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The Maddest of Rugby Matches

What. A. Test. Match.

On Saturday England and Scotland met in the last round of the 2019 Six Nations to compete for the annual Calcutta Cup. From a Scottish perspective the outlook leading up to this final competitive game before the world cup, wasn’t looking too bright.

A Scottish team savaged by injuries and coming off the back of three disappointing defeats had been tasked with winning at Twickenham for the first time since 1983. Ah, ’83, a long, long time ago. So long ago in fact, that my now balding dad would have been but 12-years-old.

Since then it had been a parade of losses (and one draw) at the home of the red rose. However, lets return to the less distance past. Specifically 5.30 pm on Saturday. A time when many Scottish fans, like myself, sat covering their eyes or had switched of the telly. Half-an-hour in and England led 31-0. It looked as if the Scots would be travelling back up the A1 after going down to a cricket score.

England were desperate to win this game and who could blame them. A defeat in a epic game against Wales had put their hopes of a grand slam to bed. And just before kick-off in West London, a Welsh victory meant the title was now out of their reach. The English had shown their aggression in the last round of games, tearing apart Italy after crushing victories in their first two games against Ireland and France

It also became obvious over the entirety of the Six Nations, that the English were even more desperate to beat the Scots. They had not enjoyed a raucous Murrayfield last year and were quite rightly riled up by the unsavoury behaviour of some Scottish fans after last year’s thrilling Scotland win.

For me, the humble and long suffering Scotland fan, it had been a difficult tournament. The lads had definitely shown moments of brilliance, but this had been compounded by poor discipline and an inability to actually get across the try line.

Scotland began the Championship with a good win over Italy, but had followed it up with two games which they had lost after dominating for large periods against Ireland and Wales. The French had also put the Scots away after there had been some hope we could stop a rotten 20-year Paris losing streak. It wasn’t to be.

So now, an injury ravaged Scotland found themselves on English soil, the 61-21 defeat of 2017 acting as a hellish reminder of what could happen if we didn’t turn up. Surely for Scotland the key would be game management and damage limitation. The odds were certainly stacked against us but there was some hope. This was quickly banished.

Within the first two minutes England were 7-0 up, poor Scottish defence contributing to a training ground move which Jack Nowell gladly finished off. Not a good start but I tried to convince myself it would get better.

Nope. Within 13 minutes the hosts led 21-0, Billy Vunipola and Joe Launchbury powering over. This wasn’t good.

The blistering Jonny May followed up on this lightening start and made it 31-0 on 29 minutes. During the week I had been happy, for lack of a better word, to comment on how we would be reflecting on a convincing English victory after the weekend. I hadn’t however expected it to be this bad.

Tempted to switch the TV off I continue to watch with a couple of flatmates, almost daring England to keep scoring. Scotland looked hapless and perhaps lazy in defence. My friend messaged me saying they didn’t deserve to be wearing the jersey. Perhaps a little harsh, but he had also just switched his telly off, not willing to experience anymore of what had become almost masochist viewing.

Then in the 34th minute the Scottish hooker and captain, Stuart McInally, charged down an Owen Farrel kick and scored an epic try, out-gassing two English backs as he rampaged down the pitch like a man possessed. Was this the key turning point just before half-time.

It certainly made me decide to keep watching as it showed there was still spirt in this side. Perhaps we could peg back another score or two while shipping less tries in the second half? That didn’t seem to unrealistic to hope for.

Kicking off the second half, Scotland looked brighter and the young Darcy Graham, a player full of potential, touched down in the corner in the 46th minute. That’s better Scotland, I thought, joking this was the start of a famous comeback as I considered getting the Saturday evening boos in early.

Then three minutes later, a superb chip and run by Ali Price set up Magnus Bradbury. I suddenly sat up and stopped scrolling through the endlessly boring world of social media. Perhaps something special was happening, as with 30 minutes remaining the Scots had pulled it back to 31-19 with three unanswered tries.

Then in the 56th minute Graham scored again and all hell broke loose in the flat. Well, I got excited and so did my German flatmate, who I’m happy to report is seemingly backing Scotland in the rugby. Maybe not his best decision but something a bit special seemed to now be happening at Twickenham. The score was now 31-24.

A few minutes later and I got very excited as eventual man of the match Finn Russel brilliantly intercepted Farrel’s pass to score again. We were now level and I was desperately looking for a stress ball of sorts as I struggled for breath. An old coat hangar would have to do. Could Scotland hold out for a draw?

Surely victory was still just beyond our grasp in this surreal rollercoaster of a test match. But then in the 75th minute, Sam Johnson produced a moment of magic, finding a gaping hole in the English defence and beating several white shirts to the try line. Scotland were in the lead and I’m not sure anyone could quite believe what they were seeing.

Could Scotland be heading for victory at Twickenham for the first time in 36 years? The answer? No.

An epic defensive effort from Scotland as the clock went red couldn’t keep out George Ford as England scored a converted try to tie the most epic rugby match I, and many neutrals, have surely watched. Fortunately the old coat hangar didn’t go through the window or cause my flatmates any injury as I flung it in frustration.

Although in truth I didn’t know how to feel. For a few wonderful moments it had seemed as if an unprecedented Scottish victory was in the offing. But then it all came crashing down, as for no lack of trying the Scottish defence couldn’t prevent the hosts from crossing the whitewash. This being after they had spent 40 minutes trying to regain their first half composure which had put them 31-0 ahead.

However, disappointed I felt when Ford scored, there remained a sense of pride in this Scottish performance. In the face of adversity after a dire 30 minutes, they had shown immense amounts of flair and character to put themselves in a winning position with five minutes remaining.

Perhaps, more importantly though, it had reminded me why I love rugby. What. A. Game.

FT: ENGLAND 38-38 SCOTLAND

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Weekly Ramblings

In order to continue my ‘Weekly Ramblings’ I’ve decided to change how I write. From now on they will hopefully be shorter, less formulaic and pieces on a range of subjects which I’ve written during the last week. 

Issue 8 – Big Ben: A very Late Tribute

Monday 10/03/19 (RE-POST)

I can’t remember the exact date when Mum texted me the news that my Grandmother’s dog had been put down, but I remember it flooring me. This sounds silly. I mean I’m referring to a huge fluffy golden retriever. The thing is that dumb dog was my best friend.

The reason I write about it now is I realise I never gave Big Ben a proper tribute at the time when he transcended to dog heaven about two years ago. I’m not religious, but dog heaven sounds more pleasant than whatever his fate actually was. Ask a vet if your curious.

I don’t want to call him my best friend because that wouldn’t be true. Humans tend to provide better conversation where most animals generally can’t keep up. I guess the difference is I liked Ben because he was a great listener. Perhaps not by choice a lot of the time but that’s by the wayside.

He would listen to my problems when I took him for long walks and he was always happy to see me. Even when his arthritis was really bad and he was almost completely blind he would be happy to see me. Tail wagging, tongue sticking out. He just looked happy to be alive.

It was this that actually kind of cheered me up as I sat feeling miserable in my Dundee student accommodation, having heard he had been put down. The last year or so had been difficult for me but when that dumb dog passed away I was reminded of how happy he was and this helped change my thinking. Thanks Ben.

In the moments after hearing that news I wanted to try and see my life in a more positive light. I desperately wanted to be happier again and try to enjoy living life as much as Ben did. I knew this meant taking some drastic steps in my own life and still often think about him if I’m feeling out of sorts.

I keep referring to Ben as dumb and I know this isn’t very nice. I see it as endearing though and there’s no point in pretending he was the Einstein of the dog world. Believe me he really wasn’t.

When my grandparents lived in the seaside village of Newburgh he would run for miles and miles along the beach and through the sand dunes. Running until my grandfather would shout his name over and over to no avail. I don’t think he ever did know his name.

There was also the time he nearly killed my grandmother, dragging her across the main street when a statue of a meat person outside the village butchers spooked him. This along with the time he killed a sheep by chasing it off a cliff.

Having not witnessed the poor sheep’s heroic death I had always wondered why we had left Sandend so quickly that day. This along with the day he dragged my Mum across a barbed wire fence (she still has the scars) when he was spooked by a piece of shiny material.

