This week - highcuts, travelling with weapons, and where the hell is that Squirrel?.
Picture the scene. Lunchtime. Me, at my desk. Ham and chutney sandwich, strawberry yoghurt*. Open blog, new post. Oh crap, what will I write this time?
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| Stupid empty yoghurt |
Instant Messenger enters the scene.
[14/04/2015 13:11] Me:what could i blog about this week?
[14/04/2015 13:19] L:Um... missing the castle ceilidh? Learning Broadswords? OTBTBS? Failing to buy trainers? Getting Daisy back on the road? Painting things green? Chisels and chiselling and what an excellent half-birthday-present-buyer your Jones is? All the exciting things that have arrived for you by post this week? How we are failing at vegetables? The feelings attached to sending someone off with your car? Your incredible tea-pouring skills? The mystery that is the location of the Tiny Squirrel? Your trepidation at going to get your hair cut again? Whether your gym trousers are appropriate to wear on holiday? How holidays are nice? All the places in the world that you want to go?
[14/04/2015 13:20] Me:
Can i copy and paste that and put it on?
[14/04/2015 13:21] L:
Sure, although I expect a writing credit, or at least a footnote.**
[14/04/2015 13:22] L:
How about I attempt to make my own marshmallows?
Lemme count now. 16 things. Rather a lot but I'm game if you are.
In my current work-based state of mind I'm quite tempted to give them all issue log item numbers, link the related items, assign them categories, priority-sort, assign effort points, tally them all up and then tell you it'll take too long and suggest you might just fancy buying a newspaper instead.
Sorry, back in the room.
- Um... missing the castle ceilidh?
- Learning Broadswords?
- OTBTBS?
- Failing to buy trainers?
- Getting Daisy back on the road?
- Painting things green?
- Chisels and chiselling and what an excellent half-birthday-present-buyer your Jones is?
- All the exciting things that have arrived for you by post this week?
- How we are failing at vegetables?
- The feelings attached to sending someone off with your car?
- Your incredible tea-pouring skills?
- The mystery that is the location of the Tiny Squirrel?
- Your trepidation at going to get your hair cut again?
- Whether your gym trousers are appropriate to wear on holiday?
- How holidays are nice?
- All the places in the world that you want to go?
Numbers 2, 3, loosely associated with 8, 14 and 15
I have a new highland obsession. If I were 17 and it were a person this might be a full blown teenage crush. But I'm not, and it's not.
This week I am attempting to learn the Argyll Broadswords. Or a quarter of it, depending on your definition of what makes a whole one.
Here are some real highland dancers doing a completely different version.
Here are some real highland dancers doing a completely different version.
A fair amount of my Sunday this weekend was spent bouncing around in a small circle with 3 friends around 4 dismantle-able swords Whilst being out of breath, looking quite confused and occasionally swearing. It was great fun. I'm at a point now where I have a bit of an idea which things I supposed to be doing, and in what order. Next up is managing to do all of those things, whilst not forgetting what they are and in what order they come. After that I have to achieve some sort of aerobic fitness to have any chance of pulling it off in a couple of layers of costume, in June/July in the south of France.
To this end L and I have created the notion of OTBTBS - our daily Obligatory Tiny Bedtime Broadswords. Obligatory because if we don't make ourselves practise this crap, it'll never happen. Tiny on account of the oppressive ceiling height. Bedtime because, well, that's when we have time. So yes, we have created the bizarre daily ritual where L and I bounce around our living room at about ten each evening, do the sort of pretend highland where your elbows never leave our sides, intently chanting things like "toe, heel, toe, heel, point, point, get out of my corner" to each other.
So there's that.
The flip side of that is that my legs have stopped working. Both of them are having none of it. Not sore as such, more ineffectual. Between Sunday's Highland and Scottish Country rehearsals, two OTBTBSs and the two slow kilometres I managed to run this morning my legs seem to have given up. Every time I got up to leave my desk today it was touch-and-go as to whether they'd keep me upright or not. At least twice I had to sit straight back down again and then try again very very slowly. God knows what my colleagues think.
The St Andrews Castle Ceilidh happened on Sunday. Or so I'm told. I hedged my bets for too long and somebody else bought all the tickets! I hope you had fun. I told there wasn't any fire and no-body got up on the top of the pier and I got to go to bed on time, so it might have worked out for the best in the end. What my bet-hedging, ticket-not-having meant was a logistical problem of us having offered other ticket-holding Castle ceilidh-ers a lift. That's a crappy sentence if ever I wrote one. Sorry. So we leant out our little Spoyk. He still got to go! Ten minutes on hold to the insurance company and a slightly nervous handing-over of keys and all was well.
I am rather sad to hear about the lack of fire or perilous heights, never mind not having the combination. I am minded to build a dramatic cliff-side castle in the hope that future generations will get to dance in it and then parade around with fire. But I'm not particularly good at the long con so that might never happen.
