Robin was a treble, Hel was an alto. In the Allegri, I was in the semi-chorus with Ella (?), Margaret Duthie, & Stephen Power, hidden behind the altar. My friend Stuart was a ringer, adding some heft to the bass line. A cat emerged from the middle of the choir during the Gibbons (see photos). And one of the tenors (not in photos) finished the concert lying on a slab at the back of the church awaiting an ambulance.

Tracks in alphabetical order (if anyone has the programme I shall rearrange these!):

Allegri: Misere Mei

Bairstow: Let all mortal flesh keep silence

Bassano: Dic Nobis, Maria

Duthie: Song of the Nuns of Chester

Gibbons: O clap your hands

Mendelssohn: Lift thine eyes, from Elijah

Parry: My soul, there is a country

Parry: Never weather-beaten sail

Parry: There is an old belief

Rhienberger: Abendlied

Sheppard: In manus tuas

Stanford: Justorum animae

Stanford: Coelos ascendit hodie

Stanford: Beati quorum via

Wood: Hail, gladdening light

Photos

The tape recording was truly awful, all hum and fog, but I’ve managed to clean it up a bit in Audacity. Here for all to enjoy is Ding Dong Merrily... (the other tracks on the recording were Once in Royal, In Dulce Jubilo, In the bleak, Silent night, but listening to them now I cannot believe we managed to make about £120 in a couple of hours busking them in Cambridge a few days after this recording was made, but we really did!).

Ding Dong! Merrily on high. Use the player below or download the MP3:

I’m thinking the Finns might pay quite a bit to have this removed and possibly destroyed - get in touch chaps, long time!

Lessons learned, it was much easier this time, though still pretty tricky and some bits seemed warped with age (know the feeling). We looked at photos of other assembled RZ85s on the internet to work out how the gunwale bits went together (not easily!), and had to make do without a couple of nuts. Here’s the finished article, after about an hour of building:

Now there’s not much water in our garden, so the next step was to lug the thing to the river at the Prom, where Lois assured me there was a purpose-built entry ramp for canoes. The thing felt quite manageable for the first thirty feet or so, but then became surprisingly heavy and awkward, so lots of rests were called for. Tim Cronin zoomed past on a mountain bike, one eyebrow distinctly raised, while we contemplated crossing the road.

We made it to the Prom, chucked the thing in the river, and watched intently to see whether water came pouring in. It didn’t. Then we put a Lois into it, and I watched for a while longer – still no water, so I added my substantial self, and since all seemed well we paddled off upstream.

We only had one and a half double paddles, as one had a split thingie, so Lois took the half, being more used to Canadian canoeing.

We went as far as Forest Beach the first time, and chickened out at the rough water and barely-submerged rocks, as Lois thought it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if we made a hole in the bottom hull.

We’d also noticed that some bits of the frame weren’t as correctly assembled as we had thought, which we couldn’t fix from the inside. So we hurtled back to the Prom (the thing is really quite nippy with two people paddling, and this was downstream), got it onto the bank, and pummelled it into submission. Then back into the river for a tour of the weir and back up to Forest Beach, where this time we braved the rapids and made it through, only to be truly defeated by major obstacles a bit further up. Must try again when the water is higher.

Anyway here we are back again at the Prom, eagerly looking forward to the uphill lugging back home. We need a trolley!

It was a fun expedition, but the logistics of the unpacking, construction, moving and vice versa are a chore, so I’m not sure how much use it will get in Brecon. It wants a camping holiday by a lake, with lots of other things to do for the people who aren’t in the canoe.

Notes about the Pouch RZ85

Some history of Pouch http://www.pouchboats.com/background.html

And a truly amazing steam-powered version

http://www.faltbootbasteln.de/fbb-dampf-faltboot.html

It's got a wooden frame, plus a **** load of thick canvas stuff which eventually (after a life-ending family row) can, hypothetically, be re-combobulated to make a mahoosive (I'm told this is the word) canoe for two.

Knowing no better, my preconception of what a collapsible canoe might be like was along these lines:

Yesterday the sun came out, so we decided to see whether we could do the re-combobulation while avoiding the family row.

The two massive sacks disgorged about 40 bits of wood of various shapes and sizes, paddles, various nuts, straps and buckles, the aforementioned canvas, an old nappy, and some monstrous spiders.

No instructions.

I’d previously been led to believe the beast was a “Klepper” so it was surprising to find a “Pouch” logo emblazoned on the canvas and on a little pennant thing. A quick google revealed that Pouch were/are indeed a manufacturer of canoes (subsequent research suggests that this RZ-85 is the modern equivalent of our thing, ours being an RZ-85/3).

