Dalriada Dreaming
Sep. 21st, 2008 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3I think I really needed this weekend...
The toothache took more out of me last week than I realised, and probably most of that was the lack of sleep. I was getting up every couple of hours, and after 4 or 5 days of that I really was starting to feel like a wreck. Even after the toothache lifted on Wednesday, I wasn't getting to sleep much before 1 a.m. I didn't get to the dentist on Friday - some idiot decided to leak fuel oil all over the Motorway, and it was closed for almost all of Friday morning. I've rearranged for Thursday.
Anyway, unblinkered and I headed out West on Friday night, and got to the cottage about 8.00. Since then I've been catching up on lost sleep, having some very weird dreams, and eating well. We countered that a little with a bike ride to Cairnbann. Which would have been much healthier if I hadn't stopped there for lunch, but there you go. We also did a (very) little walking last night, taking Merlin down to the Taynish reserve, and over to Tayvallich, two lovely spots. I wish the weather had been a bit better this summer when we were up, but maybe I'll get the chance to do the reserve walk this Autumn. We'll see.
I made the mistake of starting Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash". I haven't read it since it came out, despite having read Quicksilver and the Baroque Cycle a few times over, and I'd forgotten what an immersive read it is. I remember hearing somewhere that the outline was written for a comic book, and it really does open out like that. A very strange book to be reading by the canal bank in the countryside, but great fun.
It's time to get my arse in gear for the trip back to Glasgow. I want to take the bikes back down, so that means digging out the bike rack and fixing it to Scooby. Although I've driven thousands of miles with up to three mountain bikes carried that way, I still get nervous about it, so I'll leave early tonight and try to get home in the light.
As usual, I don't want to leave, but, as usual, I don't have a lot of choice.
The toothache took more out of me last week than I realised, and probably most of that was the lack of sleep. I was getting up every couple of hours, and after 4 or 5 days of that I really was starting to feel like a wreck. Even after the toothache lifted on Wednesday, I wasn't getting to sleep much before 1 a.m. I didn't get to the dentist on Friday - some idiot decided to leak fuel oil all over the Motorway, and it was closed for almost all of Friday morning. I've rearranged for Thursday.
Anyway, unblinkered and I headed out West on Friday night, and got to the cottage about 8.00. Since then I've been catching up on lost sleep, having some very weird dreams, and eating well. We countered that a little with a bike ride to Cairnbann. Which would have been much healthier if I hadn't stopped there for lunch, but there you go. We also did a (very) little walking last night, taking Merlin down to the Taynish reserve, and over to Tayvallich, two lovely spots. I wish the weather had been a bit better this summer when we were up, but maybe I'll get the chance to do the reserve walk this Autumn. We'll see.
I made the mistake of starting Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash". I haven't read it since it came out, despite having read Quicksilver and the Baroque Cycle a few times over, and I'd forgotten what an immersive read it is. I remember hearing somewhere that the outline was written for a comic book, and it really does open out like that. A very strange book to be reading by the canal bank in the countryside, but great fun.
It's time to get my arse in gear for the trip back to Glasgow. I want to take the bikes back down, so that means digging out the bike rack and fixing it to Scooby. Although I've driven thousands of miles with up to three mountain bikes carried that way, I still get nervous about it, so I'll leave early tonight and try to get home in the light.
As usual, I don't want to leave, but, as usual, I don't have a lot of choice.
