Hestia and Hogmanay

Please don't let them ever retire -
I won't know what to do at Hogmanay without them

I don't know about you, but the days between Christmas and New Year always leave me feeling a bit sad.  First of all, the excitement of Christmas is over for another 12 months and secondly, I realise that I've hardly seen any of the TV shows/movies that I carefully circled with my black biro in the TV Times on 17th of December.....

I also realise that I have have eaten more than my body weight in turkey and mince pies.

Sometimes on the same PLATE.

Hestia's mystery Christmas present was.....

An ipad!!!!!

I had dared to hope that it might be a Kindle reader, but never in my wildest dreams did I believe that Tartarus would spring for an ipad!

Christmas Day was largely spent humphed over the router trying to work out how to get the damned thing onto the home network....but perseverence does overcometh all difficulties and soon I was downloading free books, apps and Sonshine and Tartarus had a jolly big fight over Angry Birds.

Tartarus did ALL the cooking. And all the washing up.  And he bought me an ipad - did I mention that?

And didn't Maggie Smith get all the best lines in Downton Abbey - I actually stifled a guffaw at one point, but then I had been drinking pink fizz all day and all sense of reason had pretty much left me by 9pm.

What about you - did you have a lovely day?

Tell me all about it *pops open another bottle of pink fizz and waits*

Hestia...goes Christmas Crackers

Could it be keys to a Ferrari?

We'd put it off for as long as possible, but with the weather threatening to put the ferry service off on Christmas Eve, we could be left staring at a Christmas lunch that consisted of the remains of a selection box and the partially decomposed body of an ancient pain au chocolate.....

So, today (Friday) we did the Christmas Food Shopping. On the mainland.  In Tesco. Yeah, verily, bow down and worship at the feet of the Hestia The Indefatigable and the Blessed Wallet of Tartarus

I had a list, laid out with military precision - all the veggies together, all the meat and, of course, all the booze.

First of all, we dumped Sonshine at the in store child care facilities Toy Department and off we went, jaws set grimly, list in hand, trolley squeaking wildly and Don't F*ck With Us, We're On A Mission From God To Get Croissants expressions.

Actually, most of it passed off without incident.  Although we did run into most of our island neighbours while we were there - which is only to be expected.  It's ok running into someone at the beginning of the supermarket trek, but after bumping in to the same people in every subsequent aisle, conversation dries up.  And everyone just looks pissed off to be there.  You just eye-roll each other as another fifty quids worth of food gets added to the cart.

Anyway, picture the scene:  we've just loaded up with umpteen bottles of Crabbies Ginger Beer and Tenants Lager when Tartarus announced that we needed more crackers.

'I've got crackers in the house,' I say breezily.

'But have we got enough?' he said, his brow creasing with concern. 'We've got friends coming on Boxing Day and I think we'll have none left after Christmas Day.'

My heart leapt - maybe The Grinch Tartarus WAS getting into the Christmas spirit right enough........'Maybe you're right....you look after the trolley, I'll go and get some more,' I say, offering him the chariot and shouldering my way through the crowds.

A short while later I arrive back at the trolley, cheeks aglow, a large box of crackers in my hand.

'What in the hell is that?' he asks.

'Crackers'  I show him the box - gold and cream trimmed crackers, one dozen of the finest thereof.

He sighs. 'For CHEESE,' he says. 'Crackers for cheese.'

Well, it's a mistake that anyone could make, right? RIGHT?

-o0o-

For the first time in living memory, Tartarus has bought me a surprise Christmas present.  I haven't had to buy it or wrap it (which is what has happened for the past 10 or so years).

My heart hopes that it is something crazy beautiful like an ipad or a kindle.....maybe jewellery? Oooooh - maybe theatre tickets for Warhorse or Wicked in London in the Spring?!  My imagination has been  working overtime.

Then friends reminded me of previous surprise presents that he'd bought me. And it reminded me of why he doesn't usually do this.  I started to mither a bit about it......

'Alright, You can ask me ONE question about your present', he said magnanimously.  'But you can't ask me what it actually is outright, ok?'

'Ok.  Here's my question:  Is it from Halfords?'

There was a lot of huffing and puffing and bluster, but there was, dear reader, no outright yeah or nay.

I'll let you know on Christmas Day.

What's the betting it's wiper blades?

Hestia and....the Winter Solstice

The Druids Bringing in The Mistletoe
This is the hardest jigsaw I've ever done.

