Saturday, 31 July 2010
The weekend following the last blog, Up North Lori came for the weekend and coincidentally Friday night was Champagne night, a dinner party with Landlady wife Sarah, and Kiddie doc Jen (the last time we would have our semi-regular Friday night gathering as the landlady wife is Glasgow bound next week). It was called champagne night as Sarah had a been given a very expensive bottle as a gift and had not got round to drinking it. We managed. We managed to drink another couple too. Due to my rather bossy instructions to drink lots of water, Lori and I didn’t feel too rough the next day after some frivolity and meeting my with psyche Suzie (she is a psychologist, only a little crazy) that evening we went to Andi’s Beaver and had some more wine.
The following weekend was Manchester with the Amazing Aimie. Back from Dubai for a month an still browner than a nut (that’s an odd expression isn’t it? I mean how brown are nuts?) The weekend actually started on Thursday and didn’t finish till Monday. Manchester was much fun. We shopped, went on a big wheel, drank pink fizz (amongst other things) and went dancing. The Manchester night life was not as wild as I was fearfully expecting, but filled with rather confusing people. At the club, the Scottish lacrosse team were there wearing kilts, but only one of whom was actually Scottish. A long haired tall man accused me of being a catholic and then on telling him I had no particular religious affiliation, then began to rant ‘you little protestant girl with your little protestant mother and protestant father in your little protestant town’. Odd. We managed to make it back to the hotel unscathed however the next day I feel more than a little under the weather. It didn’t help that the train was inhabited by a extremely loud drunk Glaswegian man who for the whole journey screeched a torrent profanities and on our arrival in Edinburgh he seemed entirely confused about where he was a began to scream ‘I’m in Edinburgh, is this Edinburgh? Where am I!’. Surface to say the rest if the carriage’s population waited until he had safely evacuated and did not rush to his aid.
I had wisely booked the Monday and Tuesday off work and this tuned out to most fortuitous as ‘Save the Children’ Dominic came to Edinburgh for visit on return from his epic Malawi trip and this descended into a dinner party of sorts with beer. Unfortunately, I did have to return to work the next day and the day was hard. Very hard. But the torture did not stop there. During the drunken dinner party I had received a phone call from Beaver Andi (oh, for those who don’t know, he was formerly Fort Willy Andi, but he recently moved to Edinburgh into a Beaverhall road flat). He took advantage of my drunken state and persuaded me to accompany him to ‘Body Pump’ on Thursday evening.
I wasn’t sure what body pump was. I knew it involved some kind of aerobics and music, but that was all. After dragging out my only passable (barely) gym outfit and fighting back the school PE flashbacks, I cautiously made my way to the gym. It was filled with lithe beauties who all seemed relaxed and like they were meant to be there. I met Andi he began to ‘reassure’ me by telling me what to expect. Imagine my surprise when he said that when we get inside we were to get a spot to set up our weights. Our weights, excuse me?! He had never mentioned weights. Yes, indeed Body Pump is weight lifting aerobics class. So not only did I ever to try and coordinate to music, but now I had to life weights as well. I was not amused. The Body Pump teacher was one of those impossibly beautiful fit people who always have a massive fixed grin and don’t sweat. I spent the entire class flailing around hopelessly trying to be coordinated and rather ineffectually lifting my weights. The actual class wasn’t entirely as hideous alas I had anticipated, but I don’t think Andi will waste his energy trying to persuade me to accompany him to the gym again.
So finally last night, I thought I might have a chilled night at home alone, but I am just a girl who can’t say no and ended up round at Andi’s beaver with my soon to be ex-wife watching the classic (i.e. cheesy) X-men 3 and a bottle of vine.
Tonight may prove to be my undoing as Cat is back! Yes she has returned from Oz (hopefully less scary wheelie creatures in her journey) and tonight we are having a party at the Beaver (of course) and then on Tuesday, she become my new wife! Yes, I have wasted no time. When Sarah leaves on Tuesday, Cat will take her place. I need to have a blonde in my life and whilst I mourn the passing of Sarah to the abyss that is Glasgow, I look forward to living with Cat and hopefully finally meeting the eponymous Lewis (the boy who has just ‘given’ her his spare car).
