Rupert Bear

Rupert Bear Annual 1962

In a recent visit to the inlaw's house I found myself reading and reliving again a copy of the 1962 Rupert Bear annual. I was 10 years old when I read it first and I find I still remember the stories in detail.

There are two types of people in the world and only one love Rupert Bear stories. So what has made these stories appeal so much to me?  As a clue I admit to reading only the rhyming couplets and not the verbose story line at the foot of each page.

I love the Alfred Bestall's countryside, I love the sense of wonder and mystery the plots evoke. Above all I love the childhood freedom implied in the stories: Rupert's parents are cast as loving and caring and yet he is left free to explore miles of countryside without adult intervention. I identify with him as my eye explores the depths of pictures like these I photographed from this annual:

Frontispiece, 1962 annual

"And sees a group of trees he knows"

"The rabbits too have heard a sound"

"Jock knocks the ball high in the air"

Football

What football team do I support? The closest I can get to answering this is to claim Newcastle or Man. United on behalf of avid supporters I happen to know for whom it is perfectly normal to say "we scored" or "my team". To be truthful I neither support any team of any sport nor can I quite comprehend the concept of doing so. Mind you, I have played football and even enjoyed it in between loosing concentration and hitting the ball the wrong way or becoming thoroughly bored, but I did it solely for the sake of the others.

And yet... "Football is associated with passion, emotion, excitement and dedication across Europe. References to extreme emotional experiences at football games characterised all aspects of discussions with fans – some referring to the 'pure joy' and exhilaration of being at football games. Such is the intensity of the experience that two thirds of fans have cried at football matches – mostly through joy, but occasionally because of despair."  (SIRC)

Doubtless that makes me odd (along with running barefoot), but I learnt to live with that accolade from an early age. But is it so different from me insisting that barefoot is the best way to run, yellow is my favourite colour or claiming that Bruckner's 8th is the best? Is it just that we all like to carve an identity, to try to define "me"?

Some find their identity in patriotism. I used to think that "the English are best" - as so cleverly caricatured by Flanders and Swann -

until I moved to Ireland and heard their side of the story. I still love the people of and places in England, but then I have come to love Ireland too and what could be better than to live within walking distance of forests, a lake, a  river you can swim in, and mountains?

So who am I?

Hollywood

Today's run was a repeat only this time with a camera because I wanted to try to capture the exhilaration of running along the grassy rise which is called Knockroe. My route takes me from Hollywood along part of St Kevin's Way to the south end of Knockroe which I then climb to return back to Hollywood. The total distance is getting on for 9 miles.

Lugnagroah

Golden Falls reservoir

Barretstown in the distance

Down into Hollywood woods

The ford in Hollywood

A good place for a meal

The Hollywood beginning of St Kevin's Way: a statue of the man himself on the outcrop dead-centre

I have noticed the charred tree stump before: today we have the makings of a bonfire around it which is all very strange...

Ascending Knockroe looking north, St Kevin is shining white in the sun to right of centre

I assure you that the dog does not chase sheep, but I guess they don't know that!

Over the hills and far away

It's hard to get away from St Kevin

Looking south-west from Knockroe

Hollywood in sight, and St Kevin's way below, the castle motte in middle centre

About to descend down into Hollywood again

When my children were children we used to buy them sweets here. Sadly the post office is now closed though is opened as a novelty for the Hollywood Fair

Knockroe, looking south east from the R756

  

A welcome sign of  Spring along the road from Hollywood

One of two high-voltage lines from Turlough Hill

This part of Co. Wicklow is sheep country

Blessington reservoir

Engineer

I think I was always cut out to be an engineer. You should have seen the drawings I made as a child: here is the only example I can find in the archives.

What was I designing?

I wanted to study electronics engineering on leaving PSS but my headmaster considered this was beneath me, so I took Physics instead. But I ended up in electronics. I love to find an engineering solution to a problem, and yet I have no patience for puzzles for their own sake. Jigsaws, crosswords and the sort of questions you get in an intelligence test leave me cold.  But present me with a necessity or an idea and I will run with it. On the other hand I am not so good at coming up with the initial idea, possibly because I am more of a provider than a consumer.