We found an incredibly basic set of instructions here http://www.pouchboats.com/usingrz96.html though at that stage we had no idea whether it was for a model similar to ours. Reassuringly, the page began:

 We will provide at this point a link to the complete, fully detailed and illustrated assembly instructions in due course.

Not being boaty types, we hadn’t a clue what keelsons and sponsons and suchlike were, so we looked for clues amongst the materials provided. We found bits with numbers on, some too faded to read, bits with R, L, H and V on (right, left, back and front?), lots of bits that vaguely fitted together, and after an hour or so we thought we were on track:

Oh, how wrong we were! At this stage we didn’t even have the ends of the frame correctly assembled, as can be seen from the carcass on the grass behind – missing the stern “blade” thing. Here we are some time later with that aspect sorted:

But things were still sadly amiss – here we are discovering that we have 8 inches of overlap in the middle of the boat, with no means of making the boat any longer to get rid of it – we found we could engage the gunwhale on one side or the other, but certainly not both.

The key, as all Pouch-owners will know, was that ladder thing lying on the grass behind, which corresponded to “the two central keelson sections” in those instructions we found. Once we had realised its significance, removed all the central U-sections, and done the necessary to engage it into position, the hull was now stretched to length and everything else fell into place easily:

Actually not quite – we had a little rotation of the frame within the skin, we didn’t finish off the edges of the cockpit, forgot to fit the seat backs, and we couldn’t work out what we should have used the little grey straps for – but this was proof of concept only: i.e. could it be assembled without causing wives and children to leave home? And were we going to keep this thing, or give it to the girl guides or perhaps our worst enemies? Well, assembly wouldn’t be too bad with instructions and the benefit of experience, but there were certainly moments when we nearly gave up. I’ve advised Lois to put on her CV “successfully assembled 30-year-old collapsible canoe, without arguments”.

Lois and I then tested whether it was readily portable, as we might lug it down to the Usk for real use next time.

And we proved it could keep out grass. I’m less certain whether it will keep out water, as it’s been in a bag for 30 years and also has some scuffs and scrapes on the rubbery bit.

And here’s one of our photographer Hel’s arty shots of us engaged in battle, with a setting sun behind:

Then, as dusk drew in, I took it all to bits again, cajoled all the bits back into the two massive bags, and gave it back to the spiders in the shed.

Note that I’m right in the middle of asking for a quote, so yes I really do want to be “sent information”, but I assume they mean “for evermore, from Lloyds and anyone who uses the same marketing agencies and email list pedlars”, so no, I really don’t want to be sent information after all; but should I click “below” on the “Continue” button? Or should I put a tick in every box to say I don’t want information by that method?  As I write this I must make a decision or my session will probably time out; tick them all, tick none… ?…

Of course the prize goes to all of you shouting that it makes no difference whatsoever, and whatever I click my number of PPI calls and spam emails will go up by 15%.

Some time later... I may have found out the answer, because there was another screen later on in the process that asked almost the same question in a slightly different way, making it more clear cut. See if you can work it out and answer my highly scientific poll.

I’ve broken the full route into 13 legs with a pair on each leg.  Stewart Bellamy and I are doing three legs - about half the route overall - the first leg from Herbert’s Quarry to the Black Mountain ridge, the main Brecon Beacons hills from Fan Llia to Allt Llwyd (in the dark!), and the last leg along Offa’s Dyke path to Llanthony Priory.

I’ve not been out to the Western end of the route since we last did the Traverse in 2004, and needed to check my estimated timings for this section, so I took advantage of the fantastic weather this weekend to take the family over there and recce the route.

It’s an amazing drive; not long after turning left in Trecastle views of the Black Mountain ridge start to break the skies over the forestry, then reveal their full striking form when you clear the trees to cross the moorland. I wish I’d stopped to take a photo – maybe next time. Then down the wiggly lanes to Twynllanan, on to the A4069, and climb the hairpins to the quarries. The family dropped me off and headed back to Llandeusant and the car parking area below Llyn y Fan Fach, where much fun can be had in the stream.

I’d had a hard run at the Cwmdu Race the day before, so set off very cautiously from the quarry car park in sunshine and a chilly wind. The first summit of Garreg Lywd was reached in 11 minutes, the second (Foel Fraith) in another 12. I love this area – completely deserted, good underfoot, skylarks larking about, limestone, what more could anyone want…

I then took a rubbish line across to Garreg Las, dropping a bit too far South, but there’s not much choice once on the ridge, and it’s a case of picking a line through the limestone boulders ‘til you reach the prehistoric Carnau’r Garreg Las, seen here behind a very sweaty me…

I forgot to take my split time here, in my excitement at tripping over the endless boulders (and beginning to revise my declared love for this area!). But it’s soon back onto the grass as you swoop North and then ENE to cross the swampy ground before the final climb to Bannau Sir Gaer. Here I am halfway to the sky…

and finally reaching the end of the leg in 1 hour and 08 minutes, bang on my estimate for the leg. Here’s a shot from the changeover point looking East along the main escarpment towards Picws Du and Fan Brycheiniog:

I jogged back down the track by Llyn y Fan Fach to meet the others, who were having fun in the stream as predicted (Robin had found a raft fashioned from twigs and string).

