Tales from the Gael

Our big news this week is John has been offered a job in Adelaide!!!! We will be flying around the 1st April, so it’s all very stressful. We have to move into our other flat and try and sell this one, and the packers are coming to move us on Thursday. Then we want to see our kids… so that means a trip south, and its just fitting it all in.
I am excited though, and we are going to be staying in Glenelg! How spooky is that! Named after the little village I lived in on the West Coast of Scotland. After the Highland Clearances, the people were sent off to Canada and Australia and now I will be staying there! John is to be working with a Korean company. It’s a cable company… laying some electric cables in the sea or something (I am vague about all that… will pay attention later). The guy who John used to fight across the table with in Doha must have thought he was good as he said he would really like him to work on his side! How lucky and funny. So much to think about and we have to leave so soon. Below is a picture of Glenelg, Australia!

(Nick in front of our old house in Glenelg and scene of Glenelg bay a couple of summers ago).

)Bang goes my play, and bang goes my ballet dancing… just when I bought the shoes!

This last week has been very social. Had a farewell dinner party here with good friends, which meant too many margaritas, and delicious spicy African lamb and a tirade from one guest on his ‘soap box’ bemoaning the poor daffodil, as a little b…. pretending to be the harbinger of spring but in fact allowing no one to enjoy it as its always accompanied by the f…. north wind!!!!! Quite.

Then he went on to growl about the hypocrisy of Scottish funerals… his face screwed up to imitate the sanctimonious Edinburgh minister, ‘OOOH he was a good family man, wonderful citizen blah blah blah…’ but on the pews at the back are always the aged hags in mourning, with the hems of their dresses tucked under their chins, and saying ’Oh but he loved me the best.’

Good stuff, and outrageous chatter… and makes it difficult to leave.

Yesterday two friends Joyce and Al, from my Golden Age arrived for lunch. They belong to the years when I was about 25 and living in Kota Kinabalu in Sabah, East Malaysia. They were perfect times, living by the sea when the children were tiny and Sundays were spent on the islands in the South China Sea.

We met yesterday by a sea of daffodils (little b’s! but the sun was shining and there was only a whisper of a wind) and we talked and caught up, and inevitably we reminisced.

I had forgotten the day Mai learned to water ski. Joyce and I lay on the beach, writing the numbers of her failed attempts into the sand. It got to 31, and Mai’s face was ecstatic when she finally got up and was skiing along.  She didn’t notice the horror on the faces of the guys in the boat as a huge fin broke surface behind her. A barracuda!!!!

Pictures of Joyce and Al with me in KK in 1980.

The reminiscing continued after they had gone, and I started to clear out drawers in the desk, ready for the packers. We all collect rubbish but I was bemused finding a brown envelope from my days teaching at the Edinburgh Academy. They were all the notes from mums saying, ‘please excuse Ian, he is sick today’ etc etc…The difference in these letters  were they were written on beautifully embossed paper, with all the finer points of correspondence included! Funny. Such beautifully polite people! (as were their boys.)

Quite therapeutic moving house… you do de-clutterise, and I am quite pleased with the mountain of memorabilia that is now in the bin bag. I still couldn’t quite part with my dance cards from the St Andrews Ball in Kota Kinabalu, way back in 1980-81. They still have their little pencils attached.

So onwards and upwards… I have a train ticket to book, and will be in London by the end of the week. Then back here to do the final pack for Adelaide. Oh my.

It’s that time again, when I have to learn my lines. I find it harder and harder as the years pass, and I heard from the actor Tom Conti (speaking on the breakfast show sofa) that the memory is like a muscle. Well mine is like a shellfish, utterly closed and full up with a whole anthology of important things, like the lyrics (and words) of the Sound of Music and South Pacific. (Photos are of Gerry and I at the ‘Singalong Sound of Music’ in London. We were hoarse afterwards.)

