There's Sense in them there Hills

Last Sunday, our Scottish summer hit the highlights and I got fried – I was sitting in the woods for God’s sake! There I was, relaxing on picnic benches in dappled shade, with flashes of direct sunshine on my arms and face. Oh I was hot stuff all right; hot for three days, with a crispy nose and forehead. My arms were so swollen that the blood supply to m hands was restricted. I thought I was dying and almost took the day off work on Monday. What a daft old bat…and after me writing that scathing poem about Glaswegians diving into sunburn whenever the sun pokes its head at us.

Look how sensible Tilly was:

This is her showing off my dream house, that wonderful arched doorway in a tree trunk!

And here we have Picnic-Mama with everything you could possibly want on a low carb, vegetatian diet! F.A.B.

Picnics in woods by a loch, where big white carbs are banned, so that meant no wine too - Ooh, the ring of bright water surrounded us with health and sensibility.

A NEW DAY

First thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning is check the time and work out what I'm supposed to be doing, then I switch on the laptop. So, how does the day escape? Is sucked into my evil clutches to be dawdled and frittered away while my mind flits across the net, forgetting that time is of the essence?

I confess – I am a time-waster. I need rules. The year has half-gone; last time looked it was spring.

Tonight is my first appointment with the health and fitness trainer. The doctor referred me in order to regain any future that might be allotted to me. There will be rules and regulations there.

I need to take a ruler and draw a margin down the side of my life, insert some kind of time-table, measure action against inaction – do the accounts before they become due because this inspector isn’t collecting tax!

Good health has followed me all the days of my life, so far, but if I don’t pay attention it might desert me for another – maybe it’ll have an affair with the woman across the road… God knows she needs it.

I confess; I have been careless and uncaring, presumptuous of time but now the borderline is racing towards me. Where are my manners? I should welcome a new world order and set the table with a freshly-embroidered cloth, and, plant a menu in the centrepiece to catch my wandering eye.

Much later…

Well, my fears were justified; two readings of high blood pressure put a stop to the proceedings until I see my doctor to discover if it’s a fluke or a problem. Am I late? Too late for a very important date? Put your scythe away Reaper, I’ll be battering down the door of the health centre in the morning. I’ll be back.

IT'S JUNE - AT LAST!

Maria MacKee wildly sings Show me Heaven…leave me breathless, in my ear and the wind blasts me from across the loch. I marched here – honest I did, but I stopped at MacDonalds on the way for coffee and a small chicken mayo sandwich.

Someone was sitting on my bench so I had to take another further back, so the view is not so nice…except that a man has just stripped off in front of me and gone swimming. He stopped to rub Vaseline under his arms and on his inner thighs. Oh that water will be cold; the sun’s hot rays barely touch us here.

See what I mean? That is a grey outlook. Now the midges are crowding me and Springsteen is crooning Secret Garden. Mmmm. As my brave swimmer went into the water Alexandra Burke sang her Hallelujah. There is no sun, just grey clouds and a light wind – a fine day for swimming in a Scottish loch, I don’t think.

I can see his arms curving out of the water way over the other side; this is the beginning of the loch, just to the left of where the river Leven enters. My lovely iPod Touch is loving being switched to music today, as opposed to books – that helped me march. I swung my old and lazy self a quarter of a mile to get here to completely fabulous sounds…and now it’s While my Guitar Gently Weeps.

My bench became free and I flew up the steps to sit on my little promontory to face my mountain with The Sundays wonderful Static and Silence in my ears. The swimmer is trawling around the bay and sometimes across to the wooden poles (don’t know what you call them). That’s some work-out.

Oh I’ve let my hair down – can’t remember the last time I did that, probably never, not at this length. It’s too heavy for the wind to lift and just lies down my back. Bruce is belting out, These are better days. It is so fabulous to be sitting here feeling the wind and sun on my face with the loch at my feet. The water doesn’t make the sound of waves lapping at a shore; it’s more like a river running. I need to get out more.