The airport at Barra, Scotland uses runways in the beach:

The beach is set out with three runways in a triangle, marked by permanent wooden poles at their ends, in directions 07/25, 11/29, 15/33. This almost always allows the Twin Otters that serve the airport to land into the wind. At high tide these runways are under the sea; flight times vary with the tide. Emergency flights occasionally operate at night from the airport, with vehicle lights used to illuminate the runway and reflective strips laid on to the beach.

(via this entertaining video about visiting Britain’s westernmost bus stop)

The Centennial group of car dealers sponsored a night at the drive-in, and Nissan Rogue-driving Lisa was invited.

Which Is how both L’s, Mike, Karen, and I ended up watching Cool Runnings under moonlit skies in Brackley tonight.

L-the-younger, who, at 11, had never been to the drive-in before, conjured up an implausible seating solution that involved an open hatchback and a lot of pillows. But it mostly worked. We ate an ungodly amount of unhealthy food. A good time was had by all.

Improv classes at the Haviland Club start back up for the fall next Monday, September 12, 2022:

Is it time to be creative and gain confidence from  learning about improv? HA Club Charlottetown Monday night classes start on Sept. 12, 7-9pm, Farringford House (The Haviland Club), Charlottetown. All levels of experience are welcome to attend. Must be 16 years of age and older. Book in advance with an email/payment to  lauriemurphy@marram.ca. Classes are $35 each or five for $150  - a $25 saving when paid in advance! Student showcases will be in October and December 2022.

You should join us.

Really, yes, you.

Last fall I was freshly down in the dumps about a possible relationship that ended abruptly, and in a particularly “fuck it, what’s the worst thing that could happen” state of mind. Following an ad in The Buzz, I got on my bicycle, rode down to the Haviland Club, and was still 50-50 on whether I’d bolt as I made my way up the stairs.

I am so, so glad I didn’t bolt.

What I found at the top of the stairs was, in Laurie Murphy, a kind and patient teacher of the art of improv, a fantastic and finely-honed combination of pusher, puller, cajoler and supporter.

This isn’t the “you’re going to be made fun of” improv of your nightmares, this is the “you will grow as a person in ways that you never thought possible” kind of improv. 

And the art isn’t just a “theatre thing”: the months I spent last year guided me to insights about all manner of things in my everyday life: how to run better meetings, how to work better with colleagues, how to be a better parent, and, most important and world-changingly, put me in the right frame of mind, a month after the first fateful class, to enter into a romantic relationship that has improv’s “yes, and…” baked into its very core.

You need not have any qualifications. You need never have done improv or anything like improv before. You don’t need to be a “jokey” person—indeed it’s likely better that you aren’t. 

What you will find next Monday, at the top of the same stairs that I ascended, is a dynamic merry band of friendly people engaged in a practice that, at its core, is about the exchange of gifts, a practice that is designed to make you look good and lift you up.

You’ll also find me, welcoming you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst thing that could happen.

This afternoon, while on a walk around the Dizzy Block with Olivia, I rented a curbside electric scooter from Epic Electric Scooters. It’s been years since electric scooters started to grace/pollute/block/enchant the streets of cities around the world; sometimes Charlottetown is early to adopt, sometimes late, and this was a case of the late.

Via the Epic app (downloaded from the App Store in advance), I located two scooters parked in front of the Holman Grand hotel:

Each had a “one size adjusts to fit all” helmet, which was a must-have for me, as who knew what might befall me, who’d had only a bad skateboard experience 45 years ago to base my abilities on.

Unlocking was as simple as scanning the QR code on the top of the scooter, waiting a second for it to be unlocked, and then taking off.

It seems dangerous folly to unleash untrained, unexperienced newbies like me on the naked streets of Charlottetown, but that’s what ensued: I rode around the block, figuring out balance and acceleration as I went.

My 3 minute and 42 second, 0.51 km ride cost me $2.15, which was, no argument, a worthwhile expenditure for experiencing what the to-do is about.

On the upside: the learning curve was very low, and I didn’t feel at all like I was going to fall off; it was more standup paddle board than windsurfer in this regard. The ride was smooth, and mildly thrilling, and I can imagine that owning a scooter and zipping around town would be lots of fun.