No, Ben didn’t have the biggest brain but he did have the biggest heart of any dog I’ve ever met and might ever meet. In his own way he also looked after my grandmother when she lost my grandfather, providing her with company around the house. So here is it Ben, a tad late, but a tribute I hope is fitting to a lovely dog.

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Weekly Rambling

Issue 7 – Monday 4 March 2019

The Good

As the days gradually get longer and 2019 continues to speed past at lightening pace, the last days of the month felt very unlike February. With temperatures hitting 16 degrees in the Granite City it felt more like June at times this week.

However, despite the unseasonably warm temperatures us brave Scots carried on like usual, perhaps with a little less moaning. Though, if you want to moan about the relentless double figure heat then worrying about climate change might be a good start. Is that too political? I’ll let you decide.

Anyway, this meant I was able to cycle to uni with a shirt and shorts on, feeling the light breeze ruffle through my hair as I rode up Holburn Street and into the sunset. Well, actually onto Union Street, a danger zone of buses, buses and more buses. But I’ll get onto that a bit later.

The cycling has been mostly good though, being much more preferable to sitting in class drenched in sweat after running the three miles to Garthdee. I’m a runner by the way. No instead I just sit in class drenched in sweat with a bike helmet on my desk now.

I think the problem is I never take it easy, meaning I sweat buckets even when just sitting on a bike saddle for a short time. Swerving in and out of bus lanes and traffic at speed can be a fun but terrifying way of getting to uni cheaper faster and for less than the bus.

I’ve actually found this week I’ve been doing less running which is going in this section of this week’s rambling. Granted I would usually see this as a negative, but I think for a while I’ve been over training with little rest days. I have a big run planned this week when I head up to Braemar on Wednesday so I’ll how that goes.

In other news, there was no rugby so that was good. If you read last week’s rambling you may have the impression I’m a tad fed up of Scottish promise fade painfully away. Lets ignore my rant from last week though.

I think we’ll come good again as there’s nothing which works better than some good old Scottish optimism. The best and one of the perhaps rarest types of optimism in existence. I will admit it was a relief to not worry about the Wales game just yet though.

Attempting to ramble about something else than sport, I dressed up on Friday night as a character from ‘Grease’. You know the one with the leather jacket and the stupid hair? Danny! That one.

That’s right I actually went out shopping for something other than alcohol and food, venturing to TX Max (other stores are available) and putting about half a litre of gel in my hair. It was for a costume party my flat mate was holding and I think I just about pulled off the…Danny…Zuko (I have to keep searching his name) look, so I was pretty pleased with myself.

And don’t worry there was a Sandy there as well, but she didn’t need a man and I’m in pretty good shape already. I’ve only seen the film once but I admit I’ve heard the song a few times. You could say its catchy, but you could also say it hasn’t aged that well. I’d be tempted to say both.

The Bad

I was feeling pretty optimistic this week so there isn’t too much bad to report on. I think that’s the way the penny falls for me sometimes. I often feel the way I view my life at certain moments is often based more on my attitude than things which have actually happened to me. This is of course not always true, but I think is something which is perhaps important for me to remember.

Reminiscing about my time at school often brings back good memories of fun moments had with some great friends that I met there. This week while struggling to get a grasp of certain areas of my coursework I was reminded of some classes which I had on my black list at school.

This was a mental note of classes which I dreaded attending. Being someone who isn’t that technical, IT class was at the very top of this list. I was reminded of this while struggling to understand the Digital Media area my course which involves lots of very technical terms and knowledge of the internet.

I was reminded of a horrible moment when I prepared a piece of work for my IT teacher who after taking it of my desk threw it in the bin, claiming I must have copied it from the internet because I didn’t have the intelligence to write what had been typed up on the sheet of paper. That was low.

However, such memories are now desolate and of course unhelpful. My dream is to become a journalist and that means trying my very best when tackling the coursework. A struggle it may be but this time its only my own negativity and lack of self-belief which is a hurdle. I can definitely become a more technical person. I know its in me somewhere…

The Ugly

Cycling in the city can be dangerous. Very dangerous. I know this sounds like an obvious statement, but for someone who has spent their cycling years on rural back roads like yours truly, Aberdeen’s roads can be quite frightening sometimes.

When I first started riding the three miles to RGU I would take a longer, winding route, cycling down to Duthie Park before using the Deeside Way to take me as close to the university as possible.

Recently I have taken to cycling the faster route, perhaps out of curiosity, laziness, stupidity or a combination of all three. Union Street is seemingly the issue as bendy buses weave in and out of bus lanes, surrounded by a steady flow of traffic.

Before you accuse me of hypocrisy, I realise taking the bus is better for the environment than driving your car to which ever exciting Aberdeen destination you are trying to get to. I just think long bendy buses don’t mix that well with cyclists that’s all.

For me this problem is easily solved as I will just return to cycling the longer way to uni this coming week. I realise that means that last section was a pretty pointless ramble then, which makes it a fitting place to conclude my rambling for this week.

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Weekly Rambling

Issue 6 – Monday 25 February 2019

The Good

The last week seems to have gone past very quickly so maybe this will be a slightly shorter weekly update. Here’s hoping it is less of a rambling mess than usual.

So once again the last seven days have been pretty good. Not as good as last week because Scotland were playing rugby, but momentarily forgetting about that, its been a good week.

On Monday I returned from Braemar on the bus and I’m already missing being out in the countryside. It was a pleasant surprise to realise my Monday tutorial had been moved to Tuesday and meant I could spend an extra day up the valley annoying my brother.

Poor old Mags is on reading week. When he hasn’t been reading though, he has likely spent the last week harnessing his skills on Rugby O8, a PlayStation game which he uses to inflict pain on yours truly.

Anyway, it was good to spend an extra day with him, resting my legs after the previous day’s half marathon. Did I mention I like running? Joking aside, the running has been going well this week.

I’ve been taking it fairly easy and that’s actually been quite pleasant, as its provided me with quality thinking time. Don’t worry I’ll have the meaning of life figured out in no time. Perhaps more importantly though, I’ve found my running quite relaxing this past week, which is probably the most important reason why I run.

I also managed to get my bike up and running again by actually buying a decent bike pump. Now, I just need to oil my chain a little more, as I learnt when I dropped it at a busy roundabout.

University has also been going pretty well and is likely to get better for me and my classmates this coming week, as I will be cycling to campus instead of running. This means I will be slightly less of a smelly and sweaty mess when sitting in class.

However, a downside of this is I will have helmet hair which will affect my usually flawlessly maintained hairstyle. A hairstyle maintained through using women’s shampoo followed by a dollop of hair gel which always does very little.

Its also been a week of reflection as on the 19th February last year I travelled to Fiji for two months. Its been quite interesting reflecting on the happy memories that I was so lucky to make on the other side of the world with some wonderful people.

I’ll probably go into more detail about my memories of this time last year in a separate post at some point. I’ll keep you posted.

The Bad

Well apart from the incident at a roundabout and my dreams of starring in a hair gel advert taking a dent, there hasn’t been too much bad in the last week. I don’t like speaking about alcohol too much as I don’t want to admit to being a bit of a party animal.

But I am. Big time. Anyone who bumps into me while I take the Aberdeen nightclubs by storm with the world famous ‘Finn dance’ will back me up on this. Okay maybe not everyone.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. My original point I was going to make is that I’m never touching coke and vodka again. Its taken me two years too long to realise that, like most alcohol, it is horrible and I’m never going near it again… or at least until next week.

Purchasing alcohol is also expensive (I should work for AA) and means I have gone below the amount in my account that I agreed I wouldn’t go below when I started uni. This basically means I need to saddle up and get some Deliveroo deliveries done, while wasting less money on buying sweets and alcohol.

Lastly, I took a bit of fall while running the other day while passing two concerned citizens who watched me just about fall flat on my face. They both reacted in the most Aberdeen way possible. In their heads I knew they were concerned about whether I was hurt. I just couldn’t tell by their expressions or actions.