I was carrying our “SPOT” live location tracker, which we will be using during the event to show our location in real time. This does work, but there are some disappointing aspects. For example the position is only recorded every ten minutes (and in practice often not even this often), leading to a massively approximated result (there could be nearly two miles between sample points on downhill sections for a runner). The GPS locations are very inaccurate, often up to 100m off the correct location. The embedding script they supply to allow you to show the location map within your own website uses the old deprecated Google Maps v2 API, and seems to have trouble keeping up-to-date with the readings on the SPOT server. It just feel like it all needs a little work to bring it up to date, but overall it’s worthwhile kit to show supporters and participants where we are on the route at all times.

Dear Crispin (or other choral scholar’s name as appropriate)

With any luck, you’ve been having so far a delightful and perhaps profitable vac. May it last as long as poss. Perhaps you’ve caught sight of a book, but maybe it was a mirage. If it occurs too often, it’s best to ask someone if you’re in a library. If they say not, better take a couple of aspirins and put your feet up for a week.

Years ago we all had a laugh when a library turned out to be a mirage. They’d excavated one of those desert dunes in the infertile crescent which turn out to be the remains of large cities, and had come across a complete horde of clay tablets with cuneiform writing,- the library of some pre-diluvian monarch. Some appeared to have secondary markings in each line, immediately taken to be one of the earliest instances of musical notation. The tablets were sent to be cleaned – which should have meant very dainty dusting down with a fine soft paint-brush  of the type used for painting miniature portraits,– but the batch fell into the care of one of those buxom young helpers (female) of no archaeological training, who are better off terrorizing shire horses with a curry-comb. This enterprising young creature promptly put the clay tablets into a bucket of water and gave them a good scrub with her wire-brush normally used for scrubbing her bedroll. Very soon she had a bucket of amorphous clay dumplings & a quantity of prehistoric sludge. And so nobody will ever know what was top of the pops at Tell-Asmar in 2900 B.C. Nor indeed will we ever have to sing a P.A.T. arrangement of the same at an Annual Gathering!

When I reached my Hampshire pleasure-drome, my first chore was to train the giant hogweeds to chase the neighbours’ cats and not me. My two-stroke motor flail was useful in trimming much of my jungle down to knee or shin height. Two dozen young oaks have seeded themselves on my “lawn”, and more in the paddock-like areas. I disturbed countless frogs, voles, bees’ nests (bumble) and such-like. When at last some clearance was complete, I planted a gorgeous array of little blue campanulas. By next morning nothing of them above ground remained to be seen. I assumed it was the local magpies, which in the past I have seen pecking blue-hydrangea flowers to shreds. So I planted more of the campanulas & surrounded them with a protective wire netting covering. To no purpose. The plants had been eaten up entirely. It could not be the various beetles which abound or the larva of the cranefly, since these are carnivores. So I put on my best orange wellies (usually kept for organ-scholars to borrow for pedal-practice) and went to the garden-centre, returning with a bootful of slug-pellets. Next morning, areas of my garden looked like Ypres after an offensive. It seems the slugs had emerged from their lairs by the myriad. They evidently enjoyed the pellets, for after but a nibble they were seemingly struck by an ecstasy so intense they came to a quietus a foot or two away and awaited the next stage of their Kame or Kismet. There were two distinct types,- sleek black ones about an inch or inch-&-a-half long, and a larger tawny-coloured corrugated monster, between 5 and 6 inches in full length when streaking towards some desirable delicacy, and about the thickness of a good large courgette – an inch diameter perhaps. As with butterflies where often the same species differentiates males & females by colour & size (and scent, which we cannot detect), I took it that the black slugs were perhaps the females (“I am black, but comely” – Song of Solomon) and the brown battlers were the males. So I took to making a tour of the garden at twilight and discovered I am host to millions of these marauding molluscs. They aren’t sluggish at all, but move at a rate of knots when given incentive. One large fellow (I observed) having sampled a pellet went on several inches producing a frothy wake like a full-speed power-boat, and then suddenly he split open stem to stern like an old-fashioned sausage in the frying pan, disgorging a quantity of yellow ichor, grey mucus, and much purulent liquescence. Then he lay singularly doggo. “What a tease!” I thought. “I’ll go and get my cross-bow and see if a shot across the bows doesn’t set him on the bolt again.” But I seem to be out of bolts. So I returned with a torch & a canister of salt, and continued my rounds. Coming round a corner by the sweet-peas I suddenly came upon two of the brown fellows attempting to have sex together. “Lawks!” quoth I – what will the neighbours think if I appear to be countenancing homoeo-erotic deviancies in the animal kingdom?” So I covered their (the slugs) confusion with a dash of salt. They liked it a lot, and were still lying on their backs there next morning in blissful meditation, surrounded, alas, by a good deal of ugly lymphatic foam,- “night-soil” I suppose. So I rang up Prof Wigglesworth the redoubtable entomologist & learned that the black & brown are separate varieties, each with their own black males & females or brown males & females. Amen! So that is a relief to know.