I gobble down Vitamin B12 in the hope that it will help me retain the few lines allotted to me in this current production. It is called I am a Camera, and it is a play adapted from “The Berlin Stories” by Christopher Isherwood. I only have about 4 pages, in the last couple of scenes, but the character does chatter on when she gets the chance. The film Cabaret was adapted from this story and although quite different I recognise a lot of the same lines.

Funny how you remember poems learned in the days of yore. I have visions of Penang Hill when I was nine, sitting under a rain tree, looking down through the jungles to the city of Georgetown and learning Psalm 121…

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. 

My help cometh even from the Lord: who hath made Heaven and earth.

I went back to visit Uplands School a few years ago, and as I tramped through the overgrown grasses, (being wary of the snake spoor) I remembered the black cobra curled up on the white towels that made Mrs Lily shriek.

Also have visions of learning the whole of Casablanca… The boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled etc. and over the years I have spent hours lost in poetry books remembering the old friends of English teachers. ‘Learn this by Monday or else…’: Cargoes and the Quinquireme of Ninevah, The Highwayman and his ribbon of moonlight, and ‘on either side the river lies, the Lady of Shallott is busy with her mirror.

Oh I loved them all, and later I suppose there was Shakespeare, but I don’t remember so much, just snippets, ‘How shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ I only remember that because a boyfriend once wrote the sonnet in a card when I was sixteen, and I committed it to my heart, as you do!

So what I’m really saying is, my memory, a bit like my abdominal  muscles, is non existent from lack of use. I will persevere.

Ballet is wonderful. I am now going to buy some pink shoes. That shows how committed I am. Watched a fantastic documentary called The Agony and the Ecstasy covering a year with the English National Ballet.

It follows the young Russian lead, a mere boy of 20 and his Czeck ballerina and all 60 little swans. So much pain, and bleeding bunions, and operations and for what? A glorious couple of hours of sheer perfection. A TV critic asked was it sadistic voyeurism that makes it such compelling viewing… the sacrifice of youth to such a gruelling life. Whatever. I, in my mid 50s, may have missed the boat, but I can still do one and half hours with Vincent, who is just as fierce a teacher and I am proud to say that I now have NO pain after the class. The muscles are learning what they are there for!

This week I went on safari with Dilly around the lovely villages of East Lothian, where we walked on Yellowcraig sands and viewed Fidra Lighthouse, and even ate our packed lunch in the front of the car like good British tourists!

I am a great believer in biorhythms. Usually check them out every week or so, just to see where I am in the world of ups and downs. Well, this week I must be very low as I have been slaughtered on a nightly basis by John and his evil good luck on the backgammon board. I also do the Chinese Fortune sticks which have been horrible in their predictions, and the fortune telling cards. All this mumbo jumbo and sadly it all seems to be true.

Years ago, my friend Irene and I drove with a purpose out to Portobello beach armed with some fresh ginger which we wrapped up in sea weed, and then we shouted out a spell to the rippling waves and cast out the offering to great Neptune of the Sea. (Can’t remember the spell unfortunately, but basically it asks for us to be transported.) Before the year’s end I was in Vietnam and she was in Florida!!!

And now it’s Sunday afternoon, and I am going to eat some of my Bishop’s Cake (complete with Angelica) and you can see how like a cathedral window it is! HA HA!

Went on a mission on Saturday to look for some angelica, an ingredient required for the Bishop’s cake…along with the cherries and the green angelica, the cake, when sliced is supposed to resemble a stained glass window. Last time I made it I couldn’t find it anywhere. But…Jinti has told me where, so John and I went on a hasty pursuit…only to find that the store was out of stock …grrrrowl. I had no idea people still used it, it’s an ingredient reminiscent of Victorian times…and I was surprised when I googled it, to find out it’s almost a weed. The plant, which is related to parsley and celery, is very energetic, “pushing up to 6 or 8 feet and has bright green toothy leaves on ribbed, hollow stems that are purple at the base and turn light green towards the top”. I had no idea. It was always just a sticky green thing that sat along side cherries on trifles or cakes.

So with our plan thwarted, we decided to go on a magical mystery tour and went to the bus station and jumped on the first bus leaving…it was off to Galashiels, a small market town in the Scottish borders.