Amongst all this excitement, Aimie is back for another weekend, there is Karen’s leaving do to be had and I’m trying to squeeze in a cocktail night with Artist Laura and Maggie – the original girl from Oz may be making an appearance!
As I said, I am a butterfly.
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
This weekend has been another one of perpetual motion and general frivolity. I seriously don’t know how I have time to work. Directly after finishing on Friday, I set out in Simone to Aberdeen to stay the night with Kim and Tom. I had spent the whole day moaning and complaining to my work mates about the traffic I was bound to encounter whilst trying to cross the bridge on the eve of the popular music festival ‘T in the Park’. However, that evening I sailed across the bridge with the most minimal of delays and certainly far less than the previous week en route north.
Anyway I arrived in good time to be greeted by a lovely meal from Kim and Tom and a few glasses of fine red wine. I was an ungrateful guest though as I slept in the next morning then dashed immediately off to visit my grandfather and a very pregnant friend (hi Shona!) who also fed me well. I did return after my visitations and have a cup of tea, but I must say I wasn’t the most sociable of guests so I thank them for being such gracious hosts. Saturday evening continued my tour of the East coast when finally after almost 2 years after Louise moving into her Tayside flat (literally next to the Tay River you can see the men in the bridge and occasionally they sail by in their construction boat and spy on Louise), I finally visited her in Dundee (the first year is excusable as I was out of the country, but the 2nd, all I can do is a apologise). The night turned into more of an event than had initially been planned as it ended up being my landlady wife, Elaine, a rather tired post baby-catching Gillian and of course the gracious hostess. We chatted, we ate and we drank. We drank 4 bottles of wine in fact. This doesn’t sound so bad until you discover that neither Gillian or Elaine were drinking and then you can appreciate that the next day the hostess, landlady wife and I ever feeling a touch delicate (we latter two were put up at the River View Hotel don’t worry we weren’t drunk driving back to Edinburgh).
So the remainder of Sunday after managing to drive Simone home in the blustery wind was spent on the sofa watching Grey’s Anatomy- yes I finally stopped resisting and have started watching it. I usually hate medical dramas as I have never got over ER killing off my favourite character Mark Greene. Oh, Mark what an end! And I’m mildly ashamed to say I find myself slightly addicted and have been sending out sneaky texts to friends who have the 2nd series to ask them if ask if I can borrow it (thanks Lori).
Also this week my mother has made the move from her old-new house to her new-new house. I gather it has been slightly traumatic, but when I phoned her tonight to get the full report my aunt had just arrived and they searching for a bottle opener. I thought- best leave them to it. Never speak to my mother even after the merest sniff of alcohol or she’ll profess her undying love and then launch into a story about how I was planned by my father and not by her....
So that’s it, but I thought it might be time for a bus watch update. A couple of new people have arrived and our old favourites have been making their regular appearances. However we have a loss. At first I thought he must be on holiday, but I think, alas, Thin Puck is gone. We mourn his leaving the bus and alighting to the rest of the world. However, on to new and old friends alike.
Tattoo lady- a new regular on the bus. She is there already when I get on and gets off about 2/3rds of the way into my journey. She has the most striking tattoos on her neck and face. Two tiny blue cat (or maybe dog) paw prints at the corner of each eye then a trail of larger black paw prints going circumferentially around her neck. At the base of her neck there is also a heart surrounded by a pair of wings. They really are quite startling and what makes it all the more fascinating is that these are only the tattoos I can see. This woman always wears a high necked top and long sleeves, heaven knows what other dazzling displays of body art exists under the swages of cloth.