I would like to tell you more about Hampshire’s wild-life (which doesn’t mean the juvenile-delinquency & adult-abuse,- but the rarities of the New Forest, like “Rufus’s Stone” – he only had one; or the large spiders in the woods on Old Beacon Hill which live by hunting shrew-mice and the chicks of small birds, and whose mandibles will give your bicycle-tyre a nasty puncture if it annoys them; or our two village witches of the late 17th cent, one bad, one good.) [The black hag put evil spells on people, but the white witch took them off. (Privately, I think they ran a racket. The white one paid the black one to impose the magic which she (the white one) counteracted, receiving a suitable fee from satisfied customers. Meanwhile the black one received presents to avert her possible disposition to cast a spell against you, and the white one received equal considerations to maintain her readiness to help in need, and indeed her resistance to any temptation to turn black too & do you a harm. That’s my theory.

Have you ever seen a spell cast? Well in Europe it is cast, or thrown,- usually by one hand from a position in the air at arm’s-length over the head. The hand is brought down powerfully as if throwing an object (such as an egg or squib or stone) at the feet of the person standing before you about 6-feet away from you. It is a violent gesture, sometimes done several times, counting aloud or in silence, and preceded by the relevant imprecation (or cursing prayer), and sometimes (but not always) followed by some conclusive phrase like “so mote it be”. It is very frightening to witness; and it must be devastating to be the object of the curse. You can be in no doubt at all that you have been cursed, a sensation highly demoralising for a start.]

But I must move on to the purpose of this letter which is to remind you of a few dates.

1. 30 September and 1 October 1988
2. 8 October 1988

First: 30 Sept (Friday): Extra Annual Gathering of Old Boys with Commem Service first. We’ll try to do the same programme exactly as at the last An. Gath. Could we please meet in Chapel at 3 p.m. See details on next sheet.

Next: 1 Oct (Saturday): Master’s installation preceded by Evensong, which means Responses, Mag + Nunc setting, and possibly two anthems. See next sheet.

Finally: 8 Oct (Saturday): 3 p.m. We start Marathon of practice for Term.

Friday 30 Sept 88

3.00 p.m. Rehearsal of material for the day & if possible the morrow. [Psalm 150. Smart: Te Deum. Wood: Heaven. Hymns 165, 379. Silentium. Precamini. Grace. Peace be with you. Tomkins: O yes has any seen a lad? Reger: Abshied. Pearsall: Let us all go maying. Carmen Caianum.]

6.30 p.m. Commem Service.

7.15 for 7.30 p.m. Annual Gathering Dinner & After Dinner Musics

Saturday 1 Oct 88

11.00 a.m. - 12.15 p.m. Rehearsal. [Responses: Smith SATB version. Psalm: 119 vv33-40. Chant 155. (provisionally:) Mag & Nunc: Wood in E flat no 1. Anthems: Byrd: Sing joyfully; Stanford: Ye choirs of new Jerusalem.]

6.30 p.m. Magisterial Installation Service & Ceremony

7.20 p.m. Dinner in Hall.

I hope I am expecting the attendance at the above events.

Please let me know as soon as possible if you are unable to attend. Don’t arrive out of breath (or out of practice).

The following meals if taken in Hall will be at College expense: Fri 30 Sept: Lunch,[Dinner]: Sat 1 Oct: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner; Sun 2 Oct: Breakfast.

Travel expenses from-home-&-back, if necessary, will be refunded.

There will not be reimbursement for those who having travelled to Cambridge opt to stay on right through into Term.

There will be no charge for accommodation in College for the nights 30 Sept, 1 Oct.

It cannot be guaranteed that you will be able to occupy for this week-end the room assigned to you for the ensuing Term.

