Friday, February 15, 2013

I dreamt of my uncle last night.

He called me and was scared and didn't know where he was. I figured out which hospital he was at from the background noises, and as I got there he was just sneaking out (in a red hoodie).

I could tell he didn't recognise me but I gave him such a hug anyway, even as I did so I was thinking this must be a dream because I knew he was gone. Then I took his hand and started walking him home, and was talking about all the things we would do, and how I would take care of him, and then I noticed my hand was empty and he was gone.

And I thought it was better this way, that I was glad he had gone so quickly, but that a little bit of him was still alive in me.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Glasgow

To set some context, I was not expecting much out of Glasgow. Although it's the biggest city in Scotland, it's strictly an industrial heritage; the cultural heritage is in Edinburgh. If I can draw a comparison, Edinburgh is to San Francisco as Glasgow is to Los Angeles.

I never actually wanted to go to Glasgow, but I had a business meeting in Penrith on Friday, and had an empty weekend, so I looked at the map, shrugged my shoulders, and gave a half-hearted "what the hell, let's go to Glasgow."

I knew I booked a cheap hotel, but I still wasn't prepared. For starters, it was on the ground floor but to access it you had to go down one flight of stairs and then up another! The bathroom was bright pink, the room overlooked a busy street, and the bed was so lumpy my back still hasn't recovered. But after a certain point it stops being annoying and becomes funny, and this was hilarious. So now if you look at TripAdvisor you'll see a steady stream of one-star reviews interrupted by my 4-star review labelled 'quirky and fabulous!'

Unfortunately that was my only good review for Glasgow. The Kelvingrove museum was in a fantastic building but it was just a sprawl with no rhyme or reason--one exhibit compared animal adaptions with human tools, such as walrus tusks and swords. You just had to shake your head.

I took a tour of the University of Glasgow, established in 1451, but the campus was only 100 years old. The Glasgow cathedral was authentically medieval, but the Victoria pollution had turned the sandstone black and so it was quite disheartening, inside and out.

I was also not impressed with Glasgow's patron saint, St Mungo, who is known for four miracles: The bird that never flew, the tree that never grew, the bell that never rang, the fish that never swam (which almost rhymes, in that it doesn't rhyme at all.)

From Wikipedia:
The Bird — Mungo restored life to the pet robin of Saint Serf, which had been killed by some of his classmates, hoping to blame him for its death.

The Tree — Mungo had been left in charge of a fire in Saint Serf's monastery. He fell asleep and the fire went out. Taking branches from a tree, he restarted the fire.

The Bell — the bell is thought to have been brought by Mungo from Rome. It was said to have been used in services and to mourn the deceased.

The Fish — refers to the story about Queen Languoreth of Strathclyde who was suspected of infidelity by her husband. King Riderch demanded to see her ring, which he claimed she had given to her lover. In reality the King had thrown it into the River Clyde. Faced with execution she appealed for help to Mungo, who ordered a messenger to catch a fish in the river. On opening the fish, the ring was miraculously found inside, which allowed the Queen to clear her name.

And finally, I walked around the city centre which appears to be one giant shopping centre. Worse, most of the shops were chains--it was very difficult to find any independents! So all in all, I thought Glasgow was better than expected, but only because I had no expectations.

That said, there are still many places around the north of England I'd like to check out, and I'm planning to spend every other weekend up there. The Yorkshire dales, the lake district, and the Hebrides should be fantastic in spring. Dublin, Belfast, and the Isle of Man are a short ferry-ride away. Manchester and York are worth another visit. I still haven't seen Hadrians wall and I'd like to visit Blackpool.

I may try skiing again--it's been 20 years since the last time, and the pain and humiliation I felt then has faded a little.

Hell weekend

The weekend after next is going to be insane. As I've been working in north England, and was going stir crazy trapped in hotels (primarily because of my irrational avoidance of taxis--is there a word for cab-phobia?) I brought my car with me. However, because I hate to drive, I take the train home. That works great during the week but on the weekends my options are limited, so I lump everything that requires a car into one weekend, and then drive my car home.

So weekend after next I'm driving Thursday night (180 miles), Friday I have to do security at my synagogue (40 miles round-trip), Saturday I'm visiting my friend in the Cotswolds (63 miles), then Sunday I have to go back to Maidenhead* (63 miles). Monday morning I have to drive to Thornbury (97 miles) for a business meeting before driving back to Runcorn (155 miles). That's 600 miles in 4 days!

What's worse is that my business meeting on Monday is literally 10 minutes from where I'm staying on Sunday in the Cotswolds! However, I've been invited to discuss my 'Jewish journey' for a potential presentation at Limmud, a Jewish conference in May. While I don't think my journey is that interesting or unusual, there are several other people participating and I asked them to reschedule to this weekend specifically when I'd have my car, so I'd feel guilty pulling out now.

I could also cancel my business meeting on Monday, and just do a conference call, but when they asked me if I wanted a tour of a nuclear plant, of course I said "yes!!" and so they've arranged access for me, and I'd feel quite bad cancelling that.

So in the end, the person who hates driving, is tired of travelling, and just wants to spend some quiet time at home is going to spend 10 hours on the road and only be home one day before heading back up north. Insane.