We drove through rolling hills, masses of snow drops, bedraggled looking sheep and finally reached our destination. We had tea in a tea shop, bought books in a charity shop and pear drops and chocolate limes.

Lately, on our little mellow adventures I seem to be rediscovering all the sweets of my youth…have a dreadful memory of smelling ‘poppers’ in the hall of Glenelg. The police had gathered all the parents together to show them the evil drugs that were circulating around the schools at the time…and in our ignorance I remember myself and a friend sitting next to me just sniffed the ‘danger bottle’ that the officer handed us and that our youngsters were never allowed to sniff (at all costs) and said, ‘Mmmm, smells like pear drops!’ I later learned (much later), that daughter number one had done the same thing and had ended up in the headmaster’s office about to be expelled for ever and ever. Anyway I thought of all that as I sucked on my pear drop and watched the men, up to their armpits in river, casting their lines as we hurtled pass on the bus.

Yesterday we did a fabulous hike down the Water of Leith from Balerno, up near the foothills of the Pentland Hills.

Again the artists were in evidence…making us laugh as we tramped along. I do love their take on things,

 and although we didn’t see one otter, roe deer, kingfisher or heron that was promised on the nature information board…we did see some wonderful ‘arty’ mushrooms

and tree roots that were obviously the home of a whole village of fairies.

I am very proud to announce that I went back (with fluttering heart) to the ballet class…..and actually stayed, and even tried some of the praying mantis moves that I was so afraid of last time. The others looked very good, and light and bright… and Vincent (the teacher) was very gracious and left me alone (most of the time) and occasionally gave me a little smile, when I balanced on tippy toes with my leg crossed at the knee and my arms ‘in fifth’ and didn’t fall over. Amazingly this time I don’t ache as much, so it’s all positive.  The secret is not to look at the mirror, and just listen to the gentle piano music and remember each sequence is not too long. I also met another newcomer, so that was good for my morale.  Neither of us ran away. (Please note I have NO photographs to illustrate the above activity HA HA!)

Otherwise we are still in limbo…an awful place to be, but as wonderful Mr Diamond, the Buddhist teacher we met in Rangoon, said: ‘Enjoy each day,’ and so we try. Daydreams are good too….Ah well, another week and what will it bring?  In the meantime it’s back to Sweden, for the second Steig Larson book!

All this knitting combined with the cold winter nights have had me enslaved to the television. It’s wonderful, and I have been like a druggy after a heavy diet of BBC and CNN which is about all we got in Doha, Kiev and Hanoi…well apart from DVDs…to which we were equally addicted. But last week’s offering on The One Show has had me squirming. Now I’m freaked out by every little itch and had to run out to Boots to get some Optrex and am swilling my eyes day and night. Look at these little horrors that live in our eye lashes…

they are called demodicids and live and breed and feed on us, multiplying gaily as they graze around our eyes, and the hair follicles of our noses and cheeks…Aaaargh.

They feed head first!!!

Continuing on the same theme we went to see True Grit this week, which I thoroughly enjoyed…not being a great Western follower, I was quite mesmerized by the young girl who plays the lead…she was wonderful. But….the scene of the pit and the snakes and the horror just added more horrors to my subconscious, and last night I woke up in a fearful tangle of sheets as I was escaping from a collection of heebie jeebies.  Aaargh.

Hair is cut….shorn but styled. I kept asking the world and his wife if I should get it cut…and everyone said, oh let it grow, have a change…then after a brisk blow down the street I whirled into the salon and my old hairdresser who was snipping someone else looked up and almost screamed….’OH MY GOD!’ So I duly made an appointment. Ah well…I feel fresh and spring like, and John feels as though he has a new woman, Ha. (He wishes)

We have been gadding to the sea side…had the lemming urge to get out of the city and breathe the air…wonderful. Cold Scottish coastline, dotted with quaint towns are just the thing to give you a boost.

