Me, diving gain

Today, my new dive buddy and I partook in a shore dive from Chesil Cove, Dorsetshire. And oh my gosh, how hard it was. Forget 35 degrees C water, today it was 10 degrees. And diving in a drysuit with gloves and hood. With 42 pounds of weights (I know, I got this really wrong, should have been more like 20 pounds)...

And with a heavy steel cylinder.

So I came out of the sea after 40 minutes  with numb hands and a numb face, and couldn't even stand (wave/weight combination) and couldn't get my gear off to get out of the waves (numb hands/wave combination) and eventually, having being dragged out of the surf by my buddy, I didn't even have the energy to remove my gloves. Talk about exhausting, 

Note to self:

Dry suit leaks. Needs attention.

BCD doesn't inflate. Needs attention.

Too much weight. Needs attention. 

Too many under-layer? Needs attention.

Anyway, I didn't die. So, that's good. 

Olly 

Look at my shed!

This week I unpacked my tools for the first time since returning from Africa nearly 5 years ago. I found my tenon saw, which was the first tool I ever bought (1981, Southport), and I found a handful of tools from my first ever tool kit (Christmas, 1982, Menston).  I even found a tiny little hammer I think I inherited from Grandad Peet.

Anyway, to house all these tools I had to re-organise my shed, so here is the finished product:

I am very proud of it!

Surely, this wins the prise for the most boring blog entry I have evert made, eh? But I guess life just isn't as exciting as it once was...

Olly

Swumming

For long enough, Libby was unable to say "swimming" and said "swumming" instead. 

Here she is swumming in a small pool, having just learnt tumble-turns.

She still wants to swim in the Olympics, either for Great Britain or Liberia.

Good job Libby. Olly

Tor-Tastic!

One of the delights of living in South West England is that we've got a few ancient historic monuments all within an hours drive. We've just spent the weekend at a holiday cottage with Sally's side of the family, all within site of Glastonbury Tor, which looks like this from about half a mile away:

...and like this from on top:

The pointy bit you can see for miles around is actually the remains of St Michaels Church, built in the 14th century and mostly destroyed during the reformation in 1539, and at that time the brutal execution place of the last Abbot of Glastonbury and two of his monks.

Recently, the whole of the Glastonbury area has been absorbed all year round by the festival's atmosphere, with a hefty number of purple shops in town staffed by people with purple hair, selling crystals, rain makers and dream catchers (etc etc). A lot of the people walking up the Tor wore unusual clothes and had purple hair too. Smashing. Olly