Into the wilds of Scotland: dolphins and sea-cliffs

September 23^rd 2012

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

 Number 40: See dolphins in Scotland (achieved)

This has been my year of Scottish holidays. It started with a very enjoyable week in a cottage at Glen Shee enjoying good company, log fires, skiing, scrabble and excellent food surrounded by snow covered hills. More recently I spent four days with a friend camping at Glenbrittle experiencing the many moods and climates of beautiful Skye- including a very brave (i.e. freezing) sea dip. Finally the intrepid Jane B and I spent a happy and slightly more luxurious week staying in B&Bs, exploring the East coast and centre of Scotland on our road trip adventure.

   Since having moved to Scotland one of the things I’ve learned to love are the many varied landscapes. From looming high mountains to fishing villages; sandy beaches to peaceful lochs. There are some truly beautiful scenes to enjoy. The added deterrents of midges and weather also ensure they aren’t overrun with tourists! It’s hard not to enjoy being outdoors with such delicious visual titbits to savour. Just be prepared with a rain hat and skin-so-soft/DEET to hand.

   The second thing I love is the incredible variety of wildlife and the relative ease with which you can encounter it. Readers of my column and blog will have already heard stories of bats, puffins and seals. Even driving back from Skye I had a ‘chance encounter’ (read ‘near miss’) with an enormous stag. Awesome. The one animal which has so far eluded me is the dolphin. I’ve been on boats and islands, seen seals and seabirds, but not yet dolphins. Well, that’s not true; I’ve seen them at SeaWorld in Florida doing loop-the-loops and suchlike. But there’s something about seeing them in their natural habitat which inspires me. So when Jane B and I set off in our intrepid steed, Harris the Yaris, to tour Scotland seeing the Moray Firth dolphins was top of my list.

   It nearly didn’t happen. Along our journey we enjoyed culinary delights such as macaroni/mince and tattie pies; saw many castles of varying ruin; walked along lovely beaches; sampled fantastic whisky and were even blessed with hot sunshine and ice cream. In fact the weather was so good that I had taken it for granted the boat trips would be sailing. I hadn’t factored in the wind and change of season. By season I mean tourist rather than weather. Cullen, for example, was closed. The whole of Cullen. Cafes would announce themselves with tempting signs, luring you to a door which announced ‘shut’. Of the four pubs in Cullen two had shut down permanently, one had no food and the other was closed on a Tuesday night. We, of course, arrived on a Tuesday night. We ended up enjoying a chip supper picnic on our beds at the B&B. (Actually this was quite fun.)

   I was very disappointed therefore to hear that the boats wouldn’t be going out until the weekend, by which time we were to have left for Loch Ness. Fortunately our B&B landlord recommended a trip to Fort George where we ‘could not fail’ to see dolphins from the headland. We left for the Fort with mixed feelings. By the time we arrived the sunshine had also shut up shop for the season to be replaced by lashing rain and driving gales. Jane tried to manage my expectations. Undaunted I declared I felt ‘confident’ we would see dolphins. My confident declarations were slightly muffled by my rain hood and strong winds.

   Fort George itself is very interesting. From above it looks a bit like a spaceship and it has an interesting history, having been built to quell a Scottish rebellion that never happened and having served as a working barracks to this day. We followed the stops on the audio tour, pausing for obligatory coffee and cake, then made our way to the optimistically named ‘Dolphin Viewing Point’. We then spent the next half an hour huddled between various battlements peering out over the Moray Firth. Squinting across the choppy water with icy cheeks and rain spitting in your eyes it’s easy to mistake a wave for an emerging fin. It’s like that time we were on Safari in Africa looking for tree climbing lions. ‘There’s one!’ (Tree stump.) ‘That’s definitely one!’ (Rock.)

