worries

My sister,my sister, says she has her hairdresser on speed dial. This worries me immensely.

The important thing is to maintain altitude

I am no longer your pilot,
  he should have said
I'll be leaving you now,

Its what we pilots do.

You'll agree we've gained a lot of altitude
    while I've been at the controls, and
your new pilot, when he arrives,
  will know your destination.

Moulding children while they are young

Waiting outside a shop while Katja queued for coffees, and see a man and small child walking towards me along the pavement The child is holding something cradled in his two hands reaching awkwardly up for his father to see, but low enough so that he can inspect it at the same time.
Father- its a fuckin shame.
The boy makes a mhmhmhm sort of noise, half way between a yes and a whimper.
Father- its a fuckin shame son, its a real fuckin shame so it is.
The boy continues to peer at the object in his hands as they walk and looks up, startled, when his father stops at a woman waiting outside the newsagents. She asks the boy, who is staring again at whatever he is holding - what's that there? and he replies without hesitation- its a fuckin shame.
She slaps him across the face with a huge backhand and he staggers back into the plate glass window of the newsagent which echoes with a tremendous crang. She screeches- dinner use that language in front of yer fither.
The boy steps forward off the still vibrating window and appears not to have noticed either the shout or the blow that had hurled him backwards, and asks his mother -do you think he can fix it?

Julie is a year older

We went to celebrate (in advance) Julie's, er, round, birthday.
Uwe had hired a bunkhouse in ‘Jenny’s bothy’ in Corgarff , Strathdon in Cairngorm National Park, "three quarters of a mile along a rough track, with nearby river, scots pine and open rolling hills... close to .. Balmoral and Royal Deeside." it says here.
There were 14 there to help celebrate, 8 in tents in the garden.
We'd met in Braemar "at the duckpond" with Joyce's usual careful organisation. There the plans began to unravel, because while the initial idea of climbing Morrone (Morven) behind Braemar seemed the perfect way to escape the city, once the city had been escaped the bikers cafe and its venison burgers seemed more attractive way to start, and then the thought of a cold beer was irresistible, so we headed for the bothy.
It was a perfect spot - at least it was in late May before the midge season. I'm not sure I'd enjoy it so much in August. We strolled up the nearest hill, avoiding baby grouse and frogs, and lay admiring the surrounding hills scarred from the heather burning and looking like illustrations from a dermatology text.
We cooked inside and out - Uwe chef of the barbecue, and sat round the campfire (lit by mark who had learned how to reflect the sun's rays using an Ordnance Survey map onto a small pile of Ray Mears hair trimmings) until well after dark. Who said Scotland's weather was crap?
Katja and I had to work Monday, so headed off to conquer Morven on the way home. More of a gentle stroll than a climb, with great views of the Don snaking off into the west.

Loch Ard

We went off aimlessly on Saturday and ended up walking in Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, about 40 minutes away near Aberfoyle. The bluebells were still in full swing there (nearer town they've finished) and the broom was in full flower. The forest itself was a carpet of moss; Katja buried her hands almost half way to the elbow before she found harder ground. A couple of miles further on we found a canoe (and kayak, quad bike, sail boat, mountain bike...) place and rented a canoe for the last hour before they closed, and paddled round Loch Ard. With the nearby hills covered in fresh green trees and Ben Lomond glowering darkly in the background it felt like we'd escaped on holiday.