You'll never beat the Irish

Well, sometimes you will. Especially if I'm accompanying my wife to the rugby. As a Valentine Day's treat, as well as her new favourite, fleecy black with white spots Guinness pyjamas, I got tickets to the Six Nations match between Scotland and Ireland at Murrayfield. Sharon has missed the atmosphere of going to the rugby, supporting her country and celebrating (or commiserating) in the pub afterwards. So, while we couldn't recreate the youthful days of yore, when Sharon was the honorary girl amongst Pete and the rest of the rugby-going UCD lads, we could at least escape from the boys for a few hours to enjoy the match and a child-free pint in the Kilted Pig afterwards.

The match itself was far from a classic. Ireland dominated the first half but only had a penalty to show for it. When they landed a try early in the second half, the 8-0 scoerline was more reflective of the territorial and possession advantage they held. However, Scotland started to play a bit and, while rarely threatening the Irish line, the penalties began to rack up until it was 12-8 in Scotland's favour. Ireland then missed a couple of penalty chances to reduce the deficit. With Sharon bellowing her support for the lads in green, Ireland mounted one last grandstand effort at our end, driving for the try that would have won them the game, but a couple of knock-ons, typical of their rather error-strewn performance, handed the victory to Scotland and its relieved support.

Back at the house, Lesley and Stuart had been minding the boys, half of whom went out to play in the surprise snow while the other half (Sean and Rowan) got stuck into their Harry Potter books: Sean for the fourth time and Rowan on his first attempt. They were delighted to get a Chip Inn treat of fish and chips for tea, as neither Sharon nor I could be bothered doing any more cooking.

On Saturday, Sharon had an afternoon of baking and cooking while I took the boys into Marchmont to collect the plates Finn and Sean had decorated last weekend. We also took in the Meadows play park, despite the cold, and briefly visited the library. In the evening the Strangs and the Browns came round for dinner, which culminated in an 80s intro quiz. So, a busy and tiring weekend all round, but better than lazy and boring!

Olympics triumph

It's a grey Monday and the London Olympics are over. After a week of decent weather and 16 days of national fervour as the Olympics have brought out the best in Britain, it's hard not to feel a little bereft at the passing of a once in a lifetime (for me, at any rate) event. Will the boys ever get to experience a home Olympics again? They'll be old and grey if they do. Of the four, Sean has been the only one who has really got what the Olympics are about and he was miffed to be missing the second week, away with his brothers and Mam on the annual holiday to Ireland. Finn affected disinterest, as is his way, and Rowan just couldn't concentrate whenever we sat down to watch an event. Angus shouted along when it suited him but he will certainly be too young to remember the event first-hand, instead relying on memories related by others and a constant re-telling of the stories through the media.

The family is due back at teatime, but their sailing has been cancelled and it'll be later before they're all home. It's been a quiet week at home for me. Up for work, peaceful breakfast, some Olympics watching in Festival Square at lunchtimes and, in the case of Sir Chris Hoy's epic, golden record-breaking, Keiron swansong, after work, then home for a self-cooked dinner and, usually, more Olympics on TV till bedtime.

I say "work" but it's fair to report that productivity has been low this past fortnight, with the BBC Olympic live text stream a regular background feature, monitoring Team GB's progress in all manner of sports that I normally wouldn't give two hoots about. But it's the Olympics! Out in Festival Square, in front of the big screen, watching Helen Glover and Heather Stanning bring home GB's first gold of the Games in the women's pair; the Brownlee brothers winning gold and bronze in the triathlon; Trott and Hoy in the cycling; in the presence of steadily increasing and enthusiastic crowds, there was definitely a tear in my eye as individuals realised their potential in the greatest show on earth. Each medal may have cost several million in funding (the rowing has had £27m in funding over the last four years, to realise 4 golds, 2 silvers and 3 bronzes) but that's the inconvenient reality behind providing talented athletes with the opportunities to work and train relentlessly to achieve their goals and lift the spirits of a nation in these rather doom-laden economic times.

