Another competition another quid
Those of you who are champing at the bit for my next blog about archery will have to wait no longer. ;)
The Scottish Clout Championships took place at Culzean Castle and me and my mediocre talent headed west, along with the nation's top junior longbow archer (Connor), a packed lunch, a Doug Anderson and a Sheriff.
It was another mixed bag for me, I'm afraid. After notching the first clout of the competition and enduring old traditionalists dribbling over my lovely red arrows, it all went a bit downhill from there. I have no idea what my score was because I was a bit miffed at losing out in taking part in the best ends shoot-off by countback.
That did make sense, honest.
But I was quite chuffed with my score, if a little disappointed I could not build on my good start. Connor also had a clout, which meant we both left the competition with a quid each, which would have paid for the ice-creams, had Caldwells been open on the way back. Hey ho.
What else is happenin? Well, The Southern seems to have inherited a new video reporter, in the shape of Sally Gillespie. Check out her first attempt, filming some of the Border Union Show.
This may mean I can take a step back in this area, which is nice because God never made me for standing in front of a camera.
In other news, The Southern website is due to get an overhaul in the next few weeks, hopefully making your visit a more pleasant one. Watch this space!
Published Date:
09/08/2010
Modified Date:
09/08/2010
Magnum days
Gee whiz.
Got a huge blast from the past last week.
I was muckin about on facebook and found my old American football club, the Musselburgh Magnums.
Now I never try to tell anyone I was good at it. I just tell them that my nickname was The Judge. Just because I don't always mention that it came from the inordinate amount of time I spent on the bench is neither here nor there.
I was a linebacker/defensive lineman/offensive lineman/kickoff return specialist, which translates as the coach hadn't a bloody clue where to put me. I did score a touchdown once, but it was probably because when I tripped I had the good fortune to fall on a ball that the offense had dropped behind the line.
These were the days - and the photo on the site really took me back.
I'm number 65, by the way. And no, these are not my own shoulders.
What a braw heid o hair I had though!
Seeing this in no way makes me want to take part in anything like it ever again (I would die) but it does make me think back to the days with a smile.
My only regret was that I have lost my copy of the Channel Four documentary "Mud and Guts" which followed the team for our championship year (which culminated in a thrashing of the country's top team the Glasgow Lions (above).
If anybody has it, I would pay dearly (a pint next time I see you) for a copy!
Published Date:
28/06/2010
Modified Date:
28/06/2010
It's a dog's life
It's been a while, hasn't it?
I thought I had better update this – even if only to let you know I'm still alive. However, I've kind of gone to the dogs, so to speak.
This weekend, I took in the Border Union Agricultural Society's Annual Championship Dog Show, held in Kelso's Springwood Park.
If I'm absolutely honest, it's not really my thing, but I couldn't help be stunned at the sheer amount of hard work it takes to organise such a huge event and the intricacies of logistics required to keep it all ticking over to a fairly tight schedule, so well done to show manager Marjory Macgregor.
No less than 6,000 canines in one park together sounds like a recipe for complete and utter failure, but it all runs perfectly well.
Over the two days, I discovered several things I previously did not know, which is always a good thing.
They were as follows:
-
Pink-skinned ferret-like animals, with white Tina Turner hair and ugg boots are actually dogs. They go under the name of Chinese Crested and one actually took reserve best in show. Silly me.
-
Terriers that look like they have recently suffered an accident which resulted in their nose exploding are not to be rushed to the vets. They are actually supposed to be that way and they go under the name of Kerry Blue. One won the best in show – congratulations to Phil Davies of Swansea.
-
Little creatures that look like the old kung fu guru in Kill Bill 2 are actually dogs. I'm afraid I didn't catch it's name, I was so transfixed by its stare.
-
Dogs do not like people that walk about with a humongous tripod. I was growled at a couple of times, but the ones that really freaked me out were the Great Danes that simply stared at me with bloodshot eyes and an open mouth. It was like Scooby Doo, but certificate 18.
-
Once upon a time, I thought a Samoyed would be a great dog to own. I imagined, I believe, that it would attract the ladies, who would run up and gush over how lovely my dog was. On the Saturday, I saw a fella ready his Samoyed for showing. The only person who came up to him was a 25-stone bloke and he only asked him what doggy shampoo he used. Also, he spent 20 whole minutes brushing his pride and joy before lifting it off the table and brushing it again for 20 minutes because there were a few hairs out of place. Not my idea of fun.
-
It is possible to judge what's best between breeds that are as different as the Chinese Crested and a Whippet. How it's done is still beyond me.
