In Louis' Wake

Nation

2012-01-14T07:28:00.000Z

A few weeks ago I rejoined the Scottish National Party (SNP). This decision followed weeks, months, of reading, thinking, discussion and not a little soul searching. I am not a political animal by nature - I am more free radical than party hack - but I feel a change coming and I want to be there, involved, in the front line.

I left the party years ago, disillusioned by what I saw as a lack of will among the Scottish people. I feel that will is growing now. The SNP won an epic, historic and bloody wonderful victory in the Scottish election last May. Since then I have felt a swell of confidence - a positive buzz in the air. It might be my imagination... it is probably the flags.

Saltire

Saltires started popping up all over Edinburgh. Everywhere I looked I saw the blue and white fluttering in the breeze. It brought me to a realisation. I love that flag.

I make no apology - I think the Saltire (or St Andrews Cross) is beautiful. I tried, during my years in the wilderness, I really tried to love the Union Jack. I can't. It just looks so angry to me, so strident. But the Saltire... Look at it. Sky blue, gentle, loving, welcoming. I look at that flag, my flag, and I honestly feel my heart swell. You can't fight a visceral reaction like that. As The MacNeill said: "You can't deny what you are".

And what I am is a Scot. Not British. Again, I tried that but it just didn't fit. For a long time I couldn't even say the words - "I'm British" - they would just stick in my throat. My little-Briton facade finally began to crack back around the time of the last UK election.

Before continuing I should probably make something clear: I am not anti-England. I am PRO-SCOTLAND. I just want the best for my country and her people. I have English friends, one in particular who's friendship I value dearly. So please believe that I don't wish England any harm. However...

The day after the election of 2010 I was in Arles, in France - lunching in the sun (sigh). I had voted, by post, before leaving home and was keen to learn the results so I questioned a group of English people at the next table. The resulting conversation preyed on my mind during the following months.

First of all, they were really pleased by the apparent Tory victoy(!). This clearly marked them as persons different from myself. However, the real issue, the thing that worked on me subconsciously afterwards, was their manner towards me. They were not rude, exactly. They were just fantastically condescending. One man in particular talked down to me like I'd been brought in just for his entertainment. One of those entertainingly troublesome jocks he'd heard about somewhere. Bear in mind, I did not at any point, mention independence to these people. This guy brought it up, then proceeded to ridicule the very idea. I did not argue. I was on holiday, I was a-political and I just wanted to hear who'd be governing 'my country' when I got home. I bit my tongue and stopped talking to them as soon as possible.

But their attitude rankled. Why on earth, if we were all one Great British People, should I be condescended to in that way? I've travelled a bit. Whenever I've met a fellow Scot abroad it has been like coming upon a long lost friend. These englanders made me feel more of a foreigner among them than I did among the French people round about us. We were not the same people.

So, that incident planted a seed in my mind which, fed by the great result in Holyrood, and watered by my heartfelt love for the Saltire, has flourished into a renewed and shiny desire for self determination in Scotland. Like I said, it's not about the English. It's about the Scots.

There is an old, lighthearted and rather cliched Scottish toast:

Here's tae us
Wha's like us?
Damn few
And they're a' deid

We are very fond of listing the many, many...many things we Scots have invented or discovered. We are innovators and explorers, writers, painters, warriors, poets and philosophers. Or we were. For a long time I think, as a people, we'd lost our way. Scots are prone to be backward looking, dwelling on past glories rather than looking to the future. Fearing the unknown, perhaps. But we are artists and thinkers - we must grasp the nettle or, in fact, the thistle! We are neds and numpties too, of course, but we shouldn't let that stop us.

Alba gu bràth

Resolve

2012-01-04T21:25:00.000Z

I don’t normally make ‘New Year Resolutions’. I believe that, if some aspect of your behaviour or personality requires adjustment, you should make the necessary changes as soon as you realise the need. To wait until the turn of the year seems daft and rather artificial to me.

That said, this new year comes just at the end of a difficult time for me. The second half of 2011 was, as I have previously stated, a bit of a shitstorm. Some of my traumas I've already shared with you, other events are known to almost no-one. However, the cumulative effect was to produce one of the unhappiest and most emotionally gruelling periods of my life.

As I emerge back into the light I'm looking forward, hopefully, to what can really only be a better year. I've learned that, no matter how much I want to, I can't control every aspect of my life. I do however, have power over my own reactions and responses to what the world throws at me. Therefore, I have made some personal resolutions which, co-incidentally, coincided with the new year...

I resolve to strive, in 2012, to be a calmer, happier and less mental person than I was during much of 2011. That way was just too exhausting. Wish me luck.

Wish

2011-12-25T12:52:00.000Z

xmas wish

The other day my lovely new friend Mary sent me her kind wishes for the future. Perhaps the spirit of the message just appeals to my Celtic heart but I found the words beautiful, moving and rather stirring. I want to share them with you too...

May there be change left over after every Bill
May there always be a worthy cause that strengthens your fighting spirit
May you always have Courage to fight the Good fight
May there always be a song that you are moved to sing
May there be Strings, Pipes, and Drums to inspire your dance
May there be a pint, a glass, a Dram, or a mug to lift in cheer
May you Embrace Laughter with a tight group of Friends
May you Vanquish all petty Drama
May your Family be the source of your Strength
May there always be work that animates your Pride
May there be someone who enters your room and makes your heart beat faster, your smile be gladder, and your eyes light with love
May there be a warm hearth for your feet at the end of a long day
May there be a young person who inspires you to remember to feel Childish wonder
May there Always be Learning to keep your mind and wits sharp
And because surely, your cause is always righteous and just and driven by your love of Humanity, May your Enemies be rendered to silence and deafness

Seasonal felicitations to one and all!

Yuletide

2011-12-22T09:05:00.000Z

Callanish Stones, Isle of Lewis

I love Yule. This is, by far, the best solstice of the year! In June we're saying goodbye to the sun as we start our journey away from it - towards winter. Now, in December, we commemorate the commencement of our swing back towards spring. What better reason for festivity?

Also, it is an excellent reason for lights and celebration in the darkest days of the year.

I've just been out to watch the sunrise...ish. The cloud cover is so thick I couldn't really see the sun. I walked along the dark river bank, listening to birdsong and the rush of the water. After a while I realised I could see the field on the opposite bank - I surmised that the sun had risen. I came home :)

Now for a hearty breakfast - I have a busy day ahead.

Merry Yuletide best beloveds!

Release

2011-11-26T20:15:00.001Z

The arctic winds have subsided for a while and we have decided to go with the tail end of a tropical hurricane instead. This made for a blustery but enjoyable trundle down to the bottle bank this morning. Ten minutes crashing and smashing in the name of Mother Earth is a fine way for a chick to start the day - and to sort out a few of her issues at the same time.

In the afternoon I went to the rugby. My local boys got beaten but, considering they were playing a team from the Borders (where babes use rugby balls as teething rings), they did not loose too badly. Once darkness fell I had a wee bit bonfire in the garden - the light, the smell, the sparks - most satisfying.

I've been doing some deep and serious thinking this week but today I have been letting it all go. I've had enough of thinking. Time to get on with life.

Unreconstructed

2011-11-17T19:29:00.001Z

I've done a good deal of moaning this year about the state of my relationship... and to be entirely honest it has been pretty bad at times. However, throughout it all I keep surprising myself by being less upset or more forgiving than perhaps I should be.

The thing is, I don't really mind. He can be a bit grumpy - I find that kind of adorable. He's uncommunicative - this is but a challenge to my own communication skills. His lack of consideration and habitual failure to express his feelings - an excellent opportunity to practise understanding and forgiveness. It's mad, I know, but that's how it is.

What is going on? I am strong-willed and deeply feminist but this unashamedly unreconstructed man has sent me loopy. It seems he is exactly, entirely what I need. My dear Dolly talks about Yin and Yang. That's just what we have, I think. He has drive, I have imagination. I'm whimsical, he's responsible. He's a big bear and I'm his wee smout. Yin and yang.

I get annoyed that he is so epically poor at keeping in touch - it is the 21st century, man - the Communication Age! But then, he is very old-fashioned. He opens doors for me, helps me on with my coat and occasionally tries to make me 'act like a lady', i.e. stop cursing like a sailor - bless. OK, he often does not reply to my messages (I do have chatty fingers) but I know, I am certain, that when I need him he will come.

We are different in a lot of ways. Varied interests. Wildly differing musical taste (in that, I have some!). He's something of an exhibitionist and I'm shy to the point of sometimes becoming uncomfortable when people look at me for too long. But basically, I believe, we are the same.

We are both passionate, loquacious (when face to face) and fascinated by language. We talk about everything, just everything. He feeds my mind. He is the most interesting person I know and I learn from him every day. We laugh. When I'm with him I feel wrapped in a golden bubble of warmth. When I'm upset or anxious, his very presence calms me, his voice soothes me. He makes me happy.

He's made me unhappy too but only because of things he didn't say or do - because of miscommunication or misunderstanding. I don't think he ever purposefully hurts me. Over these last months our relationship has been stormy but a number of outside events have affected us too and he has never let me down - not when it mattered.

Obviously I can't know how he feels or what he really thinks but I know my own mind. I know what I want. Also, I believe that he will love me in the way I want to be loved. So, I trust what my heart tells me, what his actions say (and what he tells me himself in the quiet moments). I trust and I love and I really, really don't mind.

History2

2011-11-08T19:10:00.000Z

Shamed by my relative ignorance in comparison to some of my chums, I resolve to start reading up on my country's history.

I am very keen on pre-history. My feeling is: if folk were able to write stuff down they were far too modern for my taste. However, my patchy knowledge of Scotland's post-neolithic period has been brought home by my inability to engage in some recent debates with chums. Not in any sensible way, at least.

I know some stuff, of course. I know about the Wars of Independence - William Wallace is my hero and I practically had the Declaration of Arbroath tattooed on my butt. However, as with most things, the rest of my historic knowledge is more romantic than factual in nature. This should and will be remedied. I have somehow, at some point, obtained a copy of Magnus Magnus Magnusson's Scotland: The Story of a Nation. In the first 12 pages he has succinctly summed up the first 7000+ years of Scotland's human occupation and I am nearing the edge of my knowledge... until we reach 1286 at any rate.

Chapter 2 is entitled 'The Romans in Scotland'. What? Come now Mr Magnusmagnusson! We all know that all the Romans ever did for us was build a couple of walls and then sod off to Newcastle to hide out for a few hundred years. No? We shall, no doubt, soon discover the facts. See you in a thousand years or so...

Lights

2011-11-06T20:38:00.000Z

source

Last night we saw a floating lantern crash into a star. The star flickered out at the moment of impact but both bodies seemed to survive the encounter relatively unscathed...

It was Bonfire night. I never refer to it as Guy Fawkes. A chap who, not only failed to destroy Westminster but was also really pants at keeping secrets, deserves no commemoration in my opinion.

Anyway, bonfires... Teo informs me (no doubt reliably) that the word bonfire derives from the traditional practice of burning animal bones - bone-fires. It seems feasible to me that such rituals would occur at this time of year. Burnt bones would result, I expect, in a mineral rich ash which, when spread on fields, would help restore the nutrients absorbed by the recently harvested crops.

I burnt no bones, nor fired any fireworks last night. I did, though, attend a small soirée along with some chums. The music was... variable. However, the company was jolly and the food, homely and plentiful. A good time was had by all.

The Old New Year

2011-10-31T22:13:00.000Z

Seasonal felicitations my best beloveds! Traditionally, in Scotland at least, Samhain marked the turning of the year. This makes sense to me since Samhain comes at the end of the harvest period. The crops are in, winter is coming and there is little left to do but batten down and await the spring.

tumshie lantern

We had our Samhain feast on Saturday night, providing the opportunity for a more full bodied celebration than we might have managed on a Monday... Followed by sufficient recovery time before returning to work.

Tonight I have been far more introspective, quietly contemplating the tribulations of the old year and looking hopefully towards the new year to come. I have my plans and schemes, as always, but I think this year I'll try to live a little more in the real world than inside my head. It can be damn scary out there but I think it might be worth the risk.

I will continue with 'Operation Sociability', which has proved wonderfully successful so far. Also, since my social explorations have bagged me a rather friendly linguist, I shall aim to improve my language skills as well.

I wish everyone, beloved and otherwise, a wonderful new year and a very happy Samhain

Beards

2011-10-27T21:13:00.000+01:00

stupendous moustache

I love beards. It is a deep and fiery passion, over which I have little control. If I was a chap I’d grow one of my own but sadly I cannot. At least not yet – give me a decade or two... Until that time, I am forced to only adore the beards of others.

I have been a Pogonophile for many years. I believe this stems from my childhood love of moustaches and in particular that on the lip of the glorious Mr Boyd.

Mr Boyd was deputy-headmaster at my primary school and a more caring, insightful and dashing gentleman you could not hope to meet. A tall, elegant chap with thick, dark hair and twinkling brown eyes, he had the most stupendous moustache ever to grace the face of mortal man (always excepting Sir Tom Selleck, of course). My childish adoration of this paragon and his wonderful tash has, I believe, blossomed into my full grown, nasty beard-love.

I don’t think I’ll go into too much detail about what the sight (and sensation) of a beard or tash does to me... but even now, I am sometimes surprised by my reactions to unexpected whisker sightings. I am privileged to work among many attractive, intelligent and accomplished men who, in the normal course of things, I would have no dark feelings for. However, should one of these fellows suddenly appear sporting any sort of fuzzy facial growth, I go all a-quiver. I have done everything in my power to advance the spread of beardiness: I have encouraged and cajoled many men into growing their own face-shrubs; I have praised new growth and expressed regret (and fallen out of love) over untimely shavings.

I am fully aware that this is not a passion shared with many woman but I am not ashamed. I am a woman who loves men who have beards.

Axe

2011-10-24T21:59:00.000+01:00

I seem to be getting a reputation as a mad-eyed, axe-wielding maniac... at my place of work! This is troubling. Stuff can get out of hand so quickly. A few thinly veiled threats and one suggestion that incorrect filing might result in decapitation... and suddenly I have a new nickname: 'Axe Murderer'. So unfair! Obviously, I have made it clear that this name as unacceptable and have instructed the two jolly japesters to re-work it and come back with something cuter and far less threatening. It is a work in progress, the current incarnation being 'Amanda'. Keep trying guys...

The thing is, it's not only at work that I have this dubious standing. Friends, who've known me forever, seem to think of me on a scale ranging from feisty to dangerously psychotic. How did this happen?

I know exactly how. I used to be quite the angry chick. An angry girl from a long line of angry women, putting up a front and pre-emptivley attacking (as the best form of defence). Feisty, opinionated and unpredictable - an all round joy, in fact. I've put all that behind me now. I am calmer, serene even. I still have opinions but I can express them in a more diplomatic fashion these days. Still feisty though. That's never going to change :)

I've worked hard to polish my personality over the years, smoothing the rough edges and hammering down the spiky points, but it seems some people have failed to notice (or perhaps believe in) the changes. However, it amuses me, no end, that my work colleagues think of me as this fearsome creature, even now. The old me would have just scared them all to death!