Tomorrow morning, when birds are still sleeping with their heads under their wings and most teenagers are not even THINKING about going home, it will be the point that marks the Winter Solstice.

There are two Solstices in a year - one at midsummer and one at midwinter - both marking the turning points of the year.  For tomorrow's Solstice, we mark the (albeit imperceptible) lengthening of the day until we reach the Summer Solstice in July where things sloooooowly start to tip the other way.....and the nights start to draw in.

Hestia....#colossalmummyfailmoment

'If you've never been hated by a child, you've never been a parent
- Bette Davis

So it's the BIGGEST night in an 11 year-old's social calendar - The School Christmas Party.  We have sorted an outfit (fuchsia pink and black shirt, skinny black tie, skinny black jeans, black canvas slip-ons with skulls and whatnot on them for footwear).

When he appeared in the doorway doing his best Joey Trebiani ('hey, how YOU doin?') there was a little tug at my guts, not entirely due to the tsunami of Davidoff Cool Water that flooded in with him.

No.  My little boy is growing up.

Hestia and the high winds (does not refer to flatulence)

No, this has got nothing to do with that other posting that I made about the flatulence reducing underwear.

Monday night I was supposed to be out and about with some girlfriends in Glasgow, hanging around the bohemian haunts of Glasgow University and quaffing oodles of chilled white wine and inhaling gorgeous food at The Left Bank.

But the weather put paid to all that.

I had been regularly woken during the night by the wind howling in the chimney and the rain lashing against our windows so hard that there was a drip SOMEWHERE on the window frame.  I tossed and turned...worrying about whether the ferries would be running in the morning.

And, of course, they weren't.

They didn't run at all on Monday because the weather was so utterly foul.

I had a petted lip and a bad temper that was somewhat assuaged by the fact that the girls cancelled the dinner ANYWAY because they didn't fancy being out and about in it much either.

So, today, to make up for missing out, Tartarus took me to Loch Fyne Osyter Bar.  A forty-five minute drive (and a miniscule ferry journey too).

That's the restaurant up there.  And the car park is NEVER that empty - not even today when the wind and rain would have blown a hole through you.

And here's a link to find out more about the Nice People At Loch Fyne - if you're in the area and thinking of popping in for a spot of seafood malkarky.  I can thoroughly recommend the smoked mussels from the shop *Homer Simpson drool*

We were the first customers through the doors (as ever) and were escorted to a neat little corner table where we watched the weak wintery sun trying to fight its way through the ever-darkening storm clouds over of rose. I pretended that I was in Spain and not Darkest Argyll.

Today's Specials!

Maybe too much of a slant on this arty photo but that's the bar.  It's built like a viking longboat.  Neat, eh?

Then we ordered two plates of these.  One each.  Obviously.

These were six plup grilled oysters served with creamy cheese and pancetta melted over the top.

Yeah, I pretty much inhaled these.

As you can see, I had snaffled two before I remembered to get my camera out of my handbag.

This was a poached smoked haddock fillet - and it was the softest, creamiest, saltiest thing EVER.  With potatoes and grated cheese.  It was divine.

This is the fairly mollocated remains of Tartarus's salmon risotto.  It was damned tasty.

And then we came home and went to the Co-op for our weekly shop *sigh*  

It's all high falutin' stuff with me.  

Have YOU had any nice lunches out for Christmas yet?  Tell me alllllllll about it!

Hestia finds the PERFECT pressie for Tartarus

If the man (or woman) in your life can fell a grown bear at 10 paces after breaking wind, this is the ultimate way to say 'I love you.'

Medical standard flatulence-proof pants.

Tartarus's Christmas present.

Sorted.

Hestia makes a ....natural...mistake

Life in the Hestia household is a bit devoid of interest at the moment.  But just so that you know I've not been elbowed to death by a pensioner as we duel over the last bag of sprouts in the Co-op, here's how it's been with me:

One evening last week, Sonshine and I were ensconced on the sofa beneath our snuggle blanky, looking for something entertaining to watch that would suit us both.  

Usually this limits us to The Gadget Show or The Simpsons.

So there I am flicking down through the channels and lo, we come to a scantily clad blonde lady who is whipping up a storm as she shimmies herself around a pole.  I think it might have been BBC3 and probably only formed a few minutes of whatever show it might be from, but I scooted past it with unseemly haste nonetheless.

Hestia and...... The Gruffalo

The second part of Julia Donaldson's travelling exhibition arrived at the library last week - and it was worth the wait!

