A really Raleigh update

This week seems to be going in a similar vein to the last, with me going increasingly loopy with this unsustainable work-work regime I've got going here. I've just sent a 68 page powerpoint presentation to London which is the result of 16 hours work, and I have 6 more 61 page presentations to go tomorrow morning. If I get up in 2 hours time, I should almost manage to get them done. I don't think I've worked this hard since uni.

But, as I don't want it to seem that leaving a well paid but dull dull dull lobbying job in a London agency means a life of 24 hour working days but only 50p in the bank, here's what I'm up to:

Half marathon - 4 weeks and counting. I can now run 6 miles no sweat. I'm aiming to do 8 miles this weekend in Edinburgh (at least, that's what I've told Hugo but he'll never know if I don't do it..) I have cut down on wine midweek, (only because I don't have a social life at the moment) but other than making me tetchy, it hasn't quite yielded the fitness results I was hoping for. So I'm moving onto plan b - wishful thinking that cross-training with my squash regime is going to help (well, I won my second game last night, so even if it's not helping my stamina, it's certainly helping in some respect) and we did some canoeing over the weekend which was hilarious. However, actually going out and running is tricky here as we seem to live on a motorway.

Fundraising - £700 left to raise - I'm organising a wine and cheese evening which is coming up and is quite an interesting event to be working on. Moet and Chandon are supplying the wines and champagnes so it's going to be a real treat for the lovely people of Ayrshire (that reminds me - must ask the kind ladies of the Ayr Conservative Association).

Vaccinations - help - most of them due - don't have a doctor up here, must register

Passport - invalidated as a result of a soaking in Niagra falls, must renew

Flights - £700 and rising, have no money in so can't buy. Brilliant. Must find travel agent who let you book with a small (e.g. 50p) deposit and pay next year.

Suddenly it seems I have a heck of a lot to organise and I am feeling a little bemused by it all. It seemed so much easier on my gap year when heading off to the middle of Zimbabwe seemed to be a piece of cake. My only moment of panic back then was when we had to get out of the minibus once we'd arrived at the school we were to teach at. It was at that point only that it dawned on me what I'd got myself into and how remote it was (no phones, no post office, certainly no mobiles, blackberries or use of internet. We even found ourselves teaching music to the primary school kids for 9 weeks in return for a phonecall - I really hope my negotiating skills have improved).

I think perhaps once I get all of the above done, I'll feel more prepared. If only I had the time to do it...!! Right, from now on, it's time to worry less about my bank balance and prioritise Raleigh.

"Thanks for calling Arnold Clark"

Evidence of my 1 day temping in Paisley...my resolve to stick it out all four days faded by the time the fifteenth car salesman mock-called me, asking for a 'Mr Roger Myarse".

An hour gone in a heartbeat

It's nearly midnight and I'm trying to finish some freelancing before falling into bed, with the waft of Hinba's farts far behind me. In my panic at not having any money and considering selling a kidney or even signing a death wish with Parexel to earn a bit of extra cash (ok, no, even I would never do that) I have now got so much on, that the last week or so have meant getting up along with Hugo's awful snooze alarm (set at 6.50...WHO GETS UP AT 6.50 in AYRSHIRE?), flopping in front of my laptop, downloading the latest piece of work from London, trogging away and then at 8.45, putting computer in rucksack (waterproof), putting Hinba-fart-pants on a lead and cycling the 2 miles it is to the office. At 5.45 I put the computer back in the rucksack, rouse Hinba from my feet, and cycle the two miles back again, only to re-assemble it, with cup of tea in hand and start my London freelancing again.

What ever happened to the rural, cake-making, chicken rearing, vegetable-gardening dream? Well, basically I panicked and tried to get a few balls moving, which to my surprise has worked. And also, well, it's been rainy and I've never been the sort of person to sit around twiddling my thumbs (not much gardening you can do for a start).

I have, however been appalled to learn from a good friend of mine, learned in the ways of blogging, that I have been breaking all sorts of unsaid (unread in my case) blogging rules in the wonderful planet bloggosphere. Apparently I should have been linking everything up so you can see what I'm referring to. So, from here on, that's what I will do, in the hope that all those I have offended thus far will realise I had no clue until this point.

As a starter, here's a link to Go Ape! which is where I am gainfully employed for half the week - absolutely fantastic for hen and stag weekends as you have to get around quite a hairy rope course with leaps into thin air, from 30/40/50 foot platforms. I went a few months ago with my ma and Hugo and I was seriously impressed to see mum leap off a 50 foot platform into mid air, and catch onto a massive tarzan net. (Really strange that as I was harnessing myself up, I had no idea that a few months on I would be working for them).

Other good news is that I've been actually offered a job in the fair city of Glasgow, so two days a week will find me helping with new business development for Taylor McKenzie (I think website development may be a priority...)

I was very excited on Friday to be going in to meet the Honourable Member for Witney at a local government conference (again, this was through the kind ladies of the Ayr Conservative Association - amazing where a bit of leafleting gets you..!) but I was devastated to hear that he had flu and wasn't going to be there. Sigh. So, instead of Prince Charming, we had 'BattleAxe Bella' (her own words, I promise!).

However, on my way out of Ayr, I did manage to do some market research for what children like reading/parents like buying etc of my own in Ayr's very own Ottakers, and suffice to say, I feel I should do a little more editing of 'Sammy and the Crocodile' before I'm gonna send it out.

For now, I'm off. Another guff from a contented asleep Hinba is enough to spur me on my last few slides of this project. 'Sammy' will have to wait. This week, like my last, is going to have to be dedicated to my bank account.

