:: ho ho ho

Well it warmed up after the big frost and Christmas Day it was positively balmy. In fact, as Faye remarked, it was warmer than some Dunedin Christmases.

So here are a few festive snaps for you to look at:


On Christmas Eve we had dinner at the Rail Bridge cafe, and amused ourselves taking snaps of the bridge.


Afterwards we went in to the midnight carol service at the High Kirk of St Giles. It was lovely - the minister did a great anti-war sermon.


You can just about make out the banners in this shot - they have angels on them, done in applique.


My little Poundstretcher tree is still going strong - not as fab as the St Giles tree.


Bertie had an appointment at the vet's on Christmas Eve, and ended up with a new dressing. Sigh. He hates it. He's wearing one of my socks on it -- when he goes out he has the sock, then a plastic bag, then his lace-up boot, which is covered in three layers of gaffer tape. And sometimes the bandage still gets wet. Sigh.


We all got lovely presents. Faye gave Bertie a Marks & Spencer dog treat stocking, and he scoffed the lot! We were disappointed to discover that the pudding in the toe was a squeaky toy. He's scaredof squeaky toys.


Faye got a beautiful shawl.


My best pressie was the flame-thrower. It was meant to be a birthday present, but Faye couldn't send it through the mail because it includes a gas bottle. Way to go!


After opening the presents we went for a walk. Bertie wore his antlers, the ones Faye got him that have flashing lights and play "Silent Night". He was a huge hit, especially with children.

:: more frost

Here's another picture I took the other day, frost crystals on the shed roof. See the slight sunset glow there? It was taken at noon.

:: stitched up

Bertie update: He got his stitches out all right, but still has a bandage, which he has to wear until Christmas Eve. He squealed while the vet took the stitches out and she chastised him - but then realised he was crying because the receptionist was holding his leg too tightly. Ow, ow, ow!

I got some partridges at the butcher's yesterday. I went to a real old-fashioned place in Stockbridge, which has a grand display of pheasants, rabbits etc, all with their clothes on, as it were. The other old-fashioned touch is that the butcher is a compulsive opinionator, like a classic taxi driver. As I went in, he was conversing with another customer.

Customer: Yes, I've always thought guinea pigs would be delicious.
Butcher: Aye, especially the young ones that haven't run around a lot. No reason not to eat them.
Customer: They eat them in South America.

A nice young assistant fetched the partridges out of the display cabinet for me.

Butcher: Those are grey partridges those, they're the best ones.
Customer: Better than French partridges.
Butcher: Aye, they're no good, French partridges. See those over there? [Indicates birds in display.] They're French partridges, don't buy those.
Customer [addressing me]: Do you know why they call them French partridges?
Me: Because they come from France?
Customer: No! It's because they run [makes running motion with fingers].
Butcher: She doesn't know, she's a townie. It's amazing what town folk don' t know. Country people know it all.

The partridges look awfully wee. I got four just in case.

I've got all next week off, hurrah. It's not actually such a bargain - Christmas Day is a non-publishing day, so everyone gets Christmas Eve off. Whereas there are no non-publishing days the following week, so I have to work six days, including New Year's Eve. I'm hoping to get off by 11:30pm that night so Faye and I can see in 2003 in Princes Street, with fireworks and a dram.

There's a lot of grumbling by those working on Christmas Day. Usually it's a very short shift - everyone comes in early, works hard to get the paper finished and are off home by 8pm or so. But this year The Powers That Be have decreed there shall be two editions, with almost normal off-times, 9:30pm and 11pm. Plus it isn't clear whether anyone has arranged for food to be laid on. The canteen is closed and all restaurants, cafes, shops etc are shut. Merry Christmas, wage slaves! You can be sure that none of the Powers will be working that day.

:: update

Well yes, it's been a while since Bertie hurt his foot. Over a fortnight -- he gets the stitches out tomorrow morning.

He was very drunk the day I picked him up way back then. The vet had given him a shot to bring him round as I had to pick him up early (before work), but he wasn't "awake" in the full sense of the word. The lift was stopping about halfway up the building, so to speak. He recovered after a few days and now he's totally stir crazy from being kept on the lead all the time. I've been putting chew deterrent on his bandages, which has worked a treat, and he has a little boot to wear too. He's worn through the stitching on that, so it has to have a plastic bag inside.

