Saturday Saunter: Durham, Christmas trees and women’s football

Good Saturday to you,

Unusually for me, this is being written on Thursday morning and so there is actually sunlight coursing in my window. Streaming would be too strong a description for the light this morning. This post appears on St. Andrew’s Day so happy St. Andrew’s Day for those who care about such things. Kilts! Haggis! Teacakes! That’s the Scottish cliches out the road. When you read this, I will actually be in the east already. Hibs are playing Kilmarnock later as part of the Jack Ross revolution but I am around early to meet friends for breakfast, which should be cool.

Every so often, I have strong urges to visit a favourite place I haven’t been to in a while. Dunbar does that to me sometimes – the new bear sculpture I wrote about last week deserves a visit – and occasionally others can have that appeal. Linlithgow Palace is one, the Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh is another. Durham came to mind the other day and I can’t remember quite why. I follow the Cathedral on the blog Twitter account so it could have been a mention of Evensong there. Durham Cathedral is one of the finest buildings on the planet. I say that being an undiluted heathen. Every nook and niche is to be savoured there and I feel at peace each and every time I walk in the door. It was easier to get to Durham from Dunbar, being just down the East Coast Main Line, but one day soon I will get back there.

My trips to Edinburgh in the coming weeks will very much avoid the city centre, which is in the midst of the Christmas madness. The Christmas markets have expanded into East Princes Street Gardens and have done so amid some controversy. I find it an overload so will give it a berth. I may make an exception to go to Jenners, the department store, which may be closing in its current location next year as part of a plan to put in a luxury hotel and similarly swish shops. I’m not really a department store person nor indeed a Christmas person either but I usually make a special effort to go into Jenners to see its Christmas tree, which they have to put in through a side door before putting together to typically magnificent effect.

I will also try, if not today then in the next couple of weeks, to get to the Portrait Gallery. The National Galleries have decided to ditch the BP Portrait Award because of its sponsor. That’s a particularly commendable move in this age of climate crisis and also for a public agency turning down money in these financially tight times. They have also just unveiled a new portrait of Scott Hutchison, the singer from Frightened Rabbit who died last year. The Portrait Gallery does a great job in keeping its collection up-to-date and I particularly approve of this one in light of Scott Hutchison’s noted battles with mental illness.

Scott Hutchison was a Hearts fan and I was at Tynecastle on Sunday for the Women’s Scottish Cup Final between Hibs Ladies and Glasgow City. It was a good game with Hibs losing in dramatic fashion after Glasgow City scored a 90th minute goal to end the game 4-3. I had braced myself for extra time but Claire Shine scored and so it went. The atmosphere was good, friendly with only a couple of swearies to be heard. What I like about women’s games is that they are generally much more benign places to be, with less histrionics and diving, more comraderie and folk just being happy to be there, with the possible exception of Glasgow City head coach Scott Booth who was going tonto on the touchline. There was a record attendance for a women’s cup game in Scotland, 3,123, a good mix of Hibs and Glasgow City fans though I am surprised the Jambos didn’t announce it as another full house at Tynecastle. That’s the women’s season over with since they sensibly take a winter break but I have been thinking about going to some of the league games when Hibs are in Glasgow next year.

Our travelling book today would have been the excellent Sissy: A Coming-Of-Gender Story by Jacob Tobia but I finished it the other night. Jacob Tobia is a writer and generally creative person who also happens to be non-binary so it’s their book about that and their life. I learned recently that they are also a creative consultant to the Netflix and DreamWorks series She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, actually playing a non-binary character, which is very cool. Last week I finally started Cameroon With Egbert by Dervla Murphy, which is already full of Dervla Murphy goodness. It’s with me today.

Anyway, that’s the Saturday Saunter for today, Saturday 30th November 2019. Thanks for reading. Thanks also for all the kind comments about Wednesday’s post, The things I love are not at home, all of which were appreciated. Tomorrow’s post is the November digest and Wednesday is back to Loose Ends in Paisley. Have a very nice weekend, whatever you end up doing. Peace.