As a family, watching, the highlight was the half hour of madness on the middle Saturday when Jessica Ennis, Greig Rutherford and Mo Farrah won golds in front of 80,000 roaring spectators in the athletics stadium. On my own, watching Mo Farrah repeat the feat in the 5000m the following Saturday elicited quite a few shouts at the telly! The last of Team GB's golds, to Anthony Joshua in the super-heavyweight boxing, I followed on crackly Radio Five Live (which on several occasions had Sharon wound up to nerve-jangling fever pitch as she drove about) close to Flanders Moss as I drove back circuitously from Callendar.

The best moment for Sharon and I, naturally, was seeing Katherine Grainger finally achieve the gold she longed for in the women's double sculls. It was a long time coming, through the two "happy silvers", as she called them, of Sydney and Athens to the despair of losing to the Chinese in Beijing and finally the joy of pulling away from the field with partner Anna Watkins at Eton Dorney on Friday Aug 3rd 2012 and winning that cherished gold medal. For Sharon and I it was best that the race wasn't a nail-biter, and probably for the boys too, who weren't subjected to Sharon's usual vocal roarings from the couch. A few urgings were all that were required, with Angus throwing in a "Come on Katherine!" for good measure. Katherine looked delighted at the end and spoke so well in interviews. I hope she enjoys the fulfilment of her dream even more than we, and the many thousands who feel connected to her in some way, enjoyed seeing her cast off the pressure of expectation and deliver one of the triumphs of the London 2012 Olympics.

It's all over now and "normal" life goes on, albeit a little less vivid than the heightened experience of the London Olympics from July 27th to August 12th 2012.

Finn and the flame

Finn held the Olympic torch today at school. It was being shown round the classes. He seemed quite pleased but he perhaps doesn't appreciate yet what a great honour that was. On the sporting front, Finn had a tennis session last week at Craiglockhart through the school. He enjoyed the stations and hitting the ball and probably the change in routine.

Last week Sean was at Dynamic Earth with his class as part of their rainforest project. The next day he was part of a Pentland team of P5's who were at some sort of Maths Fun Day at Merchiston Castle School. It wasn't clear (from Sean) if the 26 schools represented were just from Edinburgh or from further afield. They had to do puzzles but Sean seemed more enthusiastic about the free lunch on offer. Pentland came fifth, according to Sean.

Rowan was at Tae-Kwon Do on Monday for a trial lesson at Gracemount. A martial art could be just what he needs for some discipline and control and he's been daft about Kung Fu ever since watching the Karate Kid. Sharon watched him do some of the drills and reported that he certainly had much greater speed than some of the others. For example, in pairs, you had to touch your partner on the shoulder and avoid him touching you. Rowan was far outscoring his partner. Likewise in an all-fours drill where you had to touch others hands and avoid them touching you. Rowan's great problem is listening so we'll see, if he goes along to this class, if he can crack that. He was a little better at swimming this week, as his teacher got him to lead rather than wait his turn.

Sharon was in Copenhagen at the weekend, meeting up with Ruth and Susan for their annual get together. They had a great time catching up and eating. Copenhagen was expensive but not quite Oslo-expensive. Sharon had time to herself on the Sunday and visited a couple of exhibitions. Meanwhile I oversaw a fairly quiet boys' weekend at home. Golf and soft play on Saturday morning followed by watching St. Mirren salvage a 2-2 draw against Hearts in the Cup quarter-final. On Sunday we were a bit more proactive and headed to Beecraigs country park for a good play in the playground and in the woods. After a Tesco lunch we hunted for trolls in Linlithgow Palace and climbed to the top of the tower before playing tig in the courtyard.

A busy April

The boys are back at school and pre-school now for the summer term. Sean is nearing the end of P2 and Finn will soon be preparing for the step up to P1! We better hang on before these days zoom by at an ever-increasing rate. Mind you, there are days when the boys' bedtime can't come quick enough.

Rowan is quite a handful at the moment, loud, repetitive, insistent and quick to tears when he doesn't get his way. He has made the transition from cot to bed with no bother at all, helped no doubt by his breaking in period of having his increasingly sporadic daytime naps in his "big boy bed." Once he's had his stories, songs and music (Classic FM is played on the stairwell radio for the bedtime benefit of the boys) and is asleep, we have been closing his door so he has a completely dark room. He has been instructed to wait for Sean or Finn to come and get him in the morning when it's wake-up time and barring a couple of early starts in the first few days when he was calling for their attention, he has been heeding that rule. It makes a change for Rowan to take heed of anything.

