Two Weddings

Medieval themed wedding involved dressing up (I so dont need to wear tights in public). Fortunately eBay came to mine and many other peoples rescue. An open top bus collected us from Torquay and took an hour and a half to do the 15 miles to Haldon Belvedere.


Fortunately the medieval theme wasnt carried through to blood, filth and smells, or nasty, brutish, and short, common epithets about medieval life, but was pleasant and champagne filled.




The day after was a more conventional affair involving suits and ties but was equally wonderful. Having kidded the groom about the amount of practice he has had at weddings, I nearly got sent home to smarten up a little.

Four lovely friends tying the knot in civil ceremonies, and lots of enquiries about ourselves. Seems unlikely given the current state of affairs. Why would the ever lovely M want to marry a floating depressive confidence-free idiot? Especially as I seem to keep upsetting her: today she took the train to Dawlish Warren to collect the car, despite protests that our friends had promised to come round this morning to give us a lift back to pick it up, but because of my nagging, she went anyway. Said friends arrived shortly after she left.

Lurgy

"I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment
for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy it
was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an
unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently
study diseases, generally. I forget which was the first distemper I
plunged into - some fearful, devastating scourge, I know - and, before I
had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms," it was borne in
upon me that I had fairly got it.

I sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of
despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever - read
the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for
months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned up St.
Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get
interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so
started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening
for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another
fortnight. Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a
modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years.
Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have
been born with. I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six
letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was
housemaid's knee...."

And thanks to the internet:

Diseases common in South America
(yes) = symptom present
Hepatitis A: Symptoms

Early symptoms of hepatitis A infection can be mistaken for influenza, but some sufferers, especially children, exhibit no symptoms at all. Symptoms typically appear 2 to 6 weeks, (the incubation period ), after the initial infection.

Symptoms can return over the following 6-9 months which include:

* Fatigue (yes)
* Fever (no)
* Abdominal pain (yes)
* Nausea (yes)
* Diarrhea (yes)
* Appetite loss (yes)
* Depression (yes)
* Jaundice, a yellowing of the skin or whites of the eyes (Not yet, still checking)
* Sharp pains in the right-upper quadrant of the abdomen (Something evil happening in my shoulder)
* Weight loss (none to lose)
* Itching (like you wouldnt believe, mosquito bites and elsewhere)


Malaria: Symptoms

flu-like illness with fever (No temperature)
chills, (No)
muscle aches (yes)
headache (yes)
nausea (yes)
vomiting (yes)
cough (yes)
diarrhea (yes)
Cycles of chills, fever, and sweating that repeat every one, two, or three days
are typical. There can sometimes be vomiting, diarrhea, coughing (uh huh), and yellowing (jaundice) (Not yet).

Swine Flu: symptoms

* sudden fever, (No)
* sudden cough. (No)

Other symptoms may include:

* headache, (yes)
* tiredness, (yes)
* chills, (No)
* aching muscles (yes)
* limb or joint pain (No)
* diarrhoea or stomach upset (yes)
* sore throat (yes)
* runny nose (yes)
* sneezing (yes)
* loss of appetite (yes)

Man Flu: symptoms

All of the above.

Perhaps I'll get a blood test.

[Credits: Wikipedia, NHS etc Jerome K Jerome]

Geo-politician

Radio: "... and the United Nations have announced new sanctions against North Korea after yesterday's nuclear test"


M: "They're terrible, those North Koreans"

Me: "Not like you to express such a strong opinion about such an obscure and faraway country, my love".

M: "I learnt all about it in "Team America"".

Job

Invited to an Institute lunch at the last minute last Friday, which may have been a test (it was how I imagine joining the masons might be like: weird rituals were on show). I hope I did OK with the chat and networking. I even sat next to someone who had been to Machu Picchu, which is serendipity. Job application written, but not submitted yet.
If I dont get it, I still have a pay rise, and I can still sabotage a new boss (ahem), as I will do the informal chat and narrowly avoided being on the interview panel, which really wouldn't have been right.

