Lake District 2013

The "staycation" - another example of the modern bastardisation of the Ye Olde English Dictionary, or a current phenomenon precipitated by the Tory governments short sighted view of how to handle the economic downturn?

My bias being obvious and incidental, but for anyone unfamiliar with the term a "staycation" is a summer vacation taken within the confines of our shores, avoiding the costs involved in a foreign vacation.

And this is my long winded way of introducing today's entry, where Luca and I spent the first week of his school holidays 300 miles from home in Carnforth, in the Lake District - an enormously gratefully received few days of Granda Ian's timeshare.

So here goes with the rundown of our activities over the past few days. If you don't like pictures of Luca gurning then the following will be an early purgatory for you.




The above is from our arrival at Pine Lake Resort on Monday afternoon. An agonising drive down, Luca afflicted belated and endless revenge on me on behalf of my parents. "Are we there yet? How many minutes now Dad?". I forgot to pack the horse tranquilliser for the journey.





Lakeside, around 50 yards from our apartments door. No pithy remarks here, just a photo I'm already rather fond of.




In the town of Carnforth now, beside a lakeside pub. Luca adored the ducks. The cold beer was my love of the day.




I have to remember to not take photos of Luca with inappropriate tooth rotting fizzy drinks in camera shot. It rather negates my rather pompous stance when berating others for such sins.




Back on site now, we visited the tennis courts twice daily. No matter where else our travels took us, Luca loved to start and end the day under arming the ball back and forth. He's not bad either. Still Andy Murray circa 2006 rather than resembling the rather more imposing 2013 version, but he hits the ball sweetly and could be very capable if he actually listens.

Yeah, I know, Gary's complaining about his son not listening. What goes around comes around, you reap what you sow, pots and kettles, etc, etc, bloody etc.




Crazy Golf now, which became Luca's favourite activity. "Why do I have to pick your ball out the hole Dad?"
"Because I'm old and sore Son"
"You're not old Dad, you're only 38"
"Thanks Son"
"You'll be old when you're 50 though"




At a local mini zoo/nature reserve. Yes, that's an ancient human skull he's handling. This is the boy who squeals if he gets jam on his fingers.




Who does he look like here? It's annoying me. That facial expression resembles someone famous, but I just can't place it. John Belushi? Murdoch from The A Team?




It is Murdoch isn't it?




Thankfully not the kind who fling their poo at you.




Taken in Lancaster, I thought this noteworthy. Isn't the casual use of the morning after pill supposed to be frowned upon?




Yeah, I have more stamina than my 6 year old. I'm unsure as to whether this is a credible boast.




Now, do one pull up. Just one.




Morecambe beach. Not pictured is the endless procession of morbidly obese citizens grimly trundling past in their motorised wheelchairs, all excitedly eyeing up the 367 ice cream and donut stands along the half mile long promenade. Easily the most frighteningly fat town I've ever visited. And I drove through Hull once.




This was as far as he was willing to be buried. Luca is many things, but "adventurous" is an adjective he's certainly can't be associated with. Or is it a noun? Or a verb? I wish I knew. You stop learning about these things at 15, and aren't re-introduced to them until you're 92, infirm and destined to live out your days eagerly awaiting the afternoon session of "Countdown" on Channel 4.




Broccoli. It's awful. Yet I cooked some for our dinner on our last night at Pine Lake. I don't know why, as it meant I had to eat some too. I even told him it tastes of decaying toe nails, yet he still ate it. Is this good parenting or not?

And finally, the photo's from Sundays Half Marathon are now online. Here's one of me casually, and seemingly easily, cruising along:- http://stoneyhm.webnode.com/photos/a2013/photogallerycbm_708941/60/#img-8628-jpg

I didn't look like this on mile 13. Really. Constipated werewolf.

**Useless fact of the day - China produces 8 million tons of broccoli every year**

Lucas's first lost tooth

In the year of his seventh birthday, the inevitable finally happened. The fruit of our loins became a gap toothed urchin.




You dig the excitement on that face?

£1 was deposited under his pillow last night, assumedly from a supernaturally fairy-esque source. Rather akin to a dolphin, Luca kept one eye open for much of the night in anticipation of the Tooth Fairy's arrival.

I'm not, however, suggesting dolphins sleep with one eye open in order to catch a glimpse of the Tooth Fairy. That would be an incorrect statement and therefore has no place here, on this unmonitored and unsubstantiated Internet blog page.

It was Luca's last day at school on Friday, and the onset of the (excruciatingly long) summer holidays are now upon us. What do you do with a hyperactive 6 year old for two months? I've taken "first shift" and have booked next week off work to look after him.