I have always liked dogs, but I'm not too sure about the ones that have been clipped, silk-ribboned or inbred into a genetic bottleneck. It's a bit like playing god with dogs just so you can get a ribbon that says it conforms to the breed's genetic ideal. Most of those who choose to do this are incredibly nice people, as I found out. However, like I said before, it's not my thing. Maybe they think the idea of shooting arrows for a hobby is rather silly and outdated.
Maybe I'll get myself a cat ...
Published Date:
22/06/2010
Modified Date:
23/06/2010
Mugdock marvel!
I've been a bit snowed under the past week or so, putting together the brilliant (even if I say so myself) Homes and Gardens supplement that will come with the Southern Reporter, Berwickshire News and Berwick Advertiser this Thursday.
Elsewhere, football is becoming a bit of a bore. The team I support (Celtic) are playing so poorly at the moment, it's like watching Gala Fairydean. (Therein lies a dig). Indeed, I have barely watched them this season as it's tough to get excited about a team of overpaid workshy pillocks booting a ball around when there's so much more you could be doing with your time.
I still believe football is a beautiful game, when it's played right. But I haven't seen that in any team for quite some time, other than a few Premier League games. SPL? Forget it.
I'd much rather stand in a field in the rain and cold for a few hours, shooting pointy sticks at targets, utilising a bigger stick with a string on it.
Talking of which, a group of us travelled up to a blustery Mugdock Country Park yesterday for the first BLBS competition of the season, the Spring Forward Clout. Archery has never promoted itself as a spectator sport (and nor have I promoted it as such), it's more of a participation thing.
This was my first BLBS clout competition away from home, and although I did not win anything other than a quid in the 50p clout sweep (which was grand - my wee red arrow went right through it!) it was great to meet up once again with all the other archers from around the country.
The club did well too, with Elaine Pearson grabbing the ladies' title and the best end shoot-off in a tight tussle, and Doug Anderson taking the second half of the gents' competition. Well done to them.
Frozo was there too, as the only competing junior, but although he also claimed a clout, he didn't beat his personal best and thus failed to win a medal.
Let's hope that some of the other clubs begin to see the need for youngsters coming through to compete, if only for their own long-term strategy.
Published Date:
29/03/2010
Modified Date:
29/03/2010
Free-running fella
Hi bloggees - if that's not a word, it should be.
What's going on this week? I've just put up a new video on the main Southern Reporter site, all about a new craze sweeping Hawick, and all down to one man.
Stuart 'Speedy' Andrews is a free-runner who used to run and jump across the rooftops of our nation's capital at about a hundred miles an hour.
Now, after settling into the Borders and taking a year off the sport, he's retraining his body and mind towards doing the same in Hawick. There's no real death-defying stunts for Stuart now, just using the dykes, walls, railings and bankings to get from A to C fluidly and quickly.
It's not jaw-droppingly stunning stuff, but he makes the difficult moves look easy. He no longer goes at 100mph. Instead, he talks at about that speed. Honestly, I spent two and a half hours with him last Thursday and he never stopped from start to finish. The guy has got to cut down on the coffee!
But it's his willingness, nay his desire, to teach the skills of the sport to youngsters in Hawick that is his most impressive trait. He has the ability and the opportunity to change the lives of so many kids struggling to find something to do that catches their imagination. What he does attracts their attention, because he does it well and it appeals to their sense of adventure and fun.
If he can teach them how to do this safely it could turn their lives around. Once they have learned the basics, all they need to do is to put on their trainers and the town is their playground.
So, Stuart, may your trainers never lose their bounce.
Elsewhere, the archery club I shoot arrows with is holding a come-and-try this Sunday. Everyone is welcome to come along and try for themselves the sport that has got me harking on about it in just about every blog I write.
I would not exactly call it an obsession, but it is in great danger of becoming one. Take Sunday past. We were aiming for clouts (the wee white ones about the size of my belly button) from 180 yards away. You can't see how good or bad your shots were until you walk up there. Not once, but twice, my arrows were tucked in behind the targets as if they had magically gone through the bleeding things without leaving a mark.
I accepted this the first time, but when it happened again I was left screaming at the sky, asking the reason why (Must be a song lyric there somewhere - copyright Kevin Janiak 2010). It's not that I believed that there was a fella up there who could either answer the question or, indeed, help out in any way. It was just a last, desperate cry for the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and archery.
So if you want to see what all the palava is about, come up to Thirladean (just off the Selkirk to Moffat road, half a mile past the Waterwheel Cafe) on Sunday from 12.30pm. See you there!
Published Date:
10/03/2010
Modified Date:
10/03/2010
Time is an illusion, a time machine, however ...
Apologies to anyone still checking this barely updated blog, but I've got a good excuse.