I've been busy being organised for Christmas -- I'm doing very well, I have very little left to organise and there are still five days left!

Faye arrived a couple of days ahead of schedule -- her British colleagues had convinced her Scotland was far, far away so she'd planned on taking a couple of days to come up. In the event she did it in one hit! The house was filthy - I was leaving cleaning till the last minute - but she didn't mind. I dragged the tree down out of the attic and we dressed it together. She also brought Christmas decorations and I already had a pine wreath, so the place is looking reasonably festive. (Bertie is also looking very Christmassy -- Faye brought him some more antlers, and these ones not only have flashing lights, they play Away in a Manger as well! Not a happy puppy!)

And at least the windows are clean - I managed to snag one of the local window-cleaners as he was passing and get him to do them. Only a fiver, and he even did the front door! What a bargain. He's going to come regularly from now on.

As you can see from the picture above, it's quite cold at the moment. The back yard hasn't defrosted for days and in some places you'd think it had been snowing, the frost is that thick. Last night a fog came down as well, which is still lingering. That's why the trees are frosted right up to the tops. Jingle Bells!

One wonderful aspect of the weather is that the frost bounces white light into the house, making it much brighter inside than normal in winter. Especially with the windows being so squeaky clean.

:: Mark Harden's Artchive

Mark Harden's Artchive

This is a great art site. The best bit is the image viewer. Worth a visit.

:: jingle all the way ...

Bertie and Faye at the marina this afternoon. Brrrr.

:: uh oh

As I write this, Bertie is in Linlithgow, coming round from an anaesthetic. He's got stitches in the cut on his paw, which apparently is a classic greyhound injury -- it's in the web between his toes. I took him to the vet this morning as the home medication didn't seem to be having much effect. So now he's strapped up with a fancy-pants bandage and has yet more antibiotics. The damage to me, so far: £136.30. Kaching!! Still to come: two bandage changes (at least) and stitch removal in a fortnight's time, plus more bandages after that. Kaching!!

Good news: he's insured! Hurrah!

Bad news: the excess is £80! Boo!

In five minutes I have to drive to Linlithgow (again) to pick up a groggy dog. I'll take him for a sedate (or is that sedated?) walk, then off to work for a 3pm start due to early deadlines.

:: time flies

I never did get back and finish that, did I? And now it's nearly Thursday (ten minutes to go) and Bertie's on to his next injury (cut paw, ow! ow!). He's being home-medicated -- a thorough sluicing with salty water, followed by lavender oil (it's antiseptic and he hates the taste, so doesn't lick so much). The dew claw injury has just about healed up; I hope the antibiotics are still active!

Where did I get up to in the travelogue? Flodigarry. So we stayed overnight and it was lovely -- the breakfast was superb, stewed prunes and apricots, mmm, and good coffee. It was raining, so we didn't do too much more walking, just around the grounds with the dog. Who had his photo taken by a tourist.

Then we drove back to Barevan through the romantically soggy landscape -- collecting more dog biscuits at the bridge toll. The highlands and islands really do look good in the rain, and at this time of year there's more colour around than in the summer.

Jenny and John had been coping with the farm work all right, and after Andrew had been round the cattle we whizzed off to see the latest Harry Potter. It was ok, though pretty dark in parts. There's one character, Dobby the House Elf, who I found particularly disturbing. He has a thing of punishing himself for mistakes and misdeeds by beating his head against the wall. In one scene, he said, "Dobby's been very bad. Dobby had to iron his hands." He held up his hands and they were bandaged. It's enough to give me nightmares, let alone a sensitive ten-year-old. But the rest was fun, especially the flying car and the quidditch match.

I came back the next day, traffic was fairly heavy so I didn't make good time. I had intended to go out, but crashed on to the sofa instead. Holidays are so tiring!!

This new job I'm in is frantically busy some nights -- like tonight. As well as revising everything and subbing some things and checking the pages and doing little odds and sods, I'm a general trouble-shooter and liaison person. I have