In all honesty though, I’m technically from Aberdeen (I like being cutting edge and pretending I wasn’t born in the Granite City) and I maybe would have reacted in a similar way.

The fact my lucky green hat* fell over my eyes and momentarily blinded me probably didn’t help, perhaps making the whole scene look slightly slapstick. I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had laughed.

The Ugly 

Being a Scottish rugby fan is hard. Like really hard. After watching Scotland play rugby for the best part of 15 years, I spent Saturday afternoon feeling low.

This was after watching a comedy of the usual errors which were synonymous of the your Frank Hadden’s Scotland. Errors that had seemingly been snuffled out under the tutelage of Cotter and then Townsend.

A 27-10 loss to France at the weekend proved this theory wrong and Scotland seem destined for a worse than average six nations performance. There is still hope of course, but wins against England and Wales look unlikely. Wales coming off the back of a sensational win in Cardiff against an in form England.

However, after the game I was more disappointed but not surprised by the analysis which appeared on the Scottish Rugby section of the BBC Sport website. There is a journalist who I won’t name who seems to savour every Scottish rugby failure.

His article which attempted to promote a non-existent nasty rivalry between Ireland and Scotland before the first round of the Six Nations would have been better placed in a tabloid newspaper than on the BBC website.

Anyway, I’m glad to announce that’s my rant over and apologise that this is another long post. Maybe I need to find another sport to watch. I heard Scotland have a good curling team.

*Because of my lucky hat I remained physically uninjured, although my dignity did take a bit of a knock. 

 

 

 

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Race Report: Kinloss to Lossiemouth HM

Location: Kinloss & Lossiemouth, Moray

Time: 11:00, 17 February 2019

Distance: 13 miles (approx. 21km)

On Sunday I ran my second half marathon race and was pleased to come away with a Personal Best, running the 13 mile road race in 1:32:35. Achieving this time was especially pleasing because I had failed to PB in the Lumphanan Detox 10K in January.

This was predominantly down to an alcohol fuelled Hogmanay and a lacklustre sleeping schedule in the days before that race. Gladly much less alcohol was consumed in the days leading up to this race, although my sleeping schedule was again slightly out of whack.

On the Saturday night I didn’t sleep very well, though I usually don’t the night before a race. However, I still managed to crawl out of bed at 6.15 am, which was good because race registration closed in Lossiemouth at 9.45 am.

Having this event marked in the calendar in advance, the car, which is owned in my absence by my Mum, was available. As expected the roads were quiet at that time on a Sunday morning and I made good time, arriving in less than two hours.

After registering I joined the other athletes as we were whisked away on buses to the start line in Kinloss. Surprisingly I wasn’t too nervous at the start line, having plenty of time to make the customary pre-race toilet trip.

I hadn’t put too much pressure on myself, as the Edinburgh Marathon is dominating most of my training plans at the moment. Put simply I just wanted to enjoy the race, which was taking place in a nice part of the world.

I often find the first part of the race the most difficult, as it includes a chaotic struggle for positioning and an attempt to find a comfortable pace. Finding a comfortable pace meant I ended up on my own, occasionally being overtaken by faster runners.

The first few miles of the race were ran along quite congested roads, as vehicles struggled to get past the 280 odd competitors. Although breathing in exhaust fumes wasn’t ideal, this is perhaps a sacrifice of designing a course which is fast and flat.

Happily the roads became quieter after Burghead, as the route started to follow the coast line, giving good views of the Moray Firth and the Black Isle. After Burghead, which lay near the halfway point, it wasn’t too long before RAF Lossiemouth and the sprawling town beside it came into view from the top of a slight incline.

After a long final few miles I crossed the finish line. During the race I hadn’t recorded my progress so had no idea which time I had run. I was more glad to have reached the finish than concerned about whether I had achieved a Personal Best.

I had a feeling I had ran a slow time, so was pleasantly surprised when I learnt that had been my fastest half marathon. A big thanks has to go to Moray Road Runners for organising and I would definitely be keen to return next year.

 

 

 

 

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Weekly Rambling

Issue 5 – Tuesday 19 February 2019

The Good

I am pleased to report that last week was a pretty good week overall, those concerned by the slightly moody nature of my previous weekly updates will be glad to hear. And no it isn’t just because Scotland weren’t playing rugby, though it may have helped.

To be honest I have been quite a moody person recently, though I would prefer to describe myself a dark and brooding. Although the fair hair does spoil this image slightly…

So I’ll get the running news out of the way first as this is obviously something that occupies a lot of my head space. This being when I’m not thinking dark and brooding thoughts which I often do when I’m actually running funnily enough.

Anyway, an event up on the Moray Coast was preceded by a week of running to university with a bag on my back in relatively mild weather for this time of year.

With temperatures hitting double figures in the Granite City I wasn’t lacking in perspiration when I arrived for class in the mornings.

There’s only a certain amount Lynx can do and for this I apologise to anyone who had to sit beside, or perhaps even in the same room, as me.

Some of my fellow students may be thinking the running to uni is an ego trip in showcasing my sporadic fitness regime, while others may be thinking its because I think I’m cutting edge.

Its actually because I don’t want to pay the bus fare but that can be our little secret. Also when I have insisted to my family that I am cutting edge in the past my brother’s reply has been that “you barely know how to work a computer Finn.” Unfortunately he probably has a point.

The pre-mentioned event was the Kinloss to Lossiemouth Half Marathon and included an early Sunday morning (by my standards) and a solo road trip.

I’ll hopefully have a race report written up with the details of the day by this time tomorrow, but can tell you it was a good day. I managed to achieve a Personal Best and met up with my girlfriend so Sunday afternoon was definitely the highlight of my week!

In other news, on Thursday we journalism students were given a talk by local BBC Scotland reporter Davy Shanks. It was an interesting listen and really put into perspective what the job of a broadcast journalist includes nowadays.

That evening I also ventured out to Ellon and spent a lovely evening with my Grandparents who I am grateful to have so nearby.

The Bad

Returning to a many dark and brooding thought its time to delve into what wasn’t so good this week, which in an essence was my anxiety. This may be a lot more serious than usual but here it goes.

I won’t go into great detail as it is quite personal to me, but feeling anxious is a big part of my daily life and something that I’ve become accustomed too, it being particularly noticeable to me since the start of this year

I would like to think I’ve equipped myself quite well to deal with it, but often it will become slightly overpowering. I realise everyone suffers from anxiety at some point and many struggle with it to an extent that it is difficult to get out of the bed in the morning.

This is very rarely the case for me and I won’t devalue what others go through by even drawing a comparison to this. Instead for me it has been a long term thing which I feel has often held me back or meant it takes a huge effort to push myself when doing normal day to day activities.

For example, driving to Lossiemouth to run a Half Marathon had been filling me with quite a lot of dread and resulted in sleepless nights for the week preceding it. It was something I wanted to do in theory but had to push myself hard to actually convince myself to carry it out.

And when I did arrive home safely on Sunday evening I knew all the dread and worry was well worth it. All the creative outcomes in my head about crashing the car, or stalling on the A96, or getting halfway through the race and having to abandon hadn’t come true.

Yes, there were some slightly hairy moments. Accidentally pulling out in front of a poor lady at a junction was one*. Not eating enough before running 13 miles was another, but I made it through the day and had enjoyed it for the most part.

The truth is there will always be hairy moments in my life and its about accepting that I’ll learn from these, while realising that they shouldn’t affect all the exciting things that I want to get up to.

So next time I’m lying awake in bed, heart racing and mind full of negative thoughts as daylight becomes nearer and nearer, I’ll try and remind myself of this, using this past Sunday as an example of what I can do when I push myself.

The Ugly 

My music taste has always been…eh…interesting. But during the last few weeks it seems to have hit even lower standards than usual. I’ve always accepted the fact that in a family where Moby and Genesis are gospel to some (I won’t mention any names) my music taste is often regarded as being the worst.

I would argue this is unfair but scrolling through my daily mixes this week, which Spotify so helpfully compiled for me, was a truly sobering experience.

