28 Oct 2016

Hestia ...does The Borders

Lovely!
The regular reader of this column may recall that Tartarus does not like using airports and therefore Sonshine and I have not been abroad with him, as a family.

Last December there was a marital upset here on Mount Olympus which included a furious demand (from me) that We Go On Holiday ABROAD to which Tartarus reluctantly acquiesced.

So, it is now October and we have not been abroad.  Tartarus has put the ball firmly in my half of the park - if I want to go abroad, I have to organise it myself.

I start looking at 10 days in Italy, only to find that in October direct flights to Italy are rarer than moments of lucidity for Donald Trump.  Adding in flights to London AND accommodation in Italy soon sends the holiday spiralling up the pound signs.

8 Oct 2016

How I get ready ....

Me and Tom
Me: possibly having a mid-life crisis
I roll out of bed on a weekday morning when the dog stuffs his head under the duvet and talks to me in that peculiarly barfy-breathed greyhound way that either indicates hunger and/or pee time.

My night attire is usually by The Factory Shop (usually flammable) or M&S (usually flannelette) and my robe is a fuchsia pink fleecy number that caused Sonshine and my SIL to drop into quivering piles of suppressed laughter when I modelled it after birthday presentation from Juno in August.

I look like a particularly flamboyant flying squirrel in it.

18 Aug 2016

A heart-attack with Jessica Ennis Hill :-D

These are not the abs of a woman
addicted to co-op almond croissants
So, on my first visit to the gym, on my own, I am on the running machine. I am plodding away at a steady pace (euphemism for sloooooow) and watching the tv built into the running machine screen in front of me.

I have no earphones, so I am kinda guessing what's going on.  Richard Wilson is on screen.  I hope, as I jog, that he has won an award.  Back home later, turns out he has had a heart attack.   Not my best guess...

17 Aug 2016

Hestia has ....joined the gym

Too many fecking mirrors
So, it came to pass that I found myself in a hotel bathroom that was overly endowed with mirrors, all of which conveniently unfogged as I was drying myself after a shower.

Of course, if I had been expecting to see myself naked from a million different angles I would have sucked my tummy in and stuck my ass out ... or maybe just not showered for the entire weekend.

BUT, as it was, I suddenly encountered myself in my full Rubansesque nakedness.  Which would be FINE if I was living in the 1600s (I would have been a BABE) but not so hot in 21st century Scotland.

It wasn't good.

7 Aug 2016

Bute Noir | an investigation | with wine and cake

The Case of Bute Noir

It was a bright and sunny lunchtime when I strolled down to Bute Museum for the inaugural event for Bute Noir. 

I didn't know what to expect: the weekend event had been organised in a rush by one Karen Latto. She was the kind of broad that makes grown men go weak at the knees – capable, efficient and a rabid Liverpool fan: this was one broad not to be messed with.

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