Middle England

Next up on the Frank Turner CD … “I was born in middle England and not in Nashville, Tennessee, and the only person in this band is me”. I know how he feels. He's a discrepancy, something which came about but doesn't quite fit the accepted norm. I'm middle class. It's something I feel down in my gut, although, if you're only considering parents, their vocations and level of qualifications and income, then yes, there's a working class background there somewhere. Except my parents on paper were different beings to the real folk who were really middle class in outlook in a way which again is hard to put on paper. I think they valued education, and in some way appearances. They didn't want to be looked down on. Actually, I'm not sure about education, because they were surprised by both me and my sister's ambitions to go a step further than A level. It wasn't by that memory something they actively encouraged, they were surprised. Hmm.

It does summon up the question where do I fit, where does the 44 year old nomad who has quit her job and normal life fit in? Is there a category for me, I wonder?

Post Pyrenees I have been busy. Had a hectic two and a half days turnaround to get my shit together for the next skirmish with travel. With hindsight, maybe it wasn't enough of a turnaround, it certainly felt like a sprint effort. The Monday appeared to be spent on faff, paperwork, things which somehow still need to be done even in a life of no plans and ultimate flexibility, because Monday afternoon I was walking with friends from Edale, where we went up Grindbrook in the pouring rain, walking on and on and on in the effort to find a safe crossing point. Tuesday I was up early to take the road bike into Alf Jones in Wrexham where it was due it's six week service. Six weeks, eh? I have done a few miles … and then Wednesday was financial adviser day (yeay, I am solvent) followed by a rapid exit up to Scotland. Simples.

Scotland was up to Dalraddy, a holiday park near to Aviemore where my friends Lilian and Alan have a static caravan. There are showers and a laundry and all in all it's a gentle start. Alan, bless that man for his creativity, foresight, his knowledge of the area, his versatility and his determination to “get things done” had many plans, all of which could change at a moment's notice. I'm in safe hands with A & L, and we're currently planning next year's holiday in the Alps …

Anyway, it was superb. Day one we got on the road bikes and pedalled from Dalraddy up to the Cairngorn ski station. It was a fab road ride up there, followed by an immense descent, although somehow neither felt anything like the steepness or duration of France where I'd done worse on the MTB which was good because it was low effort on the whole. Ride home included a cafe stop for cake and coffee. Near obligatory on the road bike I'd say. Day two was a “rest day” when we walked 20K, although on the flat. Average kilometre speeds being 11 minute to 14 minute. Alan was no so happy with mine and Lilian's take on a gentle amble. Third day was a wash out. No other way to describe it. It should have been a two Munro bagging day but was kind of a car journey followed by some sea cliff bouldering / big boots soloing. And all was well. Fourth and final day saw us at Wolftrax giving the mountain bikes some exercise. We like to keep moving ...