Works going well incidentally. I thought you'd like to know. Frighteningly off topic granted, but fully in keeping with this blogs lack of structure over the years.

Continuing with the off topic momentum (albeit related), I calculate this blog to have been in existence for two thirds of a decade now. In an online world socially ruled by Facebook and Twitter, how much longer will the medium you're currently reading continue to remain relevant? Indeed is it even relevant now?

To return to the original point, Luca's Granda has very kindly provided an outlet for our tiny terrors first week exertions. He's booked one of his timeshare options for us to cover Monday through Wednesday in the Lake District. If he can now perfect the transporter beam popularised within the wobbly walls of Star Trek in order to avoid what will doubtless be a painfully chatty 7 hour car ride South I'd be rather grateful.

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with......"

Seasoned Calamari and Prawn Salad. Two dishes Carole and I took into the cinema with us on Friday. To explain, it was my birthday on Friday, so Carole took her not-so-young toy boy to the movies. Having not had a chance to eat beforehand, we instead purchased the aforementioned items from a local M&S and brought them in with us. Has such foodstuff ever seen the inside of a movie theatre? I personally thought the subtle vinaigrette essence of the calamari complimented the eye watering body odour of the chap sat two seats away.

The film was good though. It had zombies.

With the summer upon us, Luca's football is taking a sojourn also. Ill timed, as his addiction for the game has reached fever pitch. He just wants to play all the time. Even after a long and sweaty training session yesterday with Colony Park, Luca's first words to me when I collected him were "Can we go and play football together?"

He's going to be so much better than me.

Two goals this weekend too.

Finally, and insisted upon by Carole, I've deferred creation of the separate "running blog". However, I'll keep this brief as, well, I'm not really the interesting one. My first Half Marathon event was this morning, the infamously hilly Stonehaven race. Due to injury my training preparation was poor, but I'm happy with a finish time of one and three quarter hours. I coasted comfortably for the first 8 miles, but the final 5 or so were a lesson in endurance and will - I simply had nothing in the tank.

"Fail to prepare, prepare to fail". A cliche that swam endlessly round my head during the races latter miles. I told you I wasn't the interesting one.

**Useless fact of the day - Dolphins sleep with one eye open as half their brain is always alert, in order to surface for air and avoid sharks**

Unwise

I've made a decision. I'm going to start up a second blog. "But why?" you may ask, "You rarely even update this first one, and when you do make about as much sense as a psychotic monkey at a typewriter wearing a pair of mittens".

However, dear reader, I'm doing this in order to save you having to skip through the interminably dull sections currently spread throughout this blog which describe, in laborious detail, the increasingly uninteresting tales of my latest road races.

So, from next week, I'll (make all efforts to) continually update two blogs. One on running - likely to be read solely by Lucy - and another on The Misadventures Of Luca Stewart (age 6 and two quarters).

Until then however, and for the very last time here, comes a little running news. I made a rash decision tonight. On a whim I entered my first half marathon. Which is only two weeks away. And is also known as one of the hardest of its type in the
United Kingdom.

Good call for your first attempt at this distance Gary (wholly unsubtle sarcasm alert).

The event is the Stonehaven Half Marathon, one of the hilliest road races around, rising to a height of 200m even within just the first 4 miles. Even if I do have the stamina (still dubious) I assume my dodgy knee will somehow wilfully remove itself from my leg by half way before shouting imaginary obscenities at me.

Speaking of runs, I had my latest race today, the Portsoy 10K. A rather more painful run than normal, starting only 30 hours after my most boozy night out of the year so far (a late finishing work night out). Still hungover, still dehydrated, and still with beer sloshing around my stomach, I turned up at a rainy Portsoy this morning feeling both unwilling and (essentially) unable to run 10 metres, never mind 10 kilometres.

I made it, however, albeit not without significant stomach cramps and "dry retching". Attractive. However, I managed to hold on and even came within 20 seconds of a personal best time. I'm not drinking again though, ever again.

At least for a week.

The seafaring town of Portsoy was picturesque however, and the boat festival currently being held was an added bonus at race end. I even climbed to the highest point by the water side after the race to remember its natural beauty. As well as, as you can see below, the incessant driving rain and wind:-




This was the only time I smiled all morning.

I promise never to mention running on this blog again. So now back to more important matters - Luca. Only hours after falling asleep following that dreadfully alcoholic Friday night I woke, crawled (literally) out of bed and gingerly made tracks toward Aberdeen (by train of course, my wobble being a clear sign that driving may be unadvised) with the little one. Would this be one of our infamously high tempo weekend days out?