Focus

2011-10-09T12:17:00.004+01:00

Focus on the bad things
The lumps, the bumps,
The towering ego
Consider the inconsideration
The constant non-consistency

Focus on the dark side
The man
The moods
The melancholy

Focus on the bad things
To smother and smoor
The golden memory
Of happiness and laughter
Just focus on the bad things

Alien

2011-10-08T12:30:00.000+01:00

My life is not very jolly at the moment and I seem powerless to improve my situation. In the old days I would have just run off abroad and lost myself in the wonders of the world. Now that I have a home that I love and a job I’d hate to lose, I no longer have that option. I have to stay put and struggle with the emotion. The Runes (yes, the Runes) tell me to be strong and patient because a new chapter is about to open in my life. That’s easy for them to say. They are just little bits of wood.

Why do I have so much difficulty with human relationships? It's not through want of trying, I assure you, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it.

It's partly in my genes I think. My grandad was a fairly solitary man but he blamed that on being in a house full of women. My mother is professionally anti-social and feel I am pretty much at the tip of that particular evolutionary branch. A creature less social than myself would be physically unable to reproduce...

I also think I suffered from spending my formative years in hospital rather than with my family. I don't believe I was able to learn proper social skills in that environment. I am brilliant at forming instant but transient connections with strangers - doctors and nurses for example. It's the lasting bonds I can't seem to forge.

In the last year or so I've had a lot of discussions with friends about relationships, human nature and whatnot. It is, of course, a vast and thorny topic. I think I understand something and then, in a moment, everything turns on it's head. I've gained some useful incites from discussions with male friends - information from the enemy camp, so to speak. I've seen what men do but they helped me to understand (a little) why they do it. To women, I think male behaviour can seem brutal and cruel but I believe more and more that it is often just entirely thoughtless.

Although better than cruelty, thoughtlessness is still a very bad thing when you're on the receiving end.

Disenchantment

2011-09-25T14:14:00.000+01:00

What do you do when someone you love and admire lets you down completely? Perhaps my expectations are unrealistic but, from conversations with friends, it seems his behaviour has been shoddy by anyone's standards. Have I been an idiot for taking so long to realise?

I have been torn because I do love him. Just because he has been pigheaded and selfish, that doesn't make my concern for his well-being any less. Is he hurt/ill/lonely/sad? I don't know because he refuses to communicate. Today I made one more attempt to get in touch, to set my mind at rest. I have done that. Whatever his current mental state, it is entirely his own affair and no further business of mine.

Even now I find myself making excuses and allowances for him. Trying to understand. Nevertheless, the bottom line is this: he is treating me poorly and I deserve so much better - especially from him.

Road-trip

2011-09-07T16:52:00.000+01:00

I am home from my first euro-trip undertaken by private transport. Unlike cars, the thing about trains is, they never get lost... (snigger)

Poznan, Poland

I have to say, Poland (the parts I saw at least) completely exceeded my expectations: Poznan was gorgeous, the food was spectacular (yay golonka!) and the people I met were friendly and welcoming. It was also great to be there with Teo (aka the Drumbitch) having heard him talk about the place for so many years :)

In Magdeburg we found what must be the unfriendliest Italian restaurant in all the world and I was feasted upon by mozzies. I did, however, get to sleep inside a bona fide work of art so, it wasn't all bad.

Happily, I didn't have to kill anyone, there were no land sharks and I only came across the one vampire. All in all it was a great trip but it is indeed fab to be home again.

Book of the trip: Be my enemy by Christopher Brookmyre

Janice

2011-08-08T20:38:00.007+01:00

My Auntie just died.

I am stunned. Numb. Empty. I don't seem to be feeling anything. Writing often calms me when I'm anxious. Perhaps it will help release my feelings now.

She was an odd lady, my Auntie Janice, but she made me laugh. She was always so excited by my smallest adventure or shocked by my least risqué remark. "Jane Ann!" she would exclaim at those times, as if I were the sauciest scamp who ever lived. Drawing out my childhood name to almost three syllables instead of two, "Jane Ann!"

She worried me when I was little. I found her unpredictable. Perhaps she mellowed as I grew but I think, rather, I came to appreciate her eccentricities. She was very generous with her praise, always begging me to sing for her as if I was Maria Callas herself... and the tears have come...

... I just remembered, I spent the last week or so learning a song for her. She kept asking me to sing Sunshine on Leith but I never knew the words. Since she's been ill I decided to learn it so next time she asked I could sing it for her. Now I never will...

Goodbye lovely Janice. I'll miss you so.

Romance

2011-08-08T18:03:00.012+01:00

Am I too romantic? It seems, unfortunately, that I am. I look for 'true love', for 'happily ever after' but the life I'm longing for is one that can never truly exist. Not in this world. Who's fault is that? Who can I blame for this defect of heart and mind?

Should I blame myself? Perhaps. I am undoubtedly cursed with a vivid imagination and, given the chance, could live for weeks, even months, inside my own fantasy world. However, imagination is not the same as romanticism. Also, it feels unpleasant to accept full responsibility for my own shortcomings.

Instead, I choose to blame Hollywood. Movies are always cited for their glorification of sex and violence but what of their arguably more damaging crime? The glorification of romance. How many little girls have, like me, been ruined forever by a diet of Disney heroines and their Princes Charming? Of Destiny, Soul Mates and 'Boy meets Girl'?

Books too are culpable. From Pride and Prejudice to Bridget Jones we are plied with the crack cocaine of Finding Mr Right. I didn't stand a chance.

During the years since my last, great, tragic romance I created a template for my ideal man. Specific, from physique and colouring to temperament and personality, and I would settle for nothing less than perfection. I had no need to settle. I was happy in my solitude. Content to be single and serene, untroubled by any strong emotion and not willing to risk my heart unnecessarily. Waiting for The One.

Then the Spring came. This potent Spring that reached deep inside me and somehow switched on the passion that had been hibernating for so long. I felt myself opening like a flower in the sun. I was ready to love. Ready to risk... but on who?

I looked around and found a man I had known for years. A man who seemed to fit my template, though not exactly. But I did not nitpick. I was awash with passion and romantic ideas and there was no stopping me.

It even felt like a love story: years of friendship and constant devotion, two people kept apart by circumstances and bad timing. The heavens would align, destiny would take it's course and true love would prevail!

Bollocks

Did I shoe-horn this man into the space meant for my ideal? Did I ignore the aspects that didn't quite fit because the overall effect was so pleasing? You bet I did! But also, I wanted it to work, so very much. It seemed so right, so 'meant to be'. It just couldn't fail. The problem was, it wasn't a love story. It was real. Two very flesh and blood people with sadly different ideas on what 'love is'.

My friend SG has a man who seems perfect: caring, considerate, imaginatively romantic. My brain tells me he is exceptional, that SG is uniquely fortunate, but my heart - my wayward, stubborn, romantic heart - says "Where there is one there must be more". It sees hope where none exists.

Today, speaking to one of the beautiful, clever, sweet and entirely unavailable men who plague my life, I just barely managed to hold back the tears. "Why aren't you mine?" I was screaming inside, "Why do I never get the happy ending?"

Because there is no happy ending. Not in this world.

Despite what I have been led to believe, I will not die from a broken heart. So, I will give myself a mental shake, paste on a bright smile and carry on. Though all the time, through gritted teeth, I will be whispering curses on the memory of Walt Disney.

Mis-communication

2011-07-14T02:07:00.001+01:00

This is hardly an original thought, I know, but I have often pondered how much easier life would be if you could just look inside your loved-one's head and see exactly what he had going on in there. What crazy thoughts he had bubbling away.

Misunderstanding, misapprehension and downright fuzzy-headedness have been the bane of my life these last few weeks. As a compulsive communicator I find it most trying when folk continually refuse to just tell me everything. Not all the time of course, I'd never get anything done. Just when I ask.

Communication! That's the key. Do not brood over worst case scenarios. Do not hold your tongue, assuming you will get an unfavourable response. Do not worry yourself into a mental implosion - just speak. What's the worst that could happen? Really? Some pouting? A wee argument? Or, just perhaps, a smile and a hug and some chiding about what an irretrievable dafty you are.

Words, spoken without spite or anger, could never be as harmful as misguided silence. A problem, a fear or an annoyance will only get bigger and stronger if it's left to fester in the dark.

Just say it, okay?

In my eternal drive to look on the bright side, I find one speck of comfort among these dark days. It transpires that, in fact...

I was right!

Ending

2011-07-01T22:44:00.002+01:00

I am currently experiencing the end of a three month relationship. "So what?" you say, "three months is nothing". However, this is also likely to mark the end of a 15 year friendship and that is a terrible thing.

As with all relationship endings, these early days will be the worst. I feel awful but the first person I would think to call for sympathy is the very one who made me feel this way. I love and despise him in fairly equal measure just now. I miss him so much it aches but I could happily live without seeing his face again for a very long time. The thing is, he's been in my life for so many years. What am I going to do without him?

I am wretched. My mood alternates, without warning, between misery and anger. I have to say, I prefer the anger. This morning I savoured my fury - felt it seethe and flourish and marvelled as it's power compressed my feelings down into a hard, cold, shining jewel within me. Then - pouf - around lunchtime the anger vanished and left me feeling wrung out and empty. A soggy, pathetic, tearful wreck... I much prefer the anger.

Testing

2011-06-23T16:35:00.001+01:00

...testing. Have I at last regained the power to blog whatever fluff and nonsense occurs to me? From wherever in the world I happen to be? Oh, I do hope so... Although the rest of the blogosphere may be of a different opinion...

Nicknames

2011-06-17T18:15:00.001+01:00

I like nicknames. Love them in fact. From my earliest days I longed to have a nickname of my own but, with the brief and unhappy exception of "Mouse", I never did.

I am compelled to give them to others though. Perhaps vicariously I have bestowed the following on friends and loved ones, past and present:

Mutley
Frog
AJ and Ug
Shem
The Dark Mistress Bun
Dolly Biscuit
Chucklebutty

There are many others which I shall not bother to list at this time but as you see, it is a compulsion of mine. However, I still ached to have such an endearment for myself.

Then, just recently, I realised I have loads of nicknames. There is not, perhaps, one name that everyone knows me by, but when I think of it, that could never really happen. Few of my friends actually know each other (and likely wouldn't get on if they did) but they do know me and some of them have been lovely enough to call me by myriad mad names.

I am currently known, in various quarters as:

McFeisty
FT
Ruby
Flaggage
Condiment
The Grand Inquisitor
Pipskie

and today, it seems, I may have a been given a new one...

Calm

2011-06-08T19:40:00.000+01:00

My day has been a roller-coaster of emotion. From frustration and irritation to hilarity and near hysteria. I'm home now - let the healing begin.

I started with a burst of angry-shouty music to burn off any excess then went for a lovely calming shower. This took twice as long as it should have since I was interrupted by a call-centre sales call in the middle and had to start the calming from scratch.

I'm now looking forward to a comfort-food-and-movie-combo to complete the evening...

Copacabana (Zombie version) - the audio

2011-05-27T18:49:00.006+01:00

Listen!

I finally got round to recording my zombie song - the single greatest piece of writing I have ever completed!

Obviously, this does not include my opus - the libretto to my opera based on the life and times of my neighbour Frank. I still have several decades of work and toil before that epic is ready for the world... or, indeed, vice versa...

Machete

2011-05-01T18:10:00.001+01:00

source

Just watched Robert Rodriguez's film 'Machete'. Ahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahaha...
hahahahahaha... sorry... *cough*

It was classic Rodriguez, only oh, so very much more so! Chicks, guns, chicks with guns, knives, sex, death and Cheech Marin. I should have found it deeply offensive but there was just such obvious joy in the mayhem. I suspect this film is Danny Trejo's reward for years of faithful service - watch it, you'll see what I mean :D

History

2011-04-29T22:27:00.007+01:00

Kilmartin

Such a fun time in Argyll today. The early cloud cover burned away so, by the time we arrived at Kilmartin glen it was brèagha!

I must admit, I was a smidge disappointed by the valley. I had been led (perhaps by my own, fevered imagination) to expect a landscape bristling with megaliths. In fact there are just a handful of visible sites. Much of the archeology is more subtle than I had imagined. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful place and we had a fine time.

On the way back we stopped at Dunadd fort. When the Scots first arrived from Ireland this was the capital of their kingdom, Dál Riata.

Dunadd

Apparently a king of Dál Riata would place his foot into this hollow in the rock, thereby demonstrating his oneness with the land... or something. Of the 3 persons on the hill today mine was the only foot to fit the hollow. So, obviously, I declared myself King Of All Scotland.

A certain of my subjects suggested that, as a person of the female variety, I could not be king! I at once pronounced him a treasonous blackguard and ordered him dispatched by one of the messy but effective methods beloved of my forebears. Just in time I realised he was my ride home and granted his reprieve.

Inveraray

Lastly, we returned to Inveraray where we had spied the sublime Vital Spark on our outward journey. On arrival we stopped only to take sustenance (in the form of a mighty fine fish tea) before wandering round to the shores of Loch Fyne to view the boat where she was moored.

So enamoured was I by the ship (and by Teo's impersonation of her captain, Para Handy) I was compelled to purchase a copy of Neil Monro's stories: "There iss not a finer nor a faster vessel than the Fital Spark in the tred; she iss chust sublime" as Para Handy would say.

Friendship

2011-04-25T16:02:00.005+01:00

Camino buddies

My recent communication impoverishment has made me deeply aware of how much comfort and pleasure I get from the little messages I usually receive throughout the day. Being without my mobile has left me bereft and alone without those silly tweets and texts to brighten my life.

My virtual community - held together by chat and common interests.

A clever chum told me this today:

Not by chance, I think, "to communicate" derives from the latin verb "communico", that means "to share", and the word "communio"

I really like his insight into the root of a word which means so much to me. I am a compulsive communicator and can feel just as close to a person by reading their words as by speaking to them in person. My virtual friends are as important as any others - and they may actually know me a little better - but I am currently cut off from them for large chunks of my time!

As if that wasn't traumatic enough, during these last weeks I have been making a foray back into the land of Relationship. He is a man I've known, and been great friends with, for many years but who I'd previously held at a distance. The pieces of my broken heart were jagged and raw and I valued his friendship too much to risk hurting it (or him). Now I feel strong enough to take this chance.

It's very early days but I've been quite surprised by my reactions - I feel giddy. Allowing myself to open up and accept these feelings again has been a revelation. I have always enjoyed his company but now I so look forward to being with him. He's busy with stuff right now so that isn't as often as I'd like - which is rather thrilling and novel in itself. When we can't meet up it's lovely to get some little message but I am currently reduced to the communication level of a 1950s teenager! Slight exaggeration, I know. We still have email and FB but you know what I mean. I will stop gushing now.