We ate fish and chips on the beach of North Berwick and walked along the sands, and yesterday we took a bus to Portobello and sampled the sunshine and brisk sea breezes.  Everywhere spring is springing and one ‘young thing’ marched past us in a tiny T shirt and jeans that only just covered her builder’s bottom. Hmmmm. I was still fiercely clad in my duffle.

(before haircut!!!)

Went to audition for a play on Thursday with my old drama group…Leith Theatre. The play is called I am Camera…and it is the original stage production that preceded ‘Cabaret’. I did get the part of the mother of Sally Bowles…I played it posh like Maggie Smith, and it must have been OK. Quite excited…haven’t been in a ‘drahmah’ for a few years.

John has just come off the phone. He was being interviewed for a job in Yokohama. Sounded very positive, but who knows….we have been half thinking we were going to Adelaide all last week. The world map is becoming quite a thing with us, as we pin point all the various locations.

Off now for lunch…maybe too premature to crack the bubbles!

It’s a dreich day, but dry and my washing is hanging like colourful flags waiting for a bit of wind…I fear it will end up draped over radiators but I will persist. I have memories of Tien Yen, in that cold damp house, with the temp not much above 3 C and my attempts at laundry hanging for days swathed over the line on my balcony.

Still spring is on its way, and the snowdrops are blooming and the early daffs are being sold in clumps in shops, no doubt direct from the Channel Islands…pretty.

I finally made it to the ballet! I went with a spring in my step, all set to bond with other like minded souls, as I did at Jinti’s Nia class…but NOT SO. Dance Base is the most fantastic establishment, quite new in the Grassmarket, and caters for all forms of dance…from belly to Scottish to jive and break and even…can you imagine… pole dancing!!! I was quite shocked in my Edinburgh way. Well I got into my lycra, and felt very vulnerable in my bare feet, (I was just a drop in member after all, only there to test the water, so to speak) and as we all gathered outside Studio 2, all the ladies were toeing the ground like restless racehorses, using the banisters as a barre to flex their toes and lift their knees at odd angles. Hmmmm. Not a place for social networking then.

I naturally gravitated to the back and clung on to the barre. The teacher was male, like a very strict Gok Wan, who made all the steps looks to beautiful, graceful and easy. I pointed, plied, and somehow remembered all the positions from my long ago lessons when I was about nine. The only thing is I am not very good at putting in the arms, and because I was so busy concentrating the maestro came and tried to release my arms from the crucifix position to a more gentle curve. (Bat wings were in evidence big time…the other ladies seemed very anorexic, and their spines were like sea shells going down their backs.) I was very nervous, and was horrified when he shouted ‘pirouette and turn!’ and I was left facing the back wall and everyone behind me had a full view of me and my legs doing all the wrong things…Oh God.

I persevered, stood tall and straight, tummy sucked in and felt good, then he made us leap across the floor in groups of 5, stepping and jette-ing with arms doing their own combinations of positions, that was when I lurked at the back, coming out in palpitations and then made for the door and ran! I dressed and escaped. No way was I going to do that in front of everyone…I would have looked like a praying mantis.

BUT…for the first time in my entire life…I have huge pains in my abdominal muscles…I didn’t even know I possessed them! Maybe I should go back next week. My Presbyterian upbringing is still fiercely embedded… ‘Persevere, Gael. You must not give up…finish what you start blah blah blah.

Yesterday John suggested a walk down by the Water of Leith. I had planned dressing up in my new skirt and boots, but changed my mind and wore my spotty wellies instead…then he suggested lunch in Stockbridge so as usual I was out dining looking as though I had just come in from the croft.

ART was the main theme of the walk, with Antony Gormley’s statue standing like a lost soul in the water, with all of the river’s debris collected around his legs. He is the sculptor who also did the Angel of the North.

Also, the enigmatic local artist who has been keeping all the walkers amused throughout the winter, has devised another concoction out of leaves…quite a cool guy.

Further along, coming close to Leith we found a fabulous haunting face painted on the underside of a bridge…not a Banksy but still quite arresting.