I won’t mention any of the artists (some things are just too personal) but I can tell you that I would still rather listen to P!nk on repeat for three hours than sit in a car with my Dad and brother listening to Test Match Special.

If you’ve never listened to TMS (probably likely) then think about how boring cricket is to watch normally, and then remove the moving images.

*FYI – If you’ve angered a fellow driver giving them a wave doesn’t seem to calm them down much.

 

 

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Weekly Rambling

Issue 4 – Monday 11 February 2019

The Good

In all honesty I’m struggling to remember what happened in the last week that was particularly exciting. I mean I went running a lot. That’s not news. I went to university. That’s not news either is it but life isn’t always exciting so here’s what’s been happening this week.

Actually something did happen which was out of the ordinary this last week, which is exciting but doesn’t fit in with the negative mid-February vibe I’m feeling as I write this, so I’ll leave it for another time.

I guess I just want to go outside without layers (a rarity in Scotland I’ll grant you that) and feel a warm breeze on my face as I ride down country lanes on a unicorn. Is that really too much to ask? All that to look forward to in a few months I guess when the Scottish summer starts again in earnest.

Anyway, this is meant to be the good section of the blog so I’ll cut out the unfounded moaning for now. I got my exam results back and passed the first semester of university so was pleased with that.

Although I think in some areas of the course I was perhaps lacking in effort, so will thrive to work harder this semester, especially in areas of the course which I perhaps find intimidating and more challenging.

Speaking of this semester, last week we were shown around the awesome newsroom at RGU which we will hopefully as Journalism students get to use at some point. They even have a green screen on campus which is super cool.

This means my dreams of becoming the next Huw Edwards may come true yet, although I realise stepping into the shoes of the best thing to come out of Wales other than Scott Quinnel’s postcode lottery advert would be an almost impossible task.

But seriously if anyone can get me a poster of Mr Edwards to pin up on my wall I would love that. He is one of my genuine heroes. I would preferably be looking for one with a personalised message and signature but I’m not fussy.

There were also some smaller but no less significant things which happened this week. Meeting up with Dad after not seeing him for a couple of weeks was good even if I did eat all his cereal. If I wasn’t partial to a bit of Crunchy Nut (other brands are available) I would be running 35 minute 10Ks, but you only live once so…

Running wise I’ve signed up for a half marathon which is taking place this coming Sunday. This should be good fun as I’ve also been granted the car for the day which means I’m going to take a wee road trip from Braemar to Lossiemouth which will be a nice change of scene.

The Bad

Having a few beers with my mate was good but watching Scotland make mistake after mistake in the rugby was not so good. In an exciting game against Ireland we seemingly couldn’t keep a hold of the ball in the second half after showing so much promise in the first 40 minutes.

Rory and I were not pleased when Stuart Hogg was taken out off the ball by two Irish players, although its also pretty obvious the Scots were targeting Johnny Sexton amongst others, as my Irish flatmate rightly pointed out. The Italy Vs. Wales game wasn’t a great game to watch and I unfortunately missed the England game and score again.

Although in other news I’m pleased to announce my commitment to attending lectures has been second to none this semester. That’s right I’m giving myself a big pat on the back for making the arduous journey to RGU three mornings a week to attend a spattering of lectures.

This commitment meant I ran to university the other day, battling down a windy and wet Holburn Street to find that my 9am lecture had been called off. I should really get emails set up on my phone and start using the money I pay for cereal with to pay for the bus to uni. I’ll learn one day I suppose.

The Ugly

Last week I took the opportunity to have a good moan about the buses to Braemar and this actually surprisingly coincided with the news that services in and out of the village are to be stopped on a Sunday.

Hopefully this won’t happen as many villagers have made their opinions heard about this proposed move which might come into place from April. Although the buses may be quiet at the moment they are sure to bring lots of tourists into the village during the warmer months.

Also to return to a recurring theme, I’m still none the wiser about my feelings towards  nightclubs but continue to strive to push myself outside my small mindedness when Friday evening comes around every week.

The other night I wondered around aimlessly with a VK in my hand wishing I was sitting on a hill somewhere quiet while everyone went mad for ABBA. I usually do go mad for ABBA but wasn’t in the mood for some reason and was wondering if my flatmate’s confusion at why Scottish people go mad for them might be well founded.

(I watched the highlights of the England game and they were awesome. Any negativity towards their team is purely for comedy effect and you can’t help but admire the wheels* on Johnny May. I also realise a lot more than Huw Edwards has come out of Wales, though if your from the Valleys I think you should be really proud of him. Please don’t write in. – ed)

*wheels – a word hip people like my brother use to describe someone who is fast. 

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Weekly Rambling

Issue 3 – Monday 4th February 2019

The Good

Its that time of the week again. That’s right its a Monday which means its time for me to write a long sugar induced account in the middle of the night about the last week in my life.

I therefore apologise if this drops off in the latter stages as the five chocolate digestives (rounding down) I’ve just stuffed my face with aren’t likely to keep me energised for too long. But now that’s the most cynical section out of the way I have to admit that this has been quite a good week by my standards.

If you inhabit the stunning city of Aberdeen you’ll have noticed it has been given a magical white covering in the last couple of days, with snow making a rare appearance on the Granite City pavements and rooftops.

As I elegantly and effortlessly run down white pavements in my stylish running gear like a slightly slower Mo Farah, popular tourist destinations like Kittybrewster look even more magical.

More exciting and surprising than the prospect of snow during an Northern Hemisphere winter is Six Nations rugby which began on Friday Night with a great game between France and Wales. This was followed by an entertaining Scottish victory on Saturday and a game in Dublin which I didn’t watch and don’t really have any thoughts on.

Perhaps even more excitedly, and importantly, I finally started Uni again on Thursday with a class on Broadcasting. Every lecture so far has been interesting and I’m looking forward to getting stuck in again. I also didn’t get too lost trying to find new classrooms which was a bonus, though being a sheep and following the crowd did help.

I also rounded up the week with a bracing but rewarding walk up Tom’s Cairn, back in Deeside with three mad dogs and my mum. Who is also pretty mad.

The Bad

So I have to be honest about something. In the first part of the blog I was trying to appeal to the many people who love snow, by being upbeat about the white stuff which has fallen from the sky recently. The hope being they wouldn’t read on after that section because they have better things to spend their time doing.

I hate the snow. And the ice. And the sub-zero temperatures. Its just not my cup of tea. A cup of tea which I hold onto tightly when returning from the Aberdeen wilderness with no feeling in my poorly circulated hands. No gloves or socks seem thick enough when the mercury drops below -5 degrees Celsius, a temperature range which I call ‘Bloody freezing’.

Half-running and sliding around pavement corners, I probably look more similar to a dangerously unbalanced and human Bambi, a mess of arms and legs desperately trying to not break any bones. Unfortunately my dislike of the gym is still stronger so running in the icy conditions is a risk I’m going to have keep taking for now.

Also my dislike of the cold meant I didn’t do any more Deliveroo, which in fairness is a really poor effort as I still had quite a lot of spare time. The cold is a truly rubbish excuse and this coming week I need to get back on it and earn some pennies which have been spent on buying stationary and other important uni stuff recently…

The Ugly 

Br-exit eh?

Only joking! This blog is truly unpolitical as noted in the terms and conditions I have scribbled on a ‘Post-it’ note in my well organised and tidy journalism drawer. No what was equally as bad (or much worse, no political inclination shown here whatsoever) this week was sitting on an unheated bus for an hour.

I won’t mention the bus company but you can probably guess who they are. Having spent 2 ½  hours travelling between Aberdeen and Braemar on a largely unheated bus with no toilet in the past, they really need to do better. I realise this has nothing to do with the bus drivers by the way who have been very friendly whenever I’ve used the buses recently.

And having managed to time my inevitable sugar crash with a misdirected and pompous rant, that’s my summary of this week. Well done if you got this far but I don’t give out any prizes. Sorry.

 

 

 

 

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Weekly Rambling

What’s this I hear you ask? Well its an idea which includes telling whoever is unfortunate enough to have stumbled across this, some random thoughts on a weekly basis.

