Something new again?

was the way my grandfather greeted the display of anything new to wear that I showed off to him when  a child. I don't know why this sticks in the memory, as my parents were not particularly well off and won't have ben buying me new clothes on a whim. That said I suppose you do grow a lot when small which necessitates the purchase of new and bigger clothing. 

I feel he would have taken much the same attitude to our constant jaunts, and can just about hear him saying 'Going away again?' in incredulaus tones. Well we are, but it is almost the last joint trip away for the year. We are off to Stockholm to see The Magic Flute, and possibly we'll buy some tickets for Fedora next March while we're there ....

We will both be away in September but separately; me for a final research fling in Edinburgh and the OH to see his mother and prepare her flat for the market ( sale or rental). And we are going together to  Glasgow for Scottish Opera's Traviata in mid-October. And that's that, as far as I know,  until late spring. 

There is the small mater of a Ph D thesis to whip into shape of course, due in February so several months at home is just what I need for that. That would make for a dull blog, but there will be knitting, there will be reading, there will be TV watching so I suspect there will be rants. And possibly a few critical bouquets tossed about as well. It won't all be like the  Molesworth diary; played, played, forgit what did etc etc. Well I hope not. 

The Biggest Rubber Duck in the World

Yes, really. 

It was Canada Day while we were in Toronto, and this year was the 150th Anniversary  of Confederation. Cue Big Celebrations all over Canada.

Also cue some protests from First Nation people about how the 150th Anniversary of Confederation gives them nothing to celebrate, but I'l leave that there because it's complicated, and I am ignorant of the various arguments. 

For some reason the good people who run Toronto thought that the best way to celebrate Canada Day was to hire, at gi-normous expense, and from the US, the world's biggest rubber duck and float it on Lake Ontario in the middle of their city.

I honestly do not know where people get these ideas. 

That said, like many of the citizens of Toronto, we pitched up to look at it. 

And there it is. Make of it what you will. 

If it's August in Orkney, it must be ...

... time for the County Show and the Flower Festival.

I think I have said here before that we go to the County Show most years and come away saying 'It wasn't as good as last year' and that is exactly what we did this year, except that this year it was so disappointing I can't see us going again for quite a long time, if ever. 

There seemed to be a lot fewer animals this year than previously; the selection of sheep was particularly lacking. The craft tent, which is always stuffy and overcrowded, seemed even more so than usual and  we couldn't; bear to stay in it long enough to get all the way round. I did win a can of Spanish beer on the SNP bottle stall but I wouldn't have bothered even trying had not my Director of Studies waved us over with an imperious hand and shamed me into buying a quid's worth of tickets. Even the pancake from the Cathedra stall was too thick and didn't have nearly enough filling in it. 

Or perhaps it was just my mood.

Anyway here are a few pictures of some of the sheep and goats

it always amazes me how they have to wrestle the sheep into position. 

you don't often see a sheep sitting down, especially like this

hungry goat

curious kid

milling sheep with creepy white faces

I did treat myself to some alpaca yarn. I am supposedly not buying yarn just now but this was special. I had no idea that the small school on Papa Westray, one of the smallest populated islands of Orkney was home to several alpacas which are looked after by the children. The alpacas are shorn and the fibre washed, carded, spun and dyed by the  children with help from others in the community and they sell the resulting wool to raise funds. I have no idea what I will use this for, but it was a lovely clear turquoise colour and I couldn't resist it. 

Hot on the heels of the County Show was the Flower Festival which is held in the Cathedral. There is always a theme, some of which lend themselves to flower arranging rather more than others. I remember the Fairy Tale year with particular fondness. This year, it being the 900th Anniversary of the Martyrdom of Saint Magnus (and let us leave aside that no-one is quite sure exactly which year he died and moreover the fact that it was not in actual fact a martyrdom) the theme more or less chose itself. It is however one of those which do not lend themselves particularly well to interpretation of the floral variety. There were a few lynch points*. 

The axe is a bit of a giveaway here, obviously the murder of Magnus.

Viking ship - so in the general area of what we're trying to illuminate

My favourite arrangement of the day, which had nothing to do with the overall theme, it was one of the occasional pieces which fill out the gaps between the big set pieces. 

Don't get me wrong; despite the slightly jaundiced tone which stems mainly from disappointment, I am full of admiration for the women who produce these arrangements. As someone who could never even arrange sticks of pussy willow in a  jam jar at school I do appreciate what a lot of hard work and artistic ability goes into producing things like this. I am just sorry that on this occasion it was for me all a bit 'sound and fury'. 

Maybe next year they'll pick something that is more amenable to being said with flowers. 