   I had sort of convinced myself that those grey triangles I could see mid distance could have been dolphins and turned to leave, a little down at heart. Jane B suggested one more try, which was good of her considering she must have been frozen, soaking and bored. With perfect timing we turned to see an elegant fin and smooth back curve out of the water not metres away from us. ‘That’s one! That’s definitely one!’ Sure enough the dolphin repeated his performance, just to make sure we could both see.

  A brief sighting certainly, but a definite and bona fide view of a dolphin in its natural environment. I was stupidly excited and left numb with cold but satisfied.

   I should add my huge thanks to Jane for standing in the rain for so long in order for me to be able to tick this one off my list. Also she is a handy eye witness. Sadly she wasn’t on hand to witness my later sighting of the Loch Ness Monster, but that’s another story...

Number 15: Learn to rock climb properly (still practising... )

   So, as recorded earlier in my blog, I’m not necessarily what you’d call an expert but I’m hugely enjoying the experience of learning to climb. Most recently my colleague Elsie was patient (and brave) enough to take me on my first outdoor climb. It was awesome! Different to the challenge of indoor climbing, using only certain colours as hand and foot holds, the challenge of outdoor climbing is more a case of: ‘Can I get my fingers around that and actually hold my own weight?’ or ‘Can I reach that and not end up with my face in that gorse bush?’  The setting was amazing with the low evening sun shining silver on the Firth of Forth.

   My initial alarm at seeing the sheer sea cliff and Elsie’s friends spiderman-ing up it was allayed when she took me to a lower and easier section around the corner. In just a couple of hours I learned to lead belay, second and remove those clip thingies (gear?) from the rock. For some reason I had little awareness of the height, so involved was I in the challenge of getting my limbs to achieve a few angles previously unfamiliar to them. Ironically I got more vertigo on the drive home over the Forth Bridge.

   Elsie is a proper pro’ and I suspect could have scaled the cliff without the ropes, but she also helped me feel relaxed and confident. After all I’ve only really climbed a couple of times indoors with ropes and enjoyed a few bouldering sessions. This was an altogether different barrel of fish. One thing I noticed was the impressive range of hooks, clips, springs, tools and other paraphernalia that hang from the proper climbers’ harnesses. As we clank and rattle back down the path to the beach Elsie comments that, whilst you get to see some beautiful sunsets, you never do see much wildlife.  

   A brilliant experience and one I hope to enjoy again before too long.

Surviving most glamorous festival ever and achieving published status (sort of)

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

9^th June: surviving most glamorous festival ever and achieving published status (sort of)

Number 9: Get something published (progressing/achieved?)

I have to start this entry with a huge thanks to my good friend Julia for this one. Not only did she very flatteringly compare me to Oscar Wilde in a recent web interview (no pressure), she also recommended me as a new ‘witty columnist’ for TFN magazine. I was pretty nervous having never really written articles before. I have had a number of reviews on websites and in Ottakar’s magazine, but never a serious article. Fortunately the editor managed to reassure me that what was actually needed was  far from serious and more akin to 500 words of light hearted nonsense about working in the voluntary sector. Nonsense is something I can do.

So 8^th June heralded my first ‘published’ article which is both in TFN magazine and online. Hurray! One of my colleagues in fact read it before I did, as they have a Google alert telling them whenever the name of my work is mentioned online. So, someone complimenting you on your writing without you directing them to it; that’s sort of being published isn’t it?

The Beatles may have suggested ‘all you need is love’, but in my recent experience it turns out what you actually need is friends. Julia isn’t the only one deserving of thanks here; all my friends and family have been so supportive for so many years. They have encouraged me to keep going when all seems lost. They have waded their way through my writing; whether the more successful pieces or the truly awful ones (of which there are many). They have recommended techniques and competitions and outlets for my work. They have given constructive feedback, some of which I have listening to and taken onboard without grumbling too much. Ok so we’re not quite at the point where I’m sitting in a big floppy hat being paid to write splendid, erudite fiction which receives terrific reviews and still sells a packet, but we’re nearer than I’ve ever been!