University Term (the period I believe covered by your room-rent) starts on 1 Oct 88.

Dress for Annual Gathering as usual is D.J. suit + black tie, or feminine equivalent; + surplice for service; + gown for dinner.

--------~~~--------

The time-table for the ‘Marathon’ is on the next sheet; and on the sheet after that are the additional dates in which we are involved. Some of you may wonder what is supposed to be going on, on 9 Dec,- I wonder too.

The basic fact is that I reach next summer the age at which I perforce retire from my University Lectureship. It is an appropriate moment for me to relinquish my various College offices. Hence this is the last Long Vac summons any of you will get from me. The College is therefore busying itself as to finding a successor for me, and have a appointed a committee. This Committee evidently thinks (poor dears) that taking choir-practices is a salient feature of a Precentor’s duties! Whoever they get (if anyone), you yourselves will have had the experience of working with a real live composer of real live music, even if you haven’t enjoyed it as an experience or witnessed any of his more significant output!

--------~~~--------

That seems to be everything that we need to say at this stage.

À bientôt,

yours

Peter T.

Intrigued, I quickly found that published details about PAT are sketchy, and there's almost nothing in the way of recordings of his music. I remember singing some of his work at Caius, and that it was entrancing but difficult. YouTube provides this King's College version of "If ye would hear the angels sing", from their 2010 Festival of Nine Thingies:

Mmmm, lovely, but where's the rest? Then I spotted the "Commemoration CD" on the website which promised to include numbers called "Seven Bullocks Escaped" & "The Dog That Sat". That alone was sufficient to persuade me to fork out the £15.

The CD arrived a couple of days ago, and I've played it about 12 times already. It's a bizarre and wonderful mix, being recorded live at first a concert and then a mattins, plus the organ sonata. It's straight in at the upper reaches of my "to be played after much beer" chart.

The concert material is secular (very), including the Thackeray Ditties (complex barbershop expertly performed by the Caius Choir), a moving slab of the Mayor of Casterbridge opera featuring Alan Opie, parts of a cheeky May Week revue (no pyjamas? no toothbrush?), plus the aforementioned bullock titles/dog titles, which turn out to be newspaper cuttings set to psalm or song (and with a nicely sacrilegious "Gloria".. "Story be from the Guardian: And from the Sun, and from the Morning Post" etc). These are performed by "Chorus Caianorum" - presumably ex-choir - not bad apart from one yelping tenor who leaps in slightly early on most entries.

The mattins content, again recorded live, this time featuring a reasonable (though perhaps hung-over?) choir, pianos, violins, and the shocking wheezebox that Caius pass for an organ, consists of a truly surprising setting of Psalm 126 (Lois says it sounds like a rugby song, which is not a criticism when you live in Wales), then the Te Deum in E which could have produced the theme music for Star Wars. Both had me a little baffled on first listen, and subsequently hooked. I'm no liturgical music expert, but to me they just sound engaging, original and moving, and without the irritating or suicidal tendencies that characterize much modern classical stuff.

The CD finishes with the organ sonata, which is apparently a tonal plus Morse code rendition of the letters of the name of Peter Le Huray, organist and presumably buddy of PAT; this kind of thing always raises suspicions that the result may be a victory of clever over good, and I'm not sure whether it isn't. But best not forget this was written about 50 years before the "Endeavour" business. The first movement and third movements at least are growing on me by stealth, especially the demented fairground themes in the third. If only that organ wasn't so peeky - I knew there was a reason I'd bailed out of Cambridge early.

This short note does the composer and the CD no justice, so at the bottom of this post you can play one of the Thackeray Ditties, "A Credo" - easy listening and beautifully made, and with a strapping top C for the sops at the end - if you like it, fork out for the CD and spread the word.

The lyrics:

I.

For the sole edification

Of this decent congregation,

Goodly people, by your grant

I will sing a holy chant -

I will sing a holy chant.

If the ditty sound but oddly,

'Twas a father wise and godly,

Sang it so long ago -

Then sing as Martin Luther sang,

As Doctor Martin Luther sang:

"Who loves not wine, woman and song,

He is a fool his whole life long!"

II.

He, by custom patriarchal,

Loved to see the beaker sparkle;

And he thought the wine improved,

Tasted by the lips he loved -

By the kindly lips he loved.

Friends, I wish this custom pious

Duly were observed by us,

To combine love, song, wine,

And sing as Martin Luther sang,

As Doctor Martin Luther sang:

"Who loves not wine, woman and song,

He is a fool his whole life long!"

III.

Who refuses this our Credo,

And who will not sing as we do,

Were he holy as John Knox,

I'd pronounce him heterodox!