I suppose that many of my readers are not engineers. Possibly the first thing you think of when you savour the word "engineer" is a spanner and greasy overalls. Real engineers do use spanners and are happy to get dirty but probably the person you are thinking of is a mechanic.

Think of the Shard, the Severn bridge, Dreamliner, the iPhone - it was engineers that brought these modern marvels to mankind. Not to mention a plethora of other inventions and creations that have become part of our lives. Engineers poured blood, sweat and tears in designing them, often literally.  Consumers take the design process for granted.  The engineer often does not get the financial reward or accolade.  For similar reasons stunt-men don't get Oscars. Until something goes wrong - it is then that the engineers are routed out and have to take the blame - after all they designed it so it must be their fault.

There are many views about the under-recognition of engineers: for me it is the very disposition that results in me being an engineer that prevents me from fighting for position. A true engineer does not engineer for accolade but to meet a need and for personal satisfaction.

No man cold - back to barefoot

My posts are getting horribly boring.  It is the time of year.  Sorry.

Eventually the symptoms of the man cold abated so yesterday I did the Kings River loop (almost 10 miles) and today to Hollywood and beyond (9.8 miles according to Google Earth). Brambles are not kind to bare feet. My daughter had taken some kids on virtually the same route (not running, not barefoot!) and I intercepted them at two points - they did well to make the course!

Erk! that's me (and the dog) - captured by my own daughter

Man cold

I can legitimately blame the absence of posts for the past week on this man-cold, thankfully all but over now. The usual headaches, feverish sleeping and a nose. Today I did my first run for almost a week. The bicycle is, I think, feeling as unemployed as Marvin.

Maiden voyage

At present there is no place to fit my smart-phone (work in progress!) so no pictures or track-log yet. The maiden voyage was to the Wicklow Gap and back - actually I had cycled into Blessington earlier in the week but that did not count because I forgot to wear the helmet.

The shoes with cleats that attach to the pedals are very good - it is surprising how much extra effort you can get by lifting the pedals up although I find it tiring because, I guess, I am not used to it.  However, on arrival at the summit I allowed the bike to come to a natural stop on the small incline up to the view point and forgot to release my shoes from the pedals - so the bike and I fell over very ungracefully. You have to preempt stopping otherwise there is nothing you can do other than fall off. Thankfully no damage was done: I was more worried about the bike than myself.

It was very cold on the way back - my feet were freezing. After warming up I took the dog for her customary run, barefoot of course.  Barefoot doesn't work for cycling, though: nowhere to attach the cleats!

So nice having 18 gears: 9 on the rear axle and 2 on the crank. The table below gives the resulting gear ratios. You are not supposed to have the chain at opposite extremes - this is called cross chaining and is shown yellow in the table. So that leaves 16 gears. And some of those ratios are so close that, really, you somewhat less than 16 gears left. The ratio of the minimum to maximum gear ratio is 3.74.

But still it is a whole lot better than my previous bike (5 gears) and they change so smoothly with the Sora handlebar controls.

Trip stats:
21.43 miles
42.9 mph max (the downhill near the YH turnoff on the back road)
11.6 mph avg

Bicycle

Sorry, no pictures, but doubtless there will opportunity in subsequent posts on this subject. I was about to ride this new acquisition for the very first time when the heavens opened and all manner of sleet and hail and snow fell out. So instead I took Meg after a short run - a bit cold on the feet but I survived - and then, after a hot bath, busied myself with transferring bike computer, lights and pump from old to new bike. Obviously the new bike is a very different breed as nothing fitted easily. I then took it for a quick spin to the end of the road and back and almost died of hypothermia. Oh, and half way along the road I realised I had forgotten the helmet. It is going to take some self discipline to remember this inconvenience.

My immediate reactions: the ride is much harder than I am used to: the guy in the shop had inflated the tires to 100psi which he reckoned was good but is much harder than I am used to. The bike feels scarily insubstantial. The front derailleur is not working - doubtless not adjusted correctly. To rear derailleur is fine and it is so nice to be able to change gears so easily. The ride was hardly long enough to do justice but, I reckon I'll get to like this bike.