In my last entry related to getting published I mentioned the recent SAW Conference. Both the conference and recent speaker talks at the Edinburgh Writers’ Club have really persuaded me that in order to get published any writer these days, especially a little known one, needs an online presence. They also need to consider the e-book route. Thanks to my brother at this point for not saying ‘I told you so’ too much. He’s been talking about e-books for a long time. Being a major fan of the independent bookshop vs online shopping and loving nothing more than the feeling of selecting a book from the long shelf and opening it to smell the end papers I have resisted it for a long time. Now I have to admit the e-book route is calling. At least in the first instance. I have to allow the book a chance to sell itself. If it doesn’t and it isn’t any good, then maybe that just shows writing is always going to be a hobby. After all, something that you love doesn’t always translate into something which you’re good at, or which you deserve to be paid to do for a living. However should it prove relatively successful then I can still go down the traditional paper publishing, long shelf, independent bookshop and end paper smelling route with more confidence and a bit more of a reputation behind me.

But anyway I’m waxing lyrical. Enough of this. The main point of this entry is to celebrate success so far, to thank everyone for helping me to get to this point and to mention a point of revelation. My aforementioned floppy hat wearing vision does mention the word erudite. The fact is, much as I enjoy reading a good Man Booker winner or similar, I actually seem to be good at writing a.) adventures b.) scary bits in Crime/Science Fiction c.) entertaining / humorous nonsense.

At least I can now sit back in the comfort of knowing that my route lies, therefore, in genre fiction. My years of frustration at not being able to write like Graham Greene are behind me. Not actually being Graham Greene, I’m not going to be able to write the next ‘Quiet American’. That said; there is that slightly random Graham Greene novel about a spy and the cake weighing competition...so maybe there’s hope yet?

Number 10: Go to a festival (achieved)

Primavera Sound was an amazing experience. The festival is based down by the waterside in Barcelona. Sitting, listening to and watching live bands with a backdrop of sailing boats and sunsets over the sea was just incredible.

During this post I have to make a couple of admissions. The first is that it was all just so much more civilised than I imagined. There weren’t huge groups of overly drunk people swearing and throwing things and being sick everywhere. In fact there were groups of well behaved Europeans dancing, standing and singing along to the music in a very civilised fashion. Sadly the only group of fancy-dress clad drunkards we saw were British. How embarrassing.

My second admission is that I really didn’t expect a festival to be quite that glamorous. I managed the jigsaw competition of fitting four days of packing into tiny hand luggage as I was too cheap to pay the hold luggage fee. Therefore I really had only packed the usual vest tops, jeans, floppy hat and sundress affairs which I'd usually cram in for a week's holiday. Seeing the surrounding slim, tanned, fashionably dressed crowds made my friends and I vow to prepare for the festival next year by dropping two stone in weight, getting a spray tan and getting out a bank loan to go clothes shopping.

We saw some great bands; some of which I had heard of like the XX and M83. Others were more random and others truly ear bleedingly awful but that’s all part of the experience. Much as I like camping, it was also good to be able to come away from the setting and have a good night’s sleep in our well positioned hostel near la Ramblas, so we could return refreshed and happy the next evening. Also it gave me the opportunity for a bit of sight seeing, eating, drinking and people watching in beautiful Barcelona. And I got to practice my CD learnt Spanish (see previous entry). I didn’t order any shoes but I was able to ask for some stamps and understand when the woman told me to buy them at the Tobacconist. Being a vegetarian caused some issues, but resulted in a fantastic salad which had an A-Z of ‘things the chef hurriedly found at the back of his cupboard that didn’t have meat or fish in them’. These included olives, dried apricots, cheese, almonds, carrots and prunes. Fantastic! My true high point eating in Spain however was managing to consume nine cheeses in one day.

