What are we calling it this week?

We're having a new room built on the front of our house. We've been intending to do this for a long time, but for many reasons, mainly to do with the availability of builders and the weather it's being done now. It's almost finished which is a good thing as I am sick of it not being finished, but I am at the 'It will all be worth it in the end' stage.

Originally it was going to be a small sun porch. Lots of houses on Orkney have small sun porches/tiny conservatories on the front. This is partly to do with enjoying views and sunshine and long summer days in the summer, and partly for catching and using what little light there is in the winter. Traditional Orkney houses, like ours, have thick walls and small windows. This is very good for heat conservation, but tends to make the interiors dark.

Several years ago we enquired of a local firm about putting on a conservatory. They came and talked to us, took details, said they would send a builder round to discuss siting and size and they never did. I chased them up twice and got 'I'm very surprised the builder hasn't been in touch Mrs A, I'll chase him up' twice, after which I decided that they weren't going to be coming and wrote them off as a bad job. Which is a good thing because if I had been waiting with bated breath for them to contact me I'd be dead now,  because they never did.

Anyway then we had the new kitchen, and some expensive holidays and a bad year  and then we did the bathroom and bedroom and now the new room is taking shape at last. Because the builder decided it was best to do a pitched roof tied into the roof we already have rather than a flat one we decided that rather than have a measly little conservatory we would make the new room a reasonable size - a size worth building really, which is what we've done. As a result we could no longer call it the sun porch or the conservatory and I call it inter alia the sun room or the garden room and everybody else, when they're asking about progress call it Your Extension.

It's almost done and once it's finished I'll doubtless come on here and shout hurray. Meanwhile here is the story of the whatever room, so far, in pictures.

 

digging foundations (not us the builder!)

 

the slab - which I was sure was too small

 

 

look at the size of those windows - who's going to clean them?

 

going up....

 

lots of storage - those boxes go round two walls. And it's not too small at all.It's bigger than it looks in  this picture.

 

 

We still need the outside rendering finished and the decorator to come back and put some colour on the walls and the electrician to wire in the lights and the sockets properly. But we're almost there.....



Project 60: Number Three.

Baking Muffins.

It's a sad fact that a lot of the things I've thought about doing for Project 60 are food related. Especially since as I've said previously I am not a foodie in any shape or form. Mind you at least these food related things are  relatively cheap and easily achievable. A lot of the other things I've thought of doing involve travel and lots of expense. And some of the others require preparation,  of the losing some weight first variety. Hence Number 3, like numbers 1 and 2 is all to do with food.

 

I'd never made muffins. I quite like muffins. Ergo I made some.

 

There are photos. (I did the muffins ages ago, but I've only just uploaded the photos onto the laptop, hence the delay).

 

 

 

Half were chocolate chip, on the left, obviously, and the other half were lemon curd. Those whose memories stretch back a while will remember that making lemon curd was the second new thing I did. I bought a little gadget in a shop designed to take cores out of cup cakes and muffins, and although it didn't work brilliantly, it worked well enough to allow me to pop some lemon curd in the middle of the muffin and then pop a top back on.

 

Close ups

 



they were delicious and I can quite see making muffins becoming a bit of a fixture. I did some lemon and blueberry ones only this morning and popped a little muffin recipe book onto my Amazon wish list so that I can ring the changes.

A Bijou Rant-ette

Many years ago when I was first, a teenager, and later a young woman looking to establish myself in a career I, along with the rest of my generation, was fed an insidious myth about gender difference in the work place.

It ran along these lines. Men could compartmentalise, women couldn't. This meant that when men went to work, whatever was happening in their lives elsewhere was left at the door. They came into work, shed all their non-work problems and agendas and were able to apply themselves 100% to work without anything else affecting either their work performance or their relationships with co-workers. Women on the other hand, brought all their problems to work with them. They got distracted. They couldn't concentrate on their work or what people were saying. They cried or lashed out or drew all the other women in the workplace into their little whirlpool of worry or misery thus spreading the non-working infection beyond their own desk or section of the conveyor belt or whatever.