Sean got his silver merit certificate last week. Finn was making a "sprite" at pre-school yesterday. He planted seeds in a pot and drew a face on the pot. Once the seeds grow it'll be like hair and they'll get to cut it once it gets long. On that topic, the boys all had hair-cuts last week. It makes Sean look younger, Finn smarter and Rowan more grown up. When you see the three of them interacting Rowan certainly holds his own. Watching them brushing their teeth last week I was wondering how I'd got to this point in my life. If you told me ten years ago I'd be married and sitting watching my three lads messing over the toothpaste I would have been very surprised!

It was mayhem last Tuesday morning. Jane from Largs stayed over with her three youngsters as she was part of a Pampered Chef Pampered evening that Sharon was hosting in the house. With six kids aged six and under around the breakfast table it was a relief to escape with Sean to the school! Marie bade farewell after her extended stay, no doubt to go home for a rest from making curtains and cushions and cleaning and keeping an eye on the boys. Sharon and I are very pleased with the sitting room now. We just hope we can keep the room in order and away from the boys' ravages.

I took the Wallace Three to Aberdour on Saturday. We ended up there rather than set out for there but the boys seemed to enjoy the day enough. We picnicked illicitly in the lee of Aberdour Castle then walked a path that ran alongside the railway line. Every passing train elicited great excitement as carriages were counted and speed was noted. After a circular walk collecting leaves, and a snack back at the car, we found a cake shop and then a playpark with a tunnel slide that was the centre of attention, with Rowan determined to go down it even though his brothers had to help him up the platform steps to the top. Lastly we found the smaller of Aberdour's beaches and the boys built a rudimentary sandcastle which they decorated with shells and a seaweed moat. It was good fresh air for them all and gave Sharon some time to herself, although she does feel she's missing out at the moment. She managed a swim with Wendy in our absence.

The Buddies fell at the Scottish Cup semi-final hurdle, losing a goal to Rangers after 74 seconds and eventually going down 3-0. I watched the game recorded on the V+ box which seemed a wise move in retrospect, given the scoreline. Having enjoyed two thrilling Liverpool 4-4 draws on TV in the last two weeks, watching Scottish football was the sporting equivalent of "auld claes and porridge." I've just had my second and last indoor net practice in preparation for the forthcoming cricket season. I bowled and batted OK but, given the timing of Wee Wallace 4, I may have limited opportunity to put them to the test in matches this season.

Is yer Motherwell?

It's been an icy few days but not too disruptive on the travel front. I took the lads out to Beecraigs Country Park on Sunday where we didn't stray far from the car but still had a lot of fun playing by the stream and building a dam; writing names and drawing pictures in the covering of snow still dusting the ground; going for a tramp through the snowbound trees. It was good to get some fresh air. Mind you, I got plenty of that on Saturday watching a desperately poor 1-1 draw between Motherwell and St. Mirren in the Scottish Cup fourth round. We scored early on, they equalised in the second half, but the pitch was sandy, muddy and bumpy and the quality of football on show was dire.

The last time I was at Fir Park for a Cup game was on 26th Feb 1977 with Alex Ferguson in charge of the Buddies, a rampant 4-1 defeat of Dundee Utd in the third round under our belts and thousands flocking from Paisley to cheer our onward march to glory. I was with Graeme Nixon and his Dad, infrequent football supporters, and can remember the traffic tailing back past Strathclyde Park. The kick-off was delayed to accommodate the 28,000 crowd. Imagine that for a Saints v Motherwell game now! Saturday's was a fifth that size and Fir Park only holds 13,500 these days. Motherwell took the lead but St. Mirren equalised. Alas, it was not to be, as Motherwell's mustachioed super-striker of the late seventies, Willie Pettigrew, a man who looked like an ugly Billy Connolly, sealed a 2-1 win for the Steelmen. We were mixed in with the Motherwell fans (I'm not sure there was even segregation in these pre-1980 Criminal Justice Act days) and it was a real disappointment as we had felt the Buddies were invincible under Ferguson. We had to be content with the First Division title instead.