The things I love are not at home

Every so often I think of a particular piece of street art in Leith. I’ve written about it here before, possibly in post 101. It is on a patch of wall down a side street and reads:

‘The things I love are not at home’

Leith is a place I have a considerable affinity with. I was born nearby in Seafield. My football team plays there. I went to primary school nearby too. Leith is a port, now part of Edinburgh but for a long time independent of the capital. It combines poverty and penthouses, Government offices and social problems. It is an outward looking place, on the shores of the Firth of Forth, leading eventually into the North Sea. Some of its finest architecture wouldn’t be out of place across the sea in Scandinavia or Holland. One of the best books I’ve read this year, Constitution Street by Jemma Neville, discussed the diversity of people in Leith, their experiences and hopes for the future. A more community-minded society or to put it another way, to love our home.

‘The things I love are not at home’. I usually take that to mean the beautiful places and experiences that can be had beyond these four walls, beyond the city, beyond Scotland, even. I love a lot of things which are at home, though. My home could mean where I grew up or my adopted home. The other day I was out around Glasgow, my home of six years. I went to spend some money on books then walked the short distance to the flagpole at Queen’s Park, my favourite view over the city. I couldn’t quite see the house but I could see mountains, city towers, churches, cars, trains and puffing chimneys. It was cold but bright. I sat for a few minutes, the city before me, then I headed back into that same city. I’ve been here long enough to have my favourite spots, those places which feel safe, familiar and just a bit special. A few of them are south of the river, that flagpole, nearby Cathkin Park, Crookston Castle.

Dunbar isn’t home any more. That’s a hell of a thing to admit. I’m only there now as a visitor. It was home for nearly 24 years and despite living at the other side of the country, it will always have a pull for me. I was there a couple of weeks ago and I walked along the Prom and down around the golf course. I sat on a favourite bench and watched the waves. I love waves, the stormier the better. These were mighty, foamy and fierce. I just needed to recharge and cast some thoughts to the wind. From where I sat I could see the Bass Rock, the Isle of May, Fife, North Berwick Law and Traprain with a slight turn of my head. Even though Dunbar is no longer where I lay my head, a little bit of me is always there too.

Home also means a home game. Football, of course. Dunbar is a place where I feel rooted. Queen’s Park too. Each time I step off a train along the road, I know I’m home. I also feel at home in the centre of the East Stand at Easter Road. Even if Hibs aren’t playing great, and they really haven’t lately, there is no greater feeling than seeing the teams emerge from the tunnel with a game about to begin.

About three months ago, I had my thirtieth birthday. I wasn’t really looking forward to it. 30 is a grown-up age, even in these times, and I don’t always feel so grown-up. As it went, turning 30 was gentler than I thought. I had a really nice day on Arran and had the pleasure of my favourite little people singing Happy Birthday down the phone to me, which melted my heart no end. People make us better. From time to time they make us happier and make us feel loved. I believe in very little except the power of love.

It’s not long dark. The nights are fair drawing in. The world contracts and only street lights and the speedy passing trains can be seen out my window. It’s a time of year when we often reflect on the year just gone, looking forward only to Christmas, if indeed we look forward to more than just the holiday and the smiles of bairns. ‘The things we love aren’t at home’. I’ve got books, people and words by me here but I would rather have the light until much, much later at night to be out in the world a bit longer, to prolong the weekend. In winter, time is more precious, light is more precious. The things we love are more precious, wherever they happen to be.

Thank you for reading. The Saturday Saunter returns on Saturday, naturally enough, the November digest is here on Sunday and Loose Ends back next Wednesday over in Paisley.


Lesser-spotted attractions

One of the nicer parts of blogging is interacting with folk who comment on the blog, either below each post or on social media. Some of the recent Loose Ends posts, particularly Agassiz Rock and Blackford Hill Rocks, have attracted comments along the lines of ‘Never heard of it’. That happens quite often with that series, to be fair, since it is often done on the fly. Indeed the whole point of it is finding connections between places, the loose ends of Scotland that ‘attempt to express the whole’, to quote Hugh MacDiarmid. I prefer the more obscure places, though Loose Ends is getting more mainstream in the coming weeks. I like psychogeography because it can lead to those cool, lesser-spotted places. Sometimes it can be a hit-and-miss but that’s part of the fun.

