What’s the Story in Dalamory

My father was a senior executive in British Rail – long, long ago. As a retired but still interested o­nlooker, he ruminated o­n the folly of the plans to denationalise. Especially o­n the then current proposals. He was furious about some executives who side-lined rolling stock, writing down their value in readiness for takeovers and acquisitions in the new companies they hoped to be forming. And he foresaw chaos for commuters and other travellers.

He has been dead for 12 years now. But every time there is talk of another shake up or attempt to redress the awful problems o­n the railways, I think of him. I am ashamed when I hear of rail systems in other parts of Europe – they run o­n time, are efficient, cheap, comfortable and clean. In fact, I have experienced superior rail travel in several countries and heard about the excellent infrastructure in Scandinavia.

It is not about money. The Health Service proves that. It is about imagination and vision and good management. It is not about self-interest, dividends and lack of care.

I am still at 58 to go. This is getting serious. I had better get a move o­n to get the average up a bit. Desperate measures are needed. Perhaps it would be a good start to make a proper list.

How long does it take to get to be a size 10?

Apparently, pet launderettes are the latest craze in America. Not – as might be thought from the name – somewhere that pets take their washing; but rather a cross between a carwash and a washing machine. The pet is placed inside and subjected to a four-minute cycle of water, shampoo and rinsing, followed by a hot-air dryer. According to the reviewer, (in a magazine which shall be nameless because it is associated with people of a certain age), dogs quite like it after the initial shock. Cats are not so fussy, but tend to adopt a defensive lying down position – and anyway, the inventor claims, it is better than having a cat wrap itself round your face when you are trying to wash it.

I do not think I will be trying it o­n my dog. Come to think of it, I suspect it might be outlawed here anyway. Imagine if something went wrong with the electrics or the water temperature. Doesn't bear thinking about. 

Sunshine – two days in a row. Worthy of note because suddenly the sky seems to have lifted. It is wonderful to see people's spirits rise. The cold is a minor inconvenience compared to the grey, lashing rain.

The spring will come again.Only 64 days now.

How annoying.
I have had my car for over two years; the o­nly downside being the fiddling to find radio stations, especially o­n a long journey. I would set it up at home and have to constantly search for new wavebands as the miles passed. Now, thanks to male know-it-alls I find that the presets automatically track the stations. How galling.

Convenient all the same.

Boat-loving spouse says, Do you want to go to the Boat Show in your January break. Swift response from self (strictly a fair weather sailor.)  NO.  So how come I found myself at the largest West Coast chandlery, getting enthusiastic about the new season. And even worse – getting enthusiastic about the winter refit? Could it be to do with being encouraged to buy designer gear?

Does this count as o­ne of the Sixty Things To Do In My Sixtieth Year? If so, I am down to there being 58 left.

Watched a DVD last night – Legally Blonde with Reese Witherspoon. Basically the plot is Barbie-Doll gets a Law Degree from Harvard and sorts everyone out in the process. Great stuff. The heroine – Elle – loves pink, it is her signature colour. I like pink, does that mean I am clever?

Flawed logic I know, but to hang, I am o­n holiday. Anyway, I am certainly no Barbie, and never have been. I went through a stage of playing with my grand-daughters Barbie dolls a year or two back. But I think I may have outgrown it now.

Here we are at the twelfth day of January and I have o­nly just started my aim of doing Sixty Special Things for my Sixtieth Year. Unexpectedly it involved a trip to Girvan and the sales. I have trailed round Glasgow this week and found nothing of note…however, a sleepy seaside town yielded many good bargains. In the end I settled for an expensive designer jacket/cardigan with faux fur collar. Totally unlike my usual style, which pleased me inordinately. Even better was that it was half-price. Of course I was aided and abetted by o­ne of my oldest friends. (Oldest in the sense of long-term.) She had her own 60th-Fest last year and was o­nly too pleased to encourage and enter into the sense of fun.

There is a song called Country Roads. The writer had not tried coming up the track to this cottage. Otherwise the song might have been called Country Bumps. Or Country Makes Your Tyres Last Twenty Minutes. Or Country Fall Out of Your 4×4.

I like the country.

Two items of note today….. The flash of brilliant blue in a jay's wings as it flew across my line of sight, and the dog trying to go through a glass door. The former was heart-stoppingly beautiful, the latter was belly-laughter making –  (once it was clear the said dog had done no lasting damage to herself or the door.) A country break of sheer delight.