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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

New Blog - for a year!

Sonshine and I are going veggie.  For a year, initially, but who knows.  If we can stand the flatulence and not succumb to the bewitching lure of a bacon sandwich, we should be fine.

Bacon sandwich ...... *drools in manner of Homer Simpson*

It's not going to be easy, but I hope we'll have a bit of a laugh and get some new cooking skillz beneath our belts.

Coming over to The Year of Living Vegetarianously?

http://tyolv.blogspot.com

Hope to see you there!

On being an author :-D

Dear Reader,

I have written a book.

It's a Tarot book and it has taken me an absolute dog's age to get it mobilised and actually on to Amazon.  Where it goes on sale tomorrow.

I made it available as a pre-order the day before yesterday.  Already the highs and lows of an author's life are making themselves known:

Flowers for Bees | Horologium Florae

Plant these to ensure that all the bees in your garden have something delicious to dine on.

Won't it be nice to just leave buttercups in situ and know that you are actually helping save the bees, rather than your neighbours thinking that you are just too lazy to weed?

And 'cilantro' is what we call coriander.  I don't know why.  If anyone does, let me know.  It's like us calling a pineapple a pineapple and the rest of the world calling it some version of 'ananas'.....

If you're not keen on some of these flowers, here are some tips from the top (ie the folks at Gardeners' World) on the sort of plants that bees like:

Single flowers are preferred (maybe easier for them to get at the good stuff)

Apparently their little bee radar is best with PURPLE flowers 

And they are also a big fan of the tubular shaped flower (foxgloves)

Bear those three things in mind and your garden will soon be heaving with the little blighters and you will, in all honesty, be saving the world!

I am also enamoured with the idea of a flower clock, or Horologium Florae But since we never get any sun in Scotland, I would never know the time. BUT, if you live in sunnier climes and want to give it a go. 

Here's a graphic:

And a link to an interesting article in the New York Times 

Wouldn't that make a splendid jigsaw? 

Style - I've got it. Sort of.

Before you jump to conclusions, I haven't had a personality transplant and started swanning round the rain-lashed streets in spindle-heeled pink chiffon Louboutins.  No, I am, in fact, in possession of The Sunday Times Style section:

Allow me to share the adverts that caught my eye this week:

I am strangely taken by the Balenciaga advert of two young sleepers, dozing in their underwear after a hard night of modelling.  I fondly hope that the one who has been subject to a frenzied biro pen attack has not got any on the 'spensive sofa.  But then, if your dad is Lenny Kravitz, I'm sure that you don't care.

Onwards to Versace:

Here we see the value of that old Billy Connelly adage: 'There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes' as two impossibly swooshy-haired models stand on a snowy slope in tiny black leather outfits, bare legs and high heels.  I would not say no to that handbag though.

Then to Moschino:

This is Linda Evangelista. Modelling toilet/glass cleaner.

Jimmy Choo, famous for SHOES, has a model who looks like she's snogging a hand-grenade instead of a perfume bottle.  I cannot find an image of this advert on line, so am not scanning it in in case there is a reason why it's not on the internets.  But come ON, I want to see SHOES in my Jimmy Choo advert.

Oh wait, there ARE shoes, and LEGS but wrapped around Kit Harrington in the gents' fragrance campaign.  Which was in last week's Style.  Let me share it with you:

It's not even called a gents' fragrance, but MAN. Hence the legs, the leather and the bearded hottie, I suppose.  He does scrub up well, doesn't he?

So concludes my roundup of the ads :)