Oh and if anyone can tell me why exactly bottle lids are supposed to be so dangerous at festivals I’d be grateful. There were signs everywhere. Bottles; fine. Bottle lids; apparently fatal. I didn’t see any signs of blinding, maiming or other lid-related injury, but am now trawling the internet with interest.

Enough digression and on to my final revelation; I may not yet have hit forty but I’m slightly worried I might still be getting a bit old. Standing up for three whole days made my back ache and my feet turn into trampled pasties more than running my recent half marathon. But then in my defence the Cure did play for three hours. But then they must be in their fifties so if they can cope with it then I’ve got no excuse.

Running the half and learning to buy shoes in Spain

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

Number 20: Run the Marathon du Medoc (training)

   Running a Marathon is the classic ‘before you’re forty’ achievement. As the very thought strikes fear into my heart (and knees) I thought this option might be the best. My brother found it online; it’s a Marathon but you do it in fancy dress and there are lots of stops for wine and nibbles. It sounds very civilised and at least there shouldn’t be too many hard core athletes competing. At the worst I can just walk around in the sun.

   In preparation Penny and I signed up for the Rock and Roll Half Marathon; a half marathon in Edinburgh with a Rock band playing every mile to spur you on.

   I’ve actually been quite pleased with my training for once. I’m not normally very good at pushing myself and running around the city means I have a good excuse to stop at the traffic lights a lot. Still, I’ve managed to go at least twice or three times and week and to be consistent. It seems to have paid off. I went running in the wind, the dark and the rain and even once in the snow. For those of you worrying I’m going to become some boring athlete though, I’ve still eaten far too much chocolate and celebrated good training runs with yummy puddings and chips (not together).

   The big day finally came 15^th April. I was so nervous. The furthest race I’d run previously was 10k and the longest training run was 10 miles, which I ran once. I fully expected to stop a lot along the way. Or to run it very slowly. Or to run it and then faint, or throw up, or both. In fact I was very proud of myself and frankly amazed!

   I was determined to do things properly this time, having previously run a 10k after a ‘hen do’. Even one glass of champagne doesn’t sit well being jogged up and down the next day. So this time I drank lots of water, ate lots of pasta and had an early night. Of course I didn’t sleep much and had the usual dreams about turning up late and running the race in my pyjamas.

   In the morning we woke to a perfect day; cold but dry and sunny. You could tell those who had turned up from England and those who were used to training in Scotland. The latter were fleeced up to the nines whilst the former were shivering in vests and slimline tops. It was freezing at first but in the end perfect weather for a run; not too warm with a blue sky and slight breeze down the hills. Just right. The course was the best too. I was wonderful to run through such a beautiful city. We went along the sea front and through the park. Lots of people lined the streets, banging pans, waving and cheering. I even managed to wave back and found myself grinning like a loon all the way. Every mile we had the rock and roll bands, so you could hear your progress as well as see it. I was basically fuelled on Gu energy gels and adrenalin. In fact, I think it took three days for the sugar to wear off. The last mile up the Mound was a slump, but once I had the finish line in my sights I managed a last burst of energy. A very respectable 2 hours 14 minutes. Quite proud of myself.

   Plus at the end we got a proper space man silver blanket and a whacking great medal. Hurray! Just need to keep it up now.

PS- I mainly did it for the self motivation, but if you want if you are suitably impressed with my efforts there are two splendid charities I can recommend.

My good friend Lisa’s charity, A Rocha:

http://www.justgiving.com/crazyrunathon

And my good friend Megan’s charity, Ripple Africa:

http://www.justgiving.com/charlottesafricanchallenge

Number 13: Learn a new language (progressing slowly)

   This is quite a challenging one and one which I suspect will take me a long time to ‘tick off’ properly. I have a decent amount of French, having spent many happy holidays there as a young girl, and a spattering of German. I can also ask for a cup of tea in Thai and Swedish. Very useful.