Sean managed his first recorded goal at any sport last week after a year and a half of going to ball sports after school on a Thursday. Weeks can go by without him getting a touch at the ball, regardless of the sport being played, but last week he scored a goal at hockey. It sounds like it was the turn around point for his team: from being 2-0 down Sean made it 2-1 and they secured a 2-2 draw. We won't go touting for sponsors just yet but it was worthy of note!

All four Wallace boys had long overdue haircuts last week. Sharon took Rowan one day, Sean and Finn another and I took myself! As the barber said after heaving his way through Rowan's locks and surveying the pile on the floor, "There's some come in here that don't even have that much to start with!" Rowan suddenly looks about 2 years older.

While on the subject of sport, I still can't believe England's abject collapse for 51 in the first Test in Jamaica. I was watching it on fast forward: I didn't have to! We were going round to the St. John's for dinner. Unfortunately Brian (of West Indian origin) hadn't seen it but was incredulous when I told him the score. We enjoyed our night out and dinner nonetheless!

Doors close on Love St

St. Mirren bid farewell to Love St. in Paisley after 115 years today. Here's a slide show of some photos of the old ground. I first attended a football match here in August 1972 and can remember sitting on the grass at the top of the old Caledonia Street end, not my dad's and my usual position of later years (Cairter's Corner or the Love St. end itself) but one which afforded a splendid view of the whole of the oval ground and large pitch below. St. Mirren beat Brechin City 5-1 that day. Oh that such results would be repeated regularly in the following years!

Most of my memories of the ground run into one another like so many inept defenders of recent decades. I can vividly remember Fergie's Furies defeating Dundee Utd in a wonderful giant-killing 4-1 Cup victory and being soaked and disappointed as Celtic claimed a 3-3 draw when we were 3-1 ahead the following season (that was the only point they got off us that season though: 3 wins out of 4 for the Buddies!). The crowds dwindled as the stadium was reconstructed and seating wwas introduced in the eighties. The biggest crowd I remember was a crushing 29,000 for a League Cup replay against Celtic in the 80s when the capacity was supposed to have been reduced to only 25,000. Dad and I nearly turned away from the crush at the turnstiles and could barely see the game from the dozens deep crowd at the top of the Love St end. I could plunder more memories if I thought more deeply (hard-won and rare victories over the Old Firm mostly but early ones too like a 0-5 defeat by Queen of the South and a 6-3 win over Cowdenbeath) but even Sharon had a rare first visit when we defeated Clydebank 8-0 on our way to being Millenium champions of the first division. That remains the biggest win I've ever seen!

Footnote: Saints drew 0-0 with Motherwell, unable to extend their 4-match winning run (best in the Premier League since 1990) in front of a capacity 10,189 crowd. The highlights suggest it wasn't the greatest game but at least they didn't lose!

Finn is Four

A little three year old boy was very excited going to bed last night at the prospect of waking up as a four year old. And he was even more excited this morning when he woke up and came down to open his presents in the living room. Finn is four and every inch the pre-schoolboy, still prone to bouts of childish tantrums when he's tired but gradually growing up and showing flashes of the intelligence we know lurks behind the mischievous eyes.

He was really pleased with his Polly Pocket dolls and their accessories that we bought on e-bay. Ever since discovering them at the Harrisons' house in France, then re-discovering them at the Fishers' house, he's loved dressing up the little figures and acting out games with Sean. So now he has his very own set. We bought a Junior Swingball too although the way the summer has dribbled to a damp end it could well be next year before that sees any action.

I came home early for Finn's party which was a relatively tame affair, forced indoors by yet another heavy shower. We didn't do much, preferring to let the children amuse themselves between the rooms and feeding them early. Finn was pleased with his chocolate caterpillar cake with Smarties and four candles. The Kavanaghs arrived midway through, to stay for the weekend. Pete and I headed out on a miserable evening to see Munster beat Edinburgh 20-15 at a desolate Murrayfield then we managed a couple of drinks in Whighams before catching the bus home. It seems like an age since I was last out.