Best wishes my friends - wherever you are

Communication breakdown

2011-04-21T21:40:00.002+01:00

I may, at last, be nearing the end of this mobile phone fiasco - I hope. Today I finally learned, after two weeks of phone calls, that the phone company (henceforth to be known as ARSE) believe I have somehow taken from them fraudulently.

In the absence of any concrete information from ARSE, I can only assume this is due to the weird transaction - ARS PAY AS YOU GO - that showed up on my bank account last month. ARSE top-up transactions always show as 'ARSE (AE/PG/02)' so, after consulting my bank, we decided this must be a fraudulent transaction. The bank cancelled my card, issued a new one and arranged to refund the amount to my account - which probably means that they took it back from ARSE. It wasn't until several days later that a 'bar' inexplicably appeared on my mobile - I wasn't even able to call the phone company to find out what was wrong!

Therefore, it seems that ARSE was responsible for creating this whole mess themselves by using a weird transaction code and then entirely failing to communicate the problem to me in a sensible fashion. This ridiculous situation has caused me enormous stress, frustration and inconvenience and has, no doubt, resulted in a very large phone bill.

So, I have paid them the money they claim I owe - by cheque as they demanded (sooooo last century). I have made it clear that I expect them to remove the bar from my mobile number immediately so that I can get my PAC code and leave ARSE as soon as possible... any suggestions on which mobile company I should try next?

Sugar

2011-04-11T19:38:00.005+01:00

There was chocolate cheesecake for half price at the co-op today and I walked away!

To reiterate: there was cheesecake - with chocolate - for cheap and I did not purchase (and soon thereafter scoff) said delicacy! Not only that, I have consistently turned my back upon sugary goodness today - I am worried.

picture source

At first I thought I must be dangerously ill. After a brief yet terrifying few moments I realised this could not be the case. Other than the unprecedented lack of sugar intake, I feel peachy today. Sherlock Holmes said: "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth". Therefore, I can come to but one conclusion to explain my bazaar behaviour....

I have been abducted by aliens and replaced by a pod person whose pod-body is unable to metabolise sugar! Simples. Luckily for (what remains of) me the pod-body is perfectly able to cope with cheese.

for Daemon...

2011-04-05T18:28:00.001+01:00

...because FB will not accept this pic - it is "too skinny"

Clearly FB is horribly giraffe-ist

love2

2011-03-29T19:26:00.002+01:00

our life was like a love song

a rom-com

a tragic romance

i was planning an epic

you left me a short story

Cosmic Guesthouse, Hong Kong

2011-03-21T13:34:00.001Z

I've just written a review of the place I stayed on my last trip to Hong Kong. I thought I'd share it with you too:

On my first trip to Hong Kong I stayed (not by choice) in a very nice, very ordinary, very western style hotel. None of those words could really describe the Cosmic Guesthouse.

As I was leaving the UK, the tail-end of a tropical cyclone was sweeping past Hong Kong island. So, when I arrived at the Cosmic Guesthouse I had changed my plans and asked if I could to stay for a whole week instead of the two days I had booked (rather than roaming around the islands in potentially bad weather). Although the fine lady at reception was obviously put out by my request, and it was a busy week for them, she never the less moved some bookings around to allow me to have the same room - with a window - for the week. I was most grateful.

I found the staff to be friendly and welcoming. Even when there was a language barrier there was always a friendly 'good morning' smile for me.

My room was very small and rather worn looking but I quite liked that - although I imagine the rooms without windows would be quite oppressive. There was a tiny en suite toilet/shower combo - I had to remember to move the loo roll outside when I wanted to have a shower :)

On my first night, as I struggled with jetlag, I noticed the sound of dull, repetitive music seemed to be coming up out of the toilet bowl - which was odd.

I loved the atmosphere at the Cosmic - and in Mirador Mansion generally. The 'mansion' building is like four blocks built around a central 'courtyard'. This allows for open, airy walkways on each floor. The accommodation seemed to be a mix of commercial and domestic and many of my neighbours kept little incense shrines outside their front doors - which is a lovely smell to wake up to. I felt completely safe and happy the whole time I was there. Even the building's security guards were quite jolly towards me.

Because Cosmic's accommodation is on a number of different floors within the building it felt more like staying in an apartment than a guesthouse or hotel. I was free to come and go as I wished - although the security guards locked down all but one entrance at night and it was necessary to sign in - which is not at all a bad thing.

Mirador Mansion is located right on the bus and underground routes (the bus to the airport stops almost outside) and is a 10 minute walk from the Star Ferry pier. I found it an excellent base for my exploration of the peninsula and islands. There were also parks, museums and theatres close by, as well as the glorious Peninsula Hotel (which I could never afford to stay in but admire greatly). I made good use of Cosmic's free wi-fi access to see what was on at the theatres and cinemas and to check ferry times and bus routes.

I loved the Cosmic Guesthouse and would definitely stay there again. It felt like a crazy, chinese version of home.

Bugs

2011-03-06T18:10:00.004Z

Source

Yesterday was the Chinese Feast of Excited Insects - the start of spring - when insects begin to stir from their winter hibernation. Unfortunately, I have encountered a different sort of bug.

In celebration of the excited insects I had some dim-sum (which I bought at the Chinese supermarket). I suspect I didn't steam them quite long enough - I blame one of the seafood ones.

It's food poisoning (I think). Very unhappy tummy and general lack of jollity today. I can't even eat for comfort! Woe is me.

Artland

2011-03-05T10:03:00.001Z

I have had a week packed with art and culture...and food. Jolly good food too. Often in an artistically cultural setting. All in all, a fine time has been had.

March always seems to be the time when my cultural - and social - activities just explode. My diary, which has languished, empty and unloved throughout the winter, suddenly remembers its purpose.

Tonight i'm off to an evening of readings by local writers. May be excruciating. Could be glorious. I'm looking forward to it. And there will be food beforehand...

Frustration

2011-03-03T11:25:00.001Z

I'm currently on a 'course' on social media. I'd hoped it would look at practical uses of social media within a Library environment. So far it has not.

One of the trainers is excellent - the other is just very, very annoying. And the technology, ironically, is outdated and sooooooooooooo slow.

Oh well, at least we got some nice biscuits

Privacy

2011-02-23T20:36:00.001Z

Salesman at the door: I don't seem to have your name here.

Me: Why would you, I'm not one of your customers *smile*

Salesman: But it usually comes up here (gesturing to the iPad-like device in his hand)

Me: There's no reason you'd have my name, I'm not your customer *strained smile*

Salesman: But...

Me: The thing is, I'm not going to give you my name *rictus grin*

It took me several more attempts to convince the man that I was not in the habit of giving out my personal details to random strangers on my doorstep. The concept seemed utterly alien to him. Is it any wonder we have such a problem with identity theft when someone doesn't immediately understand why I'd be reticent to give out such information to some unknown?

Not wishing to imply that I doubted his honesty, I explained that I didn't like junk-mail and if I gave him my name his company was bound to start sending me things. All this did was start him on his "but the names usually come up here" spiel again.

A few weeks ago I watched a Channel 4 documentary called Erasing David. It scared my pants off! In the middle of the programme I came and logged on in order to strip all the personal info out of my online presence. Contact details, education, even my precise geographical location - all gone. I have become nothing but a vague and amorphous presence upon t'interweb - and now I feel all safe and comfy again.

However, that still doesn't mean I'm going to give you my name...

Living

2011-02-12T12:49:00.001Z

I attended the funeral of an old friend yesterday. Which was sad, of course, but the... I can't say 'service' because it was non-religious and 'event' seems too festive... the gathering was a celebration of his life more than anything else.

On a slightly brighter note, it gave me the opportunity to meet some other old friends. Friends I haven't seen in a very long while. Time and circumstances, and my weird social issues, have kept us apart. A death always pushes me to examine my own life. To consider: am I living the way I should? Am I the person I aspire to be? The answer, right now, is: not quite yet.

I have resolved that I must strive to be more sociable. Try to spend some real time with real people - family and friends. That doesn't devalue my virtual life at all. I consider my online chums to be the modern equivalent of pen pals and wouldn't give them up for the world. However, as much as I crave and treasure my solitude, perhaps you can have too much of a good thing... Perhaps.

I had already been making advances in that direction but these last few days have confirmed that such changes would be worth the effort on my part. My friends are wonderful, interesting people - and I have missed them. Although, as I mentioned above, there were 'circumstances', it was entirely my own choice to withdraw from that circle. I was never, ever made to feel unwelcome. Also, I am constantly meeting fantastic folk on my travels. In recent years I have made special efforts to remain in touch with several of them - virtually. My flesh and blood friends deserve just as much effort from me, don't they?

So, spring is coming (any time now) and I must spring clean my life along with my home.

Value

2011-02-10T10:50:00.002Z

Just the other day I purchased a most tasty roll for my luncheon. As I crunched my way through it in our staff room my colleague, MaryDoll, enquired as to it's cost. I wasn't sure since I had purchased an equally tasty apple muffin for afters. I knew it would have cost me £5.50 if I'd chosen to 'sit in' so I told her that. MaryDoll was horrified. A conversation on cost versus quality ensued but MaryDoll would not be placated.

The next day, while buying some wholesome broth, I checked with the proprietor how much I had paid for my roll. Although he couldn't recall exactly he guessed it would be about £4. I reported back to MaryDoll who declared this to be a fair price. Lulled, I made the mistake of remarking that the cost of the muffin had therefore been about £2.50. That set her off again.

I argued that it was good to support local bakers of such skill. MaryDoll was steely. I suggested that the apples in the muffin had been grown by pixies who watered the apple trees with their little pixie tears...but could we be sure the pixies were being paid a fair wage?

It seems there is no pleasing that woman.

Progress

2011-02-09T18:10:00.006Z

I've just been pondering, as I do quite regularly, the spectacular speed of change in the field of information technology. Today I particularly recall my time as a school librarian.

When I started at the school I had one little old Apple Mac with super-slow net access (and a circulation system based on small yellow cards and brown pockets). A few years later we got a pile of money with which to install a 'computer suite'. It was very exciting.

Sadly the headmaster was a PC man and insisted that most of the machines be Windows based. However, the head of the computer department (HC), being in thrall to Mac, had created a mini-Mac-network up there. I convinced the Head that I MUST have at least one Mac in order for the library to be part of this network, blah blah blah and so forth.

I was overjoyed the day I unpacked my blueberry coloured iMac and placed him front and centre in my new computer suite...and now to my point: I was shocked to find that he had no floppy disc drive!

Feverishly, I consulted HC at which point he shared with me his Vision of the Future. In the Future, HC claimed, no one would use floppy discs. Ha! I scoffed. How then would people transport their documents from place to place? By email, HC confided. Over the internet.

I remember the incredulity I felt at that time but i realise that I now live in that unbelievable world. At some point in the intervening years HC's Future became my Present. I can't remember when I last used a floppy disc as anything other than a coaster. Can you?

In my first job we ran computer programmes by poking holes in pieces of card and sending them off to the gargantuan, arctic-cold computer department. Now I probably have more computing power in my mobile phone than was contained in that whole, enormous room. Plus... I have a mobile phone! I am sooo science fiction!

I fully expect to be downloading BBC drama direct from iPlayer into my BRAIN by next Xmas. I am now ready to believe that anything is possible...

Lists

2011-02-08T19:22:00.000Z

O great Tiw, bitter and vindictive god of Tuesday, you have surpassed yourself! My day has been almost unpleasantly busy and riddled with irritations and 'technical difficulties'. New and exciting errors occurred in our systems and, towards the end of the day, a time consuming and yet achingly dull enquiry popped into my inbox.

One of the few high-points in a painful day was a running game of Top 10 Favourite Movies with my colleagues. My personal list (at this moment in time, entirely non-binding and in fairly random order) is as follows:

source: Humphrey Bogart Estate

Casablanca – contrary to some opinions, the BEST film ever made. Every line is quotable, every performance flawless... and there is Humphrey Bogart.

Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Wererabbit – just so wonderfully clever and funny

Hot Fuzz – ditto… plus Simon Pegg and Timothy Dalton

Les Vacances de M. Hulot – a beautiful, gentle French comedy that makes me smile every time

Tremors – funny and scary with snappy dialogue… and in the desert. How could I not love this film?

Mr Vampire - weird and glorious supernatural Hong Kong comedy

The Thing from another world – my all time favourite paranoid, cold war, 50’s sci-fi – with more snappy dialogue and a monstrous carrot

Thelma & Louise – I haven’t viewed it much lately but I watched it, or at least bits of it, on a weekly basis when I was married…

Project A – the first, and still the best, Jackie Chan film I ever saw

Raising Arizona/O Brother where art thou/the Big Lebowski – I can’t decide on my favourite Coen Bros film so I will cheat and include them all

...and I’m already rethinking my choice. I haven’t included Amelie or Akira or Sanjuro or Rashmon or Krrish or…. Top ten is no good. I need a top 20, at least.

Deranged, delusional or sleep deprived?

2011-01-23T13:49:00.006Z

I've just had an odd virtual experience. I've been following a British writer and actor (now Big in Hollywood) via Twitter for the last few days. I'd been disappointed by the tweets she transmitted - they all seemed rather...bitchy. So, this morning, after receiving the latest, I resolved to unfollow her, but not before conveying my disillusionment. I composed a tweet of my own:

@Username Been following you for some days but all you've done is snipe. Thought you were a clever, funny woman. Saddened. Badly done Emma

I was pleased with that - felt it accurately communicated my feelings (with a slightly literary reference) - so I sent it...

Aaaaaaaaaaargh. I've just dissed an internationally renowned personage on a public and worldwide forum! Take it back. Take it BACK!

I took it back by quickly deleting the tweet. Phew. The odd thing is what happened next. Attempting to review some previous tweets by the Woman in Question, to check whether or not my impressions had been fair, I found she had disappeared! I tried several permutations of her name (accurate spelling being absent from among my virtues) but couldn't find her. Oh no! Had she received my fleeting tweet, been shamed by the truth of my words and disappeared in a puff of remorse? Or perhaps just deleted her Twitter account? Had I been following someone other than the aforemetioned Username in error? Or had I, in fact, imagined the five or six tweets I had received over this last week?

After several, long minutes of confusion and self doubt - during which this post was begun - I discovered my (sadly dull) error. Her Twitter feed is actually named 'The User Daily'. I believe that both my admonition of her manner and my misplaced, bewildered guilt at her apparent virtual disappearance remain entirely unknown to her. And to everyone else.

source

On reflection, perhaps I was a tad unfair to Ms Username. I believe she's currently resident in California and, as such is living in a different time zone to myself. Perhaps I see only her early morning/late night twittering? Perhaps she is not at her best at those times, hence the caustic tweets? However I shall never know. The lady will remain positively and unambiguously unfollowed by me.