With my throbbing head? Not a chance. I instead took him to see "Man Of Steel" at the cinema. And wished I'd just stayed at home instead. Ignore the reviews, this new Superman movie is a load of old smelly jockstraps. Unevenly paced and filled with an unbelievably excessive amount of computer imagery, it was akin to watching a 2 hour long video game. And about as much fun as that sounds.

Luca, of course, loved it. Contrary little bugger he is.

After the ordeal that was the film ended, Luca's usual chant began. "Da-aa-aad, I'm so hungry". Now all I wanted to do at this point was go home and find a hole to drunkenly die in. However, I relented, and with his favourite cafes miles away we instead trialled an old fashioned city centre eatery. Bad idea.

Now Luca is one of Scotland's most awkward eaters. He has a tendency to decide what he won't like no matter whether he's actually tried it before. His poor Grandparents particularly take the brunt as this wilfully pedantic child will essentially dictate what he's going to eat for his meals. However, when he's alone with his Dad he knows he can't do this - old hard assed disciplinarian Dad won't take his nonsense and he knows it. Alone, I can get him to eat anything.

Until yesterday.........

Assumedly noticing his Fathers rather "delicate" condition, his face screwed up like a bulldog with a lemon in its mouth when the ordered macaroni cheese arrived at our table. "I'm nooot eating that, you know"

15 minutes of arguing, whining and compromising it took me to convince him to get that first bite down. Which he of course enjoyed before wolfing the rest. I love him and hate him equally sometimes.

While in Aberdeen Luca insisted on having his photograph taken beside this brightly coloured motorbike:-




He insists he'll be a movie making motorbike riding policeman when he grows up don'tcha know?

Note the football kit. He also had football training yesterday. 3 goals scored. Are you bankrupt yet Grandad Mike?

The previous weekend brought a trip to Banchory to take Dad out for a Fathers Day lunch. Mum joined us, and I'd booked us a table at the Douglas in order to see Ross too (working his last shift before returning to coffee shop Tease). A nice time (does my buying a lunch pay for everything Dad's ever done for me?), and we even got a photo too:-




The previous day had seen Luca take me out for lunch - or more prevalently, was it Carole? It was much appreciated and enjoyed, but two pub lunches out on two consecutive days was a bit too much for my skinny frame. I just wanted to sleep afterwards. The heavy weekend Pub Lunch is very much a British tradition, but one I simply cannot understand the appeal of.

I'm meandering my way around the English language now. It's late, and I suppose a couple of hours sleep before work may be advisable. Later this week I'll talk a little more about Carole, and of course Harvey. Todays entry has been rather an opus - indeed, are you even still reading? - but the next will be a little more concise. And wife oriented. As I should be also.

**Useless fact of the day - When you wake up around 2am for no reason, there's an 80% chance someone is watching you**

Prelude to Fathers Day

Tomorrow is Fathers Day. Not, however, in this house. With Carole away at a horse event tomorrow she, and Luca of course, took me out today instead to "Jaffs" (www.jaffsbarandrestaurant.co.uk) for a surprise lunch. And very nice it was too. Carole was dressed prettily, a nice change to see her out of horsey attire. And Luca? He finished up with much of his meal coated across his face.

However, and with a peculiar rarity for a chap such as myself, I wasn't able to finish my main course. Having departed for the restaurant only minutes after finishing my Saturday morning run (an 18 kilometre run, followed straight after by a 9K walk with Yoda) my stomach hadn't quite settled yet, which in turn led to my desire to eat essentially replicating that of a 6 stone catwalk model.

Without the bulimia of course. Did you know Elton John is bulemic? I think he's doing it wrong.

Of course, I'm assuming there's a right way.

My hunger has returned this evening however, and sated by the tablet Carole and Luca cooked (Baked? Prepared?) for me. Absolutely delicious in the way that anything that is very bad for you in every way generally is. So good though.

Tomorrow Luca and I will travel to Banchory to take Dad out for a Fathers Day lunch. Mum is coming too, and I'm taking them to the Douglas Arms. Not an eatery known for it's "posh nosh", but an appropriate setting as Ross is working his last shift there tomorrow before returning full time to coffee outlet "Tease". But, most importantly, can we score ourselves a free pint?

Assuming there's time, Luca and I will visit the cinema beforehand, for a 10am showing of "Man Of Steel", the new Superman movie. Words cannot describe the anticipation levels my nerdish sensibilities are registering. Indeed, this past decade has been a geek dreamland, with the movies dominated by big budget comic book adaptations. The meek have indeed inherited the earth.