I'd pronounce him heterodox,

And from out this congregation,

With a solemn commination,

Banish quick the heretic,

Who will not sing as Luther sang,

As Doctor Martin Luther sang:

"Who loves not wine, woman and song,

He is a fool his whole life long!"

Zero expensive sachets of mulled wine spices, and zero bottles of glühwein!

3/4 pint water in a pan

5 cloves

1/2 a stick of cinnamon

1/2 a tsp of mixed spice (omit if you don't like sediment)

1/2 a lemon, scrubbed and sliced

1/2 an orange, scrubbed and sliced

Bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Bash the fruit a bit to release the juices and pulp.

Then add...

3 tablespoons brown sugar (to taste)

1 bottle of red wine (I used Aldi's Baron St Jean but any cheap red will do)

3 tablespoons of cheap brandy (vary according to desired effect). I used Aldi's Napolean Brandy.

Give it a quick stir, and continue heating until it is hot but not scalding. Don't boil the brew.

Serve in handled glasses or pewter.

Saunders MM 2012 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Naomi and I entered the Saunders “Kirkfell” class this year; Naomi’s first MM, and my first really long outing since busting the knee. The forecast was terrifying but in fact we started at Wasdale Head in warm sunshine, and the whole weekend could find nothing worse than a bit of cloud and drizzle.

Here are the course descriptions for anyone who fancies tracing the route… this being the information competitors are given at the start of each day.

Day 1

Theoretical straight line distance 23.1 Km

Minimum possible ascent 1395 m

Start 181 104

1. 182 109 Reentrant, Southeastmost
2. 214 110 Gully 675m
3. 216 090 Stream Junction
4. 207 077 Stream Bend, Southeastmost
5. 199 047 Sheepfold
6. 144 033 Gully Bend 225m
7. 119 060 Wall Bend
8. 090 076 Finish Day 1

Day 2

Theoretical straight line distance 19.2 Km

Minimum possible ascent 1025 m

Start 090 076

1. 097 097 Stream Bend
2. 108 096 Stream Junction 12:30
3. 138 065 2m Cairn
4. 159 088 Small Tarn, Southwest End
5. 159 102 Tarn, South Side East End
6. 168 117 Wind Gap Col
7. 186 118 Knoll, North Side
8. 177 105 Sheepfold (boulder)
9. 186 088 Finish

We started up Black Sail Pass after an easy first CP, then ESE to traverse the North side of Great Gable below Windy Gap to checkpoint 2 on the N side of Green Gable.

Over GG and part way down Aaron Slack, cutting across to Styhead.

Down into Lingmell Beck to CP3, then a steep climb back up to the Corridor Route. This and the next checkpoint were almost identical to ones I had visited in the Scafell class in 2011 with Ben Crowther, although we were moving in the opposite direction this year.

Between Lingmell and Scafell Pike into Lingmell Gill, then round the W of Black Crag to traverse the flank of Scafell to a sheepfold checkpoint between Broad Tongue and Quagrigg Moss. West (through the bogs) up the flank of Illgill Head to nip around the upper section of Little Grain Gill, then contouring around the E side of Whin Rigg at about 460m.

Next was a fast and steep NW descent to the well-concealed checkpoint in the gully. Then down to bridleways through farmland, through Woodhow, Scale Bridge, and Gill farms, including a “moment of uncertainty” at a path junction, as the Harveys maps are not great in enclosed fieldscapes (that was my excuse, anyway).

Across the road and up the track to CP7, then awful bog-and-tussock tromping to mid camp at Scalderskew Farm – a uniquely dreadful stretch that had me wanting to ask for my money back. Naomi found the first day pretty tough, but we made a steady pace and there were some interesting navigation problems. The route choice between CP5 and 6 in particular had me scratching my head for the hour leading up to it.

We finished day 1 in 06:47:39, in 30th place out of 102 starting teams. The weather was kind, and we had no rain and very few midges while we brewed up our noodles and chatted with the Chepstow crew.  As in 2011, half our foil containers had ruptured during the run, leaving only two small ones for all the cooking. I might take a proper pot next time as this is a risky strategy for the saving of a few grams. The balloon beds were great as usual, and this time we had balloon pillows too!

Day 2 started up the forestry track to Worm Gill, then ENE then across Cawfell Beck and around the W end of Hause to cross the River Bleng (a lot unfamiliar names). We traversed the SW flanks of Seatallan, then as we approach Greendale Tarn we met Joss Naylor bounding down the misty hill with walking poles and two collies. This section was all a bit of a procession. I’d not experienced this in previous years doing the Scafell class, as that has around only 20-30 teams entered, and I’ve usually been in the chasing start on day 2. We tried to take clever route choices, but there wasn’t much choice to be had really, and were usually others in the same class in sight.