Lion Woman- whilst waiting for my bus last week a woman I suspect of Spanish origin appeared at the bus stop. Her hair is a flowing mane of browns and golds. It looks like it’s had spent hours and hours and several people making it look so absolutely perfect, but it is 8am in the morning and I don’t think this can possibly be. Imagine my delight and surprise when she got on the bus and sat directly in front of me and has continued to do so this last few days. For the first 15 minutes of my journey, lion girl has got on the bus and I have had the great joy of getting to see her hair every day. Don’t ask me if she’s pretty, I’ve not looked at her face.
Bedraggled doctor- has been on night shifts as she was away all last week. At first I thought ‘oh that's lovely, she must me on holiday’. However her appearance on Monday morning's commute makes me suspect she was on nights. Poor, poor bedraggled doctor.
The Wet Granny- the battle continues. After our last direct meeting (in which whilst wet she sat on me) I had mostly been successful in avoiding her. Unfortunately, last Thursday as the bus approached her stop, I saw her there ready and waiting to jump on the bus. I glanced around me and realised I had one of the only available seats next to me. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best, but luck was not on my side and I saw her approach. I thought that perhaps this time it would not be so bad- it was dry day and this time I was in a normal two seater so surely this time my leg would safe from her great hulking mass. Alas not, as she swung herself down, throwing her full weight upon the seat, I again got half a buttock on my outer thigh. To add insult to injury she also had a massive handbag (I suspect containing bricks) which she threw down upon my lap. She eventually manoeuvred her arse off my leg, but handbag remained on my lap for most of the journey. Any attempts to try and throw her a disgruntled look were prevented by her reading the free newspaper with the print practically touching her nose. It being pressed up so close to her face and the vast majority of the leaf in my immediate ‘personal bubble’ meant that any effort of eye contact was prohibited by her paper cocoon.
Wet Granny 2- Morag nil.
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Despite being up north just last week, I returned to my birth home (like a birth parent to an adopted child, the birth home will always be part of you no matter how much you try to forget it and adopt a new accent) for a joyous occasion. An old school friend and her fiancé, another old Dingwall alumni were joined in holy matrimony in Strathpeffer.
The bride, the fabulous Tania, wanted a more personal wedding than the generic standard fare and whilst the wedding formed the same basic mould there were a few Tania-twists that made the whole thing even lovelier. It was held at a Strathpeffer hotel and due to the ropey weather the initially planned outside ceremony was swiftly set up in doors (well, you can dream). However the inside chapel-esk hall was very nice and in particular I thought the female (gasp- a woman!) registrar was really wonderful. The twists of the wedding included woman giving speeches at the meal (as Tania said- why do only the men get to talk?), she had no bridesmaids, there were 2 best men and the most out of mould thing was than she did not wear a white dress. No, instead, she wore a delightful pink flowing, cut to the knee number with a lovely flower pastiche at the side of one strap. It reminded me of heather and seemed very Scottish.
Now on the topic of outfits, this brings me to one part of weddings that fills me with great pleasure- seeing what everyone wears. There was one gentleman in particular that really caught my eye. I suppose no one had ever told him that it is bad etiquette to wear white at a wedding or maybe he knew that Tania was not being a tradionalist, but this chap turned up in pure white crushed linen suit. And it gets better. Not only was he wearing this dazzling beauty with a half way down unbuttoned blue Hawaiian style shirt, on his feet were white leather loafers. Actual loafers with a snazzy design. To top it off he was one spray tan away from being a mahogany chest of drawers. Whilst obviously all eyes were on the bride (and the groom, I must say Chris looked splendid in his charcoal coloured kilt) there were also a few on this fabulous chap. (I must mention at this point, whilst I was desperate to get a sneaky photo of this chap, I quickly got far too filled with let’s say ‘love and joy’ and was away ceilidh dancing for the majority of the evening and promptly forgot to take any snaps of him so anyone who was at the wedding who reads this blog, if you have any please, please, I beg you, send them to me.)
Later that night I sneaked over and asked quietly in the bride’s ear and asked who he was. How had she met such a divine creature? She replied he was one of Chris's Territorial Army buddies.
Don’t ask, don’t tell.