   In the end I thought that Spanish would be a useful acquisition. South America is somewhere I would be interested to visit and more immediately I’m off to Barcelona in May. Brilliantly, my friend bought me learn Spanish CDs, so I can play them in my car. I should explain that it takes me an hour to drive to work everyday, so it’s a brilliant opportunity to make the most of those wasted hours. Sometimes I also listen to Miss Marple, but that’s another story...

   It’s an interesting technique. The CD combines a flirty sounding Spanish woman and a geeky sounding English man chatting away in their respective languages over a variety of music. Some of them quite funky and some more folky. Somehow it’s supposed to stick in your head, the combination of repetition and music. It’s quite a challenge sometimes to navigate the motorway whilst asking the quickest way to the post office, but I’m finding if I repeat each section three times it just about sticks in my head.

   So far I can order wine, beer, water, bread, cheese, salad and olives, so at least I won’t starve. More recently I’ve progressed on to being able to buy shoes and find my way to the Picasso Museum. Essentials for any tourist!

Bouldering and Fake Bowie

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

Number 15: learn to rock climb properly (sort of achieved)

   Running down corridors (and away from monsters) and being able to scale rock faces are key skills for any would-be adventuress and Doctor Who companion. I have climbed a few times in the past and always enjoyed the experience tremendously. Still whilst I love a good scramble, I wouldn’t call myself competent at either end of a rope. So I did some research and decided the best option was a three hour start up lesson, to remind me of the basics and get some practice in. Thanks to my generous brother’s birthday present I was able to book myself in on Saturday. As a birthday present is was also a helpful part of the process of making ‘being in my thirties’ seem more exciting!    

   Ok so maybe a three hour start-up lesson doesn’t quite equip me to scale the North face of the Eiger, but I think I can tick this one off as ‘sort of achieved’ today. For those who don’t know the Edinburgh Indoor Climbing Arena near Ratho is the largest indoor climbing arena in the world. Basically they put a roof on a massive quarry. Quarries of course are very appropriate training for a would-be Doctor Who companion. Throughout the seventies Who stories they served as many an arid alien landscape.

   Despite being only a short drive from Edinburgh the EICA feels as though it is in the middle of the countryside. Driving past fields blanketed with low lying mist made me feel like I was definitely on my way to an adventure. My poor sense of direction being such that I struggle to navigate my way to my own kitchen I arrived at said adventure with only a few minutes to spare. I hurriedly ate a sandwich and bought some yoghurt covered banana chips as emergency rations. These I also ate.

   The lesson was terrifically enjoyable. The teaching style in particular suited me; I was able to commit the basics to memory by turning the activities into handy songs and pictures. How to tie a figure of eight; make a head, give it a scarf, poke it in the eye. How to belay; ‘V’ to the knee then 1,2,3. Sorted.

  The strange thing I found about climbing was that it wasn’t dangling several metres up in the air which I found most nerve-wracking. It was being at the other end of a rope and therefore responsible for someone else dangling several metres up in the air. I was the only thing between them and a nasty fall. I’m a bit of a control freak and by the end had a bit of a concentration headache (despite the sustaining banana chips) but had a wonderful time. Yes I bounced off the wall a few times and skinned my knee. Yes I’m far too competitive and over-stretched myself trying to reach for the furthest holds and climb the highest before abseiling down. By the end of three hours alternating with two other students climbing, abseiling and belaying we all felt reasonably confident. I now need to cement my initial learning into concrete ability by getting practice bouldering, working on my core strength and perhaps joining in some group activities.

   It’s hard to describe what is so satisfying about scrambling spiderman-like up a rock face and looking down on the tiny people below. Fortunately I’m not afraid of heights. In addition the task of finding hand and foot holds, especially towards the end of the lesson when we were tasked with using only being able to use certain colour-coded holds, was mentally challenging and so distracted me from the potentially death defying drop below. Or at least broken leg defying. I clung with my fingers wrapped around lumps, handles and edges, hopping my toes from ledge to bump to shelf. I tried my best to climb sideways to the rock. Apparently putting your hip to the wall and not sticking your rear out takes some of the weight from your arms and legs. Easy for the instructor to say; my sturdy hips and rear end don’t always obey instruction!  Certainly by the end of it I was pleasantly tired and a post climb chocolate bar with cuppa was most welcome. All good adventures finish with a cup of tea and chocolate bar.