Above Greendale Tarn we descended just NW of Standy Gill to Nether Beck, which was slightly hair-raising on wet ground.

Then we climbed beside Black Beck to CP4, then at last managed to leave the crowds as I took pretty much a straight line routes from there to Scoat Tarn “South Side East End” (other teams went further West to reduce the ascent, but the Harveys map suggested that area was pretty wrinkly so I stuck to the better ground and less distance. To be honest I don’t think it made much difference, as we met a team at Scoat Tarn who we had been with previously.

Then we climbed steeply to the saddle between Red Pike and Little Scoat, then followed the path to Wind Gap in cloud. There was quite a bit of staggering around boulder fields here, and cutting across the South side of Pillar was also hard going. But from there is was fast running down to the final checkpoint on the N side of Looking Stead, with the finish in sight.

We dropped directly down onto the Black Sail pass path, leaving it at Gatherstone Head to go for our final sheepfold. By now Naomi was running more strongly than at any time over the two days, and our last mile and a bit to the finish was pretty good.

It was great to sit in the freezing stream at the finish, before the final endurance test of undercooked bean stew.

We finished day 2 in 04:43:15, 25th on the day and 28th overall. We were 11th mixed pair out of about 30, so all in all pretty good going. For me it was a very different event from being at the sharp end in the Scafell class, but it was great to do it with Naomi and to get round without any navigational howlers.

Will we be there next year…? Watch this space.

The entry list for Kirkfell features 36 mixed teams, one being us of course – stiff competition.  Most appear to be husband and wife pairs – I bet divorce rates shoot up in July.

We’ve done a couple of training sessions together, the first in disgusting weather in the bogs and tussocks around Fen Nedd and Fan Gihirych. That was pretty dispiriting as we got very cold and wet, and had to miss out a couple of our checkpoints to get home when promised.

The second session (last weekend) was much better, with 7 checkpoints negotiated successfully around the eastern end of the Brecon Beacons range; perhaps 10 miles in all, taking about 3 hours, which is what I was expecting. Naomi had run in the winning ladies relay team at Man v Horse the day before!

My knee is holding up so far – a bit achy afterwards, but fine a couple of days later.

We are now starting to sort out kit, food and general logistics, speculating about where the course may take us, and kind of looking forward to it.

I’ve spotted that they have the logo of the Wasdale MRT on the web site, but not the Cockermouth or Keswick teams… could this mean we are sticking to the Wasdale and Eskdale areas?

It was failing with error code 0x81000039. Some searching led me up a few garden paths, and then to this post:  http://www.wincert.net/tips/microsoft-windows/2072-windows-backup-fails-with-error-code-0x81000039.html

I tried it without much hope, because the post suggested this was to do with accessing a drive on a Windows XP machine…

Then I restarted my backup job… it worked!  I don’t think I’d come across Wincert before, but they seem to know what they are talking about, and there are some good tech posts on their blog.

My favourite web authoring tool, however…

… since an automatic update to Windows Live Essentials the other day, Windows Live Writer has failed to start, giving “Windows Live Writer has stopped working” immediately. Actually I’m not 100% it was working just before that, but I think so.

I am of course writing this in Windows Live Writer, so what was the solution?  I tried Microsoft “Fix it”, which didn’t. Endless googling/binging had yielded nothing helpful, and the event log gave no clues. However, I also found that Adobe Reader’s update to version “X” would not install because of “Error 1327. Invalid Drive F:\”.

I found an article on the Adobe forums suggesting re-creating the missing drive using (for example)

subst f: c:\windows

and the installation worked fine. And this also fixed Windows Live Writer!

Obviously I don’t want to have to do that every time, so I’ve mapped F: to a folder on the NAS. And in fact this is how it was many months ago, until at some point I killed my F drive in favour of an S. This must be behind the problems – something in the guts of WLW (and the Adobe registry settings too?) must be referencing the ghost of my old F drive, and the recent updates must have changed the behaviour to make this critical.

Anyway, problem solved, though I am left feeling uneasy that I don’t know why this happened.

Some time later… I couldn’t let this lie… I found a couple of registry keys set to “F:”

HKEY_CURRENT_USER\Software\Microsoft\Windows\CurrentVersion\Explorer\User Shell Folders\Personal

and

HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SOFTWARE\Microsoft\Windows\CurrentVersion\Explorer\Shell Folders\Personal

I changed these to “%USERPROFILE%\Documents” and “C:\Users\Flowers\Documents” respectively, then disconnected my F: drive again, and sure enough WLW opens fine. So that is probably the true fix to this problem: WLW crashes on start-up if either of these keys points to a bad drive.