Not only did it have some loooovely illustrations from kids' books that I hadn't seen before, but it had THE GRUFFALO!

First of all, let me lead you round this week's exhibits....

This is the original front page painting for Room On The Broom!

Loved this - hadn't seen the book before  'The Dinosaur's Day'

Loved these little pencil sketch snails!

We luff our Gruffalo - look at all the copies of the book we've got!

Couldn't get to see these as close as I would have liked as they were in the Librarian's area and I think they may have thought I was going to make off with all the Library Book Fine Money.  Which I might, but given that most of it is generated from MY FINES, I think it would have been ok for me to do that.

And here is the star of the show.  

With his terrible claws on his terrible toes and his nobbly knees and his green warty nose

THE GRUFFALO!!!!!

Which reminds me - Tartarus is back in the bosom of his family for Christmas - a great relief all round.  Especially in light of yesterday's horrendous weather.  A sample of which can be seen here at Largs, just across the water from us.

How are YOU all after the storms?  Or did you escape them?!  Tell all!

Hestia and .....Mercury Rx

One of my lovely readers poo-pooed (or pooh-poohed?) the idea of Mercury retrograde having an effect on earthly goings on.  Oh believe me, I didn't believe any of that old astrology toot either.  But here is a list of stuff that has gone awry so far - firmly down to Mercury looking as though it has buggered off out of orbit and is fleeing backwards.

These are in no particular order:

1  Brushing my hair, my brush caught on a tug (I was working the full Gene Simmons look.  Not to be confused with the Jean Simons look, which I would LUFF to work), flew out of my hand and straight down the toilet pan.

Hestia..... enjoys an evening out

It wasn't really an EVENING out.  You can't call going out at half past five 'The Evening', can you?

In fact, can you call any event at the local library A Evening Out?

Especially if it's on a Wednesday?

Well, *I* do.

I got myself gussied up (ie clean) with smart trousers, an unstained sweater, a full face of make-up and a squirt of perfume and headed to the library.

Sonshine was with me.  Working his new black skinny jeans and t-shirt look (pre-EMO, I think we're calling it), he looked rather smart - if a little bummed out at having to leave behind his beloved Minecraft (see: men who live with their mothers playing computer games).

Hestia has....an odd Friday

Last Friday started off badly when I inadvertently inhaled my breakfast granola.  A tragic interplay between a ridiculous yoootyoob video and my filled spoon.  The mac's monitor was practically rough-cast by the time the coughing fit subsided.

The day further deteriorated when I spent at least 10 minutes trying to lick and stick an envelope whilst loudly berating myself for buying inexpensive stationery products.

Only to discover that I was licking the pull-off strip for a self-seal envelope.

No-one's perfect.

Hestia toots her trumpet for Kismet's Companion

Click on image to visit Viv's shop!

It's nearly Christmas and if you are anything like me you've not given it much thought.....

Oh right.

Just me then.....

ANYWAY - I just wanted to draw your attention to my good friend Viv's Folksy shop where she sells the most lovely soap.

I've bought LOADS of this lady's soap and now Tartarus won't use anything else.


And he's a big butch Engineer with a motorbike and a beer belly.

Hestia....and the rolling stones

In which I think I've tried to pass Charlie Watts. AND his drum kit

Some good news to start off with, the BT Engineer came TODAY a full 24 hours earlier than he was booked and told me that the issue was with the exchange, not me.  I now have a fully ringing phone YAY!

Next thing is that we haz mice again.  As soon as the temperature dips, everything that can force its tiny skull through the beautifully decorative air bricks in our basement comes in for a holiday. 

Hestia....is hanging on the telephone (again)

At some point after I reluctantly signed up to give Childline money on a monthly basis in the doorway of Tesco in Greenock on Saturday, my landline telephones went all pre-menstrual on me.

'What's your bank account number?' asked the chugger as I desperately looked for a tin to drop a few coins into instead.

'Ah, is it not on my card?' says I peering sans spectacles at my bank card.

'No,' said the chugger brightly. 'It will be on your bank statement.'

'Strangely enough,' I replied (with sarcasm dripping so heavily that I thought I might need wellies) 'I don't have a bank statement on me SEEING AS HOW THIS IS TESCO'  Actually, I didn't say that last bit at all.  But I thought it very deeply and pointedly, so it's the same thing.

Hestia remembers a foreign field

There is a map, in a bible, where the black type-face, El Alamein, has been worn away to pale grey by years of family fingers pressing against the paper.  As if touching the name could somehow take them to some foreign field.