To this end L and I have created the notion of OTBTBS - our daily Obligatory Tiny Bedtime Broadswords. Obligatory because if we don't make ourselves practise this crap, it'll never happen. Tiny on account of the oppressive ceiling height. Bedtime because, well, that's when we have time. So yes, we have created the bizarre daily ritual where L and I bounce around our living room at about ten each evening, do the sort of pretend highland where your elbows never leave our sides, intently chanting things like "toe, heel, toe, heel, point, point, get out of my corner" to each other.
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| I think if you do this right a portal to another world will appear in your living room. |
So there's that.
The flip side of that is that my legs have stopped working. Both of them are having none of it. Not sore as such, more ineffectual. Between Sunday's Highland and Scottish Country rehearsals, two OTBTBSs and the two slow kilometres I managed to run this morning my legs seem to have given up. Every time I got up to leave my desk today it was touch-and-go as to whether they'd keep me upright or not. At least twice I had to sit straight back down again and then try again very very slowly. God knows what my colleagues think.
Numbers 1 and 10
The St Andrews Castle Ceilidh happened on Sunday. Or so I'm told. I hedged my bets for too long and somebody else bought all the tickets! I hope you had fun. I told there wasn't any fire and no-body got up on the top of the pier and I got to go to bed on time, so it might have worked out for the best in the end. What my bet-hedging, ticket-not-having meant was a logistical problem of us having offered other ticket-holding Castle ceilidh-ers a lift. That's a crappy sentence if ever I wrote one. Sorry. So we leant out our little Spoyk. He still got to go! Ten minutes on hold to the insurance company and a slightly nervous handing-over of keys and all was well.
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| Castle Ceilidh 2009, when you still got daylight, fire and heights |
I am rather sad to hear about the lack of fire or perilous heights, never mind not having the combination. I am minded to build a dramatic cliff-side castle in the hope that future generations will get to dance in it and then parade around with fire. But I'm not particularly good at the long con so that might never happen.
Ok, where are we?
Um... missing the castle ceilidh?Learning Broadswords?OTBTBS?- Failing to buy trainers?
- Getting Daisy back on the road?
- Painting things green?
- Chisels and chiselling and what an excellent half-birthday-present-buyer your Jones is?
- All the exciting things that have arrived for you by post this week?
- How we are failing at vegetables?
The feelings attached to sending someone off with your car?- Your incredible tea-pouring skills?
- The mystery that is the location of the Tiny Squirrel?
- Your trepidation at going to get your hair cut again?
- Whether your gym trousers are appropriate to wear on holiday?
- How holidays are nice?
- All the places in the world that you want to go?
Numbers 6 and 7, you might get to find out about next week.
Number 4 - I have big feet and a stingy budget, and a propensity to wear out trainers very quickly.
This is a problem. I've come back round to the viewpoint that I'll make some cheap fixes to the shoes I currently have, and worry about replacing them later.
Number 5 - yes
She's gone to Halfords (because every other bike shop in this town and the next couple were booked up for weeks) for new brakes. We think this time we've got the Useful Man (who thinks Daisy is awesome) and not Mr Idiot Man (who we don't like). Current plans are to give her a good ride out maybe this weekend or one of the next couple.
Number 8 - mostly fabric, but also this funky case for my funky new laptop.
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| Felt, and leather. No neoprene in sight. |
Number 9
Anyone want a cabbage? We have spare.
Number 11 you can come and find out about if you really want to.
Somehow L and I have been co-opted on to the Church "Social Committee", we think through some sort of Affirmative Action programme. There is going to be something called a "Daffodil Tea" there on Saturday. Not understanding any of the things that might happen at such an event, I went for the safest bluff I could think of, and offered to pour the tea. 10am. High Hilton Church. Moral support much appreciated. Come and find out what one is, it'll be fun. Daffodils are poisonous, right? Why would you make them in to tea? Still new to all of this CofS malarkey.Number 12 - have you seen him?
Number 13
14 - Probably.
15 - Yes.
16 - All of them.
Actually, maybe just most of them. Let's save that for a whole epistle of it's own. This is a little thought triggered by having watched a re-run of this programme where Terry Pratchett talks about dying and how we should save the Orangutans. In which he goes to Borneo, where I once ventured, possibly in 2006, and want to return to while there's still some jungle left. That's worth a whole post, surely? I'll write if for you some time.
Number 12.2 - Good news! Here he is!
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| Guarding the china, of course. |
*Seriously why is it so hard to get hold of unadulterated yoghurt? I am reluctantly about to break in to a yoghurt which is the Diet Coke of the yoghurty world. I get why there is a market for fat-free yoghurt, but there is also surely a market for real yoghurt with all the energy left in. It's me. I am that market. Why would you go and make a tasty yoghurt then come along afterwards and strip all the tasty back out again. What's the point in even eating it when it's not going to keep me alive for any longer!? Thank you.
**Yay woop L.
I am that market too.
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