Scotland
All's well that ends well
31 December 2009 @ 17:58
Wow, loads of things have happened in December. To
start with, I turned 29 years old and the boy took me
to London for an exciting weekend of eating ribs at
Bodean’s and spotting Mika and Huw Edwards (not
at the same time).
Despite such adventures, I’ve been in a dreadful funk all month and shall now gloss over this fact with a gallery of Scottish pictures. Huzzah!
Here is me with one of Chris’ new kitten brothers.
If you’re suffering a winter funk, kittens are a surefire cheer-up! This fella and his partner-in-chaos spent our entire visit chasing our shadows, curling up on our knees, sticking their faces in our cereal bowls and disrupting perfectly good games of Trivial Pursuit:
I also spent much time admiring the Palnackie chickens, whose main interests are hot water and brussels sprouts. The cold doesn’t really seem to bother them; they just hustle up into their coop and sleep through whatever the thermometer throws at them.
Then we went to my ma and pa’s and there was just arseloads of snow. Apparently it’d been snowing every day for a week, and everyone was understandably sick of digging out their cars. Having been away from this hardcore climate for most of our adult lives, and forgetting just how difficult knee-deep snow is to walk in, Chris and I went straight out for a mini hike.
Also, Gra and I made a MAGNIFICENT SNOW QUEEN:
Look upon the snow queen’s beauty and despair! Unfortunately, we built her looking into our parents’ bedroom, so now they have to suffer her piercing stare in the darkness every time they go to close the curtains.
Not to be outdone, my dad disappeared into the front garden to make a ... well, it started off as a Sphinx, but quickly morphed into a Wallace and Gromit-style giant were-rabbit. Arrrrgh!
Chris doesn’t look particularly impressed.
On the drive home, high in the hills outside Glasgow, temperatures dropped to -11°C and poor Carlos suffered terribly. His (anti-freeze!) screen wash froze solid, icicles formed on his roof and the condensation on the inside of his windows froze in little starbursts all around us. It was very beautiful, and only slightly hairy. The saddest part was the lonely sheep standing about by the motorway, scraping with their hooves to find grass.
Tonight is Hogmanay, and the boy and I will say a thankful ‘piss off’ to 2009. Have a lovely evening, everyone – see you on the other side! x
Despite such adventures, I’ve been in a dreadful funk all month and shall now gloss over this fact with a gallery of Scottish pictures. Huzzah!
Here is me with one of Chris’ new kitten brothers.
If you’re suffering a winter funk, kittens are a surefire cheer-up! This fella and his partner-in-chaos spent our entire visit chasing our shadows, curling up on our knees, sticking their faces in our cereal bowls and disrupting perfectly good games of Trivial Pursuit:
I also spent much time admiring the Palnackie chickens, whose main interests are hot water and brussels sprouts. The cold doesn’t really seem to bother them; they just hustle up into their coop and sleep through whatever the thermometer throws at them.
Then we went to my ma and pa’s and there was just arseloads of snow. Apparently it’d been snowing every day for a week, and everyone was understandably sick of digging out their cars. Having been away from this hardcore climate for most of our adult lives, and forgetting just how difficult knee-deep snow is to walk in, Chris and I went straight out for a mini hike.
Also, Gra and I made a MAGNIFICENT SNOW QUEEN:
Look upon the snow queen’s beauty and despair! Unfortunately, we built her looking into our parents’ bedroom, so now they have to suffer her piercing stare in the darkness every time they go to close the curtains.
Not to be outdone, my dad disappeared into the front garden to make a ... well, it started off as a Sphinx, but quickly morphed into a Wallace and Gromit-style giant were-rabbit. Arrrrgh!
Chris doesn’t look particularly impressed.
On the drive home, high in the hills outside Glasgow, temperatures dropped to -11°C and poor Carlos suffered terribly. His (anti-freeze!) screen wash froze solid, icicles formed on his roof and the condensation on the inside of his windows froze in little starbursts all around us. It was very beautiful, and only slightly hairy. The saddest part was the lonely sheep standing about by the motorway, scraping with their hooves to find grass.
Tonight is Hogmanay, and the boy and I will say a thankful ‘piss off’ to 2009. Have a lovely evening, everyone – see you on the other side! x
|
Hiatus
09 May 2009 @ 17:29
I’d been holding off on posting until our
amazing bathroom renovations were finished, but
frankly we may all grow old and wither before
they’re finished, so I shall just get on with
it.