There is a photograph.  A serious-faced, good-looking young man smiles out, his army cap at a jaunty angle over his cropped hair.  This is James. To me, now, he's only a child, barely out of his teens really. As were they all, I suppose.

Hestia...Four conversations with my son

Conversation 1: 

I am standing with the hamster securely locked in my cupped palms. Or so I think. I feel a tiny but determined skull forcing its way between my fingers. Sonshine has a plastic bag filled with hamster cage detritus that he is attempting to take out to the compost heap. I need him to do it quickly now as Nibbles needs to go back into his cage.

Currently it is locked.

Hestia....goes powerhooping

This was us. Not.

My fit friend Irma had just signed up for a new exercise class.  We talked about it and lo, it came to pass that I too thought that the new power hooping class would also be A Good Idea.

Not one to do things alone, I bribed my Day Carer to come along with me.  We opted to go on the Thursday morning, with Irma going to the Friday evening session to fit in with her work.  As the two of us climbed the stairs in the Pavilion before 10am last Thursday morning, we realised that we hadn't done an exercise class for at least a decade.

'It's a hula hoop,' I reminded us both.' How hard can it be?'

If your recollection of a hula hoop is a dayglo yellow affair that you could effortlessly spin for hours and hours whilst discussing the merits of David Cassidy over Donny Osmond, then you're about as deluded as us.

Hestia says...meet the ancestors!

Tartarus and I have been interested in the history of our house since the first moment we stepped through the front door as eager house-hunters and found ourselves standing in a mosaic-tiled hallway staring, slack-jawed at the Victorian splendour of it all.

Of course, it wasn't all fabulous.  The kitchen was basically a sink on a base unit and the kitchen carpet made odd tacky sticky noises whenever we walked over it.

Still, we were not put off.  The pair of us have vivid imaginations and while he could see his beloved car and bike in a yet-to-be-built garage...I was envisaging myself sweeping down the grand staircase in the manner of Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With The Wind.

In fact, if the previous owners had left us any curtains, I would have made a frock out of them for that exact purpose.  But they did not even leave us any light-fittings when we arrived, so the frock/curtain was never made.  Pity.

Hestia and Hallowe'en

Please note that apostrophe, in Hallowe'en.  Don't forget that apostrophes and semi colons are all that separate us from the Outer Rings of Hell.

Anyway, my Grammar Nazi has been temporarily subdued and I've tidied away my shiny jackboots and Springtime for Hitler song sheet.  Today it's all about Hallowe'en.

Hestia....the grammar Nazi

We all make mistakes when we're typing or writing - and some folks really struggle with their writing skills because of dyslexia and other issues. This post is in NO way aimed at you. 

Sonshine brought home his latest 'Curriculum For Excellence' project for his homework.  Please note that word 'Excellence'.

Aside from the fact that one is supposed to be creating an innovative lantern on an island where it's sometimes impossible to buy a jar of capers, I magically fumed my way to fully-fledged grammar Nazi as I read it  in much the same way as Mild-Mannered Clark Kent ends up with his knickers on outside his trousers.....

I'll let the missing apostrophe on Hallowe'en go....but check out that first 'paragraph':

'Give of some light'  GIVE OF SOME LIGHT???????

Give OFF some light!!!!

'Was this written by a Class Assistant.....or a pupil?' I asked hopefully.

'Nah - it was written by a teacher.'

I was assured that it wasn't HIS teacher that wrote it.  Which is good, seeing as how she's Acting Assistant Head at the Primary at the moment and VERY lovely and Sonshine ADORES her.

Perhaps I should give the teacher in question the benefit of the doubt - perhaps it was just overly quick fingers on the keyboard....followed by a bit of duff proof-reading.

Am I being too pedantic?  Do I need to take a chill pill and worry not about the Western World's slow descent into grammar chaos?  Does text-speak herald the END of civilisation as we know it?  Should I drink weaker coffee in the morning before blogging?   :-)

Hestia likes....fancy tea

My lovely friend was given a box of Japanese tea:

Here's a little box - one of 8 in the beautiful decorative main box

You take out the contents  - a prickly thing that resembles a tiny sleeping hedgehog, and put it in a tea glass and add recently boiled water.

And then you wait a few minutes and then.....

Culminating in THIS......

This is jasmine flowers in tea-needles and nasturtium blossom and it makes tea-drinking a beautiful thing to be savoured and enjoyed like a fine painting.

TEA DRINKING IN THE UK

BUT - you can provide your builder with endless cups of the above.

