambers or somesuch volume to find these words. All I DO know is that it leaves me feeling more suspicious than ever...

Now the nice thing - about a year ago I was moved by my company to Ireland and I now live on the shores of Lough Foyle in County Donegal. I'm very lucky to have the lough (essentially a large seawater inlet) as my garden. Some months ago a grey heron regularly fished from the rocks beneath my window. As anthropomorphic as it is, he was named Baco by me (geddit?!). Anyway, the visits stopped and I often wondered what happened to him.

Well, today a heron is again fishing, using Baco's spot. Is it him? Haven't a clue to be honest, but I really hope so - and I'm welcoming him like an old friend anyway.

Today the sun is bright and warm in Donegal and the Lough glitters. I'm off work (first holiday this year), I've heard from a dear friend today for the first time in ages, I have the lovely anticipation of walking the hills with another old friend on Friday and Baco is back. Pretty supercalifragilisticexpealidocious doncha think?

Feel free to redact this blog entry without fear of prosecution. I'm embedding a picture I've just taken of Baco for fun...