And then finally a poem, etched into the stones by the water. Each slab has some little ditty but this one caught my eye!

No other news…nothing definite on the job front for John. We got mildly excited about Bellarusse and Ukraine, but that didn’t appeal. There are other little threads in the wind. Who knows what the new week will bring.

In the meantime, we are off to climb Arthur’s Seat, but I shall just give you a quick warming glow with my new jumper. I think I look very good as a ‘woolly model’. I remember ages ago Paul Merton, on ‘Have I got News for You’ tried to emulate male models, who were advertising knitting patterns or underwear, all gazing far away off the top right hand of the page, as though trying to remove themselves from the embarrassment! HA HA.

I am reading the new book by Rose Tremain, it’s called Trespass. It’s making me restless; I am like a bird on a wire. Ha. It’s set in France, and describes houses with gardens and chairs set to gaze at the rural scenes, and smell the smells of countryside and earth.

We are putting our flat on the market and I am sore inside about it, as we have got it so nice, but now that all my birds have flown and the other flat hasn’t sold, needs must as they say. My friends have been giving me some fierce advice this week…Irene quelled my sentimentality and told me that big girrils must wear big girril pants…aye, maybe so.

Nick left in a storm.  Missed his connections, and had me walking the floor in desperation. When he finally got on the train for Reading, I was overwhelmed with grief.  Another good friend, Roddy, reminded me curtly that the script of our lives is not predictable and certainly not written by Walt Disney… but why not, I cry? How I wish it was. When I was in charge, everyone wore matching ribbons and the sun shone everyday. Roddy suggested that I give myself a shake and treat myself to a curry and a beer. Again….aye, maybe so!

Back to France, and the misty mornings looking out at sunflowers. All these idle dreams, and we haven’t even officially opened the doors for viewing. Maybe this one won’t sell either…but if it does I do want to live in a house with a garden and have a table under a tree for lunch. And a washing line.

A few years ago I had such daydreams about Drimnin. John and I went to see this old shepherd’s cottage up on the Morven peninsula, overlooking the sound of Mull. It was quite a ruin, but so peaceful. Anyway it sold and that was that. Imagine my joy seeing it back on the market, all done up, with a new roof and so on.

But, they are asking too much I feel, and there isn’t much of a garden. Still, it has a room that looks out over the sound and it’s so quiet that even the wildcat kittens will venture down on to the road, and the farmer that owns the field in front vows that he won’t even allow a mouse to make his house in it.

John has been repotting the pyrocanthus and planting primroses which give these city flats just a lovely splash of spring time.

I have been knitting all my worries and frustrations into my two new jumpers…they will one day be an aid to shipping. I should just stand on a cliff like a warning sign. Ha Ha.

Here is my new beautiful one…I do love these colours.

So from woeful me, in woeful Edinburgh…where Welsh rugby fans are parading their colours of victory…it’s back to knit one purl one, knit one purl one!

It’s been a week of dancing and bishops and figurines. I returned to the scene of the boot sale again last Sunday, to no avail…but spent ages on google, searching for ladies with hibiscus and teddies, and then glory be! I found her, as well as another beautiful winsome creature in a yellow gown with red poppies. Within hours they were mine and much cheaper than the bandit at the sale room was asking. When I spoke to Gerry about my obsession, she was quite scathing and said perhaps I was at that age, when women collect figurines of cute animals or ladies in crinolines. I was black affronted, but secretly a little alarmed. Maybe I was? And then I suppose I would display them on a window ledge, all looking out to the street, for passers-by to admire, with the back drop of lace curtain. 

I remember as a child I would spend hours upon hours drawing ‘ladies’, wearing down my coloured pencils to clothe them in all the pastel shades, and have them in buns and ringlets and weave stories around them… Then I suppose I went on to Barbies, and now at this late age, its Old Tupton Ware. Marion thinks the next thing I should invest in is a cabinet, and then I can arrange them, and take them out to play on a rainy day!!! Maybe I will enjoy my old age after all.