Priorities

2011-01-18T08:44:00.002Z

To the passengers on the x2 from Livingston: your behaviour disgusted me this morning. Your howling and nasty comments to the driver were totally un-called for. So he stopped one place he shouldn't have, picked up some extra passengers and missed one stop when no-one rang the bell. So what?
The man is a new driver. He was courteous and friendly and he got us quickly and safely into edinburgh. Get your priorities straight!

You acted like a bunch of vicious harpies and you make me ashamed i live in the same town as you.

Interglacial

2011-01-03T20:35:00.001Z

Most of the snow has gone now. There are just a few areas of thick ice and some hard packed snow in mounds piled high as a person. My street looks rather like a moraine, littered with the detritus left by receding glaciers.

I didn't sleep at all last night. I spent the dark hours employing various techniques to induce sleep - from reading in bed and drinking hot milk to watching gentle movies and soothing documentaries - all to no avail. This morning I was out before dawn - not as dramatic as it sounds, at this end of the year dawn is about 8am - and off to the bottle bank.

I had a fairly pleasant ramble through a post-glacial landscape lit by a pink-orange sunrise. I rattled and clinked my way down to the recycling point where I very much enjoyed several minutes of vigorous bottle smashing. Then light-headed and drunken from lack of sleep I shopped at Asda *gasp*

Thereafter, maddened by consumerism, I spent over an hour in PC World trying to choose an external hard drive (which I totally need). I eventually settled on the prettiest, littlest, reddest one. It is very lovely and I am now entirely backed-up.

I am currently battling to stay awake. I must try to re-set my body clock before returning to work on Wednesday but with luck I'll have no difficultly getting to sleep tonight... then again, I thought the same thing yesterday.

Every day is an adventure...

2010-12-22T18:25:00.004Z

This morning my bus arrived 10 minutes late then broke down just round the corner. Most unusually, Fustbus not only sent a replacement, it only took about 20 minutes for the new bus to arrive. Quelle surprise! I suppose it's the weather. They may not have much regard for passengers' opinions or requirements but it seems even they draw the line at leaving us to die of exposure by the side of the road.

Today was just a minor entry in the journal of my life as a Fustbus commuter. There have been many breakdown incidents, most ending in my walking home or going off to find another bus. More excitingly there was the morning when the the driver lost his way and took us off on a magical mystery tour towards North Berwick.

Another time, just as I was foolishly thinking i might arrive early at my destination, the bus was pulled over for speeding! Another police incident involved my driver being breathalysed due to what must have been a hoax call. This was an unfunny because he was one of the few nice drivers in Fustbus employ. He was most shaken but myself and other passengers checked he was okay and reassured him of our trust in his skills.

On another occasion when the driver got lost, he attempted to turn round using the forecourt of a petrol station. It was a double decker bus. I think the manger was very generous in not calling the police when the bus got wedged under his roof/awning. Especially when it nearly demolished the place as it finally managed to back out again.

I have other such tales of mayhem and destruction but I believe I will end there for now. As I said, every day is an adventure.

Eclipse

2010-12-21T07:05:00.002Z

http://www.meteorwatch.org

Look to the West! This morning, as the Solstice sun rises and the full moon sets, we in the UK have the chance to see a lunar eclipse.

meteorwatch.org says: "at 0740 it will be in total eclipse, with the full face of the Moon darkened red. This will last until 0854 GMT, at which point the Moon will slowly begin to darken again". The moon will be setting but the further north you are, the better your view will be. Being fairly far north myself I should have a nice view until the eclipse ends... or until I get to work. In this weather it's anyone's guess which will happen first.

Happy Solstice best beloveds

Seasons Greetings...

2010-12-11T22:27:00.000Z

... from me to you.

As usual, rather than squandering money and resources on boring old cards, I’ve used the cash to make an Xmas charity donation instead.

Click here for more details

Petite

2010-12-11T11:57:00.001Z

source

When I was young my clothes used to hang on me like rags on a scarecrow. This was partly because I was shy and wanted to hide my figure but also because, being tiny, standard clothes just didn't fit. I don't think it was until my early 20s that 'petite sizes' started appearing in shops. I could be wrong about that but I don't think so...

In our mid to late teens my friend and I used to get our jollies going into posh stores and trying on the ball-gowns. If ever a shop assistant became suspicious we'd have to come up with a reason why the dresses were unsuitable. I can't remember my chum's excuses but I was able to blithely say "This is very nice but does it come in a petite size?" without any fear of receiving an affirmative answer.

I have a moss-green jacket, still one of my favourites, which was the first item of clothing to fit me properly since childhood. It was a revelation! The idea that small women have proportionately shorter arms and legs than the average. It seems obvious but apparently no-one in the clothing industry had thought of it before then. You may wonder why I mention this. The reason is that I don't believe this concept has filtered down to the manufacturers of footwear yet.

I want a new pair of wellies but buying boots is a trial for me. With my proportionately shorter legs I find that my calf often begins where the boot still expects an ankle. This sartorial/anatomical juxtaposition usually results in crushing calf pain and potentially life threatening restriction of blood flow for me. The boots rarely seem to mind.

Thaw

2010-12-11T06:12:00.003Z

In the last few days the temperature here has soared from minus many degrees to plus some degrees. The change is amazing. More than 60 cms of snow have all but vanished in little more than 24 hours. I could almost imagine the nightmare disruptions of the last fortnight were nothing but a bad dream.

However, there are dire forecasts. Everyone says this is just an interlude. The word is that the fluffy, white nightmare it set to return next week...

Crystal

2010-12-08T08:35:00.001Z

It's a beautiful, bright morning but oh, so very cold.

Whiteout

2010-12-06T09:56:00.005Z

This weather is unbelievable. We've had pretty much constant snow fall for 10 days and we just can't cope. We're not used to severe winters in the UK. Councils try to prepare but this relentless snowfall has proved too much for them.

I walked for 40 minutes through the snow to catch a bus this morning. I've now been sitting on that bus for close to 2 hours and half an hour ago we learned that the services have been withdrawn again because of the weather.

My bus is turning round and going back to Livi and I'm going to go back with it. My boss says it's okay...but I'll be working back time until next winter!

Snow

2010-11-29T12:33:00.006Z

I'm snowed in... sort of.

Calvin & Hobbes - Bill Watterson

It started snowing on Friday night and continued all weekend. This morning I awoke to find the drift outside my door so deep that it came right up over the top of my wellies! As I trudged out to the bus stop I had to burrow my own little trench through the snowbanks.

On the street, lit by the grey/blue light of early morning, it was all very beautiful and quiet. There were very few cars - moving slowly and silently - and even fewer people in sight. As I waited for the bus a woman passed and cried out that no buses were running today. No buses means I can't get to work.

I spent the next few hours repeatedly checking the FustBus website but it continued to tell me "West Lothian - No services operating at present". It's now after 11.30am, with no change, so I've resigned myself to having a 'snow day'.

After phoning my work this morning I put on boots and duffle coat, looked out my extendable walking poles, and tramped out, expedition style, to forage for supplies (bananas, hot chocolate and crisps).

Calvin & Hobbes - Bill Watterson

The snowploughs have done a good job of clearing the roads round here, but a side-effect of their work is to push even more snow onto the pavements making them utterly impassable. Thanks to the poles I managed to make it to the Co-op and back without mishap.

The sun has come out and the snowscape outside my window looks glorious. I think I'll make myself a nice cup of hot chocolate and curl up cosy on the sofa. Snow days rule!

Express

2010-11-26T17:54:00.002Z

In the Friday night Princes Street bus-melee, timetables - never particularly accurate - become fluid and sinuous. As reliable as a bridge made of smoke. I make it my rule to jump on the first bus that will take me within walking distance of home, no matter what...but even so i can't bring myself to take the service buses. The ones that trundle the countryside like sharabangs out for a Sunday jaunt. Better to risk waiting in the hope an Express will come by.

Express buses - the commuter's friend. Travelling from A to D with only a glance at B and C as they speed past.

There are only a few true expresses running between Edinburgh and Livingston. There are very many more impostors. These charlatans are service buses in disguise. They bear the glorious 'x' but stop at every doghouse, henhouse and outhouse in their path. A curse on the false-xes.

But I am happy. My usual little express has battled through the end-of-week scrum only a few minutes behind time. We are now out of the city and hurtling through the black night towards the lights of fair Livi. Soon I'll be home and my weekend can commence.

Ode to the driver of the 17:10 Edinburgh to Deans South bus

2010-11-25T19:50:00.003Z

Thank you, driver of the 17:10 Edinburgh to Deans South bus, for this evening's lesson in 'what not to expect from a FustBus employee'. Courtesy, consideration, helpfulness and simple human decency are a few of the things one should not look for. To do so will only result in heartache and sad disappointment.

When the FustBus employee is involved in timetabling the wise traveller should not expect foresight, regard for bus-users well-being or the ability to examine the wider picture. Finally, when dealing with those sweet souls employed with FustBus Customer Services, the one thing you should never expect - the last thing the innocent, wide-eyed enquirer is ever likely to encounter - is ANY form of customer service... ever.

Of course there are a few exceptions. So few that I have nothing but feelings of pity for the tiny handful of normal, decent, friendly drivers who work for this abominable company. I know in my soul that they will one day be broken on the ever turning wheel of wilful stupidity in the heartless pursuit of profit.

Oh driver of the 17:10 Edinburgh to Deans South bus, if Hell exists, I know that the hottest corner, the sharpest spikes and the cruelest racks are reserved for petty, nasty little jobsworths such as yourself. Oh, how richly you deserve it.

Samhain

2010-10-31T12:35:00.000Z

Tonight is Samhain, the celtic festival of the dead. A night to remember and honour ancestors and departed loved ones. Traditionally, the celtic day began at sunset and ended at sunset the following day. For this reason, when early Christians co-opted this feast day and invented Halloween, they followed it with All Saints Day to incorporate the holy day entirely.

Samhain

Although we remember the dead this shouldn't be a miserable or frightening day. Celebrate the memories of love, joy and friendship. And invite the departed to join the Samhain feast!

Mexicans celebrate a similar festival at around the same time - the Day of the Dead. I've also learned that the ancient Etruscans often feasted with their dead relatives. I don't think they had a specific day when everyone did it but there is evidence of regular feasts being held within Etruscan tombs. I imagine they would hold the celebrations on anniversary days. The loved one's day of death, or perhaps birth?

Although I don't believe in spirits or magic I do see the value in remembering the lives of the departed, and the achievements of ancestors. It is a way of celebrating life and, for me, accepting death as a natural component of existence. Also it's a day to look back and evaluate the year, a celebration of the summer before the winter bites.

Happy Samhain, best beloveds.

Home

2010-10-31T12:34:00.001Z

What a long, long, long day that was. Up at midnight (by my internal clock), a 12 hour flight, 3 hours in Charles de Gaulle airport, then another hour and a half flight back to Edinburgh. Including buses to and from airports and security procedures it was 22 hours of travel in all.

Oddly the last short flight was the most uncomfortable. By that point my body could bear the cramped conditions and dry atmosphere no longer. I spent most of the trip pacing up and down in the short corridor by the loo, quietly whimpering.

But now I'm home, have had a good long sleep and am a happy bunny once more.

Book of the trip:
Monkey: journey to the West by Wu Cheng'en

Culture

2010-10-29T19:22:00.005+01:00

The Peninsula, Kowloon

What a fantastically glorious day I've had. It started again with a bit o' tai-chi then a tasty dim sum breakfast in a lovely place called The Sweet Dynasty. I was going to have congee (a rice porridge apparently) but all the options included such delicacies as pig liver and cow tripe - none of which I could even consider at that time of the day... or perhaps ever.

As this was my last day in Hong Kong I decided not to spend it running hither and yon. I chose instead to have a sedate and cultured day, relaxing and serene. I started with a tour of some shops looking for gifts and books. I don't enjoy shopping but I only spent an hour or so in 'Harbour City' which is pretty nice, as shopping malls go. I then returned to the Cosmic to drop of my purchases and gussy-up a little. I was going to the Peninsula.

I have been fascinated by the idea of the Peninsula Hotel since first I heard of it. It conjures images of the age of glamour and the excesses of empire. Four years ago I walked though the lobby and found that event almost too exciting to bear. Now I was actually sitting at a table surrounded by the sound of sweet music from the orchestra in the gallery and the murmur of conversation from my fellow diners. I was in 1930s heaven - and the food was nice too.

Pretty pink fancies

Cucumber sandwiches, scones, clotted cream and dainty little fondant fancies - all the elements of the perfect Afternoon Tea were there. In addition I had real silverware, plush napkins and attentive attendants. It was expensive but not extortionate and I paid for the experience as much as the food. It was joyous and more than lived up to my, very high, expectations.

I spent about 2 hours in the Peninsula in all - wandering the halls and window shopping among the high end establishments within the hotel. I didn't want to leave but eventually decided it might spoil the memory if I had to be forcibly ejected from the premises.

Next I trotted off to Mongkok to watch 'Detective Dee And The Mystery of The Phantom Flame' the latest film from Hark Tsui, the director of the mighty 'Zu: Warriors from the Magic Mountain'. It was fantastic. Beautifully shot, masterly use of CGI for the epic backgrounds and action direction by the incomparable Sammo Hung.

Finally, I skipped back down here, to Tsim Sha Tsui, to the Hong Kong Cultural Centre for a bit of theatre.

I think I mentioned 'Mr Vampire', one of my top ten movies of all time. Some clever monkeys have reworked the classic flick through the medium of dance. This was opening night. It was all very modern with jerky arm movements and jangly music, but somehow the dance was always beautiful and the music was never discordant. The choreography incorporated elements of tai-chi and Michael Jackson's thriller, while the live orchestra included a chap who 'played' a basin of water. I enjoyed it enormously.

So that's it. A spiffing end to a jolly fine trip. It's been a great week but I'm oh, so happy to be heading home. Cheerio for now.

Hong Kong island

2010-10-28T17:06:00.001+01:00

Kwun Yam shrine, Repulse Bay

Today I visited Hong Kong island for the first time this trip. I don't find it terribly appealing, if I'm honest. All those ridiculously tall buildings crammed together. It's just not my cup of cha. Anyway, as soon as I could, I left the urban hell that is Hong Kong Central and took a bus to Repulse Bay in the south of the island.

The bay is really pretty. There are tall buildings here too but there are much fewer of them and they are considerably smaller than in the north. Although not beautiful, many of the structures in Repulse Bay are rather striking. One apartment block was built with a big, square hole in the middle of it. I have been told that this is because the dragon of the mountain travels this route on his way down to the sea. If the new building had hindered the dragon's path it would have brought bad luck on the enterprise. A happy dragon means good luck and prosperity. That, my friends, is corporate Feng Shui.

On the east side of the bay, sits the Kwun Yam shrine - a bewildering conglomeration of statues and buildings. Incidentally, to give you some idea of scale in the photo above, look at the little horse in the bottom centre of the picture. He is about the same size as me, i.e. equivalent in size to a small human person. That is a jolly big Buddha.