Luca certainly hasn't been meek this past week, as almost every day he's dragged me out to play football with him straight after work. The bright weather has been a rarely witnessed surprise, as has Luca's burgeoning effort. A very competent player, his lack of size, physicality and application often hold him back in games. However, he's slowly becoming braver and showing greater fortitude, and has even begun to aggressively attempt to tackle the ball from me in the park. A maurauding run and goal at his tournament last week, bullying his way past 3 opponents on route, appears an omen of things to come.

On Monday I have a meeting with my bosses at work as the end of my probation period looms. Nothing to worry about, just procedure, and I've already been told they want to get me involved in heavier project related work. A nice confidence boost of course, although slightly at odds with my decision to move in the first place (for a quieter life). That said, I have felt a little listless of late - perhaps a little extra mental emphasis at work may not be as destrimental as I might initially have thought.

Next Sunday brings my latest race, the Portsoy 10K. To be honest I'm not greatly enthused about this one, despite the scenic route promised by the organisers. I've been enjoying training on longer distances of late and the upcoming "Ballater 10 Mile" and "Crathes Half Marathon" are of greater interest now.

 

As mentioned in a previous blog we had my cousins Meghan and Kieran (and fiancee Julie) visit a few weeks back. I forgot I had this photo. Yes, all are wearing false moustaches. Why? I can't recall. But I do enjoy Luca's impression of a prepubescent Asterix The Gaul.

I loved Asterix books as a kid. Above is a better picture, with Luca posing with his team-mates before last weeks tournament. As usual he was the smallest. I do love that cocky expression however. And note his tight grip of the ball. He doesn't verbalise it, but he considers himself to be the captain.

And why the hell not?

**Useless fact of the day - A human head remains conscious between 15 and 20 seconds after decapitation**

Ow

I have a couple of photo's. it would be remiss to not post them during this quiet moment.




Luca's going for a haircut this week. Take him or let it grow? Leaning toward the latter personally.





His official Colony Park team photo with Luca front centre. I'd be confident that you'd spotted him immediately however. That 1960's Beatles-esque mop top stands out a mile amongst the tidy, sensible haircuts of his peers. The long, flowing locks aren't our choice, he's quite insistent on it. With that ever lengthening barnet the little chap is most likely to become an anti-establishment rock star when he grows up. Or perhaps a tramp.

He had his first football tournament at his home ground today. After a beautiful weekend up until then the sun reverted to its usual "Screw you Scotland" state by disappearing back behind our country's ever present clouds (people wonder why Scots are so dour) just as the tournament kicked off. Undeterred, however, Luca began brightly and even netted a nice goal in his second game. Grandad Mike, ker-ching!

Speaking of the weather (every Brits national sport), I took advantage of the unexpected sunshine yesterday by taking off on my longest run ever, just over 14 miles. Jesus, it hurt! (sorry Mum). I really enjoyed the quiet country roads I ran along, but my "Stewart Knee" decided enough was enough after about 10 or 11 miles causing a rather uncomfortable last leg home. As Danny Glover wisely opines, "I'm too old for this s***".

Yesterday was actually the first time I'd been out running since my last race, last Sunday's high profile "Baker Hughes 10K" at Aberdeen's beachfront. I did my usual and ran it as sensibly as a brain damaged orang-utang, yet somehow managed to knock nearly a minute or so off my personal best. I came 398th out of 5000, squeezing inside the top 400 (top 8%) by overtaking a group of competitors in the final stretch with the sprint finish shown in this photo:-

http://www3.marathon-photos.com/scripts/photo.py?event=Sports/CPUK/2013/City%20of%20Aberdeen%2010K&bib=100&photo=ATKO0105

Bloody knackered I was. Awful run too, flat, boring and run through some of the ugliest areas of Aberdeen. Rather bemused how this event has developed such a status.

Spoke to both my sisters this weekend. Very nice, and more to say on that in the coming days. But then, as life dictates, there always is.

**Useless fact of the day - We actually live 80 milliseconds in the past, as this is how long it takes our brain to process information**

A Picture Can Tell A Thousand Tales

Tonight there'll be no bluster, no flannel, no conjecture and not even a little blether. This evening the pictures is "where it's at":-

 

Forced grin ahoy. Luca posing after his first football tournament for Colony Park. Note the Aberdeen FC strip he's wearing (this was before they got their official strips) and the medal round his neck (which is actually mine from a race I'd run earlier that day)

 

Roughhousing with Harry (my friends son, and my Godson - well, my second Godson after Cade) at a race meet in Balmoral. An atypical picture from North East Scotland - unkempt wind blown hair, absolutely no danger of the sun appearing and wet clumpy grass. Why did Kelly emigrate again?