The Mother Country
I went to the Mother Country, where we went on the Royal Yacht Britannia and marvelled at the royal luxury livin’. Fact: there was no double bed on the yacht until Prince Charles had one put in for his honeymoon. The best part of the yacht is below decks, in the crew quarters, where they slept crammed in like sardines and drank in a fantastic mess room where Di allegedly joined them for a snifter one evening.
Care and Feeding of Builders
We’ve had to buy in lots of hilariously stereotypical builder food. They like white bread, Hob Nobs and sugary tea. Chris says he has also witnessed them whistling in that warbly builder way. Can we keep one, mummy?
Wolverine
Went to see Wolverine, became obsessed with his manly ways and haircut. I want a wolfy hairdo!
Er, the boy’s just given me a stiff drink and a bowl of plantain crisps, so I shall bid you adieu and return with tales of bathroom genius.
Adieu!
The Mother Country
I went to the Mother Country, where we went on the Royal Yacht Britannia and marvelled at the royal luxury livin’. Fact: there was no double bed on the yacht until Prince Charles had one put in for his honeymoon. The best part of the yacht is below decks, in the crew quarters, where they slept crammed in like sardines and drank in a fantastic mess room where Di allegedly joined them for a snifter one evening.
Care and Feeding of Builders
We’ve had to buy in lots of hilariously stereotypical builder food. They like white bread, Hob Nobs and sugary tea. Chris says he has also witnessed them whistling in that warbly builder way. Can we keep one, mummy?
Wolverine
Went to see Wolverine, became obsessed with his manly ways and haircut. I want a wolfy hairdo!
Er, the boy’s just given me a stiff drink and a bowl of plantain crisps, so I shall bid you adieu and return with tales of bathroom genius.
Adieu!
Coming soon: My Life in PowerPoint
16 June 2008 @ 17:52
I don't have much to say at the moment. The
unfortunate good news is that I have
lots more photographs for you:
That's Troy, the Steve McQueen of dogs, moments after his second escape attempt. See how nicely he sits whilst getting his harness reattached, silently plotting his next move. Gabriella is the elderly myopic of the operation, forging tags and immunisation certificates in the dark, taken along for the ride even though she's a bumbling liability.
Next up, check out just how well the infant-me scrubbed up when I wasn't clutching a turnip:
My first day at school. I look pretty perky for someone who is about to spend two decades in education. How cute is my brother, incidentally? He looks like a cartoon character. How come his hair is so stylish while mine looks like it was hacked at by a madman with a bread knife? The smell of that leather satchel really haunts me.
And lastly, this is a photograph taken on Skye and titled JULY '88 KILMUIR:
Wellingtons, anoraks, grimacing, a big wheel. The Highlands may be less of a good holiday destination than you'd imagine.
That's Troy, the Steve McQueen of dogs, moments after his second escape attempt. See how nicely he sits whilst getting his harness reattached, silently plotting his next move. Gabriella is the elderly myopic of the operation, forging tags and immunisation certificates in the dark, taken along for the ride even though she's a bumbling liability.
Next up, check out just how well the infant-me scrubbed up when I wasn't clutching a turnip:
My first day at school. I look pretty perky for someone who is about to spend two decades in education. How cute is my brother, incidentally? He looks like a cartoon character. How come his hair is so stylish while mine looks like it was hacked at by a madman with a bread knife? The smell of that leather satchel really haunts me.
And lastly, this is a photograph taken on Skye and titled JULY '88 KILMUIR:
Wellingtons, anoraks, grimacing, a big wheel. The Highlands may be less of a good holiday destination than you'd imagine.
Trouper parents come up with the goods
13 June 2008 @ 21:32
Christmas Eve
24 December 2007 @ 16:14
The driver next to me. He's just the same.
23 December 2007 @ 22:47
Yesterday we drove to the Mother Country, which meant
six hours of eating Liquorice Allsorts, inventing new
swearwords and singing Les Champs-Élysées over and
over again until I wanted to throw myself under
a juggernaut.
We arrived in one piece, however, and are enjoying delicious food, roaring fires and picturesque winter scenery. This morning I went out to take a photograph of the sheep camouflaged in the frost-encrusted field next door and there was much muttering about 'city folk' from the kitchen.