 

This is cobblers. It worked for a long time to keep women out of workplaces and later boardrooms, but there is no woman of my acquaintance who hasn't worked with a man who all too obviously has brought his outside problems into work with him on a regular basis. In fact a boss once complained to me about the rudeness of his staff in not greeting him with a 'Good Morning' when they met him for the first time each day. I gently explained that  the reason no-one ever said Good Morning to him before he had greeted them was that they never knew whether they would be rewarded with a smile, a grunt, or a comment along the lines of 'Well it might be a good morning for you but some of us have things to worry about.....'

 

Last week I was with a man who very obviously has something bad on his mind. It was  pre-occupying him to the exclusion of just about everything else. The something can have had nothing to do with me, and I rather resent the way that whatever it was, was taken out on me regardless. Here was someone who obviously couldn't compartmentalise and I suffered because of it. Strangely enough even when my mother was dying which is, you know, quite a preoccupying thing, I never lost my good manners. I carried on saying please and thank you and listening to what other people had to say to me. I didn't sigh heavily at them, get defensive with them or give voice to gnomic utterances which would have done nothing except make them feel inadequate, uncomfortable and in the way.

 

Funny that. You might almost have said I was compartmentalising.  But that can't be right can it? 'Cos after all only men  can do that.

Guess What?

Tomorrow we're going south. Again. This time we're off  to move son no 2 into the Glasgow flat, lock stock and barrel, which will mean quite a few  trips between Kirkcaldy and Glasgow, not to mention quite a few trips to the Glasgow IKEA.

Also looming is a visit to the Ph D supervisor, but I've taken the edge off that by arranging to meet someone I know so far only from the virtual world of Ravelry straight afterwards, in what looks like a rather wonderful café cum bakery cum delicatessen.

 

I doubt I'll blog while I'm away, although you never know...

Wrapping Up Greece Part 2

Be warned, there are no pictures this time. Which is a bit annoying for me, and I'll tell you for why. When we got back to Athens on our final afternoon the coach driver offered to drop off anyone who wanted to go to the National Archaeological Museum at the door there rather than the hotel. Since we were quite keen to go, mainly because all the exhibits from the sites we had visited during the week had been vacuumed into the all consuming maw of the National Museum ( and I wonder what that reminds me of?) we took advantage of this opportunity.

 

And we had a great time. We started off with lunch in the café which was busy but efficient and possibly the nicest food we had in Greece all week. The only downside for me there was the visiting pigeon which of course alarmed and upset me. (I may not have mentioned this previously. I am seriously phobic when it comes to pigeons, but embarrassed generally to admit it). However it got shooshed away and I bolted the rest of my lunch before it could gather sufficient wit to return.

 

Then we took to the galleries, and spent most of our time where the artefacts from Mycenae were displayed. It was so beautiful. Obviously I adored the jewellery, but was surprised to be also captivated by the pottery. I've done my fill of walking, glassy eyed, past cabinets and cabinets of Roman pottery lamps and vases in museums from Italy to Portugal - they must have been produced by the million - so I've never really thought myself a fan of ancient pottery. But these were glorious; beautifully shaped and  balanced, in warm earthy colours; really I'd have been happy to have some of the jugs in my cupboards.

 

And all the way round, rather than take photographs, which was allowed, I was planning what to buy postcards of at the shop. I knew there was a shop and I sort of assumed that there would be racks of postcards of all this beautiful stuff. And a good book in English about the site of Mycenae.

 

Well, how wrong can you be? The shop was large, dark, and badly stocked. The book section was very limited, even in Greek, let along in foreign languages, and there were no postcards to be seen. And not just because it was dark. It was because there were none.

 

I won't expand on that. Except to say they are missing a trick, which in my experience is unusual in a museum.

 

Wrapping up Greece. Part 1

I can't help feeling that since I've posted half my Christmas cards, albeit they are going out a tad early this year, it's more than time I finished the tale of our trip to Greece. Especially since it is taking longer to write it up than it took to experience.