   So in conclusion; I have a great feeling of achievement and had great fun. Just a bit more practice and I’ll be ready to outwit any villain with a daring scramble up an overhanging cliff face.

Number 23: See David Bowie live (progressing?)

   I’m not actually sure whether it’s still possible to achieve this one. Bowie is my favourite pop star ever. When I was growing up I listened to music ‘absorbed’ from the tastes of those around me. Thus (unfortunately) Stock Aiken and Waterman’s various assaults on the charts filled my tape collection; Kylie, Jason and Bananarama. From my parents there were the Beatles, Queen and Blondie. From my brother, there was the Cure and Adam Ant. David Bowie was the first artist I liked of my own accord. Indeed many of those I knew didn’t like his music at all. Somehow this defined my own choices and personality. I liked his theatrical style, costumes and make-up and found his lyrics intelligent and witty. Of course I’m also a big fan of aliens and liked the fact many of his songs are about spacemen.

   I have quite a substantial back catalogue. My favourite albums include ‘Low’ from the Berlin trilogy and ‘Hunky Dory’, but by far my favourite song is ‘Heroes’. In recent years I have started to think of it as my theme tune. Whenever I feel down or tired that song uplifts me. I’ve heard it in many situations and places all over the world and it has always seemed to be playing when I’ve needed a real boost.

   Should seeing him live not be possible I suppose meeting him or getting a signature might count. I had a brief panic when internet searches suggested he was doing a farewell tour this summer (2012). Nothing has been confirmed.

   In the meantime my friend Julia and I decided the nearest thing would be to attend a Bowie tribute band who were playing in Edinburgh. It was at least halfway there.

   The band made a great effort and in fairness sounded terrific. They played all the favourites, focusing mainly on the Ziggy Stardust years and I enjoyed singing along. However halfway there was an accurate description; whilst the band may have sounded like Bowie, the lead singer certainly didn’t look like him. (In fairness not many men do.) I don’t know what I expected but there is something slightly disappointing about a podgy faced, middle aged Scotsman in a ginger Ziggy wig, make-up and skinny coloured jeans. He sang well, but I did have to close my eyes so as not to ruin the illusion.

   Julia and I were the youngest people in the audience by about a decade, but it was a great night out. So if a farewell tour isn’t possible before I hit the big 40, at least we’ve managed the nearest thing Edinburgh has to offer.

Bat school and not getting published

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

March 18^th 2012

Number 37: Work/volunteer in an animal rescue centre (progressing)

My days spent at Batreach, Jungle Walk, Kuranda in Queensland Australia were still some of my happiest. I would love the opportunity to re-capture some of that feeling of peace and satisfaction I got from helping unfortunate furred and feathered friends, even if it isn’t in quite such a tropical rainforest setting.

   I had a fascinating day at bat school Saturday. The BCT course on Bat Care was designed to raise interest and encourage more bat carers in Scotland. It was held at the Royal Dick Vet’s College and when I stepped through the gleaming glass doors into the even more gleaming white and metal reception area I felt like a proper vet student. The talk was by one of Yorkshire’s longest-serving bat carers. The ultimate super-bat-mummy if you will. I was reminded throughout her talk of the trials and sadness of seeing broken bones and injured wings, of the dubious pleasures of trying to get stubborn bats to eat (yummy) meal worm innards and of the joys of finally seeing your furry friend take flight into the world. Yes I know there are many other good causes. There are so many unfortunate people, children and animals in the world that sometimes it is hard to know where to start. For me it seems that I have a special affinity with these little winged creatures and somehow I have a particular gift for helping them. A pebble in the pond it may be, but it is my own particular pebble.