Lantau

2010-10-27T18:35:00.011+01:00

It's been another glorious day. I visited Lantau island - which I have been to before. Last time I visited the Po Lin monastery and its Big Buddha I arrived on a misty, mysterious morning. The Buddha, on his lotus, wafted in and out of view as the clouds shifted. There were quite a lot of people around but the majority seemed to be Buddhists coming to pray and make offerings. The atmosphere was serene and almost otherworldly. It has changed.

Big Buddha, Ngong Ping

A vile theme park has grown up around the Buddha. Suggested, no doubt, by the arrival of Disneyland Hong Kong at the foot of the mountain. This didn't bother me overly since it's outside the monastery. What upset me was inside.

I didn't plan to go round the monastery since I'd visited before. I just wanted to have a meal - in the vegetarian kitchen I remembered so fondly - before starting on my walk. I was appalled.

The kitchen has turned commercial while the quality and atmosphere have disappeared. They just churn out bucket loads of slop to be consumed in a shoddy, sickly yellow room like a 70s community centre. Not only is the experience unpleasant and the food vile, I was disgusted by the amount of waste there must be with the one size fits all bucket o' food system.

But forget that. I left the disappointment behind as I walked out into the sunshine and headed down the mountain to the village of Tai-O. It was a road walk unfortunately but there wasn't much traffic. Really just the buses heading up and down to Po Lin. There may have been a car or two but I don't remember any. It was gloriously sunny, warm but not too hot and I had my hat and long sleeves to protect me so I was a happy bunny as I yomped downhill. I walked for about an hour but caught a bus for the last stretch - the road got really twisty and the pavement disappeared so I felt the bus was the safer option.

Tai-O

Tai-O is an old fishing village with a number of traditional stilt houses. It does a roaring trade in dried fish - there was a fairly bustling market on today. The people seemed friendly and I enjoyed wandering though the narrow streets among the ramshackle houses.

Eventually, at the back of the town, I found a sign pointing uphill to a view point. I headed up since it seemed pretty and wooded. After a little while I realised I was walking through a Chinese cemetery. The valley sides were packed with neat little burial areas, many with their bristles of incense sticks. It was a really beautiful place. The ancestors must be very happy there...

I took ages to walk up because I stopped to take hundreds of photos. It was late afternoon and the sun was casting a rosy light over everything. It was perfect. The path took me along a ridge - sea on one side cemetery on the other - to a pretty pagoda. I stayed there looking at the view, taking more photos and, eventually, bursting into song with the ungovernable joy of it all.

Tai-O

I didn't want to leave. It was so perfect and beautiful. However, as the sun was getting ready to set, a thought popped into my head: jiang shi

I watch a lot of Hong Kong kung fu movies. Many of the best involve magic, myths and monsters. Angry spirits, vengeful ghosts and wicked witches. One of my all time favourite movies is Mr Vampire. This Hong Kong classic features many of the above mentioned plus, the star of the show, the jiang shi - a "stiff corpse", zombie or vampire!

I got a little thrill when I thought of this up on that hilltop - just before I had to walk through the graveyard as night was falling. Needless to say there was no more shilly-shallying. Off I trotted down the hill, stopping only to record the sound of the wind among the bamboo (I love China).

So back to Kowloon I came, by bus and MTR. I got back about 8ish and went looking for something to eat. I got some pork and noodles in a tiny place around the corner from this building (did I mention I'm in Mirador Mansion?). It was a meal midway in quality between the low of lunchtime and the (oh so very) high of last night at Crystal Jade. To top the day off I felt in need of something sweet. I discovered that the big shiny building next door is called 'Gourmet Tower'. Any hope of eating moderately for the rest of the week probably disappeared with the first mouthful of crème brûlée...

Breathing

2010-10-26T17:49:00.000+01:00

It's rather windy at sea

When I first arrived in Hong Kong the air smelled sweet with a salty tang. Today the sky was overcast and the air tasted thick with toxins. Faint from the fumes I fled the city, heading for the Sai Kung peninsula.

I had some vague plans but as my trip was but a reaction to asphyxiation I had not researched at all. For this reason I haven't really done anything today... but I had a nice time and at least I could breath.

Also, it has proved (as if I didn't know already) that Tuesday is the worst day of the week. Wherever in the world I am.

My guidebook describes Sai Kung town as "a leafy suburb" of Kowloon. With this description in mind I'm sure you would be as disappointed by the place as I was. It's not bad, really. It's just not particularly leafy. What it does have is fresh air, the sea and a jolly fine Hong Kong style bakery. I bought a wonderful bun for breakfast - ham and mushroom wrapped up in a sort of brioche. Yum

I quickly realised that I would not be strolling the shady avenues of Sai Kung so decided to move on. I headed further along the peninsula to the gloriously monikered Pak Tam Chung. I hoped to visit the Sheung Yiu Folk Museum contained within a renovated walled village. After having a pleasant stroll along the Pak Tam Chung Nature Trail I arrived at the museum. It bore a sign upon its shut and bolted door: Closed on Tuesdays.

It was at this point I realised why my day had been so rubbish. Until then I hadn't been conscious of what day it was. My already shaky concept of time has been utterly annihilated by jetlag. I wander blindly in a haze of 'now'. All time is the same to me. All, that is, except Tuesday. The dastardly day has foiled me again.

Oh well. Moving on to vague plan number three I returned to Sai Kung town. There are a number of little islands scattered in the sea around Sai Kung. The guidebook suggests that small boats called kaido (sort of mini ferries) ply their way among these islands and I could catch one for a few dollars. I could not. I gathered, after discussion with several by-standers, that - if these boats exist at all - they only do so in the summer. My only option was to catch the ferry to the golf club on the island of Kai Sai Chau and hope I could walk round the rest of the island before coming back. I had no map of Kai Sai Chau so asked the people at the golf club for help. No help was forthcoming. In fact, I have just checked online and discovered that they actually lied to me! The girl told me there was nothing on the island but the golf course. I doubted that rather but thought she should know better than me. B!tch. At least I got a boat trip and a sheltered spot to sit and read for a while (I found a bit of a hut by the 18th tee - complete with table and chairs and a lovely, buffety breeze).

So that's about it. I missed a bus while I went for change but otherwise got back to Kowloon without mishap. When I write it all down it seems like a dreadfully sad and useless day but, as I said, I quite enjoyed myself.

Perhaps I wouldn't be so jolly if I hadn't dined in the glorious restaurant Crystal Jade when i got back. It was busy but not unpleasantly so. The staff were super efficient and pretty friendly (by the standards of their profession). And the food was spectacular. I won't attempt to describe the flavours because I wouldn't do it justice - suffice to say: YUM. If you get a chance to eat at one of their restaurants (and you enjoy asian food) you probably should. Did I say? YUM!

Lamma island

2010-10-25T16:37:00.042+01:00

I started the day with a bit of tai-chi down at the waterfront then headed off to catch the Star Ferry over to Hong Kong island. I didn't stop there though.

a Star ferry crossing to Kowloon

After picking up some breakfast (some fishy thing wrapped in pasta, like open-topped ravioli) I caught another ferry to one of the 'outlying islands': Lamma

It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision but it turned out to be a fantastic choice.

Lamma is a spectacular island. The main town, Yung Shue Wan, is a sweet, ramshackle little place with a nice atmosphere. Near the ferry pier, beyond the public library, is a small collection of shanties and shacks built on stilts. I know the people are most likely subsisting and may be living hard and squalid lives - but that little village and it's surroundings were just achingly picturesque.

a beach near Yung Shue Wan

The rest of the town is a clutter of pretty buildings with many surprisingly high quality shops. There was even a little organic supermarket.

I sauntered through Yung Shue Wan then began to follow the Family Trail - a path which meanders across the island and links Yung Shue Wan with the village of Sok Kwu Wan. It's wonderfully tranquil - once you leave the villages.

Unfortunately there seems to be a good deal of building work and maintenance going on around Lamma. The island has no roads so there are no cars. The workies, however, gad about on mad little buggies or mini tractors and are a danger to unsuspecting hikers.

Anyway, beyond the villages there were no maniacal workmen - only peace and serenity... and turquoise water.

Herboland

On reaching Hung Shing Yeh beach I was surprised to find Herboland "the only organic herb garden in Hong Kong - since 2003". It's a wonderful place. The loveliest place on a beautiful island.

I drank one of their healing teas - I suffer from headaches caused by congestion - and I felt much better afterwards. The tranquility of the place probably did me as much good as the tea.

The cool, shaded 'tea house' with its eclectic assortment of bamboo furniture and found objects (they were reusing an old fridge/freezer as a bookcase - genius) is a haven filled with restful music and fluttering butterflies.

One small plant in the garden - it appeared to be some sort of pea - was covered in large orange, yellow and red butterflies with black and white tips to their wings. When I say covered I don't much exaggerate. There must have been close to 20 of the creatures lazily flapping their wings as they clung to the plant. I saw loads of butterflies on Lamma - more than I've ever seen before.

On arrival at the village of Sok Kwu Wan I had planned to catch a ferry back to Hong Kong. However, there were no boats due for over four hours! This wouldn't have been a problem if Sok Kwu Wan hadn't turned out to be utterly hideous. Compared to Yung Shue Wan it was ugly. In comparison to the peace and beauty I'd been walking through it was infernal. I couldn't stay so chose to turn around and walk back the way I'd come.

fishing near Yung Shue Wan pier

I stopped along the way to eat a few bananas and some of the organic crackers I'd purchased earlier. It was exhaustingly hot and humid so I was also forced (forced I tell you!) to visit Herboland again for a cool lemongrass tea before making the final push back to Yung Shue Wan.

I arrived with only about half an hour to wait for the next boat. I was exhausted from my exertions in the heat and snoozed for most of the return journey, arriving back in Kowloon just as night was falling. I have had a glorious day.

Finally, I will leave you with this picture which I took as I was boarding the ferry back to Hong Kong.These ladders were lying in a corner of the ferry building and made the perfect roost for this tiny flock of birds:

little birds on their make-shift perch

Jetlag

2010-10-24T18:50:00.008+01:00

Oh dear - 4 hours ago I was weak and floppy with exhaustion and went to sleep. Now, at midnight, I am wide awake again... and a little bit hungry.

In addition, dull and repetitive music seems to be coming out of my toilet. That's not normal, surely?

I am in Hong Kong. I tried hard to sleep on the plane over in order to trick my body into thinking it was on China time. It worked fine last time I came here but my old body isn't falling for the same ploy twice. Oh no.

I'm staying at the Cosmic Guesthouse in Kowloon. By the time I got here, at about 10 am, I was already feeling rough. I had no choice but to sleep for a few hours but on waking I still felt sick and feeble.

I hauled myself up and out around lunchtime so I wouldn't miss the weekly martial arts demonstrations at Kung Fu Corner. It was excellent. Many of the people performing were 'masters' so they were a joy to watch, especially the women. Oddly, all of the men demonstrated 'dragon style' which, as well as being quite angry looking and ugly to watch, gets pretty boring after the third time. The female masters, on the other hand, demonstrated a number of styles - sometimes alone and sometimes with their students. They used fans and swords (not at the same time) and moved with grace and control.

My favourite was Master Lee. During the demos she was entirely focused, her movements fluid and elegant. However, as soon as she'd finished the sweetest, broadest smile would appear on her face. I wish she was my teacher. Master Lee also showcased some of her pupils, most memorably some little boys. The oldest of these is obviously well on the way to becoming a master himself. He looked about 10 but his strength, focus and control were wondrous to see.

There were also some teenaged boys doing a dragon dance. Once I got the idea that I should watch the dragon and not the boys I became engrossed. The dragon swept it's sinuous way around the arena, curling and twisting around itself (at one point stopping for a bit of a scratch). It was beautiful.

Afterwards, still feeling ropey, I felt in need of some food therapy. I was pretty sure what would make me feel better but didn't know how to get it from chinese food. I therefore sought out the only place sure to have what I required: an italian restaurant.

What I needed was cheese and pasta. Oddly this was not as forthcoming as I had hoped. Although billed as a 'spaghetti house' the place was still very, very chinese. However, they did a most passable carbonara and I had two glasses of the tastiest and most refreshing beverage (iced honey in lemonade - yum). Post-repast I felt like a new woman. Still sleepy but much better. I had a wander round, scoping out the area (Tsim Sha Tsui) and tracking down some cultural activities for later in the week.

However, as I said earlier, by 8pm I was ready for bed and expecting a solid night's sleep. Now, at 1.30, I'm still sleepless. I've been out in search of cheezy-poofs (and came back with prawn cracker sticks and kiwifruit juice) so i'm no longer hungry. Now I think I'll just trying reading myself to sleep.

Sunrise from the M8

2010-10-21T07:55:00.001+01:00

Technology

2010-10-17T20:05:00.003+01:00

Yesterday I read this extremely interesting article. The author Timothy Taylor suggests that human intellectual development is a product of our technological advances - not the other way around. We didn't invent new things because we got smarter - we got smarter because the inventions helped us to evolve. His book is called "The artificial ape".

Here's an example given in the article:

... one important development would have been the construction of the first slings for carrying around newborn babies. Without them, women would have expended more biological energy carrying their children in their arms than they would have used on providing them with milk, on lactation. But now, if you had tools to make spears, you could kill animals and remove their skins with the knives you had learned how to make and [from the skins] you could make a sling with which to carry your baby.

The implications of this development were enormous. It meant that babies could continue to develop outside the womb after birth and that their brains could continue to grow. They were not constrained by the size of their mothers' pelvises and could grow bigger and bigger for years. It gave us scope for intellectual expansion. We could give birth to children who were intellectually underdeveloped but whose brains could continue to develop outside the womb.

We can only infer that, of course. The skins or viscera that might have been used as slings have long since decayed.

In addition, though, tools provided us with the weapons we used to kill animals whose meat provided the protein-rich diets that were necessary for our brains to expand over the eons. Thus technology let loose processes that led to us evolving larger and larger brains. It does not explain why we developed big brains, but it shows how technology created the space in which that expansion could occur.

I think this an enormously interesting idea which seems quite plausible. I look forward to reading this book. Coincidentally, later the same day I came across an example of the mayhem which can ensue these days when technology lets us down.

I popped into a shop in Edinburgh's west end. It transpired that they had experienced a technological meltdown. Their computer system was kaput and they had to process all sales manually *gasp*. This doesn't sound too bad... until you realise that none of their products were individually priced. They were all labelled with barcodes of course but these labels didn't include prices - the shelves showed prices for the benefit of customers but the computer was required to read the price at the till. The poor girls had to copy out the long barcode numbers for their records then rush off around the store searching out the prices (from the shelves) add them all up then calculate discounts (it was buy 1 get one half price day). I have to say I was impressed by how well they coped. The poor dears would have been knackered by the end of the day though. Good thing they were both young and strong.

Time

2010-10-05T08:29:00.001+01:00

I'm just starting my 10th year in my job! Before this i never worked anywhere longer than 4 years. It doesn't feel that long...Time flies and all that :-)

Angry

2010-09-29T22:11:00.002+01:00

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3223

This week I have been trying to follow the teachings of the philosopher Seneca. This is oh, so much more difficult than it may sound.