He's not getting jasmine flowers!

Do you like to make something ordinary into something special?

Hestia's role....as domestic servant

Sonshine has been out playing on his riptsick with a friend.  Who's a girl.  Under strict instructions not to abandon her if any of his usual pals turn up.

I assume that she's gone for her lunch now too, because he has demanded something to eat.

Phone rang

A girlfriend, on for a chat.  We chat.  We talk about lots of inconsequential things.  For about 20 minutes.

I hang up the phone and realise that I can smell the sandwich-maker in the kitchen.

I go in and am greeted by this:

I'll just clarify the photo for you - it's the sandwich-maker (on and gently wafting smoke) a half-spread piece of bread (spread with mayonnaise.  using a fork).  A sad looking bit of gammon.

And a tiny note.

Here's the note:

Happy Sunday people :-)

Hestia in London AGAIN

No, I haven't taken a tumble into the Thames and taken a snap on
the way down.  It's ART.

I've been looking forward to this, like a dog looks forward to a dropped sausage on the floor.  Positively SALIVATING to get to Lahndahn and immerse myself in the cultural delights that it has to offer.

But where to stay?

After a lengthy trawl through the city's accommodation providers we came across SACO and I tenatively asked them whether they had anything our budget in the self-catering sector.

They came up trumps with Think Earls Court. 

Hestia...stands up for herself in a small, significant way



The Transvaginal Railway

Men - look away now.

I think that you know I like to have a bit of a laugh in life.  I'd rather laugh than be miserable. But I'm also the sort of person who errs on the side of caution rather than gay abandon - and this is especially the case where my health is concerned.

A while back I got some scans done - nothing too drastic - just ultrasound (like when you are having a baby) except they're looking at your cute little fibroids.  And the less pleasant transvaginal scan.  It sounds like a rail journey across a desolate part of Russia, but in actual fact - it's perfectly fine - don't worry about it if you need to have one.

Hestia and...... trouser unpleasantness

I decided to buy a new pair of trousers (still working the denim detox, I am proud to say) and headed off to the only place in town that sells anything remotely On Trend.

I don't count The Factory Shop.  For obvious reasons.

Anyway, the girl who runs it is lovely and does her best to buy in lots of 'larger' sizes (ie 14 and 16).  I flicked through the rails, mentally noting that the majority of the tops that would fit me were 'one size' type efforts.  Which hang off my bust like I'm displaying the Turin Shroud.  Only less sexy.

Hestia's wet weekend

The rest of you Darn Sarf may be basking in record-breaking October temperatures, but we up here in the land of the Pict and deep-fried Mars Bar are positively trench-footed from the wet stuff falling from the skies.

So, what does your Domestic Goddess do when it's wet?

First of all, she Facebooks until she is quite fractious from the constant clicking. Then she stands and looks out of the window for a bit.  Then she gets out her camera and does this:

Hestia's....new family member

L-R - Kevin, The Bears
(just in case you couldn't work out who was who)

Last year, a whole load of fund-raising bikers from Help For Heroes came to the island and the local bikers put on a wee night for them in the Shinty Club (think: Stringfellows with splinters and the unforgettable tang of sports kits in the air).

Anyway, during the course of the evening a small teddy-bear came up for raffle.  Everyone was piddling around bidding a fiver at a time.....and Tartarus, somewhat the worse for wear and feeling expansive, bid quite a lot and won the bear.

Some days later (when the fug of the evening had cleared and he was panicking about the emptiness of his wallet) he remembered about the bear, but could find no sign of it.  'Ah, said the bikers, the bear doesn't come home with you - he goes around the world. With the Army.'

Hestia's Denim Detox

I could never wear those frilly knickers with
conviction,  #i might END UP with a conviction
if I wore them in Scotland though.

So, when we were up in Glasgow a couple of weeks ago, I was idly lying on the sofa, perusing Red magazine and my gaze alighted on a feature where a very glam blonde opted to forgo her usual diet of denim for a week. 'My God,' thought I, working my way through a Kitkat,' I'd DIE if I had to give up my jeans for a whole week.'




Right then and there, of course, I resolved to do 7 days without a shred of denim.

Hestia...attempts a shoe blog

I think I love you....

So Greece may default on its debt, leading to widespread turmoil in the fiscal markets of the Eurozone.  One in four of the London rioters had 10 previous run-ins with the law prior to the riots.  The Japanese nuclear plant is still in crisis....but LOOK!!!!! New SHOES!!!!!!!