 

Nafplion was our last port of call really; after three nights there we were back on the bus and heading back to Athens. We did this by way of the Corinth Canal; not that we travelled through it on a boat you understand, just drove over it on a bridge. And then walked back over it on foot, then returned on foot on the other side, all the time tangling with visitors from the Far East all determined to take pictures of themselves with the canal in the background, and never mind how long they blocked the very narrow pathway for everyone else.

 

The tour guide had given the canal a big build up, so it came as rather an anti-climax to me as I had been expecting something much longer. When you stand on the bridge you can actually see the sea at both ends of the canal simultaneously which wasn't what I was expecting, but I'm sure that it is still a huge feat of modern marine engineering. Or something.

 

Pictures? Well yes I do.....

 

 

oh look, in this direction you can see the sea!

 

and look, the other way you can see the sea too!

 

this is some weird European habit this year apparently. Young couples putting padlocks on bridges. It's a sign that they are locked together forever by their love. Colour me cynical but I wonder how many of them are still together now that summer's over?  

 

Nafplion

Nafplion is a small town on the coast of the Peloponnese. It is also somewhere where, we were told quite a lot, real Greeks go for their summer holidays.

This does leave the question of where artificial Greeks go for the summer and I suppose that must depend on what they're made of. If they're plastic they probably go to Scandinavia, because if they went to Nafplion they would melt.

We were also told it was a charming little town and I suppose it was, although I think taking people there when it's so hot, leaving them there for three days and booking them into a hotel without a swimming pool is not the best itinerary decision a holiday operator ever made.

Anyway see how charming you think it.

 

the view from our hotel room balcony - looking a bit dark there

 

The Main Square.  Yes it is raining. In fact it is chucking it down. This happened all three evenings we were in Nafplion. It was a total nuisance.

 

Nafplion once belonged to the Republic of Venice, as commemorated by this rather sweet little Lion of St Mark. I know, you have seen better carved lions in your time. Haven't we all?

 

One of the 'charming little streets'

 

Lunch. Yes seriously. This was lunch one day. I shall stress how virtuous I was by pointing out that mine was the Peach Melba so I was at least getting some vitamin C. And I couldn't finish it. The chocolate concoction on the left was the OH's. No vitamins. And he finished it too.

 

You may be getting the impression that I wasn't too taken with Nafplion and if so you are probably right. If there'd been a pool we could have used I expect I would have loved it, ditto if the hotel had had a restaurant we could have eaten in where an evening meal for two would have come in at less than the cost of flying back to the UK and eating there.

 

But there you go, don't let me put you off. It is a pretty little town and I expect that by the time we reached it I was just a bit fed up with the other people on the tour, and the heat, and it unfairly coloured my perspective. If you want to go somewhere Greek by the sea and you don't mind that the beaches are all stones, there are myriads of naff restaurants all touting for your business and a menacing looking beggar with a tin who wanders round for at least 18 hours out of 24 then Nafplion is probably just the place you're looking for.

Sold One, Bought One

I really can't remember whether I ever confirmed on here that we had actually sold our holiday rental flat, but we did, back in June. I veer between being really pleased to be shot of it and worrying that we let if go too cheaply but you know....too late now if we did.

 

And then we bought another one in Glasgow. Son No 2 will take up residence there at the end of the month and the OH and I will use it for shopping weekends (no not really, he's not that big a shopper), but the opera anyway, and overnighters before flying away on holiday and I can use it when I go to see my Subject Supervisor, and when I need to do research in nearby-ish Edinburgh.

 

I have to say I'm not, and never have been, comfortable at the idea that we own more than one property. But Son No 2 needs somewhere to live in the Central Belt and Glasgow is better than Edinburgh for us all for a whole bunch of reasons. And we're sick of paying rent for him.

 

We applied all the lessons we had learned from years of watching Kirsty and Phil, I spent hours trawling the Internet on a weekly basis for flats in Glasgow, registered with more property sites that you can never escape from, than you could shake a stick at and we ended up looking at six of which at least four would have been totally suitable.

 

We are not emotionally invested in this place. So it is the right size, at the right price in an OK location for what we want to do, and all we had to do was turn a key and walk in. Also buy furniture but that's another story and possibly, down the line, another post.