I've been putting together this quarter's Border Life magazine, in the shops from Thursday. You can find out all about a Hawick woman who dropped everything to get supplies to orphans in Haiti, celebrate the 21st anniversary of the Borders Youth Theatre and much more!
And I'm now putting the finishing touches to the Spring/Summer Visitor Guide, full of great ideas for visitors to the area.
So that's taking up most of my time, and in between, I've been almost seeing football matches and firing arrows everywhere except the places I want them to go.
This is where the issue of a time machine came along. With a time machine, I would never have to worry about approaching deadlines again. And with a time machine, I could go back in time and murder to death the insane fella who invented the longbow.
Einstein, after a lifetime of formulating formulae and scratching of head, came to the conclusion that time travel was impossible. He was a clever bloke as blokes go, but you can't get away from the feeling that if he had put all that time and effort into actually trying to build one instead of trying to prove it wasn't possible, we'd all be popping back and forth, killing our own grandads and becoming our own great grandads. Maybe a good thing, then.
But I, too, have put a bit of thought into it. I even looked into who invented the godforsaken infernal sticks wi string and found out that nobody actually knows who invented the longbow, but it was probably someone in England or Wales in the 13th Century.
So all it would take, is for me to build the machine and, just to make sure, murdericate every Englishman and Welshman living between 1200AD and 1300AD. If this act meant that I would, by accident, rub out my own existence, it would almost be worth it if I was successful in striking from history the blasted longbow.
As you could perhaps surmise, I've not had the best of months at the archery.
But for some strange reason, I keep going back and calling it fun. Does this make me mad?
Published Date:
02/03/2010
Modified Date:
02/03/2010
Even I could have scored that
It may come as a complete surprise to the deluded few, or an audacious understatement to most, but I was never really that good at football.
In my early 20s, for some strange reason I really can't remember, I ended up spending my Wednesday nights playing five-a-side footy at the Gala Academy games hall - with the lads from the local Inland Revenue office. Maybe I was gunning for a rebate.
I certainly enjoyed it, and although the fact that I was built like a misplaced Eildon meant that the silky skills were not overflowing, the fact that I was built like a misplaced Eildon meant that I had a bit more room to maneuvre than most and I was pretty difficult to take down.
It may be romantic daydreaming, but I also seem to remember that I had a cannonball of a shot that would break the back of the net, if we had one. (Which we didn't - we used to have to lay a bench on the floor to act as a goal).
And on the few occasions we found ourselves playing outside, they put me up front because I was too slow for midfield, too short for goalkeeping and my idea of defending was to run backwards doing jazz hands.
And I remember scoring in every game I played in. Probably because I was a greedy big booga and because we were playing girl guides (we weren't, that's just there for the laugh).
Now, although I may not have played in anything as huge as the East of Scotland league, nor even Border Amateur (I did put in an appearance now and again in pub league) I join every other punter on the sidelines who can't believe it when somebody misses a goal that looked easier to score.
It happens to me every week. On Saturday, I watched in pointless frustration as chance after chance after chance went a-begging, and, just the once, these words escaped my lips: "Come on, even I could have scored that!"
The muffled titters told me I had actually said that out loud. But it wasn't just a throwaway line. Maybe I'll go to a training session and teach them how to score.
Family flowers only, please, donations at the door.
Published Date:
11/02/2010
Modified Date:
11/02/2010
Beauty weep? No thanks
It was another sidelined Saturday, rather than a Saturday on the sidelines for this hack, but one thing the decreased portions of footy has helped is my archery!
I really hope to get another game in this weekend, but if not, then I can still revel in the fact that I'm actually shooting quite well!
The extra 20yd sessions indoors have helped me sort out the basics of stance, draw, placement of certain body parts, etc, to such an extent that when I shot 50yds outdoors on Sunday, I was actually hitting the target more often than not!
Reading that back, that may not seem to many people to be a huge deal. But, trust me, to a happy twanger like myself, it's pretty cool. And, to top all that, I have also hit my first clout at 180yds. The second followed 10 minutes later. And the third a week after that.
I've only been shooting for about a year and a half.
So, this week, I'll hopefully be reporting on the Gala Fairydean vs Easthouses Lily match. The pitch is 50/50 at the moment, so a lot will depend on the weather between now and Saturday.
If the white stuff comes down again, I may just cry. It's supposed to be good for you, a wee cry, but that can't be the case. Have you seen folk after they've been crying?
I've never seen anyone who could be described as being pretty. The bulbous eyes, the resemblance to a panda if mascara is worn, the dribbly nose, the shiny face, the dry heaves. These are not the symptoms of having just gone through something that's good for you.
So maybe I won't cry after all ... I need all the help I can get!
Published Date:
03/02/2010
Modified Date:
05/02/2010