Photographs tomorrow.
We arrived in one piece, however, and are enjoying delicious food, roaring fires and picturesque winter scenery. This morning I went out to take a photograph of the sheep camouflaged in the frost-encrusted field next door and there was much muttering about 'city folk' from the kitchen.
Photographs tomorrow.
Festive Photos: only slightly better than a poke in the eye
26 December 2006 @ 17:01
Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas etc! I hope you have all
had suitably decadent and calorie-laden celebrations
so far. I can now confirm that spending Christmas in
a hotel is the greatest gift that money can buy.
Instead of waking up on some rickety put-you-up to
familial chaos and sprout-peeling duties, you get to
wake up here:
Pretty sweet, no? Please note how this bed is wide enough for three pillows in a row and sports a jaunty festive comforter. At the end of the amazing bed is a large television and a phone which connects you to the magic food man who brings you food on a tray. Genius.
Edinburgh is very beautiful at Christmas. The boy took this photograph of the skating rink and funfair in Princes Street Gardens, also home of the excellent German Market where you can buy hot chocolate with rum in it. I'm just sayin'. You can see the castle lit up in the background of this photo, which I only really mention for Cope, who likes castles.
The boy and I are now in Palnackie, of Coast fame. Palnackie is the loveliest and most picturesque place in the universe. My father-in-law smoked a trout in honour of our visit and I was handed a sloe gin on arrival. What more can I say? The drive South was drizzly and quiet, although the boy kept us entertained by suggesting alternate messages for the LED police messageboards we kept passing:
Merry Christmas
Don't Drink and Drive
Drug Driving: it's not worth it
Love your wife and family
Thou shalt not kill
Masturbating makes you blind
You get the idea. Back home to London on Thursday and, inexplicably, we can't wait. Hope everyone is warm and well and getting their groove on as applicable.
Cheers!
Pretty sweet, no? Please note how this bed is wide enough for three pillows in a row and sports a jaunty festive comforter. At the end of the amazing bed is a large television and a phone which connects you to the magic food man who brings you food on a tray. Genius.
Edinburgh is very beautiful at Christmas. The boy took this photograph of the skating rink and funfair in Princes Street Gardens, also home of the excellent German Market where you can buy hot chocolate with rum in it. I'm just sayin'. You can see the castle lit up in the background of this photo, which I only really mention for Cope, who likes castles.
The boy and I are now in Palnackie, of Coast fame. Palnackie is the loveliest and most picturesque place in the universe. My father-in-law smoked a trout in honour of our visit and I was handed a sloe gin on arrival. What more can I say? The drive South was drizzly and quiet, although the boy kept us entertained by suggesting alternate messages for the LED police messageboards we kept passing:
Merry Christmas
Don't Drink and Drive
Drug Driving: it's not worth it
Love your wife and family
Thou shalt not kill
Masturbating makes you blind
You get the idea. Back home to London on Thursday and, inexplicably, we can't wait. Hope everyone is warm and well and getting their groove on as applicable.
Cheers!
Awa' hame
23 December 2006 @ 08:28
The boy and I are decamping to Scotland for the
festive season. In possibly the best two hundred quid
I've ever spent, we have booked into a luxury hotel
in Edinburgh instead of staying at my folks house. I
feel that any guilt I have over such a decadent and
Londonite move will be immediately salved by
Christmas Eve room service and those teeny tiny
Molton Brown shampoos. Rock on.
On Boxing Day we are taking my dad's car (because Dads don't really need cars) to the beautiful Solway Coast in order to visit the boy's relatives and stare at the ocean, smoking pipes.
We are packing a freakish amount of technology and spent last night syncing iPods and burning DVDs onto hard drives and backing-up laptops and winding up cables. We are kind of like the Borg, in a way.
To the Motherland, and don't spare the horses!
On Boxing Day we are taking my dad's car (because Dads don't really need cars) to the beautiful Solway Coast in order to visit the boy's relatives and stare at the ocean, smoking pipes.
We are packing a freakish amount of technology and spent last night syncing iPods and burning DVDs onto hard drives and backing-up laptops and winding up cables. We are kind of like the Borg, in a way.
To the Motherland, and don't spare the horses!