Hestia.....remembers September 11th

Everyone over the age of puberty will remember where they were 10 years ago yesterday.

Watching the horror unfold on the TV like an unbelievably horrible Hollywood film, we really did expect Bruce Willis to appear and make Everything Alright again.  We WILLED him to appear.  But real life is not like the movies and our world tilted on its axis that day and never really tilted back.

What did I do?  I tuned in to QVC.  For hours.

I wasn't wanting to buy anything.  I just wanted to see people behaving normally.  The ashen-faced presenters kept doing what they were paid to do - selling digital cameras and lap tops and I found solace amongst the scrolling phone numbers and 'limited stock' announcements.  It gave me an anchor into the normalcy of the day before, the 10th of September, when everything was ok.  When the worst of my problems was how I was going to lose all this post-baby weight.

From time to time, Tartarus flicked on the news and the horror piled in on us again - endless, endless replays of the planes hitting the buildings, people jumping holding hands, dust-covered zombies staggering through the streets.

We went to bed that night holding hands and with our baby son between us.  With no idea what the following days might bring; apocalyptic thoughts that we dared not voice out loud haunted us.

And yet here we are, ten years later, just bumbling along like we were on the 10th of September, yet entirely different.  I still watch QVC and am grateful for what they did for me that day.  Hell, I even buy stuff!

I never really lost the post-baby fat though.

There was SOME good came out of that day: We got to see the very best that people can be in the very worst of circumstances. And if we can choose to focus on that instead of the utter devastation that was visited on the US that day, we can make ourselves better people - and that's the best memorial we can build for those that died.

What were you doing, 10 years ago yesterday?

Hestia does Glasgow, in pictures

So - you came with me.  But I couldn't show you where we were cos I forgot to take the lead for the camera.  Anyway, let's rectify that right now.  Here is our 5 day break in Glasgow, in pix.

Wur accommodation - before it got untidy

It had a window seat - upon which I fondly imagined myself reading and being artistically inspired.  I wasn't.

There was a kitchen, complete with complimentary bottle of wine.  Result.

A lovely contemporary bathroom - that is a DOUBLE sink

And it had a SPA bath - which I also fondly pictured myself being all arty and relaxing with a glass of wine.  I didn't.  I did relax in it with a mug of tea.  Which is not the same thing.

Next day - rain of biblical splendour and I am dragged like a truculent teenager to The Transport Museum - now in its new home.  It was pretty good.  But a Transport Museum is not the place for someone who really wants to be sequestered in front of a black and white movie with a hot chocolate.

Tartarus, as you can see, was like a pig in the proverbial.  

Standing in front of a case of ships, he was happy.

fire engines, bicycles and lots of other assorted shit to do with motors

The glass hearse, complete with stuffed horses.  I'm having me one of THESE when the time comes.  You can bugger your ecological wicker baskets - give me horses with plumes and a glass carriage.

Stuffed horses

In the evening we went out with my lovely friends B and C.  We went to Bobar so that we could watch Scotland v Lithuania.  However, several bottles of gorgeous red put paid to any interest we had in the game.  They came back to ours for a nightcap (ie another bottle of wine).  This is them with their jackets still on and checking their mobile phones for Important Messages.

The next day there was a bit of a break in the weather and we went to Kelvingrove Art Gallery. This is a photo of my old Alma Mater - Glasgow University.  See that tower? I've been up that tower.

My other spiritual home, Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

I sat for ages in The Glasgow Boys room and then headed out into the open area with many sculpted busts.  This is my favourite - a harpy, whose name escapes me.  

Not the sort of woman you would go home to with a burst pay packet, eh?

Then today it was back home.  Is Nibbles still in his cage.  Check.  Yep, the half brick is still in place.  No escapee hamster this time.

And then, it was 2pm and time to go to the school to uplift our filthy, dirty little children after 5 joyous days at Castle Toward

And here he is.  All pants worn.  All socks worn.  Soap untroubled by water though.

Truthfully? We were all delighted to see each other for nearly a full 60 minutes.

I hope that you have had a marvellous 5 days while you were all stuck in my pocket.  Incidentally, choosing a thin linen jacket to wear for the full 5 days to Glasgow was foolhardy in the extreme as the whip-end of Hurricane Irene blustered her way through Scotland. I was so wet and miserable, I had to be led AWAY from the duffle coat section in Debenhams, weeping.

As Billy Connolly says, there's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.

Whatcha been up to this week? Do share!