These thoughts will attempt to correspond with the previous week and will be posted every Monday. Also a quick warning this is likely to contain a significant amount of rambling which will hopefully make some sense.

Issue 2 – Monday 28 January 2019

The Good

And so its Monday again, a day often seen as being the worst day of the week. However, why not look forward to a new week which might have plenty of opportunities ahead. Though trust me as a student who hasn’t been studying in two months, I know exactly how difficult Mondays are.

For me this week has become better in the latter stages. Between Thursday and Sunday I was thankfully joined by my flatmates, which means I have company again and good company at that.

Thursday was also a good day because I did a really nice 12 mile run along the beach towards Balmedie in bright sunshine. The beach was almost deserted and I found the sound of the waves both soothing and relaxing.

I also completed two deliveries for Deliveroo without getting myself into a total pickle, which was good, and means I will hopefully get some more shifts over the coming week. Lets not mention the near collision with a pedestrian who was checking his phone while crossing the road.

If you don’t know me that well, getting into a total pickle is something I’m usually quite good at. Two examples I would use being when I found myself up a big hill in the dark with no head torch or during my last two jobs as a dish-breaker. So it was nice not to be in a total pickle for once.

Lastly, i managed to sit in a cinema for two hours. This was an achievement for me as I’m usually really bad for staying in one spot for that long or at watching films in general. I would definitely recommend going to see ‘Glass’ though as it was a good watch and James McAvoy is a brilliant actor.

The Bad

To be honest I didn’t have the best start to the week. Waking up at 5am on Monday after having a terrifying nightmare wasn’t great and probably explains why I am even more delighted to have my flatmates back.

During a very long-winded and weird nightmare, I was woken up when I was sure someone (or something!) was touching my arm. After several minutes of trying to calm down and  get my breath back I decided that some music might calm me down. ABBA if you must know.

My enjoyment of  ‘Dancing Queen’ was curtailed however, as soon after I was notified someone had tried to take quite a lot of money out of my bank account. Thankfully the transaction didn’t go through, but I did have to go a week without a bank card. Not the best start to day I’ve ever had.

The only other slight annoyance was my foot which seems to playing up at a time when I seem to be getting increasingly restless. I’ve been doing more running miles than usual recently in preparation for some challenging races in the summer.

However, I’ve also been running more because it helps me deal with this constant feeling of restlessness as it means I’m getting out and about and am blowing of some steam. This means I often fear injury or anything which prevents running. Although this time some ‘Deep Freeze’ and frozen peas seem to have done the trick for now.

The Ugly

Unfortunately sleep doesn’t seem to have been coming easy this week, and not just because I had that nightmare at the start of the week.

Creating a character to explain the feeling of something touching my probably didn’t help, but if you would like to know, Barry is a large hairy monster who is largely misunderstood by society. He is also the last of his kind (more details to follow).

Anyway, the pre-mentioned restlessness is obviously a factor, but so is the fact I tend to write better in the dead of night. It’s almost as if any creative ideas trapped in the recesses of my mind only manage to find their way out in the middle of the night when I should be in bed.

Which probably explains any spelling mistakes (my spelling is terrible at the best of times) and any excess rambling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Six Nations 2019 Preview

With the Six Nations only a week away we interviewed armchair expert and former Deeside RFC Under 8’s legend Finn Nixon…

What is the Six Nations?

The Six Nations is an annual rugby tournament contested between the best international sides in the Northern Hemisphere and Wales.

Who are the Six Nations?

England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales.

And who is most likely to win? 

Last years’ Grand Slam winners, Ireland will enter the 2019 championship as favourites after an incredible victory over New Zealand in the Autumn. With three provinces in the European Champions Cup and an awesome starting XV they are surely the ones to watch.

Ireland are however likely to face a tough challenge from Wales who are on an unbeaten run of 11 games after a strong Autumn. An Autumn in which they ended their 13 game losing duck against Australia. Defensively they look very strong.

England are also likely to challenge for pole position after a disappointing campaign last year in which they finished 5th. Eddie Jones has begun the mind games in earnest but it will be interesting to see how the English perform in Dublin on the 2nd February after mixed performances in the Autumn.

What about the other nations?

France will have to improve massively if they are to challenge for the Six Nations trophy after losing to Fiji in Paris in their last game. Overall, they have been notoriously poor in recent years, last finishing in the top half of the table when they were winners in 2010.

Meanwhile, Scotland will be underdogs to win the title and would probably be pleased if they won three games. They would hope to beat Italy and should probably be aiming to beat France in Paris for the first time since 1999.

Italy won’t win the Six Nations but are improving under Conor O’Shea who will be hoping his side can cause some upsets. Perhaps at  Murrayfield where they have had success in past years but also maybe in Rome against the always unpredictable France in the last round.

What will likely happen?

The Six Nations are always unpredictable and it would be wrong to suggest that anything is set in stone before any rugby is played. We could perhaps predict Italy will finish with the Wooden Spoon though, an unwanted award they have been given since 2016.

As always the only prediction we can make about France is that Jacques Brunel’s side will be unpredictable. Prepare yourself for an incredible one-off performance in which they dismantle England, Ireland or Wales before being beaten by Italy or Scotland in a dismal performance.

From a Scottish perspective it pains me to say we are highly unlikely to beat England, having not beaten the Auld Enemy at Twickenham since 1983. Though you never know eh?

Also expect fireworks in post-match press conferences as Eddie Jones plays mind games, Warren Gatland looks eternally grumpy and Joe Schmidt seems far to nice (apparently he is terrifying on the training field!)

So what are your predictions for the final standings?

My predictions? Well thanks for asking!

  1. Ireland – 4 wins
  2. Wales – 4 wins
  3. England – 3 wins
  4. Scotland – 3 wins
  5. France – 1 win
  6. Italy

Ooh interesting so it comes down to bonus points and no grand slam?

Yes. I think Ireland will score more tries than Wales. This would make for an exciting final day as Wales and Ireland would be playing for the championship. I predict the Welsh will win that game but that won’t be enough for them to take home the Six Nations trophy.

And how would you want the table to finish?

  1. Scotland
  2. Ireland
  3. France
  4. Italy
  5. England
  6. Wales

What is your problem with Wales?

It is with a certain amount of guilt that I admit my dislike of the Welsh rugby side. Since becoming a Scottish fan they have caused me a great amount of pain. I have never forgotten that horrendous game which Scotland threw away in the dying minutes in 2010. Damn you Lee Bryne and that football-esqe dive!

Which games are you looking forward to the most?

Games in which England, Ireland and Wales are going to head to head are likely to make great viewing. From a Scottish perspective I would like to see us beat France in Paris, something I think we are finally able to achieve. It will also be fascinating to see if Scotland can challenge Ireland at Murrayfield.

And which games are you least looking forward to?

Scotland’s trip to Twickenham looks ominous as always, particularly after the 61-21 blowout in south-west London two years ago. I’m also anxious about the Welsh game at Murrayfield. My heart says Scotland while my head says Wales.

Thanks for your concise and intelligent expertise. I’m looking forward to a Scottish grand slam.

Anytime. That’s the spirit!

(Don’t worry I haven’t totally lost my marbles – Ed.)

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Weekly Rambling

What’s this I hear you ask? Well its an idea which includes telling whoever is unfortunate enough to have stumbled across this, some random thoughts on a weekly basis.

These thoughts will attempt to correspond with the previous week and will be posted every Monday. Also a quick warning this is likely to contain a significant amount of rambling which will hopefully make some sense.

Issue 1  – Monday 21 January 2019 

The Good

So what’s been happening in the last week? Well, I’m back in Aberdeen, having fled the cold but beautiful Braemar and been doing lots of running. You know, for a change. My training has however been increased as I look to improve my fitness for the Edinburgh Marathon in May.

This will be my first ever marathon and although I already feel a sense of absolute dread and meaningful regret, it’ll be alright. Its a great aim to have and will hopefully be followed by the Highland Cross in June.

And if my training is going well I may even consider signing up for the Larig Ghru Race, a 27 mile epic through the Cairngorm mountains from Braemar to Aviemore. Watch this space.

