DAY 2

Well the day finally came today, the day that confirmed what many of my so called 'friends' had been telling me for years, that I am an old git. It is worth bearing in mind however, that many of these expert advisors such as Nick Iddon, chief 'old gitter' have a less than tenuous association with physical exercise. In fact their idea of active recreation, is a walk to the pub, just down the road, and the lifting of a few pints. However I digress.

For about a year now I have been feeling an acute pain in my right knee, especially when ascending stairs which I do each weekday whilst carrying my bike. And it's been getting worse.This pain does not stop me cycling and indeed if it did I would have done something about it by now. BUT...skiing was coming ever closer and I wondered, more and more often, if I would be able to cruise the multitude of slopes here at Schladming, without feeling the annoying ache. I was not keen to visit the physio when all I was going to hear was 'wear and tear' which I am sure it is.

Marvelous that isn't it? You either sit in the armchair doing nothing for years and drinking beer etc, or you make sure that you exercise for at least the advised hour each day. As you know, cycling is my favourite and I have been doing that since I gave up football 15 years ago. I cycle to and from work, a distance of 12 miles and when I am not working, I get up at the same time and put in an hour's worth of peddling before breakfast. But this it seems, like doing nothing, takes a toll on the body. My knee prior to this week was really becoming annoyingly painful.

So this morning, before skiing I applied the knee support brace. As I did so, I kept telling myself how much better a day I was going to have knowing that my knee would be supported and therefore protected. But I couldn't help feeling that it was the beginning of the end. And what, I hear you ask, effect did it have on the day's skiing? Well despite skiing on almost total artificial snow which in these temperatures is lumpy, bumpy and horrible, I had a great day and as I type with the sun setting on the mountains and Spurs v Man U due any minute on TV, I feel that warm glow inside that a day's strenuous exercise and a hot shower gives you, and yes I feel I have earned the beer that is slipping down very nicely thank you.

SCHLADMING!

After a dead easy travel we (myself,JD and Gwyn) arrived in the World Cup resort of Schladming which is to be our home for a week of skiing. Temperatures are a bit too high for my liking and I knew things were not going to be as perfect sas they can be when our rep, answering the time old quetion about the conditions in resort, said snow was forecast and followed it up with the suggestion we could do a snow dance if we knew one. The town itself is really interesting, with an unusual amount of architecturally interesting churches. I will make sure I post some photos on this blog. We unpacked, collected skis and went for a walk round town. The main attraction here is the finishing stretch, photograph above, of the mens World Cup downhill. It finishes in the middle of the town with a finish area so small it defies belief. The actual race is next week. You wouldn't know it but when the circus moves in the peace is shattered. The photo above does not do the sheer gradient justice. Take it from me, it's steep! We will have a go at it tomorrow or when the snow conditions improve. By the way, in the photo, the car park is part of the finish. Apparantly they will import snow if there is no new by next week. Better get those dances going!

NEW YEAR'S BEACH

Hogwarts?

It wasn't long before we were on the road again with Jonestours. This time we went to deliver a bottle of wine to an old friend who lived somewhere up the coast. naturally, I wasn't paying attention to the exact location. A pity really, as on the way Rob stopped at a magnificent castle, built in the 19th century for, I think, the Duke Of Sutherland. It was pretty impressive I can tell you and owing to the time of year and to the fact the place was closed, we were the only visitors. It looked for all the world as if we were approaching Hogwarts. The gardens out the back were beautiful even in December and the view over the Kyle at the back was stunning.

What a place

Rob finds a friend

We then set off back to Bonar Bridge. Jonestours decided to take the old mountain road in order we could look at a place, especially built for salmon, where the little rascals leap upstream and indeed, uphill every year, a sight, which Rob assured us was just as magnificent as that at the more commercial Shin Falls, a popular visitor attraction in the summer months. Trouble was, the old mountain road, because of its lonesomeness, does not get gritted at times of heavy snowfall. Consequently we slipped and slid our way across the mountains, in the pitch black dark, fortified and emboldened by the occasional swig from Rob's hip flask. Jeremy Clarkson et al, eat out your hearts.

The start of the long road.

It wasn't long before the New Year festivities were under way. This involved visiting every one of Rob and Cara's friends during the evening and drinking and eating at each stop. Now to us southerners, this might not represent too much of a challenge. However in the Highlands of Scotland these friends don't exactly live next door to each other. By the end of the night we had walked up dark, lonely roads with booze and some kind of electronic reindeer for company, across ploughed, snow covered, icy, muddy fields and from one end of the village to the other besides, pausing only to let off fireworks and launch balloons on the bridge and gatecrash another separate New Years Party where Jones was instantly evicted, the worse for wear, for remarking lewdly upon the upholstery of the well endowed lady of the house. Indeed, that was the last we saw of him for a while.

The next time we were to enter his orbit was at about 5am when we returned home from the last port of call, to find a sodden pile of clothes and wellingtons just inside the living room of his abode. It transpired that he had failed to negotiate the considerable length of drive to his house by the loch side and, slipping on the ice, had ended up in a waterfilled ditch from which it took him a great effort extricate himself rom.