A rousing reception

The Scottish Olympic medal winners were treated to a rousing reception yesterday as they took an open-topped bus trip down the Royal Mile from the Castle Esplanade to Holyrood. I joined Sharon and Rowan in the crowd up by the Castle. Sharon even managed a quick word with Katherine who nipped down from the top deck to speak to her before they set off. Star of the day was cycling hero Chris Hoy, winner of 3 golds and a silver in Beijing. That makes him the most successful Scottish Olympian ever and the first Briton to win 3 golds at one games since 1908.

Rowan was full of chat as he took in the scene from his vantage point in the backpack. I realised he's hardly ever been in the centre of Edinburgh, save for one or two forays into Princes St Gardens of a weekend. Sean and Finn hardly even come into the centre either. I suppose with me working here five days a week the last thing on my mind at the weekend is to head back into the hubbub.

Sean was doing some extra-curricular "reading of big words" yesterday, some of which were hard he said. Finn is settling back into nursery but is predictably very tired as he gets back into the routine. Sharon handed out invitations to his party to a select few yesterday.

Shattered in Shunyi

So it's 3 Olympics and 3 silvers for Katherine Grainger. While in Sydney the quad came late to grab an unexpected silver by the narrowest of margins, then in Athens the pair overhauled the Belorussians to finish behind the Romanians, on Sunday in Beijing the women's quad led at the halfway stage but were reeled in by an impressive Chinese crew who passed them in the last hundred metres or so to win by a few feet. (Watch the video on BBC here).

Sharon was distraught as she saw her friend's dream of a gold medal slip away, although her disappointment was nothing to that of the crew who were utterly dejected that they had not managed to win the gold they had targeted from the outset of this campaign. On a weekend where GB had near-unprecedented success, clinching several golds in cycling, sailing and rowing, it was especially hard that Katherine and the rest of the quad did not join the ranks of gold-medal winners.

Aside from that disappointment, the run of Jamaican giant Usain Bolt in the 100m was nothing short of astonishing as he danced over the line in 9.69s at least two metres ahead of his closest rival. The last time I was amazed by a 100m run was Ben Johnson's 9.79s demolition of the field in Seoul twenty years ago, but his subsequent positive test for nandrolone cast a shadow over the sport from which it has struggled to emerge. Time will tell but Bolt seems a different character who will do the sport a lot of good. In the pool, the utter domination of Michael Phelps as he won his 8 gold medals, each in a new world record, was also fascinating to watch. It was in the first Olympics that I remember, Munich 1972, that Mark Spitz won seven golds, a record that Phelps, now the most decorated Olympian ever, has just eclipsed. There is a degree of envy that a swimmer like Phelps, talented as he undoubtedly is, has the opportunity to go for so many golds whereas someone like Katherine, who will train every bit as hard, has only one chance at one event.

Whether Sean will remember these Olympics is debatable. He and Finn have been insisting on watching the evening highlights but that is more of a stalling tactic to avoid going to bed than genuine interest, although Sean does have his moments. What I remember most about the 1972 Olympics of course, is coming home from school (P2) and wondering why the Olympics weren't on; the coverage instead being that of the Israeli team being held hostage. Events like that put sport into perspective but it is no less heart-breaking to see someone like Katherine who has put so much into her sport and achieved so much (she is the first British woman to have medalled at three Olympics) be denied the Olympic gold she had set her heart on.

Sunshine in July

The sun came out this week. It's been a slightly better summer than last year but nothing special. We've not really been constrained by the weather but it's nice to have a bit of heat on your back. Sharon brought Sean and Finn into town on Friday and we had a picnic in the park at Eyre Place. It was another new playpark for the boys to sample. Sean was writing out a list of the playparks he's been to in Edinburgh and the Lothians. It was quite a long list!