 

As the loving gaze indicates, Harry just adores Luca. As do we. Except when he gets up at 6am on a Sunday morning. And when he's awkward at mealtimes. And when he interrupts conversations. And when he lies about brushing his teeth. And when he replies "fine" every time we ask him how school was. And when.........

 

With Granny Jo on Mothers Day. My Mum clearly rather more enamoured with the idea of being photographed than my son.

 

Mum's birthday this time. Yes, I've been rather inefficient posting up-to-date images of late. A nice picture spoiled rather by the poor lighting as well as brother Ross' complete indifference to the idea of posing.

 

This time in the Aberdeen Maritime Museum. Again. Yes, I feel Groundhog Day and Deja Vu combining and ganging up on me. Our 1000th visit, this time with Luca posing beside a blow up whale. Only item on interest here is the length of Luca's legs. It's like Carlton Palmer after a session on the torture rack. Likely only Dad will get that last reference.

 

Staying with Dad, here he is at Partick Thistles (kind of) recent Cup Final alongside Ross and Colin Kilgour. Dad's expression can only have been caused by a glimpse at the bill for the corporate hospitality.

At Doonies Farm in Aberdeen, a home for "rare" farm animals. A treat for Luca? Or a way to rid my wallet of £8 only to see sheep, pigs, chickens and horses that pretty much resembled every other sheep, pig, chicken and horse I've ever seen.

I've tried to post a final few photographs, of Harvey behaving animalistically (an oxymoron, I know), but my computer is behaving about as well as Luca at bedtime. So, to mirror my habits formed over a lifetime I'm just going to give up with the intention of trying again later. Despite knowing that I won't.

I've much more to report - such as Carole having joined a weight watchers club - but after having joined her for one of their "special" dinners the grumble from my gut is telling me I need more. Either that or whatever it was that went down wants back up again. Whichever, I don't envy her, and was very proud of her first weeks loss of 2 and a half pounds.

And I'll bore you stupid with my latest running tales next time too.

**Useless fact of the day - Eating within one hour of getting up kick starts your metabolism and helps you burn more calories through the day**

Don't drink and blog

A partially inebriated contributor tonight, following too many Jack Daniels during tonights golden televisual time between the FA Cup Final ending and a rerun (30th anniversary) of Aberdeen's European Cup Winners Cup victory against Real Madrid in 1983. Yes, our local team used to be one of the planets greatest teams. What happened???

Perhaps Luca will rejuvenate local sporting prowess? He featured for his club side (Colony Park) in a tournament at Pittodrie (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pittodrie_Stadium) on Tuesday, and after a nervous first couple of games performed admirably. Here he is in action:-





Perfect defence splitting pass




He's still pretty small, and not exactly fearless, but he's keen, a great communicator, has a good touch and just keeps going no matter the setbacks. Most of all he loves it - the most important bit.

We're in the middle of another busy week. Today my cousins Kieran and Meghan (and Kieran's fiancée Julie) visited from Glasgow. Great to see them, but I'm still attempting to calm Luca now, nearly 2 hours after their departure South. He already adores Kieran and Julie, but today was the first time he'd spent any time with Meghan. He stole her sock and hid under our bed as they were preparing to leave in an attempt to stop their departure!

Tomorrow brings a friends birthday, so a cinema visit and meal are forthcoming. Granny Jo will be caring for Luca during the (non child friendly) flick, so the usual timing complications come into play. How do we get Luca to Banchory for mid afternoon when he has another football tournament the very same afternoon 20 miles away? Answers on a postcard please, to ourselves and the millions of other exhausted and perplexed parents out there.

My knee (henceforth known as the traditional "Stewart" knee) is playing up again, with the anterior damage having never (and never will) fully repaired. Perfect timing, with my most high profile 10K race only a week away and my first half marathons looming ever closer. Frustrating, as I'd been running extremely competently and was initially confident of beating my fellow competing workmates (my work has a team in the race, which includes 2 experienced marathon runners) as well as my own personal best time.

Life eh? As a wiser man than me once said, it's a ............

**Useless fact of the day - The largest attendance at a football match is 199,854, set in 1950 between Brazil and Uruguay. Football remains the most popular sport on Earth, both in terms of spectators and participants**

Location:Rae Circle,Inverurie,United Kingdom