A visit to Aberdeen

On Friday Toadlet and I travelled to Aberdeen University Undergraduate Open Day. There being a direct train all the way from Glasgow made it an easy journey. We had time after getting to Glasgow to go to a cafe for coffee and cake and for Toadlet to get on with a school assignment on recession in the Eurozone after the banking crash in 2008. She was asking me some questions about it which I was attempting to answer when a Canadian at the next table leant in with his somewhat rambling but interesting version of the story. We listened politely. Then Toadlet finished her essay. I asked her if she needed to make a fair copy to hand in but she said no. Would that I had ever been able to write a school essay so easily! I think schoolkids today are given more rigid guidelines about what is wanted in their essays than we ever were though.

I finished my cake (eight out of ten); Toadlet finished her croissant (7/10); we moved on and caught our train.

Arrived at Aberdeen we bought Subway butties and ate them sitting on a bench in Union Square. That is, I ate mine, hiding it in its paper wrapping from dive-bombing gulls between each bite, and Toadlet ate half of hers and then had it swiped out of her hand. I'd better not write down what she called the gull! 

I had booked us into a hotel on the outskirts of the city so we caught a bus and walked the last bit. No pavements. Clearly 'normal' visitors don't arrive at that hotel by foot. Just as well we live a bit off-road anyway and are used to rough ground and pathless environments. Our room was comfortable and the food at dinner time was fine.

At breakfast next morning the helpful and chatty waiter commented that he liked Toadlet's Gryffindor sweatshirt and showed us the Death-Eater tattoo on his forearm–clearly another Hogwarts fan. When he left to serve others I said: "He's friendly". 

"For a Death-Eater", said she. The waiter thought it was hilarious when I told him and said: "I've been called worse!"

We ordered a taxi to take us to the university campus and spent an interesting day finding out about the courses Toadlet wants to do, accommodation and other studenty things. I think she found the old buildings sufficiently Hogwartian to be acceptable. Click on the pics to enlarge them.

The new Sir Duncan Rice Library has its own awesomeness.

The Sir Duncan Rice Library,
University of Aberdeen

Looking up through seven storeys in the library

On our train journey home we sat with two young men, also teenagers I reckon. Perhaps they'd been to the open day as well. I always book seats in trains' Quiet Coaches so we were all irritated by a young woman's long, loud, wittering phone call. Eventually, after encouragement from the young ones who were all irritated by the constant blether, ("Do it!") I spoke to the young woman, reminding her that it was the quiet coach and that people booked seats on it so that they didn't have to listen to other people's phone calls. She said, "I'm talking to my nan", as if its being her nan made a difference. I said, "The rest of the train is at your disposal for talking to your nan so please take your phone to another carriage." She said she couldn't do that (I've no idea why) but she did end the phone call very shortly afterwards. The coach then settled into the low murmur of normal conversation between passengers and the soft snoring of a child who had been taking part in a figure-skating competition and had flaked out.

A visit to Derbyshire in October

Toadlet and I cadged a lift round the loch and boarded a train to Glasgow where we would catch our Manchester-bound train. At the Glasgow ticket office we were informed that because of the storm the previous night (5 October), which had brought down overhead lines at Oxenholme in the Lake District, we would have to be bussed from Carlisle to Lancaster. Toadlet has got to the age of being unphased by disruptions to travel so we shrugged and boarded the train.

At Carlisle all south-bound trains were decanted onto the platform and long queues snaked to and fro (fortunately Carlisle has wide platforms) along hastily erected channels marked with stripey tape. Every now and then there was an announcement about sourcing coaches and buses but the queues didn't move much—perhaps a couple of busloads had been moved on. Then, after one and a half hours, it seems that one rail line had been opened at Oxenholme so one (fortunately very long) train had got through and was ready to take us all south.

While we had been waiting we entertained ourselves people-watching and "dealing with" the man immediately behind us who seemed to have no idea that he was repeatedly invading our personal space. Eventually I used my suitcase, tilted on its wheels, as a barricade to keep him out of our hair. A little later we just let him overtake us. His behaviour was the most extreme of that sort that I have experienced. I don't think telling him he was too close would have helped. I think he was simply clueless about such social niceties.

The best part about the time spent queueing was this notice. It delighted us both.

As we settled into the train that would take us as far as Preston I received a text message from Toadlet's school asking me to get in touch as she wasn't in school that day. When planning the trip I had thought that this week was her school's half-term break. She did not enlighten me that it is in fact next week! I told the school caller that we were on a train heading south and she'd be absent all week. As my son-out-law said when we told him the story: "Win!"

As well as walking my elder grandson to school, wiping porridge off everything within chucking range of  a twenty-month-old, and associated activities, we enjoyed some walks in the area where DerbyshireDaughter lives–the valley containing the Longdendale Chain of reservoirs.

Looking east up Longdendale

Benches are for sitting on—DerbyshireDaughter, Piglet and Toadlet

During this walk Toadlet said she wanted to go to a hairdresser's to have her hair cut as it was too heavy. Her sister told her we could do the "Mumsnet Five-Minute Haircut" at home. Although I had already mentioned this, teenagers do not believe their mothers know useful things about trimming hair so I was glad DerbyshireDaughter did the telling this time (and saved me a few quid while she was at it!). The MFMH was applied to both daughters once "Piglet" was down for his afternoon nap. In Toadlet's case, this means the 'ombréd' ends have gone. She likes the result so all is well.

Mid-nineteenth century Methodist Chapel, now a house

This old man told me some of its story

 I liked this old barn door. The geese are the reason for the notice on the gate that leads into the farmyard, I suppose —no dogs and use the other entrance:

Fruit of a spindle tree

lovely colours

dark haws of hawthorn—abundant crop this year

Our journey home yesterday also diverged from the usual, this time because of lines down (or some other trouble) at Lockerbie. From Manchester we crossed over the Pennines to York and got to Glasgow on one train from there via Darlington, Durham, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Carstairs, and Motherwell. The refreshment trolley had run out of hot water by Durham so I was forced to make do with a wee bottle of rosé. I sighed bravely and put up with the inconvenience. The subsequent train and car journey  home from Glasgow seemed terribly ordinary in comparison.