On the Loose Ends page of the blog is a list of places I’ve been to for the series, which partly serves as a way for readers to find the other instalments but also as an aide-memoire for me. I was just looking at it and some I remember more clearly than others. One of my favourites was from the first lot, in the Wild West. Ironically not so far from Blackford Hill. A wild west set was built in the 1990s on a back street in Morningside in southern Edinburgh. At the end was a garage with local accents and a radio playing. It was beautifully surreal. I had heard about it and meant to go for years. The connection came from Makar’s Court by the Writer’s Museum, I think because of geography, both places being in Edinburgh.

Also on the list are the posts for the Glasgow Women’s Library followed by the Bachelor’s Club. That’s quite a juxtaposition. I’ve been to the GWL a few times and every time I go I get something new from the experience. That time, last summer, was for a Muriel Spark exhibition. The poster ‘PISSEUR!’, recalling A Far Cry From Kensington, was particularly memorable. GWL is a supremely fine place, a force for good in an increasingly dark world. The Bachelor’s Club was all right, though, an interesting couple of rooms which once housed an institution Robert Burns was a member of.

It has become a running joke that I list a whole host of possible connections that never, ever happen. I think Category Is Books in Govanhill has been on there once or twice, as has the Scottish Parliament. North Berwick Law. Hopefully these places might appear eventually. The current Loose End is the Kibble Palace in Glasgow Botanic Garden, which will appear on the blog in January though I actually did it about three weeks ago. One of my favourite places can link from there, the Botanics in Edinburgh, or also the People’s Palace here in Glasgow. Or indeed one of the other palaces of Scotland, like Spynie or Holyrood. Then again maybe not. Palaces aren’t really lesser-spotted.

Saturday Saunter: Stars and a whole lot of football

Good Saturday to you,

Our post is being written on a very cold Monday night. As I walked back from the station tonight, I stopped on the bridge and looked up into a clear, dark sky. Even though I live in a city suburb, I could actually see a couple of stars. I could see plane lights too but actually stars, probably the first I’ve seen since I’ve lived here. I did see stars, a whole shimmering sky of them, when I was camping at Arisaig a month or so ago but actually seeing stars here in the city is a novelty. I’m currently, though temporarily, commuting by train and I often stop on the bridge just to look, sometimes watch trains, other times to look across the urban sprawl.

View from Calton Hill with Easter Road in the foreground and North Berwick Law in the distance

This is being posted as I will be on the way to Edinburgh to watch Hibs. This is the first of three football matches in four days. Today is the first game of the Jack Ross era at Hibs and I am just watching an interview with the new Dear Leader where he is coming across well. Three points is all I ask. Tomorrow is the Scottish Women’s Cup Final and I am braving Tynecastle, a place I normally boycott, to watch Hibs Ladies take on Glasgow City, putting my money where my mouth is and hopefully seeing a Hibs team lift a trophy in Gorgie. Tuesday I get to walk half a mile across Paisley to see Hibs play at St. Mirren. Before I go to watch today’s soccerball I will probably have a wander around Edinburgh, maybe a few minutes looking across from Calton Hill (pictured above). The Edinburgh Christmas mess is happening again so as much as I would like to visit the National Gallery, which I haven’t been to in ages, I’ll give it a miss until the Turners are there in January. A sensory overload that can quite easily be avoided.

Tuesday night now. I hit a wall last night.

On Tuesday, a muckle bear sculpture was unveiled just outside Dunbar. It was sculpted by Andy Scott, who also sculpted the Kelpies near Falkirk. The bear is being linked to John Muir, born in Dunbar, who went off to America and became a key part of the environmental movement. Dunbar is justly proud of John Muir though I’m not at all sure this sculpture is the best way to commemorate him. I will reserve judgement, though, until I actually get to be there and see it. I think it might be one of those things that might be better to experience when you’re actually there. Whatever I think of it, it will hopefully bring more folk to the area, which can only be a good thing.

In last week’s Saturday Saunter, I talked about ‘the big light’. It was in a longer section about being autistic in a cinema but the big light bit stuck. I gather that the big light isn’t just a Scottish concept, even being found over the border in Englandshire. Peter Kay’s even done stand up about it. There’s hope for them after all. I was also interested to hear about the playwright Jo Clifford, who wrote Jesus, Queen of Heaven, a play featuring a transgender Christ. I hadn’t heard of her before – theatre isn’t really my world – but I’m glad I do. The more I read of Jo Clifford, she comes across as a really interesting person.