Next I'll have to find something for Meg to ride else she's going to be missing out...

Levitation

Descent from Moanbane

The title is eye catching even if it has sinister connotations. I am referring to dreams I have in which I am either able, by self effort, to gradually ascend off the ground and fly, or in which I am able by jumping to cover amazing distances or depths before I land in full control. To gain height I always have to "push" really hard mentally. Sometimes I can achieve amazing heights where the ground below becomes indistinct and I begin to fear for loosing my bearings or suffering hypothermia. More often I cannot get as high as I would like, and gradually the ability reduces until I am grounded for good. Most recently I was flying over a city and I wanted to get over the buildings but, try as I might, I could not quite make it. In spite of this disappointment the feeling I get is always so good, so liberating. I can sometimes see ordinary mortals on the ground and wonder what they must be thinking but generally they do not even seem to be aware of me.

According to Freud's 1953 classic, "The interpretation of dreams", dreams of flying through the air reveal subconscious thoughts of sexual desire, while dreams of failing to fly (i.e. falling) through the air reveals thoughts of...well ... eh... also sexual desire...  (quoted from here).

This evening I was discussing this with my son-in-law who confessed to having very similar dreams. He wonders if it points to an inherent ability we might have in real life which is, as yet, untapped. I, however, have tried several times to do it in real life without even a glimmer of success. Having said that I can relate the following experiences.

On a business trip I over-nighted in a motel in S Wales from which I visited Ogmore on Sea. I went for a run (before my barefoot days) along the coast to Dunraven Bay and back. The route is mostly on the cliff-top over well-cropped grass - on taking jumps down one steep grassy descent I experienced a feeling like flying - doubtless helped along by runner's high.

The descent I take from Moanbane is through a forestry area with an intense green velvet carpet of moss underfoot and shafts of bright sun slanting through branches overhead. There are places where you jump down from one mound to another, delicious feeling between the toes. Again a very similar feeling to my aerodynamic dream jumping, albeit on a smaller scale.

Why do Christians lie?

Google this subject and you'll get religious sites listing the evils of lying or those that criticise Christians as baldfaced liars because what they say is so obviously bunkum. Between these extremes is the idea that Christians by creed abhor lying yet, because of fear of man or not wanting to "let God down", exaggerate or misrepresent the facts. For example, when it comes to answers to prayer, it is not uncommon for the evidence to be skewed in favour of God, keeping quiet about all those times that a prayer was, frankly, not answered in the way expected.

As if God needs propping up.

Convince me that God does, in fact, need propping up and I will be more inclined to become apostate.

Some Christians claim to "hear God" on a very regular basis and in very mundane ways. I suspect that they get confused between the Voice of God and the voice of their inner conscience. I find I can play all manner of such games: Shall I do so-and-so? - Yes, that will be OK, and so on. Call it your alter ego if you like.

Assuming that there is a God at all, I rather think that He is a good deal more economical with words than many of would like. The Gospels portray the man Jesus speaking only what "my Father has taught me" and indicate that none of his words were wasted.

There are many passages in the NT that warn about lying, too many for comfort. I think it is rather more prevalent among Christians than they would admit.

In the film The Life of Pi Pi tells two stories. Since only he was there at the time and he is not saying any more, we cannot tell which one is the truer. But at least one of them is a lie. The proposition is whether one is more likely to be true because it appears to be more rational.

Jesus accused the Pharisees of lying. They effectively accused him of the same. Which party was true? The Pharisees' argument seemed the more rational.

In his epistles, four times the apostle Paul takes pains to tell us that he is not lying - so was lying commonplace in the church?

Rather than try to embellish our faith with lies perhaps it would do better "to enter into life lame than to have two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched."

Updated pages

Not being able to think about what new thing to write about, I have spent a few minutes updating some of my pages.  Sorry, folks, but due to pressure of work and lack of muse that'll have to do for today.

Not much happening

It's not that nothing much is happening, indeed quite the reverse and that is why I have not blogged for some while. Besides, what is there to blog about?

N81 barefoot

Someone else was walking the dog so I went a route including a stretch of the N81 thus not dog friendly. A lot of road. It felt like about 13 miles, I was getting really tired on the last couple of miles. It actually clocked up on Google Earth as only 8.7 miles. Perhaps I am becoming a wimp!

