May 2006

Tomorrow J is going to be six and, naturally, the conversation this weekend has revolved around age and birthdays.

This morning as she jumped into bed to try to get me up, she fixed me in her gaze and asked me – earnestly – if I could remember what I was doing in 1945.

Spluttering and fighting back waves of pain and sadness, I promised myself that I really had to start going to bed earlier as I obviously need some rejuvenating beauty sleep. Badly.

Edinburgh has been overrun by a load o’ coos !! All sorts, all colours, in all kinds of places.

Yes, the CowParade has arrived, brightening up selected locations across the city and its environs with molded cows whose names are some of the worst puns on record. They do, however, mean that you can’t help but smile when you read them.

Little madam and I spent a lovely dad’n’daughter day last Sunday with our little digital cameras shooting all of the cows at Ocean Terminal and the stray on the Shore. I’m delighted that she seems to have a little creative streak in her and she loves taking photos. She’s not half bad at it either (though she hasn’t permitted me to put any of her shots up yet; a five year old who is fiercely protective over her creative rights !).

This weekend (weather permitting) I’ve been ordered to take her up to Princes Street so she can photo the rest…

I’m still here, though I’ve been a bit short of blogging time this last week,

I have, though, contributed a guest post over at Croila’s excellent blog. Pop over and have a read !

Today it rained (at times quite heavily), leading to an outbreak of grumbling about ‘typical British summer weather’. But not from me.

Wet me

Oh no – I love the rain, especially when it’s not cold outside and I’m dressed in shorts. I really have no idea why this should be the case, but I discovered the joys of rain in mild temperatures when I was in Slovenia one summer and outside admiring a phenomenal alpine thunderstorm. At that point I just wanted to put on a pair of shorts and galumph around in the downpour like a loony, feeling the rain run over me and not having to give a stuff about getting wet or not.

So today, I really enjoyed my cycle to and from work. It rained, everyone looked miserable and huddled in sheltered spots, and I had a ball. I was wearing my lycra cycling shorts and cycling raincoat and I really didn’t care if I was wet or not. In fact, I ended up pedalling in an even more furious manner to feel the rain spatter off my face just that little bit harder, and I was ecstatically happy.

Oh, blissful rain and an open cyclepath. My idea of a heavenly treat !

Here’s a harmless piece of fun to while away the hours. See how Scottish you are and then get to hear the new Scotland World Cup song !

There is a fundamental law governing the workings of the Universe. Somewhere within the depths of quantum mechanics, between wave particle duality and macroscopic quantum systems, it is written that smoke alarm batteries will always run low in the middle of the night and it is then, around 3am, that the warning beeps will start going every two minutes.

Inevitably, this leads to an inner conflict along the lines of:

Subconscious 1: “Get up ! You’ll never sleep through that racket… go and get the stepladder and take the battery out so you can get peace.”

Subconscious 2: “Noooooooo….. if I get up now, I’ll wake myself up getting the stepladder out of the hall cupboard and climbing the 6ft up to the ceiling. Besides, in a sleepy daze I might slip and fall off and really hurt myself. I’ll drift back off to sleep if I pull the duvet over my head to dull the sound.”

Of course, against all common sense, Subconscious 2 always wins though the sleep is never deep and I still hear the beeping from then on until the alarm goes off at 6am.

I have been barely functioning for the remainder of the day. Maybe I should sue the manufacturers for loss of consciousness ?