Anyway, that’s the Saturday Saunter for today, Saturday 23rd November 2019. Thank you for reading. Tomorrow will be a post about connections. Wednesday will be the 700th post. Have a very nice weekend.


Loose Ends: Arden Street

I passed through Marchmont on the way back from the Hermitage and Blackford Hill and realised that I was near Arden Street. I could link it into Loose Ends through books. I had been reading about geology and Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus lived in Arden Street. There’s been more tenuous connections. Anyway, Arden Street is a non-descript Marchmont street and it was sunny with a few residents dotted around, cars and vans parked. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and all was calm. It probably wasn’t under the surface, mind.

To the connections and I could have gone to anywhere linked to Ian Rankin, like Edinburgh University or Cardenden which has a street named after him. Not the Oxford Bar, though: we don’t do pubs. Any place connected to any Scottish literary character would have done, maybe back to Glasgow or somewhere in our capital, which is after all an UNESCO City of Literature. Arden, albeit with a different spelling, is also a part of Glasgow. Thinking laterally would lead me to the next destination.

Thanks for reading. Another Loose Ends post follows in two weeks’ time. The Loose Ends page features the other parts of this series.


I am no fan of cars. Or most motorised transport. Personally I would rather we all travelled on trains or walked or cycled everywhere. It would be better for humanity. Sometimes, due to the vagaries of public transport, and sometimes its non-existence, we need to rely on the internal combustion engine and a few other parts to get us places. Scotland is a big country. Some people think it’s small. It really isnae. The middle of the UK isn’t Meriden, near Birmingham, no, no, no; it’s near Haltwhistle, just by Hadrian’s Wall. Some of our country’s trunk roads pass through some beautiful places. The road down to Stranraer has fine views over to Northern Ireland and before that the Ailsa Craig. The A1 gets beautiful through East Lothian then towards the border with that great sweep of sea and cliffs at Burnmouth and Lamberton. The A90 at Stonehaven is incredible while the A9 passes through Killiecrankie, scene of battle and just a stunning place in all weathers. The best road in the country, however, is the mighty A82, the Great Western Road, which runs from Glasgow city centre to Inverness. The A82 passes through urban sprawl then by Loch Lomond and past Arrochar into mountains and moorland. Past Fort William comes Loch Ness with its monster and a castle. When I did my Streets of Glasgow walk on Great Western Road a few months ago, the thought occurred to me of how this road eventually ended up in the wilds of the Highlands, a long way from retail parks and canals.

My favourite part of the A82 is from Tyndrum to Fort William, particularly running through the otherwise desolate Rannoch Moor into Glencoe. Glencoe is one of my favourite places on the planet. It transcends description with mountains, running waterfalls and burns, hillsides and boulders. Plus it was in Harry Potter. It also looks magnificent in all weathers, in rain as much as glorious sunshine. On our way back from our camping weekend, we stopped in Glencoe and had a wee wander along the valley floor. I hadn’t been there for about eight or nine years but I felt utterly, palpably content, happy to be back in a familiar place and one which amazes me every time I go. I may have walked barely a couple of hundred yards from the car and the trunk road it was parked by but it was easy to ignore the cars and the many languages spoken by the people around me and go wordless, just to look around and be in that magnificent place. We had many miles to go but this was definitely worth every moment later stuck in traffic and planning diversions. The best diversions come with nature and being in the moment, in the right place.


Saturday Saunter: Darkness and Glasgow lights

Good morning,

Our post is coming earlier than normal since I’m working today. It is being written fairly late on Tuesday night. I was at the cinema earlier tonight (Brittany Runs A Marathon, at the Glasgow Film Theatre. It was quite decent, funny, dark and a little uplifting. A real millennial sort of film. The cinematography was excellent with big sweeping shots of New York and Philadelphia.) and I’m a little tired but I feel like getting some words out before bed. Our soundtrack tonight is YouTube, currently the very wonderful Tide Lines.

I don’t particularly like this time of year. I’ve written here recently about my antipathy towards Halloween and Bonfire Night plus of course Christmas is coming. My eyes just rolled typing that. Winter is darkness. I work full-time, year-round, now but I used to work casually and that usually meant seasonally. I think a bit of me still sees this time of year as a bit bleak for that reason, leaving aside that the last few mornings have been baltic and all the various festivals this time of year are lousy. I get overloaded in Christmas markets so tend to avoid them, the lights intense and unsettling rather than bringing any sort of bonhomie. I can deal with the cold and there’s a bit of me that would rather be by waves or in a wood than anywhere near a city centre this time of year. Winter is often the best time to experience wilder places, not least because not a lot of others do that. I was off yesterday (Friday) and had been thinking about going for a walk at New Lanark, which I visited on a very warm day in the summer, or possibly on a beach down in Ayrshire. We’ll see.

