Musings from the Merse
Friday, December 05, 2008
Jungle Drums
A bloggee who we will keep anonymous has sent a heart rending Cri de Coeur. In part:
Perhaps it is because we are in a parallel universe ‘cos NOBODY KNOWS WE ARE HERE. According to all satnavs and all data bases when the postcode here is fed in, my own little spot on the planet seems to be somewhere else. This can be summed up as the traditional Borders mathematical problem which goes: How many hours does it take a Curry’s van to deliver a freezer to postcode X? Snowploughs trundled past us at least twice yesterday but they were obviously on their way to somewhere else – hey, guys, there’s like, er, snow/chilly slippy white stuff on the road oootside ma hoosie – will ye’s no’ clear i’? At least the vibrations shoopk some of the grunge from the windows. The people who clear the roads never think that many people pass across the B6461 and have an international trek over to Norham to get this and that. I managed it at the start of the blizzard and I don’t know how. I spent the rest of the day comatose in front of ITV3 watching old episodes of Wycliffe. At that time of day the Northumbrian side had done its bit and the bridge and road were almost navigable. I also wonder why the 2 departments can’t get together and arrange a priority system for crossing the bridge where there are not infrequent Mexican stand-offs
Huttonian has every sympapthy. My Tom Tom, in its 'Sean' voice mode (changed from a prissy English Miss: Penelope?) also has problems with the parallel universe aka Ber wick Shire. He can't get out of his head that we no longer live in the Old Manse and has it as 'home' in his elephantine memory which I don't seem to be able to re-programme. The youngest daughter travelling from Duns to Berwick was instructed to turn right just beyond Chirnside and suddenly found herself about to cross the Bluestane ford which had drink taken and was in a bit of a spate. As soon as she had reversed and driven away towardsw the main Chirnside-Berwick Road Sean got increasingly agitated demanding 'Turn around Where Possible' (Perhaps the Gaderene Swine had faulty Nav Sats which explains their headlong rush into the Sea of Gallilee?)
The image is of the Bluestane Ford. Our little Astra would never have emerged again had Tom Tom's directions been followed)
A bloggee who we will keep anonymous has sent a heart rending Cri de Coeur. In part:
Perhaps it is because we are in a parallel universe ‘cos NOBODY KNOWS WE ARE HERE. According to all satnavs and all data bases when the postcode here is fed in, my own little spot on the planet seems to be somewhere else. This can be summed up as the traditional Borders mathematical problem which goes: How many hours does it take a Curry’s van to deliver a freezer to postcode X? Snowploughs trundled past us at least twice yesterday but they were obviously on their way to somewhere else – hey, guys, there’s like, er, snow/chilly slippy white stuff on the road oootside ma hoosie – will ye’s no’ clear i’? At least the vibrations shoopk some of the grunge from the windows. The people who clear the roads never think that many people pass across the B6461 and have an international trek over to Norham to get this and that. I managed it at the start of the blizzard and I don’t know how. I spent the rest of the day comatose in front of ITV3 watching old episodes of Wycliffe. At that time of day the Northumbrian side had done its bit and the bridge and road were almost navigable. I also wonder why the 2 departments can’t get together and arrange a priority system for crossing the bridge where there are not infrequent Mexican stand-offs
Huttonian has every sympapthy. My Tom Tom, in its 'Sean' voice mode (changed from a prissy English Miss: Penelope?) also has problems with the parallel universe aka Ber wick Shire. He can't get out of his head that we no longer live in the Old Manse and has it as 'home' in his elephantine memory which I don't seem to be able to re-programme. The youngest daughter travelling from Duns to Berwick was instructed to turn right just beyond Chirnside and suddenly found herself about to cross the Bluestane ford which had drink taken and was in a bit of a spate. As soon as she had reversed and driven away towardsw the main Chirnside-Berwick Road Sean got increasingly agitated demanding 'Turn around Where Possible' (Perhaps the Gaderene Swine had faulty Nav Sats which explains their headlong rush into the Sea of Gallilee?)
The image is of the Bluestane Ford. Our little Astra would never have emerged again had Tom Tom's directions been followed)
Labels: Bluestane Ford, TomTom
Friday, August 08, 2008
Distant Drums
It seems more and more drivers in these parts rely on new fangled technology for finding their way around the maze of roads in the Merse. One White Van Man delivering something for the Old Manse commented with regard to the distinction between a***s and e****s that he would be entirely 'up a gum tree without a paddle' (some of his best friends were Australians)if he was ever without his beloved TomTom. But it is around here that the TomTom-and Huttonian has one-have an Achilles Heel. Programme in Hutton to Embra by the clever route and you will be directed to Hutton Castle and then ordered by the bossy lady to turn right -on the most direct route to Chirnside and all stations beyond. And the reverse applies-coming from the A1 heading for Hutton Post Office a number of Securicor Vans have also been sent on this short cut. What they have in common is the Bluestane Ford. A gentle little water splash for much of the time but on days like yesterday swept by a raging torrent capable of taking WVM, Van, Huttonians Good Book Guide books, Uncle Tom Cobley and all the most direct route to the sea. The images speak for themselves-admittedly extreme conditions after three days or rain but even with much less precipitation the ford can be dangerously impassable for the average vehicle.
But TomTom does not know that.
And occasionally the highheidyins up river let water out of the Whiteadder Dam to relieve the pressure
And TomTom does not know that either.
Lets leave it to Chicken Licken
(The spates in the Whiteadder and Blackadder yesterday were quite spectacular and some of it can be seen here)
Labels: Bluestane Ford, TomTom, Whiteadder
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Huttonian tried out his state of the art Tom Tom (yes jungle drums have reached the Merse). I set a course for the Highlands-Tom Tom in a flash directed us on the speediest route to Killin (turn right at the Old Pub) and then next right across Blue Stane ford.
Afrer 37mm of rain.
No thanks.
The image is of the Jim Clarke Rally. The driver took his Tom Tom's advice?
Labels: Bluestane Ford, Killin, Tom Tom
