Mid June – just a few days before midsummer day – and Scotland’s hills turned quite nasty. Mountains do that kind of thing.
We were headed for Beinn a’ Chaisteil in Strath Vaich (it means something like castle mountain. The reasons for which are not evident on the ground). After 10km walking and a very stiff climb we turned around because the top turned out to be in cloud and the winds were strong enough to impede progress. It was, to avoid being blunt, not nice.
But the walk as a whole was wonderful. Company, views, air, exercise, plans, experience and then beer. So we missed the top by a few metres. Who cares.
20km is further than I’ve walked in one go for a very long time. I (re)learned that a compass in a pack is worth much less than one in the hand. That paper is a *really* dumb material to make walking maps out of. That my favourite, and posh, walking coat is now so elderly that it wets out and no longer breathes. That 20km is, once more, a walking distance. That I like Orkney Brewery’s Red MacGregor.
Coincidentally, I read Ars Gratis Artis by Guy Tal the day after.
One of the guests was Satish Kumar and one sentence he said almost off hand and without emphasis, stuck in my mind and stayed with me: there is nothing to achieve.…
… Perhaps the most relevant musing to those of you who pursue creative arts is that the greatest value is not in the finished piece but rather in the creative process – in the discreet pleasure and fleeting fulfillment of being engaged in something for the one simple reason of wanting to do it. Being in a state of having a singular preoccupation that silences all other voices, ignores all other distractions, and is unencumbered by preconceptions or needs, is rewarding in ways that are almost impossible to convey other than the simple truth in this simple sentence: there is nothing to achieve. The achievement is meaningless. The state of mind, the activity, is its own reward, independent of anything else.
Seems like that applies to a whole host of activities.
A garden plan:
A garden should be
mad with delight in itself.
A garden should have wild tendrils
and a shadowy place
full of questionable deities.
This poem appears in the story of Miss Willmott’s Ghost in various places on the net (e.g. here).
There is so much joy in those few words.
You’ll all be familiar with the type of news story that goes: ‘Scientists show that tap dancing is the key to long life’, or the one which heralds: ‘New study shows cure for cancer imminent’. News media of all kinds love these stories. They are upbeat, feel good, cheap time/space fillers.
On slightly longer broadcasts, or in the more serious newspapers, there might just be a voice of caution. But whatever attempt is made at balance invariable gets left out of the summaries and the re-reporting.
So, it is good to find a website that takes each day’s most preposterous health science story and explains it in detailed, but straightforward, terms. Hurray for NHS Choices ‘behind the headlines’ efforts.
The service is intended for both the public and health professionals and endeavours to:
- explain the facts behind the headlines and give a better understanding of the science that makes the news,
- provide an authoritative resource for GPs which they can rely on when talking to patients, and
- become a trusted resource for journalists and others involved in the dissemination of health news.
It isn’t sensational. It isn’t exciting. But it does what it sets out to do. It pokes a stick into a story and finds out if there is anything other than an over active journalistic imagination behind it. You get a lot of sentences which go: ‘Based on this research, it is a great jump to conclude that….’.
I love this quote:
‘In the 21st century, knowledge is the key element to improving health. In the same way that people need clean, clear water, they have a right to clean, clear knowledge’
Sir Muir Gray
Clean, clear knowledge. Now, there’s a phrase.
Thanks to AC for the tip, and to Ben Goldacre for being Ben Goldacre.
I love the way that the phrase “off the beaten track” uses a special sense of the word “off” that looks suspiciously similar to the word “on”. Mostly people who say “off the beaten track” mean on-the-beaten-but-not-yet-paved-track. Or that’s the way it seems to me. Genuinely off the track is hard work. As I found out today.
One of the joys of northern Scotland is the walking. The amount of north involved means that hills become mountains and mountains become, well, higher mountains. In world terms there isn’t a lot of high involved and most places can be got to on foot without fancy ropes and support crews. But what walking!
I think Scotland would say that its national sport was football (Association Football). Then there are some purely local sports such as get played at Highland Games, and more than a game Shinty. But I doubt that there are many Scottish people who don’t know what a Munro is, or what the significance of being a bagger might be.
Human beings, being what they are, have lost no opportunity of turning the humble act of walking into a jargon filled list making opportunity. Morven is a Corbett, and I’ve just walked up it off the beaten track thereby causing to be invented Jago’s first law of navigation: it is a lot easier walking from somewhere than to it. I walked down on a beaten track.
We moved to Scotland at least in part because of the walking. Regular readers will know that life turned out to have other plans. Therefore, despite thinking of myself as a walker, I have done very little walking in Scotland. The only other recognised peak that I’ve got to the top of is Ben Wyvis. I did this last year. It seemed like the right one to start with as it is the peak that is clearly visible from the windows of Raigmore hospital in Inverness (talking of which, Raigmore measures its main staircase in Munro equivalents. A measure unknown outside of Scotland).
