Journal

Good horse sense

Since I posted about the state of the old rocking horse in Hermitage Park, there’s been a lot of campaigning by locals to get the park brought up to standard. The council, it seemed, were embarrassed into taking action and gradual improvements have been made over the last couple of months.

The vandalised “softcrete” beneath the swings has now been replaced, all of the apparatus has had a lick of paint, and a new child-containing fence has been placed around the perimeter of the park.

The fence around the horse came down, but he was still in a bad state the last time we visited. So I was surprised and delighted to see he’d been restored to his former glory when Elisha and I stopped off this afternoon as part of our Swing Park Challenge. The horse now has striking red and black paint and his side rails have  been replaced – it really is a fantastic job and I’m really happy the effort has been put in, rather than scrapping him.

The Swing Park Challenge – an attempt to visit and play on every piece of apparatus in all of the local parks in less than 90 minutes – did highlight the disparity between all of them. Kidston Park has just a set of swings and an ancient spider climbing frame, which is in much need of some paint. Meanwhile, the park at Rhu is filled with modern equipment, and the kids there told us that there’s more on the way.

Still, I’m glad to see that Hermitage Park is now a fit place to take my daughter again – hopefully there’ll be enough care and attention given that it’ll still be in good condition when I take my future son there.

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Journal

A hill to climb

Looking at Helensburgh from the river Clyde, Ben Bowie rises up from the right shoulder of the town and, for much of my childhood it formed the backdrop. I’ve climbed it many a time over the years that I’ve lived here, with the last time being somewhere around 1996, so when I moved back to the town in 2008 I made a mental note that’d try to get back up there soonish.

At just over 300 metres, Ben Bowie is classed as a Marilyn. It’s not the toughest of climbs and, depending on which route you take, you can be standing on the summit within a couple of hours. Which is why, when the idea popped into my head yesterday morning, I decided that I’d set out for the top of the hill with my brother. He’s not particularly fit, but I figured if we took it steadily he’d make it up there and enjoy the view and the achievement when we got to the top.

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Pushing the boat out

It had been late on Friday evening, whilst I was fairly merry at the Helensburgh Real Ale festival, when Crazy Uncle John called to ask for my assistance in launching his boat the following morning. I’d been told of the comedy events that punctuated their early attempts at launching the boat when it first became sea-worthy in August last year. And, as recently as that afternoon, Aunty Helen had said that most everything involved with launching or venturing out on The Living Spark was a barrel of laughs.

Which is why I’d said yes, of course I’d drag myself out of bed on a Saturday morning to help. Crazy Uncle John said that the boat must – must be in the water by 10:15 or else the tide would be too low. I understood the issue and said I’d be there at 09:15 so we had a good hour.

“No, no – just be at Brian’s at about quarter to ten.” He said, “We’ve got it down to a fine art now and we can get it in the water in no time.”

I didn’t think that 30 minutes was much margin for error, but I could hardly have anticipated just how much error lay in store for me.

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