Now to show Helen how to use WLW to post to her blog…

Naomi had a good run, beating Sharon and various Chepstow lasses.

Now the strings: Lois found out yesterday she got a distinction in her cello grade 5 exam. Much surprise and joy.

Here’s the kitchen after lifting the lino to reveal the slime and mould…

I removed the whole lot, along with most of the skin on my knuckles.  The quarry tile floor is in good nick, and we think we’ll leave that in situ.

We’re not so sure about the range – a “Chatton Special” from the 1930’s (we think). It’s lovely, but has a little damage and rust and may not be recoverable. We’ll take advice on this, but I hope we can keep it (losing the fireplace, which is not so lovely).

We have inherited a fine range of derelict sheds. The most heavy-duty of these was integrated into the house structure via some Heath Robinson carpentry and excessive use of roofing felt. Here’s a part of it being dismembered – note the use of the tin can as roof support, among all the other random craps.

This shed was all pretty weird - very solidly built, but not high enough to stand up in. Two small child’s bells, endless hooks and pieces up string tied between them, net curtains, and a secret compartment under the floorboards, which, instead of the anticipated treasure, contained endless takeaway trays, margarine tubs, rusty pots and pans, half an old fireplace, and a Gollywog jam jar.  I’ve removed the rotten front wall and the bit that joined the house, and it now a rather nice kind of gazebo or perhaps log store. But OMG the spiders!

Another liability we have taken on is the collapsing boundary wall, which has been threatening to come down into the lane for months. We decided to take down the top half, reducing the risk of overall collapse, loss of limbs, children, cars etc.

Inside, we’ve removed all the horrid carpets and lino, and started stripping walls. Here’s the runner up to the top floor, about to go.

The garden is horrific, apart from the lawn area which has been maintained in reasonable nick. The rest appears to have been used as an intensive ivy farm combined with kitchen midden.

In amongst this are all kinds of wonders, bit of wire fence, broken glass, rusty buckets, a ruined greenhouse, brambles, more margarine tubs, etc etc. But also some rhubarb plants that are producing lovely red shoots.

The kids helped rediscover the back gate, which was buried in years of ivy. Here it is actually opening.

Robin helped with the bonfires, and we must have burned a couple of tons of scrub.

The electrician (Jeremy) arrived this evening and managed to get the lights back on, plus a few sockets, so the hoovering and lawn-mowing can soon commence.

Here’s me after a day of filling, scraping, lifting, sweeping, and general skirmishing with grime and dereliction.

We have now over-filled a skip, and we are pretty pooped.

I was horrendously unfit and weak, and could barely get up the slightest rise, while Stewart streaked ahead with Simon hanging onto his back wheel. Then after about 20 miles something went twang in my right knee (the good one), making everything from that point on rather painful.  I think it is the same injury that had me walk back from Crickhowell a couple of years ago – muscle tear on inside of upper knee.

I crawled painfully up the last monster hill, then was very glad to get back to the Triangle Inn in Rhayader for a pint of Hancock’s HB and a delicious lunch with the family. They had been for a couple of hours walk along the lake and over a wee hill. Meanwhile Simon and Stewart set off for another 20 miles or so.

This run re-wrecked my knee in November when I tackled it too soon after the plaster came off, but I’ve done it gently a couple of times since in around 37-38 mins.

It was a lovely day, sunshine breaking through after torrential rain, about 10 degrees with a bit of wind. A hint of warmth in the sun, delicious promise of springtime to come. We set off pretty briskly, Stewart huffing like a hippo for the first few minutes as usual, then graciously letting me keep up with him later on. I was well beyond VO2max for the duration – this was not a day for our usual discussions of semiotics, economics or domestics.

Then I managed to run downhill fast for the first time since the kneecap break, with only moderate pain letting me know that I should not be entering fell races for a while yet. I’d love to see some kind of slow-motion heat-mapped imagery of the forces exerted on the body when running downhill – I fear about 12 elephants are loaded onto the patellar region with every step (it certainly felt like it).

We finished in 34:22, which comes 18th out of my 31 recorded times – I am exceedingly pleased, and reassured that one day I may be able to run again…   (my PB for this run is around 32:00).

At the finish I did have a significant lump over the breakpoint on my knee, but a couple of brufen and a couple of hours saw it reduce.

Naomi

Lois

Helen

Robin

Crispin

On the hill, Mackenzie led the way, while Poj guarded the rear. Summit mince pies and tablet went down well. We all got pretty damp, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

The leaders at the summit…

Joined by others… and more rain…

“I’m not as daft as I look you know…”