Morven was a good start to a walking year now that I’m back in Scotland.
Bagged to date:
Munros: 1
Corbetts: 1
Grahams: 0
Number to go: a lifetime’s worth
My first blogging break for several years. I’ll be back in a few months. Have a good time everybody.
BBC
So, Brits, is it acceptable for our next head of state to call somebody “Sooty” because of his skin colour?
The Prince of Wales refers to an Asian member of his polo club as “Sooty”, it has emerged days after the row over Prince Harry’s use of a racist term.
Clarence House refused to comment on the story but said to suggest Charles was racist was “completely ridiculous”.
Kolin Dhillon said the nickname used by his friend was a “term of affection with no offence meant or felt”.
Prince Harry has apologised for using the word “Paki” to describe a member of his army platoon in 2006.
It seems to me that it matters not whether the individual people in question are offended or not. Prince Charles is not a private individual. He will be expected to represent the interests of everybody in the country.
If he doesn’t grovel for this then he isn’t fit to be head of state. IMHO, of course.
David Crystal (who) has just said in a BBC radio 4 interview on Word of Mouth that the OED doesn’t monitor the internet for changes to the way we use language or the evolution of new words.
This strikes me as amazing.
The OED claims to be the definitive record of the English language. I know that it is more of an historical record than a dictionary of current usage, but even so….to assume that words only take on significance when they appear in nineteenth century media seems to be just a little risky. I have this vision of the editorial team in a decade or so huddled around a copy of the last surviving newspaper in publication diligently searching out new words and phrases completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of the world is speaking a language which has changed, and is still changing, faster than lexicographers have ever had to deal with before.
And yes, monitoring the internet would be difficult. But then Definitive is a big claim.
Oh how I love that word. I’ve long suspected that it could be used to sell anything.
One product criticised is Boots’s “detox brush” which the company claims will “brush away impurities” and “stimulates the lymphatic system to help remove impurities and toxins from your skin”. The charity argues that the brush simply cleans the skin.
Boots said the brush works by stimulating the circulation to remove blockages in the body’s lymphatic system. “All Boots products go through extensive scientific trials and testing with human volunteers. Our evidence is based on customer feedback and the results they saw and how they felt,” said a spokeswoman.
But she admitted that the effect was not specific to the detox brush. “Using any kind of body brush will help to increase circulation and will help the body eliminate the waste products.”
Guardian
Tom Wells, a chemist who took part in the research, said: “The minimum sellers of detox products should be able to offer is a clear understanding of what detox is and proof that their product actually works.
“The people we contacted could do neither.”
BBC
The news companies are picking up this story from Sense about Science (also see Wikipedia). I’d not come across them before. An interesting looking outfit, whose mission statement is not just worthy, but also practical.
Stonehenge attracts people to celebrate the solstices. I’m not sure that you have to declare yourself a pagan to get in. It is the only time of the year that the public are now allowed to get inside the protective fences. Maybe some false pagans slip in too.
(BBC)
It is a lovely story of human eccentricity and tolerance. But what I love about this year’s winter outing for the story is this line:
About 1,900 people, some dressed in cloaks and robes, saw the sunrise at the prehistoric site. The Summer Solstice can attract more than 20,000.
Pagans, it seems, don’t like the cold. Or maybe they were all off doing their Christmas shopping.
Human beings are very bad at administration (discuss…), and very very bad at low level repetitive tasks. In the past this meant that working out who was going to be on duty to guard the sheep and making sure that that person stayed awake whilst doing it were things we didn’t do well. Get them wrong and the consequences could be dire – but only for a small number of people.
The modern equivalent is, oh, say, looking after the security at Britain’s “most heavily guarded power station”. Get that wrong and the consequences could be both dire and very widespread. Which is why this Guardian article about how somebody very casually got into Kingsnorth is worth reading:
The £12m defences of the most heavily guarded power station in Britain have been breached by a single person who, under the eyes of CCTV cameras, climbed two three-metre (10ft) razor-wired, electrified security fences, walked into the station and crashed a giant 500MW turbine before leaving a calling card reading “no new coal”. He walked out the same way and hopped back over the fence.
All power from the coal and oil-powered Kingsnorth station in Kent was halted for four hours, in which time it is thought the mystery saboteur’s actions reduced UK climate change emissions by 2%. Enough electricity to power a city the size of Bristol was lost.
Ironically, although he was protesting about dirty coal, he ended up making a strong case against nuclear power. Permanent vigilance is very difficult. It just goes on and on and on and zzzzzz.