The idea is that people become angry because their expectations are too high. We expect that other people will be pleasant and considerate. We expect that trains and buses will run on time and that motorists will have at least minimal driving skills. We expect that the world will function in a way we find acceptable. Seneca says these expectations are unrealistic.

When we are overly optimistic in this way we become surprised, shocked and often angry when the world lets us down. As it is bound to do. In order to avoid these bouts of fury Seneca's advice, contradictory as it may sound, is to cultivate a more pessimistic outlook on life. If we expect the worst we will not be surprised when it happens.

I used to be a very angry little person. I thought of myself as an angry woman who came from a long line of angry women. It was part of my personality and entirely out of my control. My guru, Mr DMB, taught me that this was not the case. My anger response was just a learned behaviour. A behaviour which could also be unlearned. It took a while and I'm not nearly rage-free but I'm pretty proud of the progress I've made. What still annoys me though, what I'm working on this week with assistance from old Seneca, is People.

People are sooooo annoying. They seem to go out of their way to be irritating: refusing to answer simple, polite questions; being unnecessarily noisy; generally getting under my skin and rubbing me up the wrong way. It is because I am required to have dealings with People on a daily basis that I have been musing on the ideas of Seneca this week.

However, as I said, it's one thing to agree with the ideas. It's quite another to put them into action. First of all, I'm wary of becoming too pessimistic. Negativity is a dark and dangerous emotion. I need to avoid pessimism and aim instead for slightly less optimism. Secondly, the more I'm thinking about anger the more quickly I seem to be reacting angrily to situations. My attempts to avoid this emotion seem to be bringing it to the fore. I must try to achieve the proper balance: optimism versus pessimism; irritation versus serenity.

It was suggested we should meditate each morning on all the terrible, awful things that could happen in the course of the day. The idea is that this will give us the chance to examine what could go wrong and prepare for the worst. My feeling is that this could also be a rather cathartic process. To calmly muse on all the bad things so when they actually happen they will wash over us and leave us unruffled.

In that spirit:

Bus Drivers will be surly and unhelpful. They will drive as if bus stops and passengers are an inconvenience and a hinderance and not, in fact, the sole reason for their employment.
People will allow their muddy and slavering dogs to jump up on innocent strangers and will become violently angry if said soggy and mud-splattered strangers should dare to utter a word of complaint.
People will occasionally request a tour of the premises then spend half the time talking themselves and the other half moving at such glacially slow speeds that they suddenly interrupt the tour guide in the middle of her funniest and most side-splitting story, say they have run out of time and rush off - leaving the guide with a dispiriting sense of ennui and the makings of a stonking headache.

Aaaaah. That feels much better. Thanks Seneca!

They say you'll never forget your first time...

2010-09-25T19:44:00.004+01:00

I have been a "subscriber" at the Royal Lyceum Theatre for three or four years now. During my first season or two the productions were spectacular. I often found myself gasping and wringing my hands along with the characters and, more than once, was left sobbing into my ice-cream by the interval. That is what theatre is all about - why I enjoy it so.

Sadly, quality - in my opinion - had plummeted during the last two seasons. This was due in no small part to BAD casting.

The only reason I renewed this year was because I couldn't bear to give up my seat (D22). Many seats in the auditorium are 'sponsored' and wear little brass plaques on their backs. D22 may or may not have a plaque of its own, I know not. I love my place because of the plaque placed on the seat in front:

Winnie Burnett

Dreamer

I couldn't bear to leave Winnie just yet and so I have subscribed for another season. So far, I am hopeful of a return to form.

The first play of the year was Romeo & Juliet. When I got the programme for the season it occurred to me that I have never seen this play before! Shocking? I know. Unbelievable? Perhaps, but true. Obviously I know the story well and I have seen versions of it and excerpts from it but I have never watched this play in its entirety - on stage or screen.

So, I came to the production fresh as a new born babe. No expectations.

The set, as always at the Lyceum, was great. Grey and crumbling and a little foreboding. The costumes too were excellent - Lady Capulet's gowns in particular were most pleasing.

I found the cast to be, as a whole, excellent (unlike much of the last two seasons I'm sad to say). Liam Brennan (Capulet) is one of my favourites in the company - his performances are compelling but never showy. Cara Kelly (Lady Capulet) and Alexandra Mathie (the nurse) where both wonderful and Kirsty Mackay played Juliet with the ungovernable obsession and passion of a teenager in love for the first time.

My personal favourite was Grant O’Rourke (Mercutio) who's brief comedy dance routine and heroic swordplay won me over to the extent that I shed a tear or two at his demise - Spolier?

The final scene lacked some of the tragic drama I'd hoped for but otherwise, a top hole production. Well done Lyceum - back on form!

Recollections

2010-09-19T18:59:00.013+01:00

I've been thinking about the fantastic trip I made to the Shetland isles a few years ago. The journey didn't go at all according to plan but turned out to be more fun than I could ever have hoped for.

I traveled, as I prefer to, by surface transport - train to Aberdeen then over-night boat to Lerwick. I took my new bicycle (Cuddy) with me since I was planning to tour the islands. The crossing was pretty rough - I suffered seasickness for the first time in my life... although I continue to blame the red wine I had with dinner.

source: http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk

In the grey light of Sunday morning we arrived at Lerwick harbour. As Cuddy and I rolled off the ferry I discovered she had a flat tire. Slightly later I found this was due to a broken valve and that neither of my spare inner tubes would fit. It turned out that my shiny new Cuddy used fancy, long valves due to the fancy, deep touring rims on her wheels. I hadn't been aware of this until that moment. I took up residence in Lerwick's SYHA hostel since the local bike shop wouldn't open until lunchtime.

You may imagine the joy I felt that afternoon, on learning that fancy, long-valved inner tubes could not be found in Lerwick for love nor money. How was I to embark upon a cycle tour without wheels?

That evening in the hostel I met an Indian guy named Jaise. He was, most interestingly to me, employed at the Centre for Alternative Technology in Wales. We had much scintillating chat on the subjects of science and greeniness. He told me he was planning to head up to the northern islands to visit an eco-house he'd heard of up there.

source: http://upload.wikimedia.org

I stayed in Lerwick for a few days wondering what to do now that my intended cycle tour had been scuppered. During this time I took the bus to the southern tip of the main island to visit the ancient settlement of Jarlshof. This is a fantastic site. Excavations have been left in such a way as to present the remains of buildings from various points in the 4,000 year life of the settlement. The best part is that I was able to get right in amongst the ruins, walk the paths and sit in the houses that were used by our Bronze Age ancestors. It is a beautiful and atmospheric location.

As well as being a great experience in itself, this little side trip showed me that it would be quite possible to make my tour of the islands by bus instead of bike. I wouldn't have the same freedom of movement but I would be able to travel much further and faster. I headed north.

Late one afternoon I arrived on Unst - the most northerly island in the Shetland group and the tipity-top point in Britain. The friendly bus driver had dropped me off right at the white picket gate of the local hostel. I found myself a bed, had a bite to eat, then headed out to explore the settlement of Uyeasound. It was Midsummer so, this far north, the sun was hardly going to set at all. It was, however, low in the sky and Uyeasound bay was bathed in golden light. It was beautiful.

source

Returning to the hostel later, I passed a pretty, timber built house I'd noticed on my outward journey. It was clearly newly built and was quite striking. From his porch the proud owner waved and wished me good evening. I stopped to chat and after a while found myself invited in for a cup of tea. I wouldn't usually accept such invitations from strangers but I had a good feeling about this man. It soon became apparent that this was the zero carbon house I had heard about in Lerwick. At some point in the evening there was a knock at the front door. It was none other than Jaise, the very chap who'd told me about this house in the first place. Quel coïncidence!

What followed was one of the most entertaining and exhilarating evenings of conversation I've ever had. The owner, Michael Rea is a fascinating man. As well as building this cutting edge and entirely carbon-neutral house all by himself, Michael had lived such an interesting life. Among other things he had once worked as an assistant to the wonderful sculptor Barbara Hepworth! Also, he plied with me with so many cups of tea I believe it slightly altered my body chemistry... it took me several days to recover. I have very warm memories of his hospitality.

Jaise was staying at the same hostel as myself. We sat talking with Michael Rea until the early morning. So early in fact that it was still dark when we left. After a few hours sleep it was time to get up in order to catch the bus that would take me to the morning ferry. Jaise was leaving too. We just caught the bus but only because the driver waited while I went back for something I'd forgotten. At the little ferry port who should turn up but the lovely Mr Rea. He was making his monthly journey down to Lerwick and offered Jaise and me a lift.

So, I got to have several more hours of chat with this lovely, lovely man. A perfect end to an interesting and unexpectedly joyful trip.

Peachy

2010-09-17T19:27:00.011+01:00

A day which begins with me conducting a tour of my beloved Library is always going to be a good day. If it should end with a bit of bubbly and some laughter? Can a day get any better than that? I think not.

In addition, my semi-traditional Friday macaroni cheese lunch (Friday being macaroni day) was both exceedingly cheesy and fairly al dente - neither occurrence being common in our canteen... at least, not with the macaroni cheese.

This has been a most splendid week - starting with the fabulous prehistoric walk on Saturday and ending today with the jollity described above. I suspect it may have not a little to do with the bright, autumnal weather we've had since last weekend. It's made such a difference after the dismal misery of earlier days. Everyone seems just as upbeat as I feel. All around have been smiles - if not downright giggling.

Work has been great. Because it's still 'vacation' there hasn't been a huge amount of serious and important work to be done. This has left me free to spend my time guiltlessly fiddling with the less crucial yet stupendously entertaining little projects I've got going on. Such as the wonderful green-scheme I'm involved with.

I am so, entirely in my element with this. I've been able to combine my knowledge of eco-friendliness with my wicked techno-skills and all to the benefit of my Library. I am a happy, fuzzy bunny indeed!
To top it all - it is Friday, the evening is gorgeous and I've found a nearby place selling real Bretton cider. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Have a wonderful weekend you lovely Blogosphere you!

Stone Age

2010-09-16T20:14:00.001+01:00

"Ever wondered what life was like for people in Holyrood Park during prehistoric times? Who were these hunter gatherers? What did they look like? How did they communicate? How did they survive?" source

SURVIVING EIDYN walk,
11 September 2010,
Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh
Operated by Historic Scotland's Ranger Service this guided walk was the first in the organisation's 'Historic Holyrood' series. This series is planned to run over four consecutive weeks during Scottish Archaeology Month.

Thanks to a fellow megalith-junkie for the link to this event. I'd likely have missed it otherwise. It was just glorious! Our guide (Nathan?) was both lovely and informative. I wasn't at all sure what to expect from the walk and when Nathan told us we wouldn't be seeing any archaeology (because of the very great distance of time) I hoped for nothing more than a sort of pleasant mobile lecture.

How wrong I was! At strategic points during our ramble a bearded mesolithic huntsman would pop out of the undergrowth to explain hunting techniques, flint knapping or firelighting to us. Not to mention, the finer points of coracle construction and propulsion. The inclusion of these practical demonstrations added so much to my knowledge and understanding of the period. In addition, we were given rare access to an area of protected woodland where we got some idea of how the region might have appeared to our prehistoric ancestors.

So, very great thanks are due to the Nathan, his two mesolithic friends and everyone at Historic Scotland involved in the planning of the day. I'm really looking forward to the rest of the series!

Copacabana (Zombie version)

2010-09-07T15:46:00.003+01:00

(after Barry Manilow)

Her name was Lola, she was a zombie.
With mouldy feathers in her hair and one arm that wasn't there
She used to dance once, before the end came
But now she shuffles and she moans,
Her boyfriend Tony chews on bones.

Across a crowded floor, slipping around in gore
They were all running and they were screaming
No-one could find the door!

At the Copa, Copacabana
The deadest spot north of Havana
At the Copa, Copacabana
Shuffling and moaning, they’re gruesome and groaning
At the Copa….they’re all undead

(Copa Copacabana)

His name was Rico, he had a shotgun
He’d left it leant against a chair, when he saw Lola standin’ there
He saw her shambling, thought it was over
‘Cause Rico’s gun was just too far,
As Tony shuffled round the bar

The odds were one against two,
Towards his gun he flew
There was a bite and a single gun shot
But just who got who?

At the Copa, Copacabana
The deadest spot north of Havana
At the Copa, Copacabana
Shuffling and moaning, they’re gruesome and groaning
At the Copa….but who is dead?

(Copa. . Copacabana)
(Copa Copacabana) (Copacabana, ahh ahh ahh ahh)
(Ahh ahh ahh ahh Copa Copacabana)

Her name was Lola, she was a zombie.
With mouldy feathers in her hair and one arm that wasn't there
She used to dance once, but now that’s over
‘Cause now she shuffles and she moans,
Her Tony used to chew on bones.

She sits there so undead, and gnaws on Rico’s head
She lost her life then she lost her Tony
Now she's lost her leg!

At the Copa, Copacabana
The deadest spot north of Havana
At the Copa, Copacabana
Shuffling and moaning, they’re gruesome and groaning
At the Copa….they’re all undead

(Copa) they’re all undead
Copacabana
Copacabana...
etc. to end

Music: Barry Manilow
Words: JazzBaby

Introspection

2010-09-05T12:43:00.003+01:00

Most of the people I'd like to follow online are either dead or fictional. What does that say about me?

I'm not sure, but I do know that I'm much happier inside my own head than out in the real world. It's scary out there. At first I had no choice but to inhabit a fictional world - my formative years were spent in hospital and later, as an only child living in a block of flats, I had few opportunities to meet people of my own age. When I started school everyone else seemed bigger and louder and scarier than me and I never quite connected with the majority. However, as an imaginative child I did have a talent for inventing game scenarios. Often based on books or favourite tv progs they were mainly role-played adventures involving a good deal of running around and screeching - pastimes beloved of most children. But still, I never quite fit.

This separateness used to be a source of great pain to me, especially in my early teens. There was no understanding between me and the majority. I could never comprehend how people could be so thoughtlessly cruel to each other. Why were they allowed to behave that way - weren't there laws to prevent such behaviour? Eventually, I built up protective walls around myself - spiky barriers to protect my own gooey innards. I retreated, almost entirely, into my own mind: learning, reading, listening to music and thinking...

Of course there were always one or two sympathetic souls around. Handfuls of quiet, thoughtful, shy people. People who listened rather than talked, who thought rather than reacted, who meant the things they said.

Over the years I've become comfortable with myself. I have shrugged off the prevailing view that "different is bad". I believe that different is beautiful; interesting; inspiring.

I love the word Geek. I embrace the term and use it proudly in relation to myself. In the last decades we geeks have come, blinking, out of the darkness and are no longer ashamed. Yes, I may have a borderline obsession with Victorian fiction or the works of Douglas Adams but that does not make me a bad person. Okay, I can quote great swathes of dialogue from a diverse range of movies but I can't help that - it just happens by osmosis. Perhaps I'd rather watch a documentary on the ancient Minoans than an episode of X-factor - does that make me the odd one? I don't think so, not any more.