And now the dancing. I got the train through to Burntisland and joined my friend Jinti’s Nia class.

She is a very infectious teacher, and had us all balancing and swaying about, doing very nifty jazz moves. I had my eyes glued to her in the mirror, so as not to see me trying to emulate her. It is such a cool thing to do, graceful, and yet not too complicated but definitely good for toning up. She and husband Andy took on the empty shell of the old Co-Op building and converted it into a brilliant café and pottery below.  Above is the suitably named ‘The Space Upstairs’,  where she has a huge dance space that she rents out to other groups, like yoga, pilates, ballet etc. After lunch at her house, we sat on either side of her fire and knitted like two French revolutionaries. Somewhere in all of that she gave me the recipe for Bishop’s Cake, which sounded divine.

On Friday, fired up with enthusiasm I was all set to go to Dance Base here in Edinburgh to take part in a Gentle Ballet Class. Unfortunately I made the Bishop’s cake, put it in the oven, and realised it takes an age to cook, so I had to forego my plies for another day. Secretly I was quite relieved, as it was bucketing and there was a wind to rival Queensland’s hurricane blowing outside. When I did venture forth I found a big tree had blown over…good grief it could have landed on me, so it was all very fortuitous, thanks to the Bishop. Now I really do need to go to the dance class, as I have just about eaten the whole thing, with little help from anyone else…it is toooo good.

Watched Natasha’s Rasta Mouse, which got rave reviews. I do love it, so sweet and hip hop happening. Love the music, supplied by Rastamouse’s gang the Easy Crew. Tasha said on Monday when it first went out, they all drank champagne in the studio and had a well earned celebration. Now they will just have to work extra hard to keep up with demand. I read somewhere that it has become a trendy topic on Twitter and one fan praised it as “the best 10 minutes of my life”. The Radio Times thought it was great saying it was great for little people as well as stoned students!!!! http://www.rastamouse.com/#/mainscene

John was silent on the piste all week, which was good, because I thought if he did get in touch it would be because he was being stretchered out…so when he arrived back from Spain I was pleased to see him all in one piece and looking very tanned and fighting fit! He had a brilliant time, and managed to keep up with his two racer sons. Now it’s back to gentle walks avec moi!!! (Poor John!)

So another week is over, the rain is falling and the snow drops are popping up. Next week I say goodbye to Nick. I shall be sad.

The kitchen is smelling divine…roasting shallots and steak braising in Cotes du Rhone…it’s been a week of trying out new recipes…and the hit has to be the deluxe carrot cake made with walnuts and crystallized ginger.

I do love winter, a time to snuggle in a kaleidoscope of coloured jumpers. The latest one is bright orange and is already growing rapidly on the needles. John thought the bargain of the week was a pair of BRIGHT orange shoes, reduced from £55 to £5 so I duly paid up, worrying just when I was going to be brave enough to venture out. Then I saw the wool and thought the matching jumper would complement the white jeans. Oh I am just a little cottage industry and my fingers are working away as the TV keeps me amused.

I remember ages ago I was told that posh coffees were saving women’s bones. Trendy lattes are apparently the ideal supplement of calcium that we need. Now, I have discovered The White Russian, and I feel my bones might just have an extra boost! Very nice it is too…Kahlua, vodka and milk.

Was desolated on Sunday when I marched back to the Boot Sale and couldn’t find my figurine. The seller wasn’t there either, so maybe she wasn’t a professional dealer…I shall go back again this week, just in case.

Did eat a haggis this week and thought kind thoughts of friends with whom I shared previous Burns Celebrations with. Memories of dancing in Hanoi, and teaching children in Doha, Kiev and Hanoi about a wee sleekit courin timorous beastie etc. I made so many children paint a portrait of the handsome Rabbie, and was most impressed in Kiev when my pretty Ukranian assistant launched into ‘My love is like a red red rose’. Burns is huge in Russia and was a must in all primary schools!

Went to see the Black Swan…what a traumatic story…I seem to be obsessed with ballet this year. When the film ended everyone just sat there stunned. It took a few minutes for us to all to get up and out! 

