Tag Archives: Scotland

Procrastination–

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Jack gets over the line just in time again – –

Yes – given the opportunity I’m a terrible procrastinator, or maybe I’m just lazy!

It was our cats, today, that convinced me – cold and raining outside — so instead of going out or chasing each other round the house, they curled up on the bed and went to sleep. I was seriously tempted to join them…

…but they wouldn’t have approved!

When I was still working full-time at the community college in my home-town in Scotland, I worked to a schedule and got things done with enthusiasm. Even after I retired from there I continued with contract work and hit my deadlines.

When we ran our bookstore in Big Stone Gap, I was usually on top of stuff – fixed things as needed, converted the car port into an enclosed garage and the basement into our living space, complete with two rooms and a toilet.

Maybe it’s just something to do with aging and finding many physical things harder to do. On the other hand, it might be that I’ve learned that I’m not very good at some things: I hate anything to do with plumbing or electrical work!

Now that we’ve moved from a 1903 house to one that was built in 1890 but with many additions and modifications over the intervening years and a much larger backyard, I’m presented with many more reasons to avoid things that wait to be done.

Or maybe I am just lazy – – –

Come back next Wednesday for more from Jack

Flying Machines–

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Jack’s guest blog today – – –

Some friends came past the house yesterday, walking their dog, and we got in conversation. They had recently visited a small airfield that is home to a gliding club and that immediately set off a memory for me.

When I was about seventeen years old and heavily into building model planes, I saw an advert in the magazine I subscribed to. It was for gliding vacations at a flying club in Yorkshire. One week of lessons with accommodation and meals.

All my previous vacations had been family affairs by the seaside.

Off I set, by train, to Thirsk, and then by bus to the small village where the lovely old inn was situated, and where I’d be staying along with the others who’d booked up. The village was near the foot of a steep cliff, and the field that was home to the gliding club was on the top.

The way the days went were – after a large breakfast at the inn we got into an ancient land-rover and drove up the hairpin bends to the flying field (and sometimes I got to drive!). Then some theory lessons in the clubhouse, as delivered by the chief instructor, who was Polish and had flown Spitfires during WW2. He was a real character! Then a series of flights – each one starting by hooking the glider to a cable attached to a large winch, being hauled up to around 200 feet, releasing the cable, and then sailing over the cliff.

But then, wonder of wonders, it was like sitting in an armchair in the sky. No engine noise and no whirling propeller in front! Then the search was on for rising air, either a thermal of warm air or an updraft from the cliff face.

The gliders weren’t the sleek machines of today – this was the 1950s and the club had rather boxy Slingsby sailplanes with side by side seats – one for the pupil and one for the instructor. The factory where they were made was nearby, and one of our day trips was to see them being constructed.

The only scary moment I remember is when, as we were floating along at about a thousand feet, a twin jet RAF bomber screamed past us heading to a nearby base.

Ah – memories!

Come back next Wednesday for more from Jack