That’s probably enough about my unimportant hobbies which I never prioritise over any more important stuff like… University, which will be resuming again at the end of the month. This is quite exciting as one of the modules I’ll be doing this upcoming semester is Broadcasting.

As a journalism student I often naively forget that there is so much more to being a journalist than expressing yourself through the written word. In fact I’ve always held onto the idea that I want to be an anonymous disc jockey, damaging the airwaves in the wee hours when most people are sleeping.

However, I’m not sure this module will include radio broadcasting but it is sure to be interesting. Actually, looking through my ‘Your Top Songs 2018’ on my spotify makes grim reading and I likely shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a platform in which I’m allowed to play music.

The Bad

In an attempt to keep these posts light, I likely won’t bore with you any existential crisis’s or hugely negative experiences I am having. So on that note, I only have three small complaints about the last week.

One complaint is that I need to fix a bell to my bike and pronto as I am becoming tired of shouting at poor pensioners along the Deeside Way, trying to be friendly while not scaring the living day lights out of them.

My other complaint is that I’m fed up of being told I’m quiet. I know I’m generally a quiet person and don’t need you to tell me while interrupting a perfectly good daydream I was probably having.

Parties might not be an appropriate place for daydreaming, but I am always trying to improve my social skills and will hopefully become less quiet as time goes on. Although sometimes I’m tempted to remind people that being obnoxious isn’t much better.

Finally, ‘Game of Thrones’ (the book) is too long. It just is. Although entertaining, the last 50 pages of the first book have been a real struggle and would have been labelled by my late grandfather as “affa slow”.

For some reason I opted to read the books over watching the show and the sex and violence, which I’ve gathered is a significant reason why people watch ‘Game of Thrones’, isn’t as prevalent in the book. Although it still does make for interesting reading, even if I do worry about George RR Martin.

The Ugly

Alcohol, although a staple of many students’ lifestyles, has done me some damage recently. It has done damage to my head, stomach, ankle, dignity and stuck up attitude about not going to Mcdonalds.

I seem to be either drinking too much or becoming less tolerant to alcohol. Neither are good developments, especially as I try to increase my running mileage and…focus on my studies…more importantly.

Nightclubbing update – still finding it fascinating while trying to enjoy the experience. Apparently my dancing has improved ten fold. There is still time.

 

 

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Race Report: The Lumphanan Detox

Location: Lumphanan, Aberdeenshire

Time: 11:30, 2nd January 2019

Distance: 10K

 

Usually I stand at the start line of the Lumphanan Detox feeling a few pounds heavier perhaps, but confident and feeling physically fit all the same. This year was slightly different.

Yes, I still a good level of fitness, safe in the knowledge that my leg muscles were as strong as they’ve always been. As usual I had eaten well over the festive period and felt a little heavy, but this wasn’t too concerning. No, the problem was I didn’t feel good. At all. In fact I felt sick to the gills.

As the race started and the chaotic jostling for position began I knew I just wanted to get around in one piece. This surely wouldn’t be a year for tumbling any records.

Running past the crowds gathered beside the village hall I couldn’t help but smile about the fast approaching hill which comes within the first two kilometres of the race. This was going to be fun. This is likely the most challenging section of the 10 kilometre course and I feared what state I would be in when I reached the top.

So if you haven’t worked out why I wasn’t feeling too well yet, I’ll explain. First though I had another concern pre-race. After Christmas I had managed to cause more damage to my poor right knee by performing a swift and elegant fall down a hill. This piece of art happened while descending down Morrone which has become synonymous with causing yours truly pain. It is a demon of a hill.

Anyway, I had managed to put a new hole in my knee, while opening up the scab which had remained from my last big fall which I had needed stitches for. Over Hogmanay it had caused me some concern as it looked to be becoming infected again. Luckily, it finally healed and only caused some slight stiffness on ‘Detox’ day.

And the sickness? Drank too much on New Years (sorry Granny) which is never a good plan if you want to take part in a race soon after. I thought it would be fine because of the recuperation time but it wasn’t. It was seemingly accompanied by a two day hangover which I think was caused by a lack of sleep and not enough of the right type of food.

So now that I’ve bored you with the pre-race excuses ( was also worried about my brother’s fish. He’s away and it hasn’t been fed for ages!), lets get back to the race in which I fortunately seemed to feel better in as the miles flew by.

Knowing the course well is an obvious advantage because you know where you may gain or lose time, but is also good because it doesn’t feel that long anymore. This is the sixth time I have completed the detox so I know the route almost like the palm of my hand.

The struggle only really began within the last two kilometres when I started to enter a dark place in which I felt deeply unwell. Entering Lumphanan I wondered if instead of taking the right turn towards the village I could keep going straight ahead, avoiding the crowds and other runners which could potentially bear witness to my breakfast being thrown up again.

It may have been touch and go but I stuck with it and made it to the finish line, running a pleasing 41:46 which I wasn’t expecting when I woke up that morning. That isn’t far off my personal best so I was happy.

My poor mum was waiting for me at the start line with a jacket. Still concerned I may throw up my guts I waved her away all but telling her to f-off and slumped beside a fence for a few minutes getting my breath back. I had made it around in one piece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Nightclubbing – what’s it all about then?

My first experience with drinking was three years ago and I can remember it vividly. I was 16 and most of my schoolmates had already had a taste of the ‘naughty juice’.

I remember stumbling around a friend’s field, being an utter and total lightweight, a category I would likely still firmly place myself in. Now three years on and attempting university for the second time, I obviously have much more experience with drinking.

Living in Dundee two years ago, and now settled in Aberdeen, it’s an activity which is no longer limited to damp Deeside fields and freezing River Dee ‘seshes’ (drinking sessions). These locations featured heavily in my early experiences with drinking, stumbling over my own feet as I tried to judge my surroundings.

Back then it was never a regular occurrence and it still isn’t really. However, it would be churlish to deny that for many students, especially excitable first years, drinking plays a significant role in their lifestyle.

There are many freshers who don’t like drinking and when I left the comforts of home for the ‘up-and-coming’ city of Dundee in 2016, I was one of them. This may have been mostly down to my lack of success in making many good friends, something I blame solely on my failure at being sociable. As my long suffering Dad always says, “its not rocket science.”

Anyway, while at Abertay University I got my first taste of nightclubbing, a new form of nightlife which I had never been party to. It was both terrifying, entertaining and, because I’m a bit weird, fascinating.

Its like my peers had chosen the loudest place to try and socialise with each other through the medium of bad dancing to the deafening thud of often below par music. I soon found the key was to drink and to perhaps drink to excess in order to enjoy this experience on any level whatsoever.

For me, rule one of nightclubbing would definitely be to not even consider entering a nightclub if you feel slightly sober. When breaking this rule I either break the bank buying drinks from a bartender intent on ignoring the small, yet incredibly handsome fair haired man standing at their bar or become thoroughly miserable.

Drinking enough before heading to the bright city lights of Dundee and now Aberdeen has therefore become a vital part of a good night out. This part of the evening, for the uninitiated, is simply referred to as ‘pres’ and usually ends at 11.30pm, when everyone heads for the nightclubs.

In Aberdeen, I have likely been out more than I did during the whole year I spent in Dundee, having both high and low points in my mission to convince myself that nightclubbing is a fun activity. Many nights have been fun, with good company and memorable moments cancelling out the repetitive music and my questionable dancing which often raises a few eyebrows.

My conclusion thus far is I remain wholly unconvinced by the whole experience. Looking past my lacking dancing abilities, I seem to spend most of my time in these dark, loud buildings either looking for or having shouting conversations with my friends, going to the bathroom or awkwardly standing about with a drink in my hand while others around me look at total peace with the madness.

I won’t however deny that on some level it is good fun. Unlike my year at Abertay in which I let my anxiety about social situations take control, I am slowly and surely pushing myself more. I feel that something as benign as nightclubbing is assisting in this greatly, however awkward I feel.