My family are all on the move. John is off to Spain for a week’s skiing with his two sons…hopefully it will give him a break from his worries. So long as there are no other breaks!

Gerry is in Washington, Chicago and New York, to give a presentation initially, then just relax for a few days with Cathal in New Jersey and check out the Sopranos!

Natasha is busy busy doing lots of overtime. Her programme, Rasta Mouse is due to be aired on 31^st Jan on CEBees or something. Children’s BBC at 4.30pm. I do hope it is a success…they certainly have worked hard on it.

And Nick is leaving in 2 weeks time. He is going back to Australia, after a 2 and half year stint here in Edinburgh.

Listening to all their chat and plans and reading Shantoram (set in India) I feel very much like the armchair traveller. But do I care? Not a bit!

I am content and John Lewis is delivering some new curtains for the back bedroom and I have 2 jumpers on my needles and am wearing the completed one…spring is on its way and so is evening and I shall have a white Russian (for my bones) and think good thoughts of all those at home or abroad!  La la la for auld lang syne!

We have spent the week trailing through charity shops, searching for picture frames. Amazing how cheap they are, we just have to ignore the jaded looks from the shop assistant as we march off proudly with a basket of flowers or some ancient daub of a countryside view. The beautiful gilt frames cost as little as £5… then John works his magic and gives an old frame a new view. Did like this picture, of the white horses  in the waves….put it in the bathroom.

For the first time ever, I visited a car boot sale this morning….amazing. It was down in the basement of a giant car park, and at first I was appalled at all the junk, and nasty cheap clothes lying in heaps. Reminded me of long ago church jumble sales. My granny bought me a quilt for my dolly’s pram. It was blue with pink rosebuds and must have cost her fourpence ha’penny.

The up-market charity shops have done wonders for the second hand donations, and I do love browsing…but today I had my eyes opened. There was a real sense of purpose, and people came with their shopping bags on wheels, intent on buying big, and Indian families were buying old dinner sets, and cardigans, toys and old shoes. I suppose I fitted right in. There was a portrait of the Queen (when she was about 24) which I was coveting…passers by watched me with interest as I hummed and ha’d and looked at her this way and that, not suspecting I was actually admiring her gold surround! I did love the King’s Speech which we saw this week, felt quite choked. (just a passing reference to royalty.)

Did fall in love with a figurine…the lady wanted £40 which I thought was a bit steep…and after looking at it twice, I walked away…but regretfully. She was exquisite, wearing a gown painted with red hibiscus and holding a teddy bear behind her back.

I was quite amazed to hear on the Antiques Road Show about a lady who was passionate about Agatha Christie. She was so enthused when she heard there was to be an auction of the author’s things,  she got her telephone and bid for a trunk (unseen), and paid £100 for it. Imagine her surprise when she opened it and found another locked box inside. She got that open eventually, and found a diamond ring, a brooch and 37 golden sovereigns…worth over £10,000! Oh the stuff of romance!

Above are random shots, John looking wistfully at the rain in John Lewis, and left is from Advocates Close on the Royal Mile.

I have been knitting with a passion, have two jumpers on the go, and the evenings remind me of days gone by in Glenelg, when the rain and snow did their worst, and yet all was cosy inside, and the click clack of the needles kept time with the TV programmes. Yesterday we were supposed to go walking with our walking group, and it was to be quite a hike up into the Pentlands, scaling about 4 peaks and coming down past two reservoirs, but to no avail. The rain lashed, the trees bent over double in the gales, and I knitted with a fury. Bliss. Wonderful wool, all in a confusion of colours which just grows like a rainbow. Hopefully I will have them done before spring is sprung.

Today is Nick’s birthday, can it really be 32 years? I am making him teriyaki chicken and the most sinful chocolate cake. I got the recipe from one of my ‘French mums’ back in Hanoi days. Then I shall watch the final of the snooker…a contest between Mr Ding and Mr Fu. Click click, knit one purl one and we are off into a new week! The mountains can wait!