Just a pile of clothes!

Trish wins the Singing Star Competition.

The night is yet young, the third stop.

A balloon for The New Year

Needless to say the next day was a wipeout. We got up late and watched TV most of the day, not to mention a not so fine 1-0 win for the Spurs against Fulham. Soon it was time for us to pack our bags and head for the airport but not before all friends had met again on Dornoch beach for the traditional cricket match, complete with egg sandwiches crisps and champagne.

That old familiar action

That old familiar forward defensive

Cara has learned how to field by watching the Aussies

Thanks to Rob and Cara for their wonderful hospitality and to all their friends for contributing to our fab time. It was certainly a New Year to remember.

HOGMONAY

The Dornoch Castle Hotel In Dornoch

We have been looking forward to this trip for a long time. When we were here last February, shortly after Trish's ski accident, we resolved to return within the year and thought to come back and what better time of year to come than during the world famous hogmonay celebrations to welcome in the New Year.

So on Tuesday we caught an Easy Jet flight to Inverness and was met by my very good friend Rob Jones, who transported us to his Lochside residence in the small village of Bonar Bridge. We were welcomed by his wife Cara and their three children who were all still enjoying the Christmas family holiday. Of course, Rob and I are big cricket fans and the first night was spent watching the England cricket team retain The Ashes against Australia in Melbourne. Naturally we had to celebrate with a 'wee dram'. Rob needs no excuse for a 'wee dram' . In fact, there was a block of ice in the loch we can see from our bedroom window which melted before the other blocks and I was afraid a 'wee dram' may be required to celebrate that too!

Ashes retained!

The next day dawned clear accross the the loch, and reasonably bright. As always, Rob is at his best when touring his local area, pointing out places of interest and then imparting his considerable historical knowledge. He had a big shopping list to resolve so he dropped us off in Dornoch. This small town is on Dornoch Firth, the only estuary in western Europe not be industrialised. (more Jonesfacts) and boasts, one of the ten top golf courses in the world.(Jonesfacts) On previous visits, we had looked at the course and on one occasion given the impression we were going to actually play it. Of course one would need to pay a considerable green fee to do that! This time the course was under a blanket of snow. So Trish and I walked the beach which ajoins the course for an hour and a half. How strange it was to see snow lying on the sand.

Snow on the beach at Dornoch

After a couple of beers at The Dornoch Castle Hotel, where after his arduous shopping expedition the Jones collected us, we returned to Bonar Bridge to prepair for the evening's entertainment which was a fancy dress birthday party for one of Cara and Rob's friends. About twenty guests in all turned up for the festivities and the evening culminated in an Abba singalong for all of those that were not watching Match Of The Day in Rob's study. I am happy to say Trish joined in with this and when I looked at the scoreboard, she and her partner were well in the lead!

SAD TIMES

A double whammy last Saturday, when news came through of two deaths, on the same day, of two of my heroes, The Captain and Ralphy Coates. How funny it is to put the two of them into the same sentence. Had they not sadly passed at the same time it might never have happened, and why should it? They were at two opposing ends of the entertainment spectrum, indeed Ralph, who played for Spurs in the seventies, scoring the winning goal in The League Cup Final at Wembley and at the same time confusing my very good friend Nick Iddon with his shiny shorts, ,probably never considered himself as part of the entertainment industry. He was a great little player. I remember him for having an even greater 'comb over' than Bobby Charlton. Many's the time I witnessed him flying up the wing with it streaming behind him, like a jet vapour trail. He was only recently interviewed on the pitch at half time and now.....he's gone.

And then there was The Captain. Childhood friend of my hero Frank Zappa and a little bit weird to say the least but as usual with artists such as his eccentric self, a genius, capable of mind-bending harp playing such as I first experienced as a callow, youthful hairy muso, when I bought the sampler entitled 'Gutbucket' As well as The Groundhog's 'Still A Fool', TonyMcPhee's 'No More Doggin' and The Bonzo Dog Doodah Band's 'Can White Men Sing The Blues?' , there was also the classic Beefeheart track 'Gimmie That Harp Boy' and I can honestly say that as a 15 year old I had NEVER heard harmonica playing like that. And then there was his vocals. I was converted. His classics 'Safe As Milk' and 'Trout Mask Replica' were soon added to the collection and the highlight for me arrived later in his contribution to Zappa's album 'Bongo Fury' to be followed a few years later by the magnificent 'Observatory Crest'. click here to view and listen to the track http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rw2yWkgs_Nk

I suppose there will be more to add to this list next year and soon our own contemporaries will start to fade away and then.......

Anyway.......Happy Christmas!

CHAOS

It was a great idea last summer!

It was coming, and we all knew it. The country was braced for it the weather reports warned us, you could see it coming...........but as usual the few centimetres of snow that have fallen have brought the country to another pathetic standstill.

Winner of the 'most clothes on' competition!