   Living in a shared flat with a shared cat (elderly but still a little bit too interested in small animals) it’s unlikely I’ll be able to commit to full-time bat welfare. Some time shadowing a carer would be excellent, however, and there is always the option of respite. I now have the kit, thanks to BCT: a bat box, syringe, bag, tiny heat pad, water holder and everything needed to bring batty friends back to full health. I could also become a ‘bat ambulance’ driver. The role is like a first responder, driving out to answer distress calls for injured and grounded bats. Who knew such things existed? I look forward to finding out about them.

   The course was great and a real advert for BCT who provided everything free of charge. I decided to renew my membership, but then their leaflet had a photo of Chris Packham on it and frankly he could get me to join anything.

   Oh and I did get a bat certificate. Awesome!

Number 9: Get something published (progressing)

Another lifetime goal. Sadly my time working for a bookshop broke my spirit for publication. Every week we would see hundreds of new publications and for each one I knew there would be thousands that hadn’t made it.

   Last year (2011) the SAW conference was especially inspiring. I put together an exercise book and a system. I love a system almost as much as I love a list. I also took note of the excellent feedback I received for Liminal from one of the judges and added a snappy prologue.

   This year (2012) I didn’t win anything at SAW but again it was inspiring. I bought Nicola Morgan’s excellent book and decided to write this blog, just to keep the creative juices flowing. I wrote a list of places to send my articles and short stories; even a published item in a magazine would be a start.

   On Saturday I received another rejection letter from a publisher, but a positive one at least. The literary agency have had Liminal for eight months now and I had given up hope of even receiving a response. They said it was entertaining and well crafted, so that’s good news. Sadly though they didn’t feel one hundred percent about its chances in a cut-throat market. At least I’m getting responses. The exercise book system is keeping me structured and motivated, rather than just leaving all my manuscripts in a drawer as I did in the past!  

The list begins!

The continuing adventures of a girl trying to achieve forty things before she hits the grand old age of forty...

March 16^th 2012

Forty things

Those of you who know me well will know my love of lists. You also know how much I love to stuff my life full to the brim and be stupidly busy all the time doing things. So, I bring you the ultimate list of lists. Tah dah! My list of ‘forty things to do before I hit forty’. (That’s six years away by the way.) It combines my love of lists and busy-ness with the desire to make forty sound less scary and more exciting.

I did make an original ambitions list; meet Tom Baker, write a novel, act in a farce, own a mini Cooper and go to Australia. However I’ve managed to do all those, so I needed a longer, bigger better stronger list. This list includes lots of lovely places to travel to, some useful skills which I’ll need in my life as an adventuress, some long term ambitions and some things which I just really should have got around to by now.

The idea of this blog is to record my efforts and success or otherwise. The list itself is written in alphabetical order and I’m attempting them according to time, cost and possibility, so it won’t necessarily be in numerical order.

I’m hoping to have fun along the way, so I just hope you’ll have fun reading about my journey too. Thanks!

Number 8: Achieve another qualification (achieved)

Strictly speaking I can tick this one off. I achieved my Fundraising Diploma, or MinstF (Dip) to those in the know, in November 2011. I made the original list in October. I suppose I did have visions of something a bit more solid. The Diploma just involved converting my original certificate through a professional development log. Not quite the degree in environmental science I envisaged. Anyway, I’ll tick it off for now but keep on looking. This Saturday I’m going to attend a bat care course at the Royal Vets in Edinburgh. Maybe there’s some sort of bat qualification I can get. Does such a thing exist?

Number 10: Go to a festival (progressing)

I’ve made some progress with this one and booked ‘Primavera Sound 2012’. No camping, no mud, no filth. Just Barcelona, beer, pizza and great music. Like Glastonbury but with more sunshine and less people weeing on your tent.