Bus Shelter Rubbish

There was a picture in the Guardian, last Saturday, of a bus shelter populated entirely with rubbish, and four people eating (class!). The bus shelter was awash with rubbish, almost entirely from Subway. Rich sent me the link, and here it is in all it's glory. Cardiff Bus Shelter (although one of the less nasty ones in this gallery)
Not only does Subway stink, but it is also taking over (eg four outlets in Union Street/Fleet Street, Torquay, the one mile of linear shopping in Torquay).
Their food containers litter the walk into town where I live as well, as their spotty teenage customers drop the cartons and wrappers on the street, not even expecting someone else (eg me) to pick them up, but some hardworking litter fairy to get them, to put their thoughtlessly discarded shit into landfill rather than blowing around town and disappearing into the litter ether. A teenage education campaign, led by Subway, is long overdue.
Subway have got a lot to answer for. Time to pay, Subway

Now it has been revealed that a number of MPs have been on the take (how do you not notice your mortgage has ended when you are claiming for it?), the ridiculous parliamentary system has been revealed for the sham it is (all power to the executive, with no debate in parliament, the power of the "whips", an unwillingness to change and pay these people a decent salary (although, if I had a moat, I doubt whether I would know what a salary was)). Oh wow, I could be making a BNP statement. How well are the Nazis going to do out of this?
The government have been subverted for years by the establishment, which is why well meaning people that become MPs change into money-grabbing supporters of authoritarian measures such as ID cards and nasty "anti-terrorist" and "benefit fraud" legislation and stand by while "greed is good" becomes the norm. Twelve years of a so-called socialist government. Where is the "socialism"? Bankers, chief executives, are all in the same boat. Take, take, take. The rest of us can swing. I saw my MP in the pub today, he's alright, and I am sure most of them are.
It's a media lead campaign which makes me queasy, but the whole establishment stinks.
Now come the consequences. Opinion polls show support for the ignorant, bigotted, fools at UKIP and the Nazi thugs of the BNP is up. We are in for a turbulent time. Fascism is a lesson we should have learnt 60 years ago is an evil we dont need, but I am afraid that is what we can expect. It never really went away in this country, as a political model (nor in many other countries (look at Italy) There must be a better alternative. Expect to get beaten up by a thug next door. Fuck, bollox, shit.

Coca

On the Inca Trail, coca leaves are offered at every opportunity. You can buy them from the market at the bus drop off, you can get them from farm-side stalls on the first day of the walk. They are offered up at breakfast, coffee (coffee thick enough to pave a road), lunch and supper to dip in hot water, enough to nick supplies to carry up the mountain to stick between lip and gum. The plants are cultivated in shady clearings in the forest and look a bit like pruned bay trees. Me, I helped myself, and spat the stuff out when it got too disgusting. I am not sure what good it does, but it is meant to help with the altitude (there really is an oxygen shortage up at 3 miles high: walk/climb ten metres, take a 2 minute breather) and the sheer hard work of employing porters to carry your rucksack. Whatever your budget.
Naturally, I brought none back to the UK as that would doubtless have been illegal, but I do wonder why I have felt slightly floaty for the last 2 weeks.
When refined, the leaves provide a significant income for certain people in Colombia and Guiana etc, who often re-invest that money to the benefit of local people (unlike their venal, corrupt US-Sponsored governments, especially Colombia), but it does attract the attention of the US government, who rather than strafe and bomb their own citizens (the users of the end product), prefers to poison and kill poverty stricken farmers in the Andes. So much harder to sort their own problems out at home. No wonder most South American governments are turning on the US: if they were ever listening to their own people, now's the time, and screw the esqualidos.

Allotment (Revisited)

While I was away in South America, I was promised maintenance at the allotment by M,

and lo, it was so. (Hushed tones from the allotment secretary: "is that your new girlfriend?" "err of 10 years, yes, she just hasn't been here much"). Constant attention has meant the weeds are under control, and after 18 months, things seem more positive. The broadbeans

and potatoes have flourished out of nowhere, and I have since added maize (home reared), peas, beans, onions and lettuce (from the nursery: I dont have a green house, so a little commercial assistance was necessary). I think I shall need some netting for the lettuce and onions, and some sticks etc. I find peace here, time to reflect and cope with the awfulness of work.
The raspberries, like last year, are unstoppable. Jam, anybody?

