Happy Holidays

I did say the visits would be occasional! For some reason holiday times seem to become overwhelmingly hectic and getting to a computer accordingly difficult. Half term in this house finished last Tuesday. We came home just in time for our daughter to go to Brownies on Tuesday evening- she goes to Brownies: we go to the pub, returning for her an hour later to breath beer fumes over Brown Owl. It is an established pattern.

The week before we go away is always all consuming work-wise notwithstanding the fact that one is now never truly away in the sense that emails follow everywhere. We need real deadlines (flights to catch; distance between us and the office) or we just stay put.

This time we had a deadline, in that we had friends for lunch and Alwinton Show on the Saturday, but no distance so we ended up back in Edinburgh on Sunday, collecting our daughter on the way to the London train on Monday morning. We had a great time in London - the parks looked beautiful in their autumn colours, the sun shone and we pottered about in a thoroughly touristy manner - Sound of Music: Terracotta Warriors; Tower of London; Hamleys. We remembered while we were there that we had friends coming to stay on the Thursday. It was great to see them - their son fell in the sea (but had spare clothes); we golfed in almost isolation on a fantastic sunny afternoon; we ate too much good food; drank too much Co-op Beaujolais and generally caught up with people of whom we see too little. Its strange how life changes without any sort of plan so that people you used to see three times a week you see three times a year. They went home on Saturday after lunch leaving us alone until our return home on Tuesday.

We ran straight back to Northumberland on Friday night. We have had our house there now for exactly four years - I know that because I saw Johnny Wilkinson kick his World Cup winning drop goal in Ikea as we sought (and managed) to acquire the entire contents of a house in under an hour. My bank phoned on the following Monday to ask if someone had stolen my credit card! We had many hopes for it and have not been disappointed. One was that our daughter would spend at least some of her time on the beach. She emerged on to the beach at Cheswick this morning, with her picnic on her back and her trousers rolled up and just pottered along consumed by her own thoughts - makes it worthwhile in itself.

Living better

I had a whole day in the fresh air yesterday. I don't fish many days a year, but on Friday spent a day on the Ettrick. Fishing conditions were not great with low water and bright sunshine, but the countryside looked fantastic in the warm autumn sunshine and, were it not for the fact that I am instilled with a sense of fishing duty ("You'll catch nothing without your fly I the water"), I would have been happy sleeping under a tree. I went with a friend and client, we took a lot of food (6 pies in 6 hours), a bottle of red and a few pounds for beer. We stopped at the pub for an hour in the afternoon (too bright to fish we told ourselves) and chatted idly with a fishing party from Yorkshire. Were it not for the fact that I seem to have bent the undercarriage of my car driving across a field (I should have known better fishing, like golf, being a walking, carrying game) it would have been a near perfect day.

Tomorrow I am going to Kelso Races, another favourite day out, again in the fresh air, although I fear in the rain. If I am feeling really determined to live better I will golf first - Goswick at 7.00, Parents for coffee, Kelso at 12.00. Its tight but do-able schedule.

Living badly

I seem to go through periods of living badly - too much work and too much work related eating and drinking. The next week or two (in fact three if you count half term week which follows them) look like being more sensible. The latest bout of excess ended on Friday. It has involved some late nights in the office; some dashing around the country both north and south; a lot of lunch; and in one week dinners on consecutive mid-week nights. Its not exactly going down a mine or walking the streets of Bazra (and I am grateful for both) but it takes its toll in its own way. I always, at the end of a period like that, feel less like doing it ever again.

Friday night was however only work related in the vaguest sense. I am a member of a small dining club. It is connected with the WS Society of which I am a member. It exists (the club; not the Society) for the sole purpose of having an annual dinner in the Signet Library. The Library is a beautiful building with one of the most stunning Georgian interiors in Edinburgh (and hence Britain and the World). My wife and I had a joint fortieth birthday party there in January which was fantastic and it was a huge privilege to have so many of our friends together in such a superb setting. The club uses one of the Library's smaller rooms and Friday night was its 30th dinner. The room is beautiful, lit by candles only, with the Society's silver in use; our guest was a distinguished, interesting and controversial retired member of parliament - he spoke with conviction and stimulated conversation; the chairman (elected annually to chair the dinner) was one of the founder members and was able to produce the letter he and three colleagues wrote inviting the original members to join; the food was first class and the claret (which the club buys ahead using a wine levy on members) incomparable to what I usually drink. It was a great occasion and a suitable way to mark 30 years of the club. Saturday I was hungover again!