Yesterday, when the 'storm' had passed, Trish and I went for a walk around the village. For those of you that don't know this village, there is a small hill that runs past the pub and up to the crossroads. We walked that way yesterday, for a reason, to participate in one of my favourite spectator sports, watching stupid English people try to drive in the snowy conditions.

Our road last night

Roads round here remain untreated and really, anyone with half a brain would stay at home until the worst of the conditions passed, but Oh no, with the spirit of Cook, Hilary and Fines coursing through their veins, the English can be seen climbing into their cars to tackle the snow covered roads with less skill at their disposal than the sum total of the England football team. How they slithered yesterday. One after another they wheel spun up the insignificant gradient, that seems to be the plan for most of them, rotate the wheels as fast as you can so as to provide the optimum purchase.

The top of wheelspin hill

Those friends who live in Sweden are often asking me why we don't have laws forcing people to change to winter tyres at the beginning of the 'season to be merry'. It's always been a good question, and now I know the answer. According to BBC news last week, insurance companies, instead of being happy that people swap to safer tyres actually charger higher premiums for those that do. Unbelievable? Click here for confirmation:http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11969958 What a pathetic country we live in.

Anyway, for those of you who are regular readers, you will no doubt remember my promise last spring, whilst marooned in Kuala Lumpur, never to moan about our climate again, I must point out that I'm not moaning about the weather, I'm moaning about the English attitude towards it and their way of dealing with it. Round here it's turned from beautiful to extremely beautiful and while I was on my way to the paper shop I thought I would take some photos. And here they are. Now I know people like Ally and Jim don't like this kind of weather but I think you will agree, that if you are in anyway interested in photography, you will go a long way to beat the sheer scope and variation of the photo opportunities afforded to residents in this land throughout the year, if only they could drive!

THE TEAM GET NOWT' BUT PISSED

It was with some trepidation that I agreed a few weeks ago to give up a precious Sunday and go to the Teaching Awards with friends and colleagues from my school. The Hillborough 'Team" which I used to be part of, had won the East Of England section of said awards and were duly invited to go for the National Award. This involved a weekend away at the Park Plaza Hotel which lies at the south end of Westminster Bridge in London. One click on the logo above will transport you to the luxurious yet tacky carbuncle which charges over £1,000 a night for a penthouse suite! More on this later.

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Has this improved the London skyline? ...NO!

Trish and I decided that it might be fun to have at least the Sunday away at the awards which were to be filmed for broadcast on BBC2 that very day. Of course we had to dress for the occasion, which meant that Trish had to spend at least two to three weeks prior to the event in her favourite charity shops searching for outfits.

Eventually we pitched up at the above glass and concrete monster. We made our way via a glass paneled elevator, silent as a whisper in the dark, to our room. We were supposed to have an 'iconic' room according to John the boss, but we ended up with a room with no view but two televisions and a lounge, together with a lovely white sofa to spill red wine on. Luckily, there was footy on TV so Trish and I polished off a few V and T's and before you knew it, it was time to congregate in the lobby for the coach ride to The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, where the event was to be filmed.

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That gown is still in the room.....honest!

The 'iconic' and expensive view.

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It wasn't long before we arrived at the theatre, where the 'Team' were told by their leader that 'when,' not 'if', we were invited up onto the stage to receive the gong, they would each have to give a short but witty speech. As you can see from the above photo, O'Donnell was less than amused by the sudden prospect. Williams wouldn't let me go in his place as not only did I threaten to tell a mystery anecdote, but I also 'smelled of alcohol'. So my bid for greatness was thwarted and my 'Warhol' moment' would have to wait. We were then urshered into the grand interior by waistcoated flunkies. It wasn't long before Trish, black and also wearing a (different coloured) waistcoat, was asked for directions to the toilet! We took our places and Lenny Henry, our host, got the mini Oscar cermony underway.

And the winner is............not us!

As the cermony meandered on, with the great and the good receving their awards, we were soon realising that without our school ...we left with being in Ireland, Wales or broke, we were not going to win anything. If only we had stuck O'Donnell into a wheelchair. He was already unable to speak! we would have cleaned up. As it was nothing. The walk of shame soon arrived. I was looking forward to the evening entertainment.......free grub and booze!

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Dave and Suzie and the wine bucket

The tables at the expensive but frugal dinner were well stocked. Glasses were replenished with reliable regularity. Ice buckets of crispy white wine sat tantilisingly in the middle. I noticed, as the night wore on, that early to bedders were leaving their wine untouched. I was worried about what would happen to it if it were not drunk. I can attest to the drinkability of it, indeed I am supping some as I write. The night went past in a blur and it wasn't long before we were invited up to view O'Donnell's iconic penthouse suite. He procured this room by dint of his original room not being fit or some other thing, but here we were with a splendid view across Westminster Bridge, the clockface of Big Ben shining in the near distance. O'Donnell was in his element. I couldn't help wonder if this view and accompanying room was worth it's price tag of over £1,000 a night.

Room with a view

View? I prefer the foreground!