Last Saturday I was in Perth to see the mighty Hibees win for the first time since early August. They won decisively. I did plan to take a Dervla Murphy book with me but instead I decided to finish Surfacing by Kathleen Jamie, which I have been reading slowly over the last few weeks. It was good to the very last drop. Unfortunately I had only a few pages to read by the time I got on the train home and I had consumed the programme from the football. I bought a new notebook but ended up just looking out the window into the darkness. My journey to my current workplace takes 10 minutes on the train so not much reading to be done. By the time I’ve put earphones in, and shown my ticket to the conductor, it’s about a decent song’s worth, usually something upbeat and dancy for that time of day.

Still Tide Lines on the screen at the moment. It’s songs from gigs they’ve played. I always wonder why on earth people film these things but I’m grateful nonetheless.

Sauchiehall Lane, with lights across the street illuminating a bit of street art

One of the best bits about the monthly trip to the GFT, apart from the film itself and the rather fine pasta I normally have beforehand from the Via Italia street food place on the corner of Gordon Street and Union Street, is undoubtedly the walk through the city after the film. I usually find going back into the world after a film a bit intense. It’s like turning the big light on after sitting with just a lamp on. (I should explain for non-Scottish readers that the big light means a light usually hanging from the ceiling.) The walk from the GFT to Central Station takes me from one end of the city centre to another. Glasgow city centre is mainly laid out on a concentric grid and I usually go along a bit of Sauchiehall Street then down Hope Street. I have a great and fierce love of my adopted home and it often comes out walking its streets. The lights, the tall buildings and the rush of life are thrilling. Sometimes I still can’t believe I live here. Even with what I wrote about earlier about waves, you can’t beat Glasgow.

Finally, this week is Trans Awareness Week. This year I’ve read a fair bit about trans issues, as part of trying to be aware of the society in which we live. I read an excellent post produced by the mighty Jessica Kingsley Publishers with a few of its authors talking about what trans means to them. Take a look.

Anyway, that’s the Saturday Saunter for today, Saturday 16th November 2019. Thanks for reading. Tomorrow’s post is about Glencoe, one of the very finest places on the planet. Wednesday is another Loose Ends post, still in Edinburgh but less geological. Cheers just now.

Loose Ends: Blackford Hill Rocks

A layered rockface with a tree overhanging

As I was walking around the other side of Blackford Hill, I came to a sign pointing towards an old quarry. I climbed the steps and came to a sign pointing out the various layers of mostly igneous rock in front of me. The sign was gloriously nerdy, not at all dumbed down for scientific dunces like me. I had been reading about geology so some of it made sense. I knew enough to see that it was interesting, took some pictures and moved on. We don’t pay enough attention to how places have come to be. I know I don’t.

The Blackford Hill Rocks connect to the Agassiz Rock by geography, being at either side of Blackford Hill itself. As I walked on, I wasn’t at all sure what the next connection would be.

Thanks for reading. Another Loose Ends post follows next week. The Loose Ends page features more links from the series.

Here’s some bonus content since this post is a wee bit short. I am writing this a good couple of months after this particular adventure. I remember merely how unapologetically nerdy the interpretation board was and that’s undoubtedly a good thing. I know very little about geology but layers are important. In those layers can be found a past beyond the human. I don’t always understand science but I get enough that I am impressed by how we have got here, as much as acknowledging how precarious our existence is.

This was a really cool day. I covered a lot of ground. I left Waverley Station, walked down through Morningside to the Hermitage of Braid then around the other side of Blackford Hill, where these rocks are. I walked through the Grange and Marchmont to the National Museum of Scotland before eventually getting back on the train back to Glasgow. The National Museum had an excellent exhibition, now finished, called Body Beautiful about diversity in fashion, featuring style for LGBTQIA+, disabled and ethnically diverse people.

I also undertook the next instalment of Loose Ends that day, in fact about a mile from Blackford Hill. Tune in next week for that.