We had a tidying weekend, partly driven by having Scott and his heavily pregnant fiancee Zoe for dinner on Saturday evening. Sharon thoroughly enjoyed making an effort with the food and we had a good evening with me dragging out some old photos from St. Andrews days and our "groomsmen" trip to Canada to support Steve in 1995. Changes in personnel since then! With us currently 3-0 in the lead on the children front the chat inevitably wound round to babies. As Sharon said, I never thought I'd be having a conversation with Scott on the merits of real nappies!

Despite the more favourable cricket weather, the season has refused to ignite. Our last chance at silverware melted away with defeat by the Widows, with my rather expensive bowling analysis no help in us defending a rather paltry total of 81. Bowling off a long run-up all season, unlike the last few years where I've mainly sent down my meagre 3 or 4 overs off a couple of strides, I've been feeling the effects more on my back and knees. Year by year, what little fitness I had gradually ebbs away...

Sports Day

Sean had his Sports Day today. It was blustery but dry and bright and all the P1s to P3s were arranged in teams representing Olympic countries, it being Olympic year. Sean was in the host country, China! There were about 12 events hosted around the perimeter of the football pitch and teams moved from one to the next. It was all very well organised.

Sean surprised us by being good at skipping. He did a spacehopper relay race; rolled a ball down a bench aiming for a bucket; football dribbling; throwing a ball into a bucket (he managed a couple); a running relay; a sack race relay; an egg (golf ball) and spoon race relay; standing jumps; a hoop race; a rugby ball race; an obstacle course; and team passing the ball through the legs. That was the last one and it took more understanding and concentration than was available. Finn was a bit of a monkey and Rowan even more so, determined to get in amongst everything and throwing an absolute paddy every time he was lifted up. Sean really enjoyed himself.

Afterwards we took Finn and Rowan for a long overdue renewal of the library books. Rowan kept up the tradition that Finn started by stinking the place out. Rowan was crying during the night for Adrian, who left last night. The aeroplanes keep disturbing Rowan's sleep. We are having to suffer several months of night flights roaring over the house as the alternative runway at Edinburgh Airport is pressed into action while the main runway is being resurfaced. The good people of Crammond must be delighted to have some peace and quiet for a change.

Measuring up

For the record, Sean thought the people at the opticians were nice yesterday. He has picked out gold glasses, having been persuaded by Sharon that these were the nicest, rather than the red glasses he originally wanted. Sharon said he looked very bookish. They will be ready in a few days' time. It'll be strange seeing Sean, who we are so used to seeing without glasses, wearing spectacles. Finn, on the other hand, just suits his glasses so well. They are very much part of him. We'll have to get Rowan tested at a young enough age to be able to correct any defects. The problem with Sean's amblyopia is that it may have been detected too late for his weak eye to recover with remedial action.

We had a measuring morning today. Sean is 116cm and 22kg (75th centile), Finn is 106cm and 19kg (just above 91st centile) and Rowan is 83cm tall (about 75th centile too) and a heavy lump to carry anywhere (probably about 13kg). That's 3'9.5", 3'6", 2'8.5" for those who like their heights in old money. Still looks like Finn is going to be the biggest of the three (but don't tell Sean that). He was the heaviest baby after all.

Sharon's walking has hit a major problem - sore shins. Given that the Moonwalk is about 7 weeks away and the only real cure for shin splints is rest, she's not too pleased at this development and is hoping a visit to the pediatrist may recommend a change to her orthotics that will get her back pounding the streets once more.

I had my second cricket net last night. I seem to have maintained that smooth bowling action that has served me well for so many years and was enjoying a good smash with the bat too. Will this season prove to be as successful as last year? Keep up with progress at the Standard Life Cricket Club website.

A long time coming....

Yes, its been too long since I posted anything to the website. Ian has been at me to do it since we got back from France. But the to-do list always seems to be longer than the time available to complete the to-do list! But I suppose I should be used to that, it has always been that way with me. Scary to think I used to be a senior project manager, can't seem to keep on top of normal day to day stuff now!

The holiday in France seems a dim and distant memory already. That said, I still look at the photos, especially of the day we went skiing, and smile to myself. That day was just the icing on the cake for me. It had been six or seven years since I had been skiing, having either been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last few years during the ski season. This is the one thing I wish I could change Ian's opinion on - I absolutely love to ski, love the fresh air, being outdoors all day, the scenery, everything. Ian, on the other hand, has no interest in it, sadly.

