Under the dome

You know that book by Stephen King where the town is isolated under an impenetrable dome? Or the Truman Show where Jim Carrey finds that the perfect town he is living in is nothing but a giant petri dish containing an experiment that the rest of America is viewing? Sometimes, I feel that Ramsbottom is, in a similar way, cut off from the reality that the rest of Manchester and Lancashire is experiencing. Ok, maybe I exaggerate slightly, but we are certainly separated in some bizarre way from our closest neighbours in Bury. "In what way are we different?" you ask and I reply - the weather!

Take, for example, the recent snow. As far as I am aware, Ramsbottom and Bury experienced this snow to a similar extent: similar amounts fell on the same days. However, as I look out of the window beside me, I can see that the roof of practically every house and shop in the centre of town is still thickly coated with snow (gold star for being 'green' in terms of loft insulation, Rammy-ites!), the grass slope in front of our house is still white (apart from the churned-up sled runs created by kids at the week-end) and the surface of Callender Street is ice apart from the two tracks, a car's width apart down the centre. This stuff is not for shifting. On the other hand, I had occasion to go to Bury on Sunday and, by the time I was within a mile of the centre of town, there were only the scantest smatterings of snow and within half a mile, there was no evidence of snow ever having fallen although I am assured by those who live in Bury that it certainly did!

Now, unless my senses are wildly out on this, I would guess that Ramsbottom is not at an elevation 500 metres higher than Bury. In fact, I'd be surprised if it was significantly different (just checked - Bury is 100m above sea level and Rammy is 133m) so what accounts for the existence of this frosty micro-climate? Perhaps it is to do with Rammy's situation in a valley. Perhaps the town was built on a giant block of permafrost or a misguided Arctic glacier. I don't know why - is there anyone out there who does...

This is not the only example of Rammy having separate weather fronts. I have often driven from Rammy to Bolton, leaving the house in heavy fog but, halfway to Bolton, emerging into a clear, bright morning. Or I have left Rammy in clear weather and hit a pea-souper as I approach Bolton. Rain? Also similarly local. It seems there is Ramsbottom weather and then there is the weather for everyone outside the town. I have certainly learned that the information provided by weather apps on my phone is meaningless within Rammy but works quite well elsewhere in the world. Perhaps we need to declare independence from the Met Office and have our own local weather forecasters? Maybe some guys with seaweed or pinecones hung up outside their back door could do better than the predictions we currently receive via London?

Despite the 'personalised' weather, I don't really think we are living in some extended reality TV show under the microscope of public scrutiny...or are we? If we are, all I can say is "I'm ready for my close-up now, Mr de Mille".

Interlude

Not a proper blog today as I have not really invested any time thinking about theme or content. Instead, I have spent time tidying and cleaning a few work surfaces and drawers, stripping the chicken that will provide three or four meals by the time we finish it (making sure we use everything, these days!), shopping for some bits'n'bobs and preparing all the veg for the stir-fry tonight. Not a bad day all in all. The only thing missing was I didn't get out for a walk, but that was down to the fact that we are having a new loft hatch fitted and I need to be 'in' for the next few days.

What did occur to me, however, was that this is the first day of my retirement proper. The three weeks since I retired have each included days off that would have happened had I still been at work - New Year's Day, the Friday and Monday taken to travel to and from Iceland. This week will be the first week of five days that, previously, would all have been work days!

The interlude between work and retirement is now officially over.

Old or new? A cheater's tale

Are you a dedicated e-reader who no longer buys physical books so that all your reading material is now exclusively contained on your Kindle or other such e-reader? I ask this because I am not in an exclusive relationship with my Kindle. Despite owning the said e-reader and actually using it quite a bit, I have to admit to a string of affairs with physical books. And, right there, is the reason: 'physical'. I like the feel of a book, the smell of a new book and, when it is finished, putting it on the shelf as a tangible reminder of the story (and to show off? Perhaps there is an element of that too...). Browsing for a book on the Amazon site and downloading it to the Kindle pales as an experience when considered alongside going into a bookshop and feeling like a child in the world's best toyshop. So much to choose from! The book buying experience has a parallel with music buying then and now: then, the excitement and anticipation in taking home a gatefold sleeve vinyl LP which could be pored over for hours is nothing like the soulless act of buying a CD now - the experience is as cold and clinical as the sound produced by the CD. Book purchase via the Kindle is, similarly, a sterile affair.