Ford in Fort William

Sometimes I have to stop and laugh at the sheer absurdity of the world. One recent example which knocked me sideways occurred in Cameron Square in Fort William. Right in the square, in the heart of Fort William Town Centre, is a statue of a man driving a Model T Ford. I’m a sucker for a good statue and I took a closer look. That was the killer move. This was a replica of a car driven to the summit of Ben Nevis by Henry Alexander in 1911. Yes, they drove a car to the top of a mountain. Just because they could. Even worse than that, in 2011, to commemorate the centenary of this event, 77 volunteers carried pieces of a replica Model T Ford to the top of Ben Nevis because the authorities, sensibly, denied them permission to airlift one to the top of the mountain. At the top they assembled the car so they could take a photo and did so IN A SNOWSTORM. On a glorious summer’s day, of which they don’t have too many in Fort William, that would have been utterly insane but in a snowstorm. Anyway, this statue, cast at Powderhall Foundry in Edinburgh, was unveiled in May 2018. Here’s some more information on it, from the BBC News website. It’s cool and bemusing at the same time. It was a nice diversion as we walked to find some food.


Saturday Saunter: Fireworks and assignments

Good Saturday to you,

Our Saunter for today is being written on Tuesday night, Bonfire Night, as a train has just passed by my window. My part of Glasgow has quietened down now so my earphones are now off. I absolutely loathe fireworks, for their loudness and shrillness, and would ban them except in organised displays. They play havoc with my nerves, having the same effect as a very crowded bus crossed with a drill. Tonight’s music has been mixed, currently Skipinnish. I did hear earlier that it has been suggested that Bob Marley is particularly effective for soothing dogs on this night, so may try that on my human ears.

This post appears as I will be away to Perth to watch the currently managerless Hibees. My current plan is to head up a bit early, scoop up some lunch and eat it at Huntingtower Castle, a rather fine castle just outside Perth and about 15 minutes walk from McDiarmid Park. I like Huntingtower. If I remember rightly it has a painted ceiling somewhere as well as a small colony of bats. I like an away trip when I can combine some history with my football.

My laptop is still warm from working on an assignment for my current OU module, analysing a wallchart and saying how it might be relevant to historians of empire (a wee bit). I think I’ve done enough for tonight. My books and a print-out of said wallchart are scattered on the bed beside me. By the time you read this, the assignment will be submitted and my mind will be turned to next week’s work. It won’t be coming with me to Perth, though. I think I’m going to take Cameron with Egbert by Dervla Murphy, which I bought in Leakey’s Bookshop in Inverness at the start of the year. Regular blog readers will know that I went through a Dervla Murphy phase last summer and I think it suits my current mode and mood.

In my voracious intake of articles and popular culture, I came across a rather cracking thing on Twitter the other day, which showed two colours of shopping baskets. One was coloured to indicate that staff could approach and assist, the other not to make it clear that the shopper wanted left alone. I do most of my clothes shopping in person and particularly for shoes. I particularly like Schuh though get irritated by their very eager staff when I just want to look and make my decisions from careful observation. I suppose being able to shoe shop in under ten minutes might just be my superpower.

Or it could be autism, according to an article by Joanne Limburg on the Guardian website the other day. It is a very nuanced article, going into the perspectives of a fair few autistic adults. My perspective is summed up better by the writer Katherine May and it’s worth quoting here: ‘My autism brings some things I really value – the flood of words I experience, the ability to fixate on a subject and burrow deep into it, and an intense relationship with the natural world. But there are other bits I’d get rid of. I break things and hurt myself all the time; and I hate the way that I don’t remember faces and so come across as rude.’ She also talks about how it can often be easier to speak to a group of people than one person, something I relate to from years of working with the public.

I can also relate to the actress Emma Watson, who is approaching the thirtieth birthday which is recently in my own rearview mirror. In an interview with Vogue, she talked about how she is ‘self-partnered’ rather than single, which is quite a good way to look at it. Self-respect, all the way.

Anyway, that’s the Saturday Saunter for today, Saturday 9th November 2019. Tomorrow’s post is about a statue in Fort William, Wednesday’s Loose Ends about a rock not in Fort William. Any ideas for the 700th post, please send them my way. Have a very nice weekend. Cheers the now.