But it was amazing being back on snow again, belting down the slopes (nothing overly adventurous). In the morning, I skied with Andrew, Eleanor and Catriona. The two little ladies were nothing short of spectacular on their wee skis. I was apprehensive for the first hour, wondering how Sean and Finn were getting on at Ski School with Frederique, their intructor. But my heart was bursting with pride when we skied back down to find them just finishing up their lesson, heads wet with sweat, tired but having enjoyed themselves. They just looked the best things ever in their ski gear! Cute doesnt even come close.

In the afternoon, to be able to take Sean and ski with him between my legs was just wonderful. The first run down the piste, he was shouting at all around "dont crash into us", and "watch out Mam!", not realising that I was capable of zig-zaging down the slopes without crashing into anyone! I'm no Allain Baxter on skis, but I can manage ok! Second time down, he was a bit more chilled, third time he was shouting at me to go faster! As he had an all-in-one ski suit on him, and I was holding him under his arms, he was complaining of his pants being up his bot a lot!

But he was just fantastic. I'll never forget the two of us on the chair lifts, moving above the trees, watching all going on below, having a wee chat in the still silence. A day to cherish without doubt. I am determined that next winter, we will go back out and get him and Finn more confident on skis.

No love lost

We've covered a lot of miles this week. Sharon did a double-header yesterday with a coffee morning show up in Stirlingshire and an evening one down in the south-west, beyond Castle Douglas. She was fairly pooped on her return after midnight but obviously felt she had to keep her numbers up before our week in France.

I had my annual football match outing on Tuesday, heading through to Paisley for the Cup quarter-final replay between St. Mirren and St. Johnstone. The traffic through Glasgow was dead slow and stop and I got to the game 14 minutes late. Just in time to see the Perth Saints volley in an opener, in fact. Ten minutes later they were 3-0 up. They even missed a penalty before the Buddies pulled one back from the penalty spot. Little consolation for what should be the last cup-tie played at Love Street. The ground has been sold and Saints' new stadium is under construction at Greenhill Road in the town.

So that was probably my last visit to Love Street, and typically unsatisfactory. In the last couple of decades, St. Mirren's most memorable performances have probably been away from home. The travelling support are usually more fun too, determined to enjoy the day whatever the outcome. My first outing to a football match was on a sunny day in August 1972, the first day of a new season. St. Mirren, relegated the season before, trounced Brechin City 5-1. I can remember sitting with my Dad on the grass at the top of the Caledonia St. end, surveying the match being played out on the pitch below. My Dad always said I didn't run about and play like most of the other wee boys that had probably been lifted over the turnstiles by fathers and uncles: I was always was interested in the game.

St. Mirren Park gradually lost its oval shape and reduced its capacity over the years. The crowds my Dad used to talk about for matches in the fifties seemed enormous in my day (the Love St. record was about 47,000 and I think there was 108,000 at Hampden for either the 1959 Cup final or semi-final). I can remember us being crushed at the turnstiles for a League Cup quarter-final replay against Celtic in the early 80s when there was 27,000 in the ground, 2,000 more than capacity. These days, with so much televised football, the cost of admission and other diversions for one-time diehards and their offspring, even a match against the Old Firm barely draws 8,000 through the gates.

The one time I set foot on the pitch was thirty years ago when the Glennifer Cubs team visited on a miserable winter's night. The rain was teeming down as the players trained and we were allowed the luxury of trying to kick balls through the puddles and mud at the Love St. end of the oval. I can remember small, net-less metal-framed goals, the reflection of the floodlights on the puddles and getting absolutely soaked. It wasn't particularly inspiring, although I did score 27 goals that season and was player of the year!

I mused on this as the game was played out to its conclusion on Tuesday night. It was more fun than watching the football on show!

Stamping ground

Sharon's delicate little sister Edel features on the wrong end of a stamping incident in the Ireland-Wales rugby international. A Welsh whale studded her head, narrowly missing her brain by three feet. Edel has made a full recovery and even gave an interview to the Irish Independent (sadly now deleted).