Saturday

A typical Saturday with Ali still away.  I lay in bed enjoying being warm and not having to get up too early. Usual cereal and mug of tea to jump-start my body into action. At 0900 prompt I join my son-in-law removing hardcore from the tunnel. You may ask why was there hardcore in the tunnel but this is too public a place to explain. Lunchtime thankfully eventually relieves us. After lunch I do some quick summary research on the subject of bicycles. You may ask why bicycles? Well, I am going to buy one. I have never purchased a new bike for myself before and did not anticipate that it would be so difficult. Last Saturday I checked out a bike shop in Newbridge; during the week I have been doing the inevitable internet research.  So today I biked into Blessington (7 miles) to check out the new bike shop there. The proprietor Tom gave me a lot of his time and pretty much sold me a Trek 1.2.

Then back again, change from bike gear to running gear and take the dog for a 5 mile run.

Back again to put the final coat of emulsion on our bedroom wall where the damp got in, only to find that the paint is bad - I'll have to buy some more. So I took a bath instead.

Finally to the kitchen. I have had plans for a lump of what looked like cheese that has been lurking in the fridge since Ali left. You should never keep cheese in the fridge. You should never wrap cheese: it needs to breathe. Mr Cave hmmmmm! taught me that much. This lump was very well wrapped and in the fridge. On releasing it from its prison behold it was a strange grey colour.

Cheese?

After removing a 3mm layer all round it resumed the normal yellow colour and became the major ingredient for dinner. Regrettably not as good as my mum cooked it.  Slice potatoes, par boil, fry in butter and olive oil (my mum would have used lard), grate cheese over and grill.

Cheese on saute potatoes

Followed by some apple pie and another large red mug of tea.  If I die from cheese poisoning - well there will be no more antonalyptic.  BTW have all my readers discovered yet why I chose that name?

Newbridge ride

I wanted to check out new bicycles so I hitched a lift to Newbridge with Jon and Sarah and returned by bike (no I did not buy one yet). I took the opportunity to visit some haunts on the way back, but only had my hTC so the pictures are not very good quality. My hTC Desire did record the following track, however. The locations include some of those mentioned in my post Enchanted.

Track created by Oruxmaps, viewed in Google Earth

Location A: Rosetown Rath

Having mentioned this enchanted place in a previous post I thought I would check it out, so I climbed into the rath itself. It is probably private property but I figured the owner might not mind. There is a track leading into it which just ends abruptly (top photo) otherwise it is just covered in dense vegetation - not much to see.

Location B: Carnalways Cross

This is my son's 5-way (or 6-way) junction, see his comment.  The gate into the estate was open so I ventured a short way in to take the next picture. I could just see the big house but it is hard to locate in the picture.  And the next picture is the church.

Harristown House is just left of the trees

Location C: Railway bridge over Liffey

I've been meaning to check this one out for some while. On Google Earth it was clear that a bridge still exists but I was not ready for such a substantial stone bridge in such good repair! The line apparently ran from Naas to Tullow and the track was taken up 1962 - not so very long ago! So sad that the track has not been converted to a trail or, even better, a bicycle track.

Naas - Tullow railway crossing over Liffey

The apertures are at an angle - not 90 degrees

Room for a single track only

Smaller bridge just north of the river

Extract of 25" map courtesy OSI
(dated around the turn of the century)

Location D: Stoneybrook

Stoneybrook church

Inside the church

The setting - on a mound?

Stoneybrook cottage

Location E: By the Liffey

The road here runs along what is probably a terminal moraine - there was a sand pit on the left: when it was filled in they filled in this ruined cottage too. The river runs some fifty feet below on the right.

The river Liffey is below and out of sight

The covered cottage and my trusty steed

And so, home again and rather cold  - so a hot bath and a hot mug of tea.

Statistics: 

Bike computer

14.52 miles, 27mph max, 12.1 mph avg
1:12:15

Oruxmaps track
273m max height
16.3 miles (some was walking / running)
01:59 duration
9.8mph avg (moving)