*This should say linch. As in linch pins. Possibly. I'm sure you get my drift. 

Hiatus

Just to say the blog is on hold just now, as Real Life is a bit of a struggle and the fewer things I feel as 'obligations' the better. When everything is fine, writing this is a pleasure and not seen as an obligation, but when things aren't quite so hunky dory and I don't feel like writing it for a few days I start to feel guilty about it. I shouldn't, but I do. 

I will be back when I can, and I hope it won't be too long. A couple of weeks of peace and quiet may well restore equilibrium.

Project 60 Number 54 Beaver Tails

Yes, I'm afraid this is another food entry.

We sampled beaver tails on Canada Day in Toronto. I had never heard of them before, but basically they are  flat layers  (can layers be anything but flat?) of some sort of pastry, which are friend and then have a topping of your choice popped on them This being North America the toppings tend to the gooey and sickly. 

If I recall correctly I had a Nanaimo topping which means chocolate and coconut and possibly some custard. Grandson number 1 had chocolate and banana which I suppose was a bit healthy. Details of what everyone else had are hazy to say the least. 

However they are a Grand Old Canadian  Tradition of which we have now partaken. Not sure I would do it again but you never know.

There you go - Nanaimo topping, 

Littlest grandson tucking into the OH's offering. They were huge, but given time I'm sure he could have managed one of his own. 

More tomorrow on Canada Day, but no mention, hopefully of food. 

Project 60 - NUmber 53 - A Mexican Meal

We do occasionally have what we like to think of as Mexican food at home - fajitas and burritos - but they're Tex-Mex really and nothing like the real thing. So when son no 1 suggested we have a meal in a genuine Mexican restaurant in Toronto we were happy to oblige.

Here we are waiting - it was very busy, but that's a good sign in a restaurant I think

I ordered a sandwich - it was huge! I also ordered some Mexican form of lemonade which turned out to be water with lemon juice added. It was horrid. The phrase Learning Curve springs to mind. 

There were, naturally, churros (yum!)

and littlest grandson obviously agreed. . He was well taken with them. 

Perhaps not overall as enjoyable as the North African meal which has also featured on my list.  I would do it again, but  I'd stick with the branded soft drinks another time!

Project 60 - Number 52 - The Blue Jays at the Rogers Centre

The Blue Jays, for anyone who doesn't know, are the only professional Canadian baseball team, and I'm sure everyone knows that basically baseball is rounders played by some very unfit looking men in pyjamas who spit a lot.

That said, the OH and Son No 1 are big fans - no, make that Big Fans - and during our week in Toronto we went to see them play at the Rogers Centre, their home base at the bottom of the CN tower. Like Centre Court at Wimbledon it has a retractable roof. And there the comparisons with the genteel home of tennis come to a shuddering halt.

I have actually seen the Blue Jays play once before, somewhere else,  but this qualifies as a Project 60 event as my previous game wasn't at the Rogers Centre. Watching them play at the Rogers Centre is a bit like going to see Manchester United play at Old Trafford. (Not that I'd do that, even for Project 60, but you will get my drift).

Well much the delight of the boys the Blue Jays won; the only time they managed it that week (yes in baseball teams play every night for a week, often against the same opponents. I suppose it's a bit like a test series in cricket but without the breaks in between)

Discerning readers may be detecting a general lack of enthusiasm in my tone. Let's just say it wasn't the greatest of evenings. It was horribly loud, the game is slow, we couldn't see the bit of the pitch where the action was very well and given my bad eyesight I couldn't really tell what was going on, the Rogers Centre is a concrete monstrosity and the food was execrable. In addition I discovered to my horror that I was expected to stand up for the American National Anthem, which I didn't do. In all fairness I didn't stand for the Canadian one either, I don't stand up for God Save the Queen, and prospects, post independence,  of my standing up for a Scottish National Anthem, even should it be replaced with something a great deal better than 'O Flower of Scotland' are slim to non-existent. Other people feel differently and are entitled to, but I don't feel that I need to express my love for my country by singing some frightful ancient doggerel set to music which has little melody and a dirge like (lack of) rhythm. Or, by extension, leaping to my feet like Pavlov's dog when other people are singing it. 

So I don't have particularly happy memories, but what I do have is pictures. 

The excitement mount as we wait to get in and take our seats ...

An action shot. Totally accidental. There were some people so far out from the action but still on the field that they never actually touched the ball and might as well have been left at home. Also look at all those empty seats! 

Son No 1 and his two boys at what is their national game. Son No 1 does not like having his photograph taken. It was the first time the boys had been to a game and considering how long it lasted they did very well. 

Oh look, it's all over, we can go home.