Back!

So many shades of green!

Normal service has been resumed.

It was nicer than I expected.  Our cottage was near the loch side so you could walk from the front door down to the water where it was so peaceful, apart from the lilting burn (which was pretty full - we got our fair share of rain although the sun shone more than I dared hope),  the only other sounds the meh-ing of sheep in the nearby field and birdsong.  We discovered a colony of lizards in the rockery and one evening I spotted the barn owl, an eerily silent figure flitting through the orchard.

And midges.  Of course.  I got a good crop of bites - by the way, why is it always me who gets eaten alive and not OH?  Is his blood less tasty?

And it turned out we had wifi which I didn't expect so I've been lurking about the internet after all.  So much for my good intentions.

Anyway I feel relaxed and spaced out now so it's ironed out a few of my wrinkles.  Here are a few snaps to give you an idea.

At the loch side

looking towards Schiehallion

Me & Theo with OH and son Scott

Hodilays!

Well, it's finally arrived.  My long anticipated holiday is here at last.  In a few hours I'll be zooming up the motorway to the Perthshire wilderness for a week of solitude, pub grub and no internet.


It's odd but the prospect fills me with a kind of giddy panic.  It's so easy to go online I'm hardly off it these days - not that that's a good thing - but I'm hoping its absence will help me get my head together on one or two projects.  


I'm taking a minimum of writerly paraphernalia, basically notebook and pen. It's so long since I didn't type it will be interesting to see if I can still write longhand.  I might end up pulling something and having to wear a splint.


This being Scotland there's a good amount of rain forecast, so I might even drown!


Anyway, before I go here's an interesting blog post I spotted this week that might be worth your attention.  


Be good!

A Week Off

Other half and younger son are on a week's holiday so it's a break in routine.  I've been catching up with the bits of painting left over by the professionals and getting a different perspective on things.  Not much time for writing although I'm doing odd bits when I can.

Last week I took my razor sharp editor's knife and cut 4 whole chapters which made my eyes water I don't mind telling you.  The story had taken a wrong turn and it had to go.  My priority at the moment is getting the shape of the story right, and it's proving elusive.  But I now feel I have the bones of something better.  Of course I'll need to write a lot of new material but once I get the form right that won't be difficult.

So I'm taking this week to mull things over before getting back to it.  I feel like a mole emerging from the gloom of his tunnel.  So that's what the world is like...

A Holiday Moan

Back from the wilds, all rested and spaced out. But never one to pass up the chance to moan, here is my

Five Reasons to Hate Holidays

1 You become the prey of a multitude of carniverous beasts. OK, that's a bit melodramatic, especially when the worst of them is only a few milimetres long, but it's no fun finding a sheep tick attached to you, not to mention the million and a half I plucked from Theo's fur during the course of a week. Then there's the midges. Don't get me started on them.

How people do African safaris is beyond me.

2 The food isn't home cooked. It's a personal sacrifice but I draw the line at carting my apron and recipe book along with me, so the only alternative is take-aways and supermarket ready meals. There's eating out of course, and I continue to buy lottery tickets in anticipation of that happy day, but Dame Fortune so far has proved an elusive mistress. Yes, I know I could go all Zen and detox at the same time, but it's hardly fun, is it? And besides the males in my party would have several coronaries if I even suggested it. After a week of eating rubbish my colon is now fit for nothing and my system so sluggish it's all I can do to get out of a chair.

3 The beds are never as comfortable. In days long past I may have been content to put my back out on a rubberised hammock with all the softness of a medieval rack, but these days I like my home comforts. The mattress is never as soft/hard/wide/narrow and the duvet is never as soft/warm/cool/long as I like it. To overcome this I am forced to down several quarts of alcohol per night to guarantee a decent night's rest.

4 The accommodation is different from home. Well, of course it is, I hear you cry. But the downside of this is getting to know my way around. By the time I've figured out where the cutlery, tv remote control and loo paper are kept it's just about time to pack up and come home. I only realised the windows opened on the morning we left!

5 It takes so long to get there and back. Forget all those endearing travelogues with Michael Palin and Stephen Fry, driving anywhere for five hours in a car full of bags, dogs and significant others is a serious Pain In The Arse. There are no rosy sunsets, no colourful natives, only road works, motorways and - joy of joys - service stations. I'm convinced if there is a hell it is a service station where you never have enough change for the cappacino machine and there's a queue at the toilet. The trip home is always the worst. At least at the beginning of a holiday you have the excitement and novelty of going somewhere different. By the end you are so tired and fed up you just want to be beamed down a la Star Trek and have little patience for the helpful little notices on the motorway messageboards.

Still, moaning aside, I did manage to have a nice relaxing time - the quarts of alcohol certainly helped - and here's some photos to prove it.