Most of the people I'd like to follow online are either dead or fictional. What does that say about me?

Les Vacances de Mme. Condie

2010-08-26T12:23:00.017+01:00

I have wanted to visit Saint Marc sur Mer for a long time. For many years before I'd ever heard of it in fact. The reason is Jacques Tati's film Les vacances de Monsieur Hulot which is one of my favourite movies. One of the very many reasons I love this film is its quaint and idyllic seaside setting. For years I wondered where it was, trying and failing to locate it on a number of occasions. With the advent of the interweb, and the mighty Internet Movie Database, I at last learned that it was filmed in a place called "Saint-Marc-sur-Mer, Loire-Atlantique, France". Job done you may think, you'd be wrong.

St Marc was too little to appear on my maps and it was several years before the town had any internet presence that I was able to find. But finally, with the aid of Google Maps and the website of the Hotel de la Plage, I found it! Apparently a suburb of St Nazaire and easily accessible from Paris. Hurrah!

The village and the Hotel de la Plage have changed a bit since 1953 but the beach is exactly the same... although it is no longer in black & white...

It felt wonderful to be there at last. It's such a sweet little place and they are obviously very proud of their connection to Hulot. As well the glorious and loving statue overlooking the 'Plage du M. Hulot' and the stylised images adorning the Hotel, Hulot features on the road sign at the entrance to the village. The local council building even stands on 'Place Jacques Tati'.

The statue is a life sized (or perhaps slightly larger than life) representation of M. Hulot in a characteristic pose. It stands on a beautiful new structure which forms the promenade. It pleased me greatly to notice that when people stand looking out to sea they stand next to Hulot more often than not.

Something else which pleased me was the soundscape of the place. The crash of the waves against the shore, the birdsong, the cries of the happy holiday makers. It was the soundtrack to the movie - which is largely without dialogue. I could almost imagine I was in the film - except for not being in black & white of course.

The last part of my trip, particularly, was une catastrophe of Hulot-ic proportions - I missed my plane! Nobody misses planes, especially not when they are sitting in the airport departure lounge. In my defence, at no point, from the moment I sat down in the lounge (at least an hour and a half before departure) until the time 'Edimbourg' disappeared from the departures board - at no point during that time did it say "Boarding". However, 'Boarding' was, apparently, exactly what was happening. I can only imagine they were calling for me but the announcer had such a ridiculously tiny and breathy voice I couldn't understand a word she said - in english or french.

So, the plane left without me and I spent the next hour rushing up and down the airport looking for another flight home. Air France had a flight to Edinburgh leaving at 8.30pm but the available seats were pretty expensive. I considered my alternative: I could try finding somewhere in Paris to stay for the night then fly out in the morning but that would involve a lot more running around with no guarantee I wouldn't end up spending almost as much anyway. I took the ticket.

Next I had to wrest my bag from the clutches of easyjet - a task accomplished with considerably less pain than I imagined. Then off I did trot, a mile or so through the airport to terminal 2E (I'd been in 2B). It was like another world. Spacious and airy with comfy seating and friendly - I repeat, friendly - staff. I was even joking with a couple of security guards!

With only a few minor mishaps - into which I shall not go at the moment - I made it to my gate in plenty of time. I sat facing the gate, nervously watching the staff in case anything changed. Anxiety aside, it was a lovely place to wait: natural lighting, elegant shops and comfortable chairs. I sat in that huge, beautiful, ikea-panelled tunnel of a building, exhausted but happy to be going home.

Books of the trip
The year of the flood by Margaret Atwood - v good
The man who cycled the world by Mark Beaumont - not v good

Joy!

2010-08-25T16:03:00.001+01:00

I am again stuck in an !@?)*# airport waiting for a !@?)*# plane that's been !@?)@ delayed! How do they get delayed? There's nothing but sky in their way! And look at what i have for a view. Lovely. At least when a train is delayed you're unlikely to be locked into the station and forbidden to leave. You can wander free and unfettered until your train arrives. There is often an abundance of free and unfettered air to breath also. Far superior to airports in every way.

The ONLY blessing is that, due to the kind advice of an attendant, i'm not caged at the gate like a veal. Before i was aware of said delay i was heading to the departure gate like a good little traveller. However, he advised me that 'there's nothing in there' so i stayed in the departure lounge instead. It's still boring but i imagine it'd be fifty times duller in there.

Un petit tour du pays

2010-08-24T19:21:00.000+01:00

Another gorgeous day today. I took a little bus up to St Lyphard, a town on the edge of le Briere. This is an area of peat bogs intersected by canals. I assume these were hollowed out by centuries of peat cutters. I went on a little boat tour around some of those canals. It was stunningly beautiful. Sadly, i didn't see much in the way of wild life. Just a heron, two horses and some seagulls.

In the afternoon i had intended to visit the ancient town of Guerande. However, due to a timetable mix up, the bus i expected didn't arrive. I strongly believe that a bus should either be time tabled or be by reservation only. To publish a time table with a teeny notice about the need for reservation - way at the bottom might i add - smacks of perversity to me...but no matter. I realised my mistake too late to catch the bus back to St nazaire so had to wait two hours for the next one. I caught it as it was heading north to Herbignac - where my honey came from - and extended my tour a little before heading back to camp.

I've just finished packing the majority of my stuff - early start tomorrow!

St Nazaire

2010-08-23T20:17:00.000+01:00

Miserable soggy weather today so i went to the cinema in St Nazaire. It's quite a pleasant town- even in the rain. The weather had brightened slightly by the time the film was over so i wandered down to the shore (pic above) and through the pretty, older part of town. Some lovely old buildings and a jardin de plantes.

I started the day with a late breakfast/early lunch of tasty gallette and even tastier poire Belle Helene. Mmmmm. It tasted glorious and the restaurant was lovely too.

So, top marks for St Nazaire - even in the rain!

Le Marché

2010-08-22T19:16:00.001+01:00

Sunday is market day in St Marc. I was suprised and happy to find some stalls selling organic produce. I bought some local cheese, juicy tomatoes and other yummy veg. I also bought a jar of honey. Being practically Breton, the locals seem to like a little salt with their sweetness. Even going so far as to put it in their honey! Intriguing as that sounds i went with the standard honey flavoured honey.

Blue skies and brightness today. After breakfast of croissant and strawberries on the seafront i wandered along the shore and back. The coast is lovely and wild. Typical atlantic coastline really.

St Marc sur Mer

2010-08-21T23:24:00.000+01:00

It's been a long day of travelling - by plane, train and bus - with various, though fairly untroubling, delays.
I finally arrived here at Camping l'Eve just before nightfall. By the time i'd put up my tent it was almost dark. I walked down to the beach in the last of the daylight surrounded by the songs of the cicadas. Taking off my sandals i cooled my hot feet in the sand. By the light of the almost-full moon i walked towards the surf and stood listening to the gentle crash and roll of the waves.

The warm, sweet scented air, the moonlit water, the tiny clouds magicaly glowing in the last rays of the sun. This evening has been worth the journey all by itself.

Now to sleep - and my silky sleeping bag

Perception

2010-08-12T08:16:00.001+01:00

The light is odd this morning. It's of a quality the makes me feel it should be mid-afternoon rather than early a.m. Combined with my extreme sleepiness i'm finding it hard to believe it's really only 8 o'clock. I suspect it's going to be a very long day.

I'm very interested in light. It constantly amazes me how familiar views can be made almost unrecognizable just by a change of light: a shadow falling differently or a stray beam of sunlight can pinpoint a detail you've never seen before; a landscape lit from the west rather than the south can suddenly reveal buildings never before noticed: and rosie-fingered dawn, slanting from the east, can soften a grey and harsh townscape.

Festive

2010-08-09T20:07:00.008+01:00

Rickshaws on the High Street

This year I have resolved to take a much more POSITIVE attitude towards the city wide invasions which are the Edinburgh Festivals. They won't go away just because I growl at them so I may as well make the best of things *determined but ever so slightly insincere smile*.

I got off to a rather weak start today, sneaking out the back way at lunch to avoid the crowds. However, in my defence, I feel this was itself a positive act. I was feeling quite headachy and sick and, if I had subjected myself to the crowds in that state, all my good intentions would have crumbled away.

In keeping with my new POSITIVE attitude I have decided to post 'Festival Pics of the Day' on my FB page. Looking at things through my lens may help me see it from a visitors point of view again.

I was going for an 'unremarkable crowd scene
with unexpected man on ladder' shot

I used to love this time of year until I began to work right in the epicentre of it all: the High Street which during this time is packed to bursting with jugglers, folk giving out flyers and thousands and thousands of tourists. All of them just milling about and treating the place like a theme park. It's impossible to go about your daily business. I have to try to do my job while being buffeted on all sides by.... But no...

I am being POSITIVE now *affix rictus grin*

Lughnasadh

2010-08-01T11:12:00.001+01:00

Van Gogh The Harvest at La Crau picturalissim.com

Happy Lughnasadh! Although, to be honest, this is my least favourite of the cross-quarter days. It signifies, to me, the end of summer and the approach of winter (darkness and SAD - yuk). Also, I just, realise it is exactly one week after my birthday. I am another year older yet cake and presents have become just a memory. Combined with the awful imminence of the Edinburgh Festival, is it any wonder I'm hard pressed to muster a celebratory air on this day?

And yet, the summer is not over. The sun is shining and there are still weeks of long days and (prospective) sunshine to come. Soon the harvests will start and later there will be juicy-sweet apples and pears. A year or so ago I undertook to stop looking forward to up-coming events and festivities while ignoring what was happening in the moment. To stop 'wishing my life away'. It is just as important to avoid allowing negative future events to shadow pleasant days in between. So, it is Sunday, the first day of August. The sun is out, my garden is full of ripe, red raspberries and my fridge full of produce fresh from the farmer's market. The day is my own to do with as I please.

Happy Lughnasadh!

Learning

2010-07-29T14:19:00.013+01:00

I have just discovered iTunes U - an educational resource available for free via the iTunes store. I love to learn and it's great to be able to do so while, simultaneously, lounging and twiddling online. I'm currently listening to a lecture on Gilgamesh from Harrisburg Community College in the USA. It is pretty idyllic just now. The sun has come out so I'm learning, twiddling and soaking up the rays all at once.

Clay tablet with portion of Epic of Gilgamesh; britannica.com

This is why I love the interweb. I have no doubt mentioned this before but I value this thing so much. It is a priceless treasure. To all intents and purposes, I have access to all human knowledge at the tips of my fingers. Click and I can read the Epic of Gilgamesh. Click and here's the ancient Celtic poem y Gododdin. Or, click, Twitter, the most up-to-the-minute glimpse of what's happening in the world.

I can learn languages with the aid of video or podcasts. I can view the collections of museums and galleries on the other side of the world. I can use sites like Urban dictionary to find the meaning of net-acronyms and webspeak (and never need to ask). As a trained information professional (oh yes) I am aware that I can't necessarily believe everything I read online but I know to consider where the info is coming from. The point is, the information is there. All human knowledge is here.

Harrisburg College has moved on to a lecture on the Celtic Goddess Brigid. Love it!

Falkland

2010-07-23T21:09:00.005+01:00

It is a soft, beautiful evening. Wandering through the village I watched swifts flit round the church spire.

The village is small and the music from the Big Tent festival stage can be heard throughout. It's pleasant to be able to visit the town and yet never miss a tune.

Shopping

2010-07-17T11:57:00.003+01:00

I'm off to the farmer's market for the first time in ages. I'm looking forward to picking up some lovely, local produce for The Big Lunch tomorrow. I really enjoy the experience of shopping at the market: the opportunity to chat and laugh with the folk who actually made the pie, baked the bread or dug the potato out of the ground. Obviously not all stall holders are jolly and only a top quality product would draw me back in those cases (the butter women are a good example of the fine product/grumpy purveyor scenario).

Some stalls are there all year round (like Findlater's or Falko Konditormeister) but others are seasonal. Oh, the pleasure of finding that the tomato ladies are back or the mushroom man or those lovely folk with the heritage spuds!

I try to buy local as much as i can. Local, organic and/or fairtrade. I'm a firm believer in using my purchases to make a point. Consumer power is a real and powerful force and i ALWAYS try to put my money where my mouth is. I've never enjoyed shopping. However, now that so many ethical products are available i find myself prey to shopping addiction for the first time in my life: Organic or fairtrade bananas? Buy both; That pot is a bit expensive. But it was made by a local artisan potter; Ooh! That top is made from fairly traded organic bamboo fibres. I must have three! I can bypass shoppers remorse with ethical purchasing. Add a charity credit card and 24 hour online shopping and a girl could find herself in deep trouble! :-)

Pagan

2010-07-15T13:49:00.007+01:00

I call myself a Pagan. This is partly because of my beliefs but mainly because I like the word. I like the sound of it. I like its connections and connotations and I enjoy the way other people react to it.

I use the term 'Freelance Pagan' because my beliefs are very personal and specific to myself. I don't follow any particular Way or teaching, I'm not part of any group and I appreciate and incorporate ideas from various sources, religious and otherwise. It's the idea that matters, not the source.

I don't worship nature - I venerate it. Advanced as we may be, we are still part of the world. As much as we affect our environment we are still affected by it. I feel it is dangerous to think ourselves above and beyond nature. I strive to live simply and consume little. I pay attention to the natural cycles and celebrate various traditional festivals: the quarter and cross-quarter days. To me, these festival days are practical and sensible, natural even: Lughnasadh to celebrate a successful harvest; Imbolc, a festival of light in the darkest days of winter; Beltane, to commemorate spring and the return of life to the land. I can't think of better reasons to celebrate.

I've been a greeny for as long as I can remember and I've probably been pagan for just as long. I just never named it until fairly recently. I don't believe in magic in the spells and curses sense. However, I do believe that what the ancients thought of as magic was more like what we would call science. Knowledge of astronomy, medicinal herbs and the power to turn stones into metal must have seemed like magic to those without those skills. Knowledge is the sort of magic I believe in.

So, I'm a pagan but not a witch. I look back to old traditions and believe they have an important place in the modern world and I believe that magic is everywhere - you just don't need a spellbook to find it.

Social

2010-07-13T20:13:00.001+01:00

Hello Blogosphere. I have been neglecting you I think. I'm afraid that I have been dallying somewhat with FB, that painted strumpet.

You may recall that I joined said FB almost against my will. However, it turns out that it is just bucket loads of fun. I am making new friends but, better still, reconnecting with long lost old pals too.

FB is what I've been waiting for all of my life. I now have the ability to natter away - almost 24 hours a day, should i wish - and yet never have to meet a human person face to face. It's the perfect gift for the anti-social chataholic. However did i manage without it?

