There is no such thing as too much chocolate!

A belated Happy New Year to everyone. 

Our festive period was surprisingly joyous, despite missing our beloved Beatrix, as we had family visiting us for the first time in what seemed like years. Chloe and Neill were happy to leave little Minnie and Harley with us at night, as they enjoyed their two nights tucked up in a local hotel enjoying some well-earned sleep.

Benjamin, despite his age (which I will not remind you of because then I'd have to admit to being well over 30 years old myself!), was super excited to spend a couple of nights sleeping in Evie the campervan on our drive. He was the warmest one of us as we allowed him to have the heating on in the van whilst we were all cuddled up in hoodies in the house.

Boxing Day saw us having Christmas Dinner, round two, with Karen, Allan, Pat and Ian joining us. Allan won the annual Christmas quiz again! There's always next year; I keep telling myself.

And, without getting into a debate here, because we all know that Christmas Dinner must, at all costs, include Yorkshire puddings, my Yorkshire's were enormous both days. I was a proud Yorkshire lass.

One of my surprise presents from Mr M was a book about my hero, Beryl Burton. What an incredible person she was. I raced against her many times in time trials years ago but happily admit to coming nowhere near her extraordinary times.

But, the book has inspired me once more to become the cyclist I used to be. Ok, I'll never be as fit and svelte as I used to be, but I can still be the best I can be.

Last year, I started my Aim for the Impossible Challenge - to cycle from Kirkintilloch to Halifax, and my rides had covered some good miles, with the last ride being 60 miles or so. But then different things took over. Holidays, carpet cleaning and Beatrix having a big operation in August. Cycling once again took a back seat.

I'm quite ashamed to say that over the last few months, I've done minimal exercise and, combined with a job that included sleepovers and boredom eating, my fitness has all but disappeared, and my weight has vastly increased. Another reason you will never catch me wearing a skin suit on my bike!

However, reading the book it reminded me of my old cycling days when I went everywhere on my bike. I cycled to work and back five times a week (oh, the days when most of us worked simply Monday to Friday). I went on a couple of training runs, social runs on a Wednesday night that included a cider or two, and long club runs on a Sunday (if I was not in a road race or time trial). It's no wonder I was so fit then.

On Wednesday night, looking up from my plate of Toblerone, mince pies and Pringles, I announced to Mr M that I'd be going cycling in the morning. In his unique way, Mr M raised one eyebrow and returned to munching his supply of cheese, biscuits, and shortbread.

After a plate of Mr M's lovely porridge the following morning, I set about hunting for cycling gear to fit. It would appear that over the last few months, my cycling clothes have shrunk. But, not deterred, I found enough gear to cover all my bits and pieces and then top all this with a layer of waterproofs for the lovely Scottish rain that was teeming down from the heavens. Was Beatrix laughing at my expense, I wondered? Previously, if I were going cycling, I would have to get ready in secret so that Beatrix couldn't see me. She was never pleased to see me going out on my bike and not walking in the hills with her. It wasn't the first time I had to get dressed in the kitchen and sneak out of the back door, not looking back at the window as I cycled away because I couldn't handle the look she gave me. She could take me down the guilt trip with just one of her looks!

Now I'm not daft and knew I would only be able to cycle a few miles, so I opted for a short spin on the local Sustrans' cycle path from Kirkintilloch to Clachan of Campsie. A round trip of just ten miles, but enough to get the legs rolling again, and I just about managed to get up the last hill at Hillhead before reaching the comfort of my home once more.

Friday, I opted for a rest day. Even Beryl had rest days. Of course, my real reason for the rest day was to meet with Jess from the Rickety Desk to discuss the sketches for Beatrix's book. Sitting comfortably in the fabulous Abbot House Coffee House, we chatted, laughed, drank coffee, ate cakes and remembered Beatrix and her adventures, selecting photos and planning drawings.

Exciting times indeed, and I'm sure Beatrix would be pleased with the images Jess is creating. It shouldn't be long before I can tell you about pre-orders and my book launch. This one will be a real one, not on zoom. I'll be looking for suitable venues, so if you have a suggestion, please let me know.

Today I decided I'd get back out on the bike. I'm a serious cyclist now, you know! I had the same palava with the cycling gear and was horrified to find that even after the cycle on Thursday, my body still appeared larger than the cycling gear I own. But, togged up against the rain, yes, it was raining again; I set off for the same short cycle out to Clachan of Campsie. This time I opted for the road rather than the cycle path but returned along the flat, easy track back to Kirkintilloch. Hillhead was still an effort, but I felt much better. 

I'm also busy looking back through all my photos of Beatrix to help Jess and her illustrations. I came across some pictures from our adventures during the Beast from the East in 2018. This was when Beatrix was telling me I was going the wrong way. Looking closely, you can see she is pointing the way but looking across at me.

Tonight I'm working on editing Beatrix's book and trying to finalise the cover. I believe that the bit on the back of the book cover is called the promise, and I thought you might like to have a read of this draft "promise". Let me know what you think.

*****

Do dogs have a sense of humour? 

Beautiful, intelligent, caring, loyal, funny, energetic, and stone-obsessed; if Beatrix had been a human, which she believed she was, she would probably have been a head teacher.

This is a tale of companionship and adventure; funny, frightening, and at times mystical, but always revealing the true nature of this fantastic dog. With a feel-good factor, it looks at human life, habits and language as seen through a dog's eyes.

At birth, she was named Beinn Fhada, but as a ten-week-old puppy, she was taken from her dog family to get a new human mummy and daddy and re-named Beatrix.

True life adventures include having to summon help for her poorly human mum and finding herself left behind on the mountain, watching her mum being whisked away in a helicopter.

Then there’s the time she found a hypothermic human on the hills but could only watch in horror as her mum shared their picnic with the cold human.

The book also tells of when she accidentally chased skiers down a mountain and thought she’d killed her human mum.

A thoroughbred border collie, she had many obsessions, including sticks, stones and balls. But the funniest of these must be the handmade baby Jesus from her mum’s nativity scene, but she was never allowed to eat him.

Now she travels through time.

This dog needs a sense of humour!

Which tales are true, and which fiction? Only Beatrix knows for sure.

*****

Tomorrow I plan another cycle. But tomorrow is another day. Tonight I have Pringles to finish, and I do believe there may be some Christmas pudding.

As always, I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings. Please leave a comment once you've read my blog.

With love, Debra x