Rough and Bluff

Back from a month off work, and I am having severe problems with motivation and pointlessness. Approaching a major depression, really, and I should know, as I have been there before: a sense of imminent doom and being "found out", too long in one place, trouble sleeping and getting out of bed. I don't say that lightly. Six months without a manager or senior colleague to help out, no official steer about whether I should take charge of my small team; sarky comments from the others about my uncertain status; one or two meetings with the Asst Director to discuss replacements, which then seem to fade away as the weeks go by. "Would you like to be on the interview panel?" "Er well I might like the job myself?" "Oh. Perhaps not then" which hardly bodes well for getting the manager's job, or gives me confidence.
I'm floundering about wondering what the hell is the point, when I have two meetings in one day which point me in the right direction: a meet with an old colleague who gives me confidence in myself, and gives me several pointers to where inspiration might lie (eg plagiarising stuff that other people elsewhere have already put on the internet about the future of the third Local Transport Plan, which, theoretically I am now in charge of, in the absence of anyone else. Take the words XXXXXshire Council out and insert the name of my employer, for a start) and confidence in my young colleague who is already working on the same lines, with a new steer from me.
The second meeting involved the Highways Department, and apart from failing to find some information from the previous minutes, which can be easily rectified, I am suddenly charged with buying some land and spending several millions of your english pounds, and finding some funding for other bits of stuff, which I am now nominated as the person who gets the money: a task for which, if I am not eminently suited, at least I have done before and, who knows, may do again. After all, it just takes emails, nagging, and a sense of who to ask. Oh. And Bluffing. Did I mention that? All management is based on bluffing. As long as you can come up with the goods occasionally, all else is forgiven as long as you can bluff. It takes a keen, spiteful bastard to see through that and actually put you on the spot. These people are mercifully few on the ground. And, in western society, they are not actually allowed to kill you for bluffing, or even have you fired. Phew

Venezuelan Wildlife (and elsewhere)

No condors, no pumas (unlike the woman near Machu Picchu who claimed she'd seen 2 condors and a puma but hadnt taken a photo ("But she's a liar. and I'm not sure about you" to misquote the lovely Kirsty MacColl))but we saw one of these,

and this during a power cut in Puerto Ayacucho

On the Orinoco, there were a few of these, who stood, sentinel-like, on their own rocks.

There were also butterflies on the river, and I caught this in flight (it's a bit dark, sorry)
In Caracas, the squiggles are black

At Machu Picchu there was this funny looking rabbit (apparently a chinchilla)

And a Pushmepullyou.
The little one heard me say "mmm Alpaca sweater" and ran away

Orinoco

Returning from the coast, to Caracas, Justin hastily arranged flights to Puerto Ayacucho, the only town in Amazonas state. 184000 sq kms of rainforest and mountains, with er 100kms of road, leading only to Puerto Ayacucho and just beyond. 100000 people, of whom 80000 live in the town, leaving the rest to the indigenous people, whose transport is only by boat (or if on foot, half a day's walk from their village, allowing them to return safely before nightfall). Their languages are now official languages of the state, although I suspect most of them prefer to be left alone by the outside world. And in fact, outsiders need a permit to be there.
We stayed amongst the Piaroa people. A few speak Spanish, and it is these people that interface with the outside world, and conduct the few tourists into the interior. The others just come to look and smile.
First we spent an afternoon in Colombia, across the river Orinoco, a village entirely isolated from the rest of Colombia, but Colombia nonetheless,

across the river, 1000 miles from the sea

The entire village seems to be built directly onto bare volcanic rock: no wonder the rainforest is so vulnerable.

