I went to Balmaha beach at Loch Lomond. It’s my favourite spot in Scotland. It’s a stony beach beside a lovely Loch and usually so quiet and peaceful.
This time there were a few screaming kids that truly deserved a fork in their nasty wee foreheads…noisy fuckers.
Husband and I brought along one of those throw away barbeques, you know the ones where you light a metal tray and throw on sausages?
Now I loved the idea of a barbeque but in actual fact everything just tasted burnt and odd. Even the roll I ate it off tasted horrible, give me sandwiches any day.
Bloody barbeques! Wish I could have thrown those noisy kids onto the hot coals.
I made sure husband had enough sun block as the temperature soared, I forgot to put any on myself and today I am red and striped, I look like a barber’s pole.
My neckline is rosy red and around my eyes are big white circles where my glasses sat and my cheeks look like a Halloween cake, with big bulgy red circles.
I am sore and grumpy.
At least I have lost weight, not sure if this is my diet working or I have bowel cancer, as I had the skits for weeks off and on now. I am living on tablets that stop me having the runs. This is not good and I need to get a docs appointment. It may be stress, I am not sure.
Am off to watch TV and take Imodium…
Friday, June 08, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Never scared me…
Seems the day I had flown out of JFK, the New York police and FBI stopped a plot to blow it up!
They have arrested four men who are allegedly the terrorists who had organised to explode the fuel pipes that feed that airport.
I don’t know if the day I was flying out was that day they were getting ready to go to town on their explosive attack but I do know I no longer care or worry or fear terrorism.
When in London on any public transport I go sit right beside any Muslim looking man carrying a backpack. I figure if you welcome death it evades you and I never intend to be scared.
When I was a kid people would tell me not to go near a dog because it was biter and
I would always make a point of rubbing its head and making friends with it. I welcomed the rage of the animal, as I was sure if it smelt fear it would bite but if it recognised my lack of terror it would be ok.
This neither makes me brave or mad, it’s just a theory that I lived with and I have survived loads of shit in my life.
A few years ago a building near my home exploded, people died and were dying in that building and I ran towards it with a camera taking pictures of the devastation.
Those pics made the front page of the Glasgow Evening Times.
People questioned my motives at the time and I reckoned that a documentation of the unfolding event needed to be recorded. I have no idea why I carried on taking pictures as people were running around injured, but it felt ok at the time and as I have no real first aid experience I wouldn’t have tried to administer it.
So taking pictures was the only thing I could do.
Carrying on regardless in the middle of a scary situation is what I prefer to do.
My theory has seen me through the scariest of times and I am sticking with it. I don’t mean I actively seek danger, but if presented with a dangerous situation, I would rather fly in the face of it.
The only thing that really scares me is wasps and flying beasties.
Show me wasps or bugs and I will scream like a girl and run like the fucking wind.
Show me a man with a knife and I will challenge him to an arm wrestle.
They have arrested four men who are allegedly the terrorists who had organised to explode the fuel pipes that feed that airport.
I don’t know if the day I was flying out was that day they were getting ready to go to town on their explosive attack but I do know I no longer care or worry or fear terrorism.
When in London on any public transport I go sit right beside any Muslim looking man carrying a backpack. I figure if you welcome death it evades you and I never intend to be scared.
When I was a kid people would tell me not to go near a dog because it was biter and
I would always make a point of rubbing its head and making friends with it. I welcomed the rage of the animal, as I was sure if it smelt fear it would bite but if it recognised my lack of terror it would be ok.
This neither makes me brave or mad, it’s just a theory that I lived with and I have survived loads of shit in my life.
A few years ago a building near my home exploded, people died and were dying in that building and I ran towards it with a camera taking pictures of the devastation.
Those pics made the front page of the Glasgow Evening Times.
People questioned my motives at the time and I reckoned that a documentation of the unfolding event needed to be recorded. I have no idea why I carried on taking pictures as people were running around injured, but it felt ok at the time and as I have no real first aid experience I wouldn’t have tried to administer it.
So taking pictures was the only thing I could do.
Carrying on regardless in the middle of a scary situation is what I prefer to do.
My theory has seen me through the scariest of times and I am sticking with it. I don’t mean I actively seek danger, but if presented with a dangerous situation, I would rather fly in the face of it.
The only thing that really scares me is wasps and flying beasties.
Show me wasps or bugs and I will scream like a girl and run like the fucking wind.
Show me a man with a knife and I will challenge him to an arm wrestle.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Home again naturally…
Yes, bleak rainy Glasgow is good reminder of where I am from. I am glad to see the rain of Scotland batter off my bedroom window, believe me…after all that oppressive heat of NY; I am bathing in the rain!
I have slept more than I should and now it is Sunday afternoon and Ashley is sitting playing her guitar and making me smile. How I missed her!
I bought her G Unit rapper clothes in NY and she loved them, I was concerned about the sizes as the hoodie top was huge and I was utterly convinced that I knew no one who could wear such an overly sized item, but apparently that is how you wear the gear.
I did go to the kids department and got her a G Unit tee shirt and it fits her perfectly but that was the wrong thing to do as I was supposed to get the tee shirt in the size of a tent!
How I laughed when I saw my white tall middle class child dressed in big baggy rapper clothes…she looks so funny in them.
Husband and I had our ‘Welcome home’ argument that always happens when I go away for ages. I had to admit three things to stop the fight escalating.
1- I am selfish and don’t understand other peoples needs.
2- I need to accept the world does not revolve around me.
3- Husband does everything to make my life easier and I don’t appreciate it.
So I agreed to all of the above and the world went smoother. Underneath it all I am seething but being married means that you have to compromise your life to allow other people to function around you or apparently you are Hitler.
So I am home and happy (well sort of).
I have slept more than I should and now it is Sunday afternoon and Ashley is sitting playing her guitar and making me smile. How I missed her!
I bought her G Unit rapper clothes in NY and she loved them, I was concerned about the sizes as the hoodie top was huge and I was utterly convinced that I knew no one who could wear such an overly sized item, but apparently that is how you wear the gear.
I did go to the kids department and got her a G Unit tee shirt and it fits her perfectly but that was the wrong thing to do as I was supposed to get the tee shirt in the size of a tent!
How I laughed when I saw my white tall middle class child dressed in big baggy rapper clothes…she looks so funny in them.
Husband and I had our ‘Welcome home’ argument that always happens when I go away for ages. I had to admit three things to stop the fight escalating.
1- I am selfish and don’t understand other peoples needs.
2- I need to accept the world does not revolve around me.
3- Husband does everything to make my life easier and I don’t appreciate it.
So I agreed to all of the above and the world went smoother. Underneath it all I am seething but being married means that you have to compromise your life to allow other people to function around you or apparently you are Hitler.
So I am home and happy (well sort of).
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