Fundraising part 1

Evidence that I had baked (and sold!) lots of cakes at the Ardmaddy fete...and check out cute Big Ted wearing my red Raleigh t-shirt - my most lucrative asset that day.

Pyrenees and Palm Trees

Without a doubt, the best part of quitting my awful job in London in June and coming to live in the middle of no-where as a freelance-anythinger, apart from living with my fella, are the holidays. August for me has been, well, August...if I can use the noun as an adjective.

I have had lots of heart stopping 'what am I doing here?!' moments, as I watch rejection letters from potential jobs drop into my letterbox, but to compensate, I have holiday'ed like I'll never holiday again. Afterall, as I keep telling myself- I am my own boss and if I feel like a few days abroad, they are mine to take. So it is that I have just returned from a fantastic week in the Pyrenees following three days in the highlands. (And these holidays follow the most amazing ten days sailing with six other girls and one lucky boy from Corsica to Elba and back, mainly in force 8 gales. Not for the fainthearted, but good training as I'm sure you'll agree for my expedition).

I was slightly justifying going away this time on the basis that I needed some 'high altitude training' for this blasted half marathon in October. So when Hugo and I were invited out, it was with bags stuffed with technical running and climbing gear that we boarded our charming RyanAir flight to Perpignan a week ago. The house was 4.5km up a rather steep hill in the Domaines D’Alberes hills, and so our pre-breakfast routine consisted of getting a lift down with the croissant–buyer to the bottom and then running back up. It was horrible. And sweaty. And needless to say, the high altitude training didn't last long.

A distraction plan was in order, and so when the peak of the majestic Mt Canegu (3000m ish) was pointed out to us, I agreed it simply had to be climbed. Canegu is adored by the Catalans (Catelonians?) and is dotted with high altitude monasteries (and presumably, high altitude monks) who greet weary travellers year round. Sadly, these brave plans were scuppered by bad weather. The fog and mist rolled in with gusto from Spain and Canegu disappeared from sight. Slightly gutted (but more relieved if I'm honest), we abandoned these plans and set off armed with an electronic compass and ordinance survey map to climb a smaller hill (1250m) closer to home. I wasn’t expecting it to be easy, given we were walking through thick fog in thick forest filled with the haunting sound of hunting dogs looking for wild boar (it was a wednesday - hunting day for the frenchies). But how I’m going to lead expeditions in Costa Rica when we managed to get quite lost in France, is beyond me. The path was there one minute, gone the next. Once or twice we’d meet people on their way down (which was discouraging in itself) who would appear out of the gloom and who would shake their heads in worried concern when we asked between puffs how far it was to the top. Once there (Pik Nilous) (sp?) daylight lasted less than ten minutes. And then the fog and mist rolled in again and we were all alone, breathing in the dense cloud in hungry breaths. 8 hours after we set off, we limped back through the gates of the villa to everyone else drinking G&Ts and looking at us as if we were mad. I would agree with them; it was exhausting.

The weather continued to close in, so we gave up Canegu for good and the following day we bombed down to Barcelona. Whilst exploring the hills around the city, we discovered Montserrat. I am amazed I had never heard of Monserrat before - it is incredible! Made from the sea bed between Majorca and Alicante (apparently, although how the Mediterranean sea bed moved to north of Barcelona and then flipped itself upright is beyond me). It is a wierd geographic anomaly stretching high into the sky amidst lower more normal looking hills. After a dramatic cable car up the sheer cliffs, we found ourselves in the very old Monastery listening to eight year old choristers singing Ave Maria in perfect pitch. During this long performance, Hugo was busy reading the map and managed to find the longest walk for us to do. Although only 7.5km, and fairly flat to begin with, once at the very very top the clouds turned grey and the sky looked heavy and we both ‘uh ooohd’. Once again we found ourselves on top of a huge mountain, hail screaming down and thunder starting to crack around us. (I'm becoming a bit of a fatalist as a result of these wild storms following us around Europe). Within minutes, we were soaked to the skin, and the path we were on had become a river, water gushing down the mountainside faster and faster. It took us about an hour to run/scramble back down to the monastery – by which time, the rains had slowed and we emerged from the tree line looking like mountain ghouls, hair scraped back and mud splattered up to our thighs.

After Monserrat, we drove back up through some stunning stormy scenery to the French boarder. Not normally renowned for their great vibe, we were surprised to find that this boarder town (Puigcerda) not only hosted some of the best value pizzerias in Spain, but also is home to Residence St Marc – a 150 acre stud farm owned by some lovely Bolivians. Arriving there in the evening was practically like being in South America. (I think, I’ve never been…). High up on a plateaux, surrounded by blue misty hills, the Residence itself is a gorgeous stone building filled with antique furniture and long windy staircases. The people who ran the place were so charming, and didn't mind at all listening to my attempts to speak Spanish.

"Hablas Ingles?" I asked (not even sure if that means 'speak english' or 'are you english?', either way, it's clear enough that I don't speak spanish)
"No, solo Catalan"
"Ah. Riiiiight. Hangon..."

So, I'm back in Scotland now and am staying here until my departure for Costa Rica which is in less than four months time. I have started working for my friend here which is going well - and the London freelancing has picked up again after the august sloop which means it's time now to knuckle down and earn some money. I've still got quite a bit to fundraise and only 3 months to do it in so my passport has been packed away with some dog eared euros and I'm going to concentrate now on making my skeletal bank balance look a little healthier.