On the downside: it was challenging to make proper hand signals and maintain balance; the potholes of the Dizzy Block, while not epic in their depth, loomed a lot larger with the tiny scooter wheels under me; my credit card company flagged the rental charge as a possible fraud, and shut my card down until I acknowledged that the charge was indeed from me.

I’m not certain where or whether electric scooters fit into the responsible climate-friendly transportation network of the future, but I’m happy we now have the chance to find out in a low barrier-to-entry local way.

A return to sketching this morning, from the porch of the library. I haven’t picked up my sketchbook much this summer; it feels good to use these eyes again.

James A. Reeves writes about notebooks:

For years I believed the right notebook would solve all my problems. I explored blank pages, dots, and grids. I fooled with modular systems. I invested in artisanal, shade-grown leather journals.

He settled on these from MUJI.

I’m dating a blogger. She got trapped in her bathroom the other day:

I got trapped in my own bathroom the other day. The old glass knobs, as charming as they are, don’t work well. Try as I might, I could not get the door open.  After a moment of claustrophobic panic, I sat on the closed toilet seat to contemplate my options. 

Being an intimate part of the life of another writer is a new thing for me. It’s rather delightful.

A collection of hacks for patrons of the Charlottetown Library Learning Centre that I will add to over time.

Using the Computers

If you have a library card, you can self-serve login to any of the public computers with your library card number and your four-digit PIN: just follow the instructions on the screen.

One caveat: if you have changed your library password to something more secure than a four-digit PIN (which you can do using the online catalogue My Account > User PIN Change function), you will be unable to login to the library computers, as they require a four-digit PIN. Your in-library recourse is to ask a librarian to change your PIN for you (which you can change back later if you like).

Printing from the Computers

You can print things on the photocopier/printer located near the Maker Space from any of the public computers. Do do this you sign in to the computer, print from any application as you normally would, logout, then visit the printer, click on “Release Print Jobs” on the computer beside it, enter your library card number, and select the jobs to “release” (which means “print”). You then make payment in the box beside the printer and your pages will print. They come out in a drawer that’s not immediately visible: you need to look in the slot on the lefthand side of the printer.

One caveat: you will need to have bills or coins, as there is no provision for credit or debit payment, and there are no stored-value cards available. Copies and prints are 10 cents per page.

I oversaw the installation of new Bell FibreOp to Lisa‘s office on Queen Street yesterday. It’s a tricky old building, and she’s on the third floor, in an enclave reached through the building next door. So, in the pantheon of installs, not a walk in the park.

Mike, the Bell installer, proved more than up to the task. He was kind, patient, creative. A credit to the company.

Thank you, Mike.

In Failblog, Bethany writes:

You don’t see when I stay up late night after night trying to catch up and not making it. Or when I fail to be there for a friend, or let down my family. Or when I don’t exercise or take care of myself. I think there are lots more of those than the triumphant posts I put up.

So let’s normalize failing, and give each other a little grace when it happens, and remember to congratulate people all the more for the good posts they put up!

In this week’s The Quack, Dave writes:

One tiny programming note: a few times over the years, I’ve had people say they’re glad to hear everything is OK with my family literally all the time, because they read about our lives in the Quack. And while I will say we are absolutely lucky and happy in many ways, I hope you don’t think the Quack reflects absolutely everything in our lives… and that we don’t have, like, problems. That was never the point of this newsletter. This isn’t my whole life in a newsletter. This is the collection of (mostly) lovely mundane things that makes life worth living. This is the cup of tea on the deck in a stolen moment with Erin. This is the sink I figured out how to fix myself. This is the glimpse of the sunrise before a busy day. This is the good stuff.

So there’s owning-up-that-everything-isn’t-perfect in the air.

My summer has been dreamy, by times. I’ve swum in the ocean more times than I can count. Enjoyed wonderful meals with family and with friends. I’m in love. The world is grand.

My summer has been dreadful and hard and angry by times. Grief continues to raise its hand at inconvenient times. I’m discovering that I have so much to learn about how to thrive in a relationship. My daughter has meltdowns, and is worried and anxious a lot of the time, and supporting her, and finding supports for her, is a part-time job. The world sucks.

Both stories are true.