As previously mentioned, I have also been lured into the dark embrace of Twitter. That has not proved to be quite so enchanting. Lovely as it is to be able nosey in on the tiniest thoughts and feelings of such luminaries as Jackie Chan, Simon Pegg and (of course) Mr Stephen Fry it has not caught my imagination in the same way as FB or, indeed you, lovely Blogosphere. The thing is - there's no point tweeting when you have no followers. Your words just disappear into the ether never to be read by a living soul. It's a might dreary. Occasionally, when the urge to tweet gets too strong to resist, I write a little haiku. Which is nice but nothing to compare which the joy I've found on FB.

Or, as I said, here. Lovely, lovely Blogosphere - my first online love. I have been wicked and neglectful. I know that. However, now that the first flush of my FB passion has faded, I can come back to you.

Will you have me?

Poetry

2010-06-24T18:21:00.007+01:00

The Great Wave off Kanagawa, woodblock printing by Japanese artist Hokusai

Over the last few days I've been writing haiku (haikus?) on Twitter. It's great fun and fits easily within the 140 character restriction. I admit that the reason I'm doing this, the real reason, is that I know of very few people who use Twitter and none of them regularly. I signed up at the behest of one who shall remain nameless and he's been "too busy" to come and chat with me. I, sadly, have become hooked on the thing. So, rather than tweet pretty much to myself, I write a little #haiku.

Speaking of Twitter, I came across a link on there to a website called My Word Wizard which aims to help its users "find the right assortment of words to express any sentiment...this is the place to find the appropriate turn of phrase for every occassion [sic]". I lofty ideal indeed but I found that it made me a little sad. Your sister's getting married, your best friend's birthday is imminent, you've just found the love of your life and she's moving to Bora Bora - fret not. There is no need for you to express an original thought or emotion. No effort is required on your part. Word Wizard, and its ilk, will do the work for you.

No doubt I'm over reacting.

Not to be entirely negative about this site, it has introduced me to a new and wonderful art form: GANGSTA LOVE POETRY. To quote Word Wizard:

"It ain’t easy luvin’ no gangsta. It ain't easy bein' a gangsta in luv. Our Gangsta Love Poems show there’s substance beneath that gangsta exterior. Luv poems for gangsta's help you express all they mean to you in a very gangsta way"

Here are two choice examples of that genre:

Dime Piece
My ma told me to always look for a dime.
I’ve been scratching
And it’s taken some time.
But then pow – I found you
When I was just hanging around.
My mouth fell open
And I lost that frown
You’re my dime piece girl.
And you’re so perfectly tight
Because of you, life’s aight.
Haters
Don’t listen to the haters.
Ya know you my boo.
All that trash talking;
They just trying to get to you.
She said she saw-
The word on the street –
Don’t believe it’s a dog just because
It lies near your feet.
Girl, you know only yo boy got your back
I love you wifey
But yo gurl’s all whack.

http://www.mywordwizard.com/gangsta-love-poems.html

Peace. Out.

Dilemma

2010-06-22T11:47:00.003+01:00

I am interested in everything.

Since I was very small I've wanted to know who, where, why and what (but rarely when). A life long lover of the BBC, during my years of Primary school (in the 1970s) I learned far more from Auntie Beeb than from all of my teachers put together. As well as her many factual programmes for children there were the countless nature films and other documentaries. I sucked up all the knowledge she offered me. With a tv and a library card I was guarantied a constant, though fairly limited, supply of information.

I began travelling in my mid twenties and found a world full of beauty, adventure and new experiences. I have a long, long list of places to see, ruins to explore and museums to visit. I revere our world and love to be outside camping, cycling, walking.

Then came the Communication Revolution. More information than I can possibly absorb. 24 hour access. I constantly learn of new new and exciting people and places.

My dilemma? To go out to see, do and experience or to stay in reading, watching and learning?

During my 20s there was no dilemma. I had no ties or responsibilities (and there was no internet to speak of). I was utterly free and behaved accordingly. In my early 30s I found a job that I love and, soon after, a house that turned out to be the home I'd been searching the world for.

That, I suppose is the true dilemma: To travel for interest, excitement and experience or to stay here completely, utterly at peace?

Solstice

2010-06-21T10:21:00.012+01:00

The sun came up around 4.30am and will set around 10pm. Jodrell Bank Tweeted:

The Sun reaches its most northerly point today at 11:28 Universal Time (12:28 British Summer Time) - Happy Solstice!

It is Litha, the summer solstice, the longest day... and I've already been awake for 24 hours. Feeling a little light headed but happy. I've been chatting all night with a long lost friend.

I had planned to go up north today but I'd rather be here. I may go later in the week but tonight I will cerebrate in my own house.

I just watched a documentary in which the author Henning Mankel talked about creating an imaginary mother to replace the one who had deserted him. On meeting the real woman, he found that he preferred the fiction. I have also fabricated a perfect parent. My father had gone to Africa and so I fantasised an Indiana Jones like adventurer, dressed in khaki and complete with wide brimmed hat. Like Mankel I was satisfied and comforted by this image. So much so to that I believe it softened the impact last year when I learned my father had died more than a decade before. In my mind my father is as alive as he ever was.

Magical

2010-06-11T17:37:00.002+01:00

This is always a beautiful room but look how, with the addition of flowers and some pretty table cloths, it can become almost magical...

Summer

2010-06-02T09:04:00.007+01:00

Yesterday was, what i consider to be, the first day of summer. It started out quite rainy but don't the gardens look pretty?

As Tuesdays go, it was a good one. It was my first day back and began, gently, with a morning training course run by my guru Mr DMB. As always that was top-hole.

I lunched at Maxi's and had a stupendously tasty veggie enchilada. I was slightly disturbed by the very loud waitress - Maxi's is a pretty compact place. At one point she hollered 'is everything alright here?' at fairly close quarters. I ignored this however since, at that time, i had nothing but a glass of water in front of me. When she repeated her yell, closer still, i turned to find that it was indeed directed at me. I looked at her, at my plate-less table and back at her expectant face. 'Well' i began, uncertainly, 'i have nothing...but apart from that... I'm fine thanks'. 'Good' she said and left.

After a quiet afternoon i took the bus home. The sun appeared just as we entered Livi. I popped to the Co-op, bought a pizza and found they had a 2for1 offer on ice-cream! Naturally overjoyed by this i babbled nuttily with the girl at the check-out and made her giggle.

After a lovely walk home in the evening sun i enjoyed some of the best pizza i've found outside venice and a little too much half price ice-cream.

As tuesdays go, it was a good one.

Slow Sunday

2010-05-30T13:14:00.016+01:00

This is an image from the iGoogle Tea House theme. I've been using this theme for months, perhaps years, and never get bored with it. This is partly because it changes throughout the day but mainly it's because I find it sort of inspirational.

I love to watch the little fox living his gentle, peaceful life in his secluded, water-side house with its orange grove and perfect view. The Tea House Fox sleeps under the stars and spends his waking hours either working (picking fruit, washing clothes and fishing), picnicking or in pursuit of his hobbies (astronomy, music and boating). He lives a fairly solitary life but happily receives visitors at all hours of the day and night. I aspire to this harmonious life balance. I need a few more hobbies and a little less solitude in my own life I think. Seclusion is good and beautiful but I embrace it too eagerly. I need a bit more fresh air and human contact in order to live a truly balanced life.

That said, I plan to spend this Slow Sunday quietly enjoying my own company before returning to work tomorrow. The theme of the day is A Healthy Pace and, though I may not be conforming to the detail of their suggestions, I believe I'm following the spirit. I've just had dental surgery and have been recuperating for some days. I'll spend today resting, eating good food and gathering my self for the return to the world.

Today the Dalai Lama said: As human beings, we are all the same, there is no need to build some kind of artificial barrier between us. With this attitude, there is nothing to hide, and no need to say things in a way that is not straightforward. So this gives me a kind of space in my mind, with the result that I do not have to be suspicious of others all the time. And this really gives me inner satisfaction, and inner peace.

It gives me "inner satisfaction, and inner peace" to read his words, these and others, and realise - I'm already there. I act that way, I think like that, I'm on the path. Although very much a work in progress, my life is headed in the right direction - the way I want to go.

I didn't mean to philosophise so much today. I just wanted to share the Tea House with you and also this Ode to the theme that I found.

Remember: live simply, do no harm and drink tea...

SpaceFace

2010-05-22T18:16:00.002+01:00

I've signed up to a social networking site. It makes me feel a little dirty but I have to admit i'm starting to enjoy it. Semi-Sis had been on at me to sign up then I learned that some former travel buddies used it and, finally, I had to register for work (honest). One of the Members wanted the screenplay for "My cousin Vinnie' (for a very good and important reason). After searching various places I decided to contact the screenwriter - as you do. The only contact details I could find were for his SpaceFace page. So I signed up.

The page has been dormant for some time but last week I decided to have a look. At first it seemed utterly futile and pointless. And it probably is. However, I'm starting to find my way around. Finding areas of interest and fascinating people to befriend. Perhaps I'll give it up again in a week or two. Maybe I'll reconnect with lost chums from the past. Who know's? Today, drinking wine in the sun, it's a fun way to pass the time.

Presenting Emily MacMac...

2010-05-16T14:42:00.002+01:00

Here is my new, shiny and pretty-pretty MacBook. Like my vacuum, Roger Dyson, she is a perfect combination of design and engineering, of form and function.

Emily MacMac is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

Chez moi

2010-05-08T22:15:00.002+01:00

I'm home. Aaaaaaaaaah :-)

Books of the trip:
blueeyedboy by Joanne Harris
The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

Farewell to Arles

2010-05-07T20:43:00.004+01:00

There was so much sunshine today i may actually have managed to generate a freckle or two. I might go home marginally less pasty than when i left Scotland.

I visited the roman arena and watched some gladiators battling. However, one of then seemed quite huffy because his opponent had a sword, a helmet and a huge shield while he had only a fork, a net and one shoulder pad. After a while he started trying to kick the sword wielder in the head. I felt things were about to deteriorate so i went on my way.

Saint Remy de Provence

2010-05-06T18:31:00.001+01:00

I'm back in my tent tonight in a lovely site called Camping Pegomas, just on the edge of Saint Remy. My camp is hedged in by tall bamboo which is rustling in a most pleasing fashion at the moment.

I've visited saint Remy before so i spent this afternoon wondering the lanes and back roads. Starting at the ancient ruins of Glanum i followed 'the Footsteps of Van Gogh'. This is a really charming little walk whose information points are illustrated with copies of Vincent's paintings. As well as being pretty interesting it led me through some peaceful, residential streets i wouldn't otherwise have seen. Very close to the main square they managed to feel more remote and rural than they actually were. The odd wheely bin aside, it was a most pleasant wander. Especially since the sun was shining. It felt like proper provence at last.

Cavaillon

2010-05-05T19:55:00.001+01:00

I spent this morning touring round the luberon valley. This picture shows the village of rousillon- just one of the gorgeous little towns in this area. Sadly the weather is still rubbish. The sky was grey, flat and rather oppressive. The landscape must be breathtaking when bathed in the more usual golden light.

Speaking of weather, it seems i got off lightly the other night. The winds whipping round my tent where playing merry havoc along the cote d'azure. I see this bad weather is occuring all over europe. I wonder if the storm clouds have been seeded by the ash from the icelandic volcano.

Cavaillon

2010-05-04T18:07:00.002+01:00

I am ensconced in the Hotel du Park in Cavaillon. It has taken about 4 hours but I am dry at last. I really like this hotel. It's not cheap (by my standards) by I have a tv with CanalCine and BBC World - sweet. The decor is what hooked me. It reminds me of the Hotel o'Tatt where Jaffers and I stayed on our visit to the Kingdom of Jordan. This place doesn't reach the dizzy heights of ugliness and surrealism achieved by Hotel o'Tatt - but then, nothing could. Hotel du Park has, what I would call, Victorian kitch. There's stencilling on every surface, murals where e'er you look and little oddments and paintings all about. I love it.

Once the rain stopped this turned out to be a really pretty town with many friendly people and at least one very fine baker. The lady in the tourist office is an absolute gem, going above and beyond to satisfy my touristic needs. Bravo Madame.

I'll be spending tomorrow exploring the surroundings but today I have done almost nothing. It has been great. I only came out now because the sun is shining and I fear it may be the last I see of it for a while.

Be careful what you wish for - part 2

2010-05-04T07:42:00.004+01:00

The weather gods don't like to be mocked. They sent me a wind which, if it wasn't the Mistral, could totally kick the Mistral's ass.

My little camp was totally sheltered by hedges so it would have been fine if the wind had come alone. Sadly, it brought it's chum Pouring Rain along too. I was okay in the night, though the wind woke me several times, but this morning i had to get up and pack - or break camp as i like to call it.

I carefully packed within the shelter of the tent but eventually i had to put my bags outside so i could take the tent down. In the 5 or so minutes that took my bags became sodden in the rain. Then, even better, as soon as i shook rain off the tent, more fell onto it. In consequence i had to stuff a dripping wet tent into the top of my pack where it's moisture can trickle down amongst all my stuff. My clothes are in a placcy-bag of course but i hate to think what's happening to my new wilkie collins novel.

I'm currently on a bus heading for cavaillion cold, grumpy and smelling like a damp dog. So, my little ones, be careful what you wish for. You might be unlucky enough to get it.

Still in Arles

2010-05-03T19:00:00.004+01:00

I spent a little part of this morning on the Camino again. I visited les Alyscamps - as painted by Vincent Van Gogh - and discovered it was once 'a necessary stage on the saint jacques of Compostelle pilgrimage'. I was aware of a Camino route begining in Arles but didn't expect to come across any way-markers here. I saw the first one as i left les Alyscamps and, like the good little perigrina i am, i walked in the direction it pointed. If i hadn't lost the markers at a crossing i'd probably be following them still and be well on my way to the spanish border by now.

The weather gods have not been kind to me this trip. Although most of the raining has happened at night the skies have been lowering and grey and i think that's what caused yesterday's headache. Currently, the pattering on my tent seems to indicate a downpour. In fact it's nothing but a drizzle, driven slightly by the wind.

The wind. I wonder if this could be the famous Mistral? It seem's unlikely that this stiff breeze could drive people mad. I'm certainly a little irritated but maddness seems far away at this point. Typical. Not only i'm i suffering bad weather, it isn't even famous and mythical bad weather. Poop.

I plan to move on tomorow. An early start but that gives me the best chance of making a connection to reach my intended destination. If i miss that connection i'll be spending tomorrow night in cavaillion: famous for mellons and used as a base for the filming of 'mr bean's holiday'. I hope i catch that bus.

The pic shows a view of the roman amphitheatre.

Arles

2010-05-02T20:02:00.002+01:00

Groovy day wandering around. This is such a lovely place - i will stay here a day longer than i'd planned. Weather was grey but brightened in the pm.

Had a stonking headache for most of the day. Went to the movies to try to chase it away - worked for a while but now it's back. Going to sleep it off.

Night night