Our initial guide, having taken our money, and transported us in his Landcruiser, complete with fuel, outboard, food and other supplies, left us to the devices of El Capitain who sped the two of us upriver for 150 miles or more up the Orinoco to the Rio Autana.We spent the night in hammocks, with no light as the police downriver cream off the fuel for their own benefit, leaving the generator non-functioning, (no more corrupt than our own country really, although more personal)
under the gaze of the sacred mountain, or tree of life, Cerros Autanas
750 metres straight up
and surrounded by rainforest.

Amazing that people can exist in this environment and yet not alter the landscape in the slightest. Their only concessions to "modernity" are plastic containers, machetes, boats/outboards/diesel, the occasional generator, the occasional government built house. And Solar panels (and the odd satellite dish)
Upriver are said to be people that dont have any of the above. And there is nothing upriver to pollute it: no factories, no farms. (I wouldnt drink the water, mind.

After various diversions, we found a waterside family who allowed us the use of their shack to string our hammocks and cook food, before the generator was switched off at 8.15. Yet another sleepless night. This bastard, or one of it's friends, flew at the side of my head in the dark and held on. Egad! Outside, on the river, we could hear the boats speed by in the pitch black, making for home by instinct alone.
Bizarrely, at the airport on the way back, a man spotted my watch (Mondaine, Swiss Railways) and valued it at more than I thought (thanks, hombre!)

Camino Inka to Machu Picchu

First you fly to Cuzco in Peru, and maybe, like us, spend the night in a bar, bonding, dad and son, before retiring to the airport to crash on the floor for 3 hours before the first flight in the morning

over the snowcapped Andes


Those that want to make the effort go to Km 82
or 88 on the Cuzco-Machu Picchu railway and then hike the trail 40kms over the mountains, via the Gate of the Sun (Intipunku).
(Looking back from Machu Picchu, and preceded by the Steps of OhMyGodU: 20 metres, vertical)
Most people take the train and bus and get dropped off at the entrance, (but not us idiots). The Royal Trail is now the railway (built 1928, 3ft gauge) which follows the Urubamba River on its way to the Amazon:apparently the Emperor forced ordinary folk over the top.
The trail ascends about 300metres up a side valley to the first campsite over about 15kms. Day 2 is the killer, ascending a mile (A MILE STRAIGHT UP)to Dead Woman´s Pass (Three miles high: where is the air?)and then down a half mile (to the Campsite With No Beer). Myself and the 2 Merkin girls, paid for a porter. I think I would have died, carrying my own stuff, to be honest. The porters run up the mountain (and some run back home after). They have done it all their lives, and despite obvious inefficiencies (like not leaving some of the stuff up there (like tents), it keeps a lot of mountain people in work. "Porter!" and you get out of the way, and admire their calves as they pass, carrying 25kgs (or more, which was the weight of my suitcase coming home, carrying the boys excess books, and 25kgs is no joke).
My new friend Fitz and I celebrated 4000M with a beer and a ciggie


which was a source of amusement/disgust with passing trekkers, before we reached the summit to applause.

The third day was unremitting drudgery in cloud

to Campsite 3 which has a bar and a theft problem (apparently), but nobody cared by then. Fitz and I picked up some tips from the porters and were first at the campsite after the porters. I still had no luggage, although the American girls carried their own stuff. I can proudly say I was the last to pay for a porter. We spent the evening drinking too much Cusqueña beer with our fellow sufferers from Peru. I received inspirational comments from fellow travellers about doing the trail with my son.

Justin has done it before and had no complaints about the workload.It was certainly a pleasure to complete the trail with him, and to learn things from him that I hadnt known: he can sink a beer, he can open a bottle of beer with a tee shirt, he can chat with a Spanish speaker far more easily than he speaks to me.
And we saw the Southern Cross.
On the fourth day we reached Machu Picchu

and spent a happy if exhausting morning treading the ruins. Strange to think that this city lasted only only 100 years before it's abandonment and loss (known only to local farmers) and rediscovered in the early 20th century (although there were earlier northern explorers in the 19th century) by Hiram Bingham, who made up names for all the Inca sites