 

We took possession last week and we hope to move Son No 2 into it at the end of next week. Fingers crossed it all goes smoothly. No doubt if it doesn't I will at least be able to make a funny story of it.

The Confusing Question of the Tartan Stiletto.

Yesterday, on the way home from yet another trip to the Central Belt ( I know, you don't need to tell me ) we stopped for lunch at a place where there were newspapers to read. One of them published a picture like that above. It may even have been that exact picture. The shoes worn by Nicola Sturgeon to address the SNP Conference.

I had two immediate reactions.

One was to smile and say 'Oh, they're nice.'

One was to frown and think 'When did they ever publish a photograph of the shoes Alex Salmond wore to address the SNP Conference.

Patriarchy. Alive and Well throughout the British Media. Whatever people might tell you, the work of feminism is far from over.

Epidaurus

Mycenae only took up half a day and for the second half we went to Epidaurus. Often known as the birthplace  of medicine, apparently it would be more accurate to describe it as the birthplace of psychiatry, because of the holistic nature of the treatments that were undertaken. Whichever description you go for though, it has to be said that it is a beautiful place, perhaps the nicest natural setting for anything that we saw in Greece.

 

Part of the prescribed treatment for patients here was attending plays, which means that it had to have a theatre. It seems the acoustics are amazing - we did have to play a little game to demonstrate how amazing they are, but I'm afraid my attention had wandered by that point; of all the bossy guides we had during the week the one who took us to Mycenae and Epidaurus was the worst and I had lost patience with pandering to her by he time it came to her explanations of the acoustics.  I'm sorry I can't explain it to you; there again, if you're bothered, you cold always Google it.

 

Meanwhile here is a picture of part of the theatre. I hope it gives some idea of how beautiful the place is.

Can I Let Go Now?

I have been fighting off a cold for over a week now. If I'd been able to give in to it and let it rip, it would by now be nothing but a distant memory, but I couldn't. This was partly because the OH was yet again in London working so that I had to be up and about, feeding myself, and more importantly feeding the cats. Equally the builders have been in, building us a new room on the front of the house, which was another good reason for not curling up under the duvet for three days while my incipient whatever ran its course. I was not however up to much. Although I managed to bash out a couple of lemon drizzle cakes today ready for the OH's return. They sank, which my cakes never do, but that was par for the course today sadly. Everything I touched went west.

 

Well it's the weekend now, and the OH is home and the builders won't be back until Monday so you'd think I could retire to bed and give in to the germs. But I can't because tomorrow we need to go to town and on Sunday it's Remembrance Day and on Monday the builders will be back and in any case we need to go to Glasgow next week for an unknown length of time.

 

Perhaps if I manage a couple of afternoons over the weekend doing nothing much and keeping warm I'll be full of the joys of spring by the time we catch the ferry again. Maybe.

Mycenae

After Delphi, Mycenae was the site I was most looking forward to, and although it didn't quite have the oomph of Delphi for me, it was certainly an amazing place. The OH, who is deeply into the Neolithic, understandably so given where we live, did his usual irritating thing about it being 'Modern Rubbish' because it is a Bronze Age Site. But I didn't care. The so called Tomb of Agamemnon was absolutely amazing. It's all very well saying its the same basic shape as Maes Howe here in Orkney, but let's be honest, you have to get into Maes Howe by crawling through a tunnel and one man could touch the ceiling of the chamber if he sat on the shoulders of another. You enter the tomb of Agamemnon through a doorway that positively dwarfs you, because it is eighteen feet high  and inside the chamber towers up to  forty four feet at its highest. While we were in there someone with more vanity than manners decided to demonstrate the acoustics by singing. I would say bursting into song, but whatever it was she was singing was more stately than that. Showing Off is what she was doing, and we didn't appreciate it one bit.

 

After the tomb we went to the Citadel Site, through the famous Lion Gate. The gate has been heavily restored, but the lions have no heads since it can't be decided whether they were originally lions or lionesses. The case can be argued both ways apparently. And we couldn't get into the actual citadel building remains because they are restoring that, apparently they are doing a reconstruction so that in a few years time visitors will be able to see what a Bronze Age Attic Palace interior actually looked like. Sounds like an interesting project, although I doubt I'll rush back to see it. There'll no doubt be pictures on the Web in due course.