Maybe by the end of the year any negative views I currently have about this activity will have dissipated and I will become less cynical and more positive. Any partygoers reading this can only hope for such as I am yet to release the true party animal which lives inside.

Whatever happens I will strive to find a new conclusion about nightclubbing. Lets see what happens…

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A Half to Celebrate Freshers’ Please

The day before Kenyan super human Eliud Kipchoge claimed a new world record by a whole minute and 18 seconds at the Berlin Marathon, 369 runners gathered to participate in the annual Crathes Half Marathon on a sunny September day. These runners gathering on the beautiful grounds of Crathes Castle weren’t going to come away from their experience with the same plaudits as the 33-year-old Olympic Champion, but would likely be fulfilled by a sense of great achievement at tackling 13 miles, perhaps as fast as their legs could carry them.

Finishing a half marathon is no mean feat, and this course can actually prove quite a challenging one if your used to smooth, flat road running. Several rocky off-road sections and some slight undulations can really take a toll on the legs, especially towards the end of the course. Apart from the pain, which lest we forget is an important part of becoming a faster runner, the scenery is idyllic as competitors race down quiet roads in a fairly flat landscape with livestock as their predominant spectators.

I had signed up for the Crathes Half a couple of months ago, keen to compete at a distance I had never raced at. It was only until a week before the event I realised it would come at the end of Freshers Week, seven days in which first years at university – i.e. Yours truly – participate in a fair amount of drinking. Feeling slightly rough on the day before I knew I couldn’t go out on the eve of the race and was given a good excuse to visit my grandparents instead.

On race day I felt fresher (no pun intended) and I think was slightly overexcited at breakfast tucking into some sausages. Probably never a good idea before any physical activity. I thankfully didn’t feel too bad as I lined up on the start line at Crathes Castle with my poor taste of music pounding in my ears. I’ve never listened to music in a race before but I think it helped.

Kyle Greig of Metro Aberdeen was first around the course in an impressive hour and 10 minutes, meaning he surely would have covered the first 10 kilometres of the course in under 35 minutes. I didn’t expect to be anywhere near matching those kinds of splits and knew it was key I remained focussed on setting a sensible pace. As per usual this didn’t quite happen and I raced out of the blocks, averaging around four minute Ks for the first two miles.

I soon realised I wouldn’t be able to sustain that pace and slowed down considerably finding a fellow runner and staying by his side for most of the race. I’m not sure how my new pacemaker felt about this. I never asked. This worked well and I actually managed to overtake several runners in the last few miles, seemingly sneaking past them as they slowed on sections that had a gradual incline. Having been quite lazy with my running recently my legs hadn’t hurt this much in a long time and in a way, it felt good as a remembered how much I enjoy pushing myself to my physical limit.

Managing a brief and painful sprint in the last 100 metres I completed my Crathes Half Marathon in 1:33:08. Not too shabby for a first time outing at this distance on the back of an alcohol fuelled, sleepless Freshers’ Week! Kipchoge may have completed 26 miles in just a quarter more of the time I completed 13 in, but I bet he didn’t go home and eat a big pizza. There’s no argument that his world-breaking run was truly inspirational though.

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Away Days – NE England

Having been working (and cycling) away since I came home from my Fijian adventure, I was keen to get away for a while. A change of scene was needed and just about anywhere would do. I had thought about going abroad, but decided to leave that until the end of the month instead – I’ll write about where I went soon!

No instead I decided to stay in the sunny UK, taking my long suffering Dad along with me. He did the driving so he actually kind of took me with him.

Anyway we ended up deciding to go to Northumberland for no good reason whatsoever, apart from having never really been there before. Maybe that is a good reason for going somewhere.

Early on a Tuesday morning we set of on our perilous voyage down the East Coast of Scotland to Englandshire, stopping first just across the border in Berwick-upon-Tweed. I had only ever viewed this town from the window of a London bound train so it was nice to explore the old town walls which had protected the town from the English, the Scots, the English, and then… I could go on. Basically for a period in Berwick’s history it was difficult to figure out which nation the town belonged to.

Picking up a cycle map, I studied some of the local routes, looking for one which would be suitable for me to test my legs on, as we headed towards our campsite for the next two nights. We camped on the outskirts of a small town called Wooler, 13 miles south-west of Berwick.

Taken aback by how quiet the roads seemed, I hopped on my bike as soon as we had set up camp. I soon found myself heading north up traffic free, dusty roads, meeting nothing but the odd combine.

If you know me at all you’ll have realised riding a bike is something I already find immensely fun (mostly!). However, there is something about riding on new unknown roads which adds to this sense of enjoyment. Using my phone as a map I flew down small country lanes and soon realised I was heading back towards the mother nation.

With around an hour’s riding done I decided to make crossing the border into Scotland by bike today’s target, only slightly concerned about the dark clouds forming to the west. Several miles and much (phone) map reading later, I came across a pedestrianised bridge with a plaque reading “ENGLAND” stuck to one of the archways. I had found the border!

On the other side of this picturesque bridge (picture below) across the River Tweed, I was welcomed to Scotland. For some reason it felt more special to be riding across the border which holds much less importance than it once did many years ago.

Changing direction once I was in Scotland, I headed towards Kelso, before swinging south across the border again towards Wooler, using my phone to navigate the peaceful country lanes. Although there were no particularly long climbs, the roads were undualting, with fun to be had on the steep short climbs and the technical descents which followed.

That evening I compared notes with Dad about the local roads. He had gone for a shorter cycle, something which was encouraging as health issues had often meant he couldn’t enjoy exercise as much as he sometimes wanted to. And the next day we dicided to cycle across the causeway to the Holy Island, an island only accessible by roads for 12 hours a day. Spinning across the slippery seaweed soaken tarmac was a somewhat surreal experience as small lakes of water surrounded us.

After crossing we didn’t stay around for too long. A hot drink and a short look around and we set of across the causeway and back to the car. It was a cold day and the clouds looked full of rain. Yesterday I had managed to stay dry but today the heavens opened after we had returned to the campsite.

Sitting in the car I suggested we go to Newcastle or “N,Castle” as locals like to call it. The city seemed a sensible idea when the weather was this vile. Again I had only ever passed through this city on the train and was impressed but what I saw. During a break in the weather we wandered down to the river, where there was bridges galore.

Having enjoyed my first “Nandos” ever (shock horror) and many a “geordie” voice in Newcastle we overheard many more broad accents in the pub that night back in Wooler. That night my mattress deflated so I got up at first light. First priority was water followed by getting my lycra on and hopping on my bike again. It being 6 am the roads were empty, though it was very cold.

It quickly warmed though and I did a similar route to the one two days previous, adding some miles to make it a 50 mile effort. Not a bad mornings work. With the sun on my back and my legs taking me were I needed to go I felt lucky to be alive. Sometimes getting up so early can be of significant benefit and I felt set up for the rest of the day.

It may have been a short trip but it was definetly an enjoyable one and worth it to explore a new place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Daydreaming

Is daydreaming good, bad for you or a little bit of both? This is a question I have been pondering over recently, often when I’m actually daydreaming. Yes, some parts of my life are seemingly similar to the 2010 film “Inception”, though perhaps a little less complex and thrilling. Which is a relief because I’ve seen that film three times now and still don’t understand what’s happening in many parts. Maybe it is more similar to my life than I’m willing to admit.

Anyway, daydreaming has always been an activity which I spend quite a lot of my time participating in, mostly when doing other activities which are arguably monotonous or extremely ordinary. For example, when waiting for a bus, or walking my three crazy dogs. I would imagine daydreaming while doing activities like these is highly regular among the general population, unless your waiting for a bus on Bolivia’s North Yungas Road (“Road of Death”) or scaling Mount Everest with your dogs.

But does being slightly aloof a lot of the time have a negative effect on an individual’s life? Straight of the bat, I’m guilty of drifting off into my own head space at inappropriate times. At school I would miss crucial information being given by teachers and at work I tend to loose focus sometimes. In fairness I wash dishes. Its a job which I’m grateful and very lucky to have, but its not the most stimulating. Anyone who questions why your not enjoying washing dishes for six hours needs to have their head checked. As I said I am grateful to be employed though and it is worth it.

