Summer Sketches

The weather is as stormy as the news these days. There is only one solace - 

pen

paper

watercolour.

Close Your Eyes & Pretend It Isn't Happening

That's pretty much how I feel about the way things are going at the moment. If I had to think about it too long I'd be sick with the way the UK is going and there is nothing we can do but be dragged down with it all.

So I will close my eyes, I will hear the sea rush against the beach and feel the sand on my toes. Everyone needs a happy place, I know where mine is and reality is truly too awful to want to remain there for long.

Yes, that is the Hobbits, not so little and cute now - more long of limb and handsome. Hug your babies, they grow up too fast!

Flooers*

Finally, I've had a chance to upload my Millport photos and each one was a breath of memories, lightening the mood. What to do? What to do?

For some reason I've taken lots of photos of flowers, as a pretty poor gardener this is amusing - to me if no one else. I'd love a beautiful garden, a full bee and butterfly friendly banquet. If only I had my dad's talent for being able to actually grow things. Another thing I wish I'd paid attention to!

Here are some wild and not-so-wild flowers. There are no names, I have no idea what most of them are other than pleasing to the eye in natures wonderful way.

*not a typo, it's Scots, despite some folk thinking it's not a language, it is!

Refreshing Days and Monster Thoughts

The family have just returned from a much needed, desperately needed, few days away at - you guessed it - Millport, Isle of Cumbrae.

What a bloody week, was so glad that the internet was intermittent as it meant I could block out most of what has been happening since, once again, Scotland is being dragged into a position it did not make. Strangely, perhaps because of the distance, I feel disconnected. I am so beyond frustrated with people not seeing the bigger picture. Of course, I'm not saying I am correct in my assumptions on how things should be but the pettiness, the snide "well, I'm not changing my mind even though it makes me look like a prat" and I'm just fed up to the back teeth with them.

This will be known as the period where 'Britain' went barmy over being European, my identity goes Scottish and then European so that's me stuffed then. Have never considered myself as British, won't wrap myself in that flag and go all snivelly over the Queen. This referendum has done what countless elections have failed to do, I now no longer give a flying fuck about people or this country.  Hell mend you all and sod you for ruining my sons' chances of living and working abroad and for ruining my escape plan.

So...being miles away on a small island was good then, really.

The weather wasn't great but this is Scotland and you don't go on holiday for the weather. I have noticed someone in my group of friends has recently started this little chipping at things I'm doing so I expect some comment from her when we all meet up Tuesday about the poor weather.

You know what, we wore raincoats, sucked it up and enjoyed having sand in our toes, sea crunchy hair and jellyfish spotting anyway.

Photos to follow and won't that be much better than my grumbling self.

Whaur ye bin?*

Summer has gone, the treadmill still runs as fast and this time we have the amazingly full schedule of two high school boys to deal with.  Thankfully, two weeks in, they love it, much more challenging than primary school but that isn't hard; it doesn't feel as though they learn much of anything in that final year.

Primary 7 is an exercise in caging wild animals and now they've been released, all minds working at one hundred miles an hour and hormones crashing in to each other.

It's the last day of August and already the wind brings a nip of Autumn with it.  Already summer seems so distant (yet we still have our holiday in October to enjoy - yay!)

This summer we did this:

And a bit of this:

Some of this;

And of course, this:

But mostly the boys did this:

Which they absolutely loved and will hopefully be doing again next year.

Most memorable of all, we visited my dad's memorial bench at Fintry Bay, Millport.  Whiling away a beautiful afternoon, enjoying the perfect view and thinking of how much he would have enjoyed it.

Add to that, this is the summer I finally received CBT for my CFS and that is AOK.


*Don't think I really need to translate from the Scots but just in case it's very simple - Where (have) you been?

Ok so this is really something wonderful...

I admit, the thought of the London Olympics had me cold - we're 423.8 miles/682 km (yes, I Googled that!) and a whole other country away.  It would have little impact and mean absolutely nothing to anyone north of the M25 let alone we dubious, problematic Scots.  This was costing a fortune, was yet another London-centric thing we'd heard about forever more.


And then the Opening Ceremony happened.  No one had any thoughts other than remembering the utter, toe-curling, bum-clenching awfulness that occurred at the end of the Beijing games, when a big red bus full of UK shame horrified more than this nation.


Whoever it was that decided to give Danny Boyle the reigns must be now sipping champagne on a sun-drenched island of gratitude because they made an entire nation sit up and take note.


Apart from the ending (how to clear a stadium, Macca) it is an event that is hard to describe properly - you had to be there and yes, tv counts.  The hill in a sports stadium; the Industrial age towers; the dancing Isambard Kingdom Brunels; the music (actually ear-pleasing!); the cyclists with wings; Mary Poppins killing Voldemort; the beautifully amazing flower-fire-cauldron with copper petals; the everything!


Written down it sounds like someone was tapping the alcoholic beverages when coming up with ideas, or putting down stuff as a bet (oh they'll never go for this..shall we...oh go on...teehee.)  Boyle managed, in the however many hours it took, to make people who scoffed in horror at the ticketing disasters, the transport disasters, the umpteen other disasters leading up to these games actually change their minds.


The Hobbits fell asleep at 11 pm but up until then had been transfixed, even if a little confused at the slightly eccentric goings on.  We've gone from not wanting to watch a minute to oohing and aahing at the tense archery finals, cheering at the cycling, trying to figure out who is who in the swimming.  And all this from complete apathy.


Amazing what a fantastic event can do to lift the spirits.

I imagine the organisers of the Rio games watched in open-mouthed horror.  "Ah hell, let's just do the carnival again."

Where'd you go?

It has been a busy time of late and then, for an entire week, there was sun...sun...SUN!!!  Lovely, warm, summery sun.  


Being Scottish this is a rare enough event to bring out immediate wearing of light and bright clothing, a raising of spirits, a general feeling of camaraderie.  The sun, not venturing on these shores for too long, disappeared yesterday.  


The weather equivalent of taking a lollipop from a baby.


We have the memories of course, and the hope that one day very soon the sun shall return.  Our shorts and flip flops demand it.

Cabbage Roses

My Aunt owned a little flat in a one street town on a medium sized Scottish island. This was a home handed down by her husband's mother and as a result family enjoyed the use of such an easy to reach weekend holiday place.

The windows looked out onto the sea at one side and a dark forest on the other and the close smelled of shellfish and sand. The lady who lived upstairs was

We visited rarely, although other family members took full advantage my own preferred the island next door and honestly I did too. Bike rides and sandy beaches.

I remember, as a young child, no more than five or six, tracing the patterns of the blue cabbage roses on the wallpaper. Fingertips sliding over the shiny surface in the morning light.

Sunny Side Up

Reminding myself that it doesn't always rain in Scotland.

Burntisland, Summer 2006