 

And talking of pictures, here are a few photos of the tomb and citadel site

 

 

The Entrance to the 'Tomb of Agamemnon'

 

The domed 'beehive' ceiling.

 

 

The Lion Gate

 

 

One of the Grave Circles - Plus a view of the plain. The citadel dominated all the country around

 

 

Right up at the top is where they're doing the reconstruction - it would have been a long climb on a hot day, so perhaps not being able to go was a blessing in disguise!

 

Also last week....

 

We were in Fife. Again. I didn't really think I could face going south yet again, but it was a bit of a research trip for me. I spent the first day with a good friend, and her visiting Canadian sister in law. Not a research day obviously but very enjoyable for all that.  We went to Dovecote Studios, where we watched people weaving large tapestries and saw an exhibition of Afghanistani gems and jewellery. As I said when she suggested it - jewels and textiles - my name's all over it. I talked myself out of buying some gorgeous topaz ear-rings, also some slightly cheaper and equally gorgeous small cups that had bits of lace included in their  making. The scones in their café were OK, but had a touch too much bicarb in them.

 

Later on we indulged ourselves in the Valvona and Crolla café in Jenners and I may have bought a few treats as well on the way out. Mainly for someone else's birthday it must be said.

 

It was a lovely day (although I still rather regret passing on the ear rings). What with that and Mr Moffat the following day - well two good ones out of three ain't bad. As for the third - watch this space.

 

 

 

 

 

Poets Pub

This a Very Famous Painting. If you move in circles where C20 Scottish painting or poetry is a known quantity that is. It normally lives in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, although at present it's 'on tour' in Montrose.

 

It shows almost all the great C20 poets and is by the Scottish painter Alexander Moffat. Sadly it doesn't show my particular poet although he is not the only one missing - in any case it was never meant to be a picture of the Flower of Contemporary Scottish Poetry. It's still quite a good collection though.

 

Now long term readers of this blog may remember a while back when my Director of Studies promised me that doing my Ph D was going to be a time of Joyous Opportunities. I have to say that to date the joyous opportunities have been conspicuous by their absence rather than their presence. But last week a day of joyous opportunity finally arrived.

 

I got to talk to Alexander Moffat. In person. Just him and me. About his picture and the people in it (and some of the people not in it!) and painting in the 1950s and 60s in general and it was great.

That's not Olympia!

Well spotted. It certainly isn't the ancient site of Olympia, it is in fact the pool at the Best Western Hotel in modern Olympia.

I have a chronic health condition which flares up now and again (well more often than that really but let's not dwell) and holidays tend to trigger it. Which explains why, while the rest of the group were exploring the site of the original Olympics, we were resting by the pool in the hotel for the morning. It was a nice way to spend time; the gardens were beautiful, it was warm without being too hot, it was restful and the hotel even opened up the bar just so that someone could  make us some coffee.

 

While I would have preferred to see Olympia, since I'm not expecting to go back to mainland Greece so won't get another chance, if I had to be ill this was the place to do it. The staff were exceptionally good and even gave us a lift later to  the restaurant where the group was having lunch so we could rejoin the coach.

 

If you're ever looking for a hotel in the area, I'd definitely recommend this one!

And She Did It!

This photograph landed in my in-box late last evening

 

 

sister's first pair of knitted socks, complete and modelled.

 

Impressed? I am.