So in an attempt to stimulate myself a bit more at work I daydream. I imagine riding my bike in le Tour de France, overtaking all the pros on the climbs with ease because in my dreams I actually weigh like 55 kg and have a really cool, expensive pair of sunglasses on. Its usually either that or thinking about being back in Fiji sitting under a palm tree, with no concerns or worries. Sometimes I’m thinking darker more serious thoughts, but usually there pretty bright and fluffy.

This sounds pretty harmless doesn’t it? I mean its not like I’m daydreaming about shoplifting, writing left-wing political graffiti all over the walls of the kitchen or verablly offending one of the Queen’s swans (probably with the graffiti). I’m not very hardcore so don’t think I would do anything much worse than that. The issue comes when I’m mid daydream and another human being tries to interact with me.

Now, I like speaking to people. I’m not amazing at it but I enjoy it as I don’t think life would be much fun without interacting with others. However, deafened by the sporadic dishwasher (the machine not the teenager drying the dishes beside me) I’m slow to respond when someone says my name. Seemingly slow processing doesn’t help as my brain seems to go through the stages of response slowly. Almost like its in too high a gear for its actual speed and is grinding painfully and slowly up a steep climb. “Come on brain respond!” I’ll stop the cycling metaphors there.

Some point to daydreaming as being a bad habit because it almost removes an individual from the here and now. Living in the moment is often seen as being a key to happiness for many, but I personally see it in a different way. Yes there are times when you should definitely live in the moment. Times that are special, which can’t just be captured and remembered on social media, and perhaps shouldn’t be (an argument for another day).

There is no point in pretending that life for everyone can’t be painful at times. No matter how good a life you live, there will be moments when you’ll have to pick yourself off the ground and will find it difficult to carry on. Its during these moments in particular, that I like to daydream. I’ll think about happier times in the future or the past, or I’ll just make believe at an attempt at distraction.

So to answer to the question of whether daydreaming is good for you. Well perhaps its a little tricky. Sometimes life is incredibly exciting but in other times it is incredibly banal. Maybe appreciating these duller moments makes the exciting or happier times even better. Though, as someone who isn’t a physiological or even that deep a thinker, I believe daydreaming helps me.

Yes, I’m often unfocused and do way too much overthinking about little things that happen, but I need my own head space. I have no evidence to support this being an activity which is actually helpful to my mind health wise. I did start reading an article about it but then I started daydreaming again. I may not have managed to figure out what is happening in “Inception” but I always know what I’m going to buy from the co-op with my tips after work. Guess I won’t be becoming the first Scottish rider to win the Tour de France anytime soon…

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“Braemar Folk” – Doreen Wood

It isn’t difficult for Doreen Wood to reminisce about her happiest memories in Braemar as she has so many of them. Growing up in Braemar in the 1950’s and 1960’s, she loved the freedom that she and her friends had in the village. She describes how they treated it as a “playground” and is quick to add that this aspect of the village is still similar today. Long, bright summer nights were spent swimming in the rivers Clunie and Dee or challenging each other to races up Creag Chonnich.

In her first 18 years here she admits that she never really gave much thought to the remoteness of Braemar’s location. It may have become more prevalent when she started secondary school in Banchory but she and her fellow schoolmates just got on with it. Leaving an often snowy Braemar in the winter at 6.50 am and not returning untill around 5.15 that evening, female students likely felt the cold more as trousers were firmly disallowed by the school.

At 18 years old she left her family home to pursue a degree in Sociology. A home which had been built by her great, great grandfather, a joiner from Dundee married to a local woman from Crathie. It was this grandfather which built the house where Doreen spends her time in Braemar.

Her family was perhaps most well known for Joey, a monkey which her uncle had picked up while working in Africa. This however wasn’t the first time a monkey had inhabited Doreen’s family home with two already being killed off by the harsh winters. Becoming increasingly frustrated, her father contacted Edinburgh Zoo for advice on keeping such an unacclimatized creature in Braemar. Using their advice Joey was kept warm by blankets and a hot water bottle and lived in the village for 22 years, becoming something of a celebrity.

It was while returning from university in the holidays that she met her husband Brian while both of them were finding work in the “Fife Arms”. It was this hotel which she can remember watching the 1969 moon landings from. Her other memory of a major news event being playing badminton behind the mews, the night Kennedy was assassinated.

Moving to Stonehaven in 1975, Doreen had an absence from work while focusing on raising her children. During this time she did however participate in amateur dramatics before becoming involved in hospital radio. This was seemingly a good fit for her and she sought a job as a continuity announcer for “Grampian TV” in Aberdeen.

Unfortunately she wasn’t given this job, but “emboldened” by this experience, sent her CV to the BBC and was given a three month placement on a farming program, reporting on the state of the cattle and sheep markets.This was a stepping stone to bigger things, and soon Doreen was providing radio news reports, playing a significant role in a new Aberdeen based radio program.

It was when her mother passed away in the 1990’s, that Doreen and her husband returned to Braemar to look after the house she had left behind. When discussing any changes which the village has undergone she points to the significant increase in movement in and out of the village. For many centuries many people would stay put, but she believes the increase in people moving to this picturesque Highland village in the last 20 years or so has been hugely positive.

returning to her true home. She says she has a “total sense of belonging here”, which isn’t hard to believe while sitting in a house which was built by her great, great grandfather all those years ago.

Many locals will also know that Doreen plays an important role in the community, being at the centre of many of the events taking place at the castle. This popular tourist attraction was at risk of being sold off before the community took it over in 2004.

Since then it has been a huge success and Doreen says it is a “glowing example that we (Braemar locals) can do anything”. When considering the many tourists which flock to Braemar, many thoughts turn to the ongoing renovation of the “Fife Arms”, a hotel which Doreen reckons will go further in making the village even more appealing for visitors.

A perhaps harder question for Doreen was about her favorite pastimes and hobbies as she is a busy lady. After a short pause she remembers that she teaches yoga and enjoys a bike ride every now and then. Though she is quick to remind me that everybody seems to cycle in Braemar and did when she was growing up in the village.

 

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What is This All About?

This is the post excerpt.

Updated – 25/04/18

This blog is about giving an insight into my experiences of adventures which are always out there! Whether this be while running up in the hills, out on my bike, or in my new passion for travelling. A lot of time experiences seen as ordinary can be exciting and maybe slightly scary adventures.

At the start of this year I was in a hugely transitional period in my life. Though I think most of us are most of the time. Anyway, I had done a year at university and  wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue down the pathway I had chosen. I spent months at university seemingly lost, in a poor mental state and cut off from the rest of the world. I had given up the battle against my inner fears and had paid the price when I moved to a new city with new people.

When I arrived home I was relived. The last nine months had been a scary insight into what happens when you become unmotivated and let your anxiety take total control. After finishing first year I worked in my village until the welcome bells of 2018 started ringing. I washed dishes and earned money but that wasn’t what was important. Instead it was more important that I started talking to people again. Yes it took time, but after a while I was relaxed in the company of my colleagues. I started to feel like I had breath in my lungs again.

With this increasing confidence, I decided that I wanted to go travelling in the New Year. I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. I just knew that I wanted to prove to myself that I was brave enough and that I could push myself to do something a bit mad (by my standards anyway). I wanted to go on a solo adventure to some far off land where I wouldn’t know anyone and would be thousands of miles from home. New Zealand sounded far away enough…

At this point you’re maybe thinking, typical millennial off on a gap year to New Zealand to find himself. This is absolutely true, though I didn’t expect to find myself and having returned I haven’t. However, I have learnt a huge amount and have a better knowledge of the type of person that I want to be. I am in a hugely privileged position to have lived with my mother while I worked for the last six months, meaning I paid little living costs and was able to finance this trip. Thanks Mum.

In the end I didn’t end up in New Zealand, but somewhere equally as far away and perhaps even more magical. Read on to find out more….

This blog has been created with the following words in mind:

  1. Honesty
  2. Modesty
  3. Fun
  4. Adventure
  5. Resilience