But - ain't there always a 'but' folks - going on holiday with four or five thick paperbacks or even - posh bugger that I am - a hardback or two - is stupid when you have a Kindle and those books fit easily into the 3,000 os so slots available on the virtual bookshelf within my E-reader. E-readers are so much more convenient in those terms. Also, should you run out of reading matter while on holiday, it is simple to hook up to the wifi and purchase some new titles whereas finding a bookshop and then a novel in English may not be quite so straightforward. And talking of 'purchasing', within the Amazon store there are often titles available for 99p or even, occasionally, free. I have yet to find a Waterstones where they were giving the the books away...

So, which to commit to - convenience and progress provided by the e-reader or rose-tinted nostalgia and something that I can't quite define that is provided by the physical feel of a book? There is one more thing to mention. When we were in Manchester airport waiting for our flight to Iceland, I suddenly realised I had packed neither Kindle nor a book of some sort. As a consequence, I went to WH Smiths and bought a suitable airport read: a crime novel by a first-time writer (gotta see what I'm up against when I unleash my own hero or heroine (gender to be decided) detective, Alabastro or Alabaster Stone on the world!). When we landed at Manchester on our return, I managed to leave the bloody thing in the back of the seat in front! Half-read is no good when finding out whodunnit and/or whytheydunnit is central to reading that type of book. Hence, I had to buy it for my Kindle in order to find out those things. More importantly, had I been reading it on a Kindle in the first place, would I have have left that in the seat back?

I can't be Knut-like about it and pretend that e-readers are not here to stay in some form or other and we are now married to that technology. But while the paper page is still available and bookshops are still (just about) on the high street, I shall continue to engage in those clandestine liaisons with my printed peccadillos.

The weather is a safe bet

It is often said that it is best not to raise the matter of politics or religion with strangers. This would imply that discussing either of these topics with people you know is perfectly OK but I am here to tell you you that, in my experience, this is far from being the case: politics and religion invariably produce the side effects of raised blood pressure and heated words within seconds of the start of a discussion. These days, any discussion of politics will lead onto the poison that is UKIP and their blokeish oaf of a leader, Nigel Farage (see - I'm starting already). All I need to hear are the words "Well, he talks a lot of sense..." and all my buttons are pushed and, cartoon-style, the steam starts to issue from my ears. Religion, on the other hand, either involves getting an ear-bashing from fundamentalist atheists who, I feel, are overly zealous in their desire to inflict their (non) belief on me or from idiots who see fit to blame the atrocities inflicted by 'Islamic' extremists on all Muslims, thereby including the vast majority of law-abiding, peace-loving followers of Islam in that cohort. Either way, they are conversations I would rather not have.

So, perhaps sport might provide a good topic for conversation? No, no, no! Either someone will wax lyrical about the aesthetic beauty of darts, the power and majesty of the drama enatiled in each game (puh-lease!) or try to convince me of the Herculean effort and chess-like skills involved in snooker. I just want to tell them that watching paint dry is less boring and interests me to the same degree. Football? Don't go there: the person you are about to talk to will invariably reveal their support for the arch-rivals of your team and the conversation will consist of snipes and gripes once this becomes known. Poker? Are you serious?? Even the way in which we view sport can cause disagreements. Often, I hear the phrase "Ah but Sky really have improved the experience of watching football". Have they bollocks, pardon my language. For a start, the amount of money pumped into the game has destroyed the national team, the common bond of going to watch (yes - going to the actual ground!) at 3 o'clock on a Saturday has been destroyed by the ban on televising matches at this time so that matches are now spread across the week and finally, I liked the fact that, when the occasional live match on TV was shown, the program used to start about ten minutes before the kick-off and end ten minutes after the final whistle: I don't need endless discussion of the match - I just watched it!