And then it was Delphi

I've wanted to visit the site of the Delphic Oracle since I was ?about 8. Ever since I first heard about it anyway and I can't imagine that would be much before I was 8 and reading about the myths and legends of Ancient Greece. So often when you've wanted something for a long time the reality is a disappointment, and I suppose overall Greece fell into that category, but Delphi was a shining exception. It was fascinating. It helped I suppose that we had a brilliant guide who wasn't hugely bossy and loud voiced, as all our other guides  were, and was prepared to tackle the philosophical tension at the heart of the site; the apparently opposing claims of 'Know Thyself' and 'Nothing in Excess' ( which is definitely not, as I was always taught, Moderation in all Things)

 

A few pictures

 

 

the view from our hotel room balcony in Delphi

 

the lady in the orange T-shirt is our excellent guide. The woman in the denim skirt and checked shirt I had to take to task for slandering Alex Salmond to a large group of people in the middle of the street. and at the top of her Daughter of the Empire Voice. She was not amused, although ironically enough she accused me of having No Sense of Humour,

the theatre. I am immensely proud of managing to snap this when there was absolutely no-one in shot!

a general view of the site, including the Athens Treasury (the building in the background with the pillars)

 

Supposedly the site of the Omphalos, the exact centre of the earth, according to Greek mythology and the reason that it because home to the Oracle.

 

Delphi was definitely the highlight of the holiday for me and it you're at all interested I would definitely recommend a visit. Well worth it. 

 

Oh Look! It's the front

of the Dornoch Castle hotel!

Little did I know when I did my recent blog about it that we would be staying there within a very short time. It's all to do with Ph D supervisors changing times, and neighbours wanting cats looked after and getting through the flat hunting quicker than we thought. We ended up needing a one night stay somewhere  that we could get to at a reasonable time after leaving Glasgow at 1.00 pm and that we could leave after breakfast and get to the north coast in time for the lunchtime ferry. There are various small and charming towns on the A9 which fit this description but as the OH had never been to Dornoch and as I had told him that they had a really nice  kitchen shop there, it was Dornoch we opted for.

 

We had a lovely stay, including once again a beautiful evening meal and here for good measure is a picture of my dessert. This time I went for the chocolate mousse.

 

I think on balance I preferred the strawberries and cream from last time, but you know - tough choice! And at least this plate doesn't look like it has measles.

Sadly the kitchen shop didn't open the next morning before we had to head for the ferry, but maybe another time.

 

Athens and the Parthenon

We started our tour of the Peloponnese in Athens. We stayed in a very nice hotel but I have to say that Athens itself went straight to the top of my 'Disappointing European Capitals' list, displacing Madrid which had held the title for several years. A lot of the older bits of Athens  have been torn down and replaced with what I assume is less interesting architecture. I can't know that for sure, but its hard to believe that any of the C18 and C19 century buildings that they pulled down could have been inferior to the oddly coloured concrete blocks that replaced them. And those concrete blocks are not improved by the ubiquitous graffiti which was to be seen in every small town and village wherever we went as well as Athens.

 

Anyway we spent a morning being shown the Parthenon. This wasn't a particularly enjoyable experience because:

 

the site was very very crowded

 

it was very very hot

 

you are not allowed 'into' the building, but can only shuffle around the outside. And I use the word shuffle advisedly

 

the building is full of cranes which are being used by the restorers to clean it; given the level of smog prevalent in Athens I suspect this is a job with a roughly similar end date to the painting of the Forth Road Bridge

 

I discovered that I have an allergy to something within the combination of bright sunlight, high elevations and olive trees. Not sure what but I developed an unexpected runny nose here and it became a feature of subsequent site visits, although at least after this I was prepared for it.

 

Still at least I've seen it. We carried on to the Parthenon Museum but my back objected to the guided tour so we did a quick individual visit and had lunch.

 

And that was as much of Athens as we saw at that point, as later that afternoon we all had to clamber back on the coach for the journey to Delphi.

 

And here are a couple of pictures - note the cranes, they're impossible to avoid

 

 

 

Project 60 - Number Two

That's a very dark picture - well it was a very dark day - so you may not be able to tell but that is Lemon Curd in those jars. Home made lemon curd. Made by me. As a baker but a non cook there are lots of things that I've never made along these lines; really anything that means I have to pay it undivided attention until it's done  rather than being slung in the oven on a timer. Anyway Project 60 seems a good opportunity to try and catch up on this sort of thing and Lemon Curd was the first one.

 

I asked around for recipes and finally decided to go with the Delia Smith, goodness knows why because I have had issues with her before, and I have to report that if I were to make lemon curd again I would go with a different one. When a recipe says 'whisk continually in the pan over a low heat until the mixture thickens (about 8 to 9 minutes)', then when I have done exactly that for 22 minutes and the mixture still shows no sign of thickening then something is wrong. To be fair it may be me that's wrong rather than the sainted Delia, but even so, it was disheartening. I was tempted to throw in a bit of extra cornflour but the OH started twittering on about how if I did that I would have to mix it with a little liquid, and given that the problem I was trying to solve was that the stuff was too liquid to start with, I decided against.

 

In the event the mixture sort of thickened (very) eventually, and once in the jars it set. Which was a huge relief, after all the time and effort. The OH who, unlike me, actually likes lemon curd, pronounced it lovely and graciously gave me permission to do it again. Don't hold your breaths.

A Trip to Greece

This is probably not the place to rehearse the bitterness of not going to Greece for my honeymoon. There again, on the off chance that it might be, and in brief, we wanted to honeymoon in Greece. As we do not cope well with very hot weather this meant getting married in April or May. My mother was a teacher and refused to countenance talk of weddings in any month other than August - so that she had 'time to organise'.^ As the temperatures in Greece in August would have been unbearable for us, we went to Italy instead. And somehow or other we've never made the time to go since. In 34 years. We must have been really desperate to get there!  

 

^Strange to relate my sister got married just nine months after I did. Which meant that she got married, with my mother's total approval,  in May. Go figure.

 

Meanwhile back to Greece - metaphorically speaking.

 

We weren't actually planning to go to Greece this year, any more than we have planned to go for the last thirty odd years. We had a River Cruise booked for the end of April through the  Low Countries; basically art and chocolate, what's not to love? But we cancelled it when Peter was diagnosed at the beginning of the year.  We asked the travel company if we could transfer our deposit to another holiday later in the year and they stuttered a bit and then said yes, if we decided within 24 hours. We weren't really in the best of states to make that sort of decision under time pressure to be honest but we opted for this trip to the Peloponnese, arranged the transfer and then promptly forgot all the details. So right up to when we left for the holiday, when people asked whereabouts we were going I would say I didn't have a clue, I was just going to fall on the bus and let it take me wherever it felt like.

 

More detail and photos to come later, but the overall verdict once we got back was basically 'Glad we've been, won't rush back'. One of the reasons being that the landscape all looked like this

 

 

 



Picturesque for the first fifteen minutes. After which it gets a bit dull.

It's All About the Socks

As I mentioned I was teaching my sister to knit socks when she came to stay recently. As she was only here for 4 days and we did quite a lot of things other than knit sock I was impressed that she managed to get one completely finished. And here it is.

The photo is rather over exposed, but never mind. Basic sock pattern but with contrast toes and heels, I don't know how keen she was to do those, but I thought it was a good idea to get her used to doing something a bit different right away. Anyway she couldn't take her needles home with her because she was flying, but I posted them on yesterday so I hope it won't be too long before she has a pair of socks to wear and show off.  It pains me to relate that neither her husband nor her son were at all impressed with this when she showed it to them. Perhaps if they tried knitting socks they might be more appreciative.

 

Talking of first socks, I recently bade a very sad farewell to these

 

 

 

 

These are the first socks I ever knitted. Done completely on 4 dpns, because 30cm circulars hadn't hit the UK at that point. My friend Elaine had to coach me in their use and I never really got on with them. I cast on one cuff far too tightly which meant that that sock was tricky to get on, and I followed the pattern slavishly not realising that really the cuff was far too short for my taste. Still, they started me on a very enjoyable journey and it was hard to say good bye.

 

And finally for today on the sock front there are these

 

I made these for Son No 1 knowing that they will need warm socks ( and hats and gloves and scarves ) for a Canadian winter. He really liked them, which was pleasing as they were time consuming to knit. The pattern on the instep was fiddly in the extreme. Anyway the idea was that they combined two of his favourite things; wolves and Terry Pratchett. The wool was called Oook, a reference to The Librarian at Unseen University who was turned into an Orang Utan in a magical accident. And the pattern is called Wolf Pack with the twisted cables up the sides representing single wolves coming together to form a pack.