Culture - there's something we can agree on, surely? Not a chance. Art discussions eventually get around to Tracey Emin and/or Damien Hirst ("Why is that so good? I could do that!") or the "meaninglessness" of modern art generally ("Why can't they just paint a bloody picture?"). TV and films - I must have a taste that is the polar opposites of so many other people because the things I watch haven't registered on their radar and the things they watch are unknown to me or leave me cold (or positively revulsed in the case of BB or IACGMOOH). Not having a sahred viewing experience means any chance of sharing views on a common subject is pretty nigh on impossible. The fragmentation of TV giving us more 'choice' (thanks for that too, Sky) means those 'water-cooler moments are less likely to happen as we all watch different things or record things to watch later. Books too are off limit for discussion as I seem to be reading titles alien to the reading lists of most friends.

Admittedly, the barriers to conversation I have outlined are my personal prejudices. However, it might account for the fact that, to foreign eyes, the image of the British is that we seem to be obsessed with the weather and it will always feature in conversations. In fact, the reason that we talk about the weather is that it is simply one of the few things we can discuss where we can all agree: "Rainy again, isn't it?" "It certainly is!". No arguments there.

Thinking about walking

A headline from today's press read something like "Walking for just 20 minutes a day will make you live longer". Well, leaving asisde that this is not really 'news' - walking is exercise and exercise is good for you so, yes, it will probably help you to live longer and this announcement about walking for 20 minutes is probably made at least once every couple of years (or once a month in the case of the Daily Express) - it made me recall a little something that I ran up (see what I did there?) a few years ago. I hope you can stand the thought of a poem for two consecutive blogs :)

I'm walking to work for the exercise,
So goodbye to the rush hour queues!
On with the trainers - may go the whole hog
and soon be in shorts contemplating a jog.

I'm walikg to work for the environment
Going green, we must all do our bit.
While I'm saving the planet, I'm having some fun
In a fortnight or so, well I might even run.

I'm walking to work since I'm British
And there's nowt we do better than fad.
For a fortnight it's fitness - say 'NO!' to our cars
And thinking of marathons instead of a Mars.

But reality strikes and it's raining
And it's early and cold - I feel crap!
I've been hunting lost trainers since quarter to eight
If I don't leave right now then I'm going to be late.

Now I'm driving to work 'cause I'm feeble
And fall apart when the going gets tough.
I really quite like sitting here in a queue
Because I'm a commuter and it's what we all do.
I'll use any excuse I can find
But I'm walking to work in my mind!

Two Rooms

In that room,
I'd dream of flying planes
Across the world.
My mind was filled with stories
Of discoveries and science.
There were only possibilities.

In that room,
I ran a transport company
From under a stool
While the Fab Four stared down
From posters on damp walls
And listened to my singing.

In that room,
I was a work in progress,
The yet to be me.
And my parents' words and love
Began to mould and shape,
Preparing me for departure.

In this room,
I think of making planes
From the household bills.
My mind gets frozen trying hard
To navigate a way through life
Devoid of concrete certainties.

In this room,
I play the games that others have
Designed for me.
The Fab Four now number only Two
And though the walls are dry,
Yet still I serenade them.

In this room,
I'm still a work in progress,
The very nearly me.
And my soul mate's words and love,
Provide encouragement and hope
And reasons for remaining.

We come to the land of ice and snow....

After a whirlwind visit to Reykavik, I can honestly say that, based on first impressions and bearing in mind we have only just scratched the surface of what the country has to offer, it seems to be a very interesting and civilised place. Unfortunately, with the flight times at euther end of our stay being as they were, we only had two days to do things which left us pretty much confined to the capital (apart from a couple of trips, more of which later). A few points from those two days...

- The centre of the capital is intimate in size: we walked pretty much everywhere and the shopping district rubs shoulders with the administrative and cultural centres which, in turn, lay hard up against private houses. There is not the same separation that one finds in larger capitals where there are districts separate the different functions within the city. Imagine walking out of Harrods in London and finding next door to it a modest two or three bedroom house. The beautifully geometric and (at night) spectacularly-lit concert hall is right next door to the working port stocked with oily fishing vessels. It is a strange mix and one that seems to seems to indicate the 'grounded' nature of the country. They have no army or navy, their police, like ours, carry no weapons and their prime minister lives in a house on a main thoroughfare that anyone can walk up to and has no guards posted outside. In fact, the house was the city's first jail. Many will say that we too should house our PM in a jail...

- There was snow on the roads and fresh falls happened throughout our time there. There were no shops that failed to open because people couldn't get to work and services kept running normally. This was not achieved through gritting, chains on car tyres or snow ploughs. Instead, cars had winter tyres fitted - essentially, tyres with a deeper, grippier tread. Using these, people drove at reasonable speeds (no speeding but neither was there any crawling at 5 miles an hour) and I saw no accidents or even any cars skidding or being in any way out of control. Of course, they probably have ploughs and gritters as backup when the weather gets really bad, but the contrast couldn't be greater: in the UK, the country grinds to a halt as soon as the first smowflake hits the ground.

- The snow itself, however, is rather different. I know you are probably thinking that "snow is snow is snow", right? Well, there has to be a reason why the Innuit have many words for snow - it obviously comes in different 'types' and the type on display in Reykavik I can only describe as 'dry'. When Elaine picked a handful of snow up with the (leter admitted) purpose of snowballing me, she found that it could not be compacted into a ball. As she released her hands from shaping the weapon, the snow just fell apart almost into separate flakes once more! I could only think the difference is that, in the UK, there is a greater degree of 'wetness' to the snow and it is this that 'welds' the snow into a ball when moulded. Lacking that moisture, the ball would not coalesce and I was therefore saved from having cold drips down the back of my neck! The fact that the snow had this property also affected walking...

- The pavements, though not usually gritted or cleared, remained pretty safe as the snow seemed much harder to melt together into lethal ice fields. I am not saying there were no slips at all: although I did not see what happened, at least three tourists we encountered in the course of the break (unfortunate word) had suffered from some slipping trauma. As a fairly recent recipient of an ankle break from a slippy surface, the amount of snow on 'public surfaces' caused my heart to sink when I first saw it (hell, the steps down from the plane were coated in snow when we arrived!). Maybe, because of that, I was ultra cautious, however, I felt safer on their streets than I do on the slides that we end up with here whenever we get snow. Amazingly, E stayed on her feet throughout also!

- Eggy showers. Hot water in the hotel came from geothermal sources and is piped straight into the hotels (and, I believe, private houses) for use in showers and heating etc. Perfectly good hot water but with a slightly disconcerting sulphurous smell. The first shower I had was almost stopped in order for a complaint to be made to the management before I remembered the reason for the smell. Being green sometimes involves a small sacrifice. Or noseplugs. Cold water was lovely, straight from the tap. Volcanic filtered and soft as an angel's kiss (as the Icelandic Tourist Board might say). Bottled water sales are probably pretty slow in Iceland.

- The Northern Lights - although involving a drive out of the city for an hour; standing in a lay-by and a field for an hour and a half (temperature was -6 or -7) only to see nothing; be driving home when the sky clears and there they are, albeit indistinctly; rejoining the coach only to be told "They're back and much better!", getting off once again - were, eventually, a magnificent and eerie sight. A strange green band of light from sky to horizon, moving and changing over time: sometimes a frail, pale green but at other times, intense and almost flourescent in places. It was was really quite magical to be ankle-deep in snow watching a celestial light show of epic prpoportions play out on the night sky.

- The whale watching trip we are counting as 'unfinished business': one potential whale (OK, a fin) seen at some distance means that we need to return to try again. The display by the harbour porpoises almost made up for lack of the larger cetaceans, but - hey! - that's nature as opposed to Disney: things don't happen in line with a rigid timetable. The whale watch company, very fairly, gave us all a raincheck valid for two years. We will be taking them up on their kind offer.

- I tried two new types of fish: tusk and arctic char. It turns out, I was less adventurous than I thought - tusk is a fish of the cod family (although much more plentiful than cod) and char is a fish of the salmon family. What I ended up tasting, therefore, was essentially cod and salmon. Oh well - at least they were beautifully fresh and cooked to perfection.

Overall, a good taster. We have resolved to return for a summer trip (OK, no Northern Lights then, but better whale chances) and to try to see more of the island, maybe by hiring a car. Definitely, a place you should go to!