 

I am busy just now with a huge and secret project for Christmas which means that my sock knitting is at a standstill. Have to say watching my sister work her way down her first attempt, I was jealous. I so wanted to get out a little 30 cm circular, a skein of 4 ply wool and just cast on a sock.

 

Project 60 - Number 1

So many of you might recognize that as a photo of green olive tapenade. I wouldn't, but then I'm not terribly interested in food, or a very adventurous eater, so faced with it in the normal way of things I'd have registered it as green mush and moved quickly on.

We were on our way home from the Central Belt earlier this week and while we were waiting for the first course of our dinner we were served some home made bread, with chive butter and some green olive tapenade. I tried the bread, and the chive butter (which was lovely) and fully intended to ignore the tapenade as per normal. After all I don't like olives.

And then a light bulb went on in my head. Wasn't I just trying to challenge myself to do sixty new things before I was sixty one? Wouldn't trying this stuff be a new thing to give a go to? What was the point in deciding to do new stuff if, when new things presented themselves, I didn't recognize the opportunity?

I took up a spoon and heaped some tapenade onto a piece of bread. Then before I could have second thoughts and without pausing to put myself off by trying to see what it smelled like, I popped it in my mouth.

And of course I hated it. I have since googled the stuff and see that it is basically made up of three ingredients; capers, anchovies and green olives. As I do not like any of these three things separately the chances of me enjoying them when they have been pounded together into a paste were basically nil. But that is not the point. I tried it.

 

One down, fifty nine to go.

Project 60

My sister was here recently for a (very enjoyable) few days, and while she was staying I taught her to knit socks. Well, a sock to be precise, but she went home with the makings for the second of the pair....It turned out she had asked me to teach her to do it inspired by a friend of hers who had decided to do fifty new things in the year she was fifty. So my sister had decided she should take herself out of her comfort zone and do some new things too.

For some reason this caught my imagination as well. It could be something to do with the fact that my 60th birthday is in view. It's not hugely imminent, but it is visible on the horizon, and I have rather picked up and run with the idea.  So sixty new things between now and turning 61 (because some of the ones I've thought of involve long range planning and a lot of travel and I don't know that I could fit them all in before I'm sixty, but I've got more of a shot if I give myself that extra twelve months.)

 

I haven't written down a list; partly because I don't think I could get to sixty all at once and I might put things on it for the sake of getting to the right number. Then when I come across something I'd like to try that isn't on the list I might feel too constrained to do it, since it's not there.

 

I've got a few starting ideas though. Apparently the trick is to include some small stuff along with the huge things. I have to admit that the large (and expensive) things come to mind more easily.  We'll see how we go.

The Victorian Cherub

I am not a great fan of cherubs. Nor of High Victorian Gothic (although I can gasp with stunned admiration at some manifestations of the latter). So when I see a Victorian Cherub that has been lovingly restored I tend to ask why anyone would bother.

 

Anyway here's a photo of one

 

 

and should you wish to see it a bit more clearly

 

 

This particular little angel is situated  the  small Highland town of Dornoch and that is Dornoch Cathedral lurking behind the cherub. If you're ever in the neighbourhood, the stained glass in the Cathedral is spectacular. And it's a nice wee place to wander around and have a coffee in.

 

I was in Dornoch in June, serving on a university panel that was revalidating the postgraduate provision in the UHI School of History, which was an interesting thing to do. We stayed at the Dornoch Castle Hotel and I didn't take a photo of the front of it some reason (possibly something to do with needing to strand in the middle of a busy road to get it in properly) but I did take a picture of the back

 

 



The weather was glorious, I took this as we sat in the garden enjoying a well earned glass of wine at the end of Day 1. The Dornoch Castle Hotel is not cheap but it's beautiful and comfortable and the staff were without exception lovely. The food was wonderful, in proof of which I offer a photo of my dessert. It was billed in the menu as Strawberries and Cream

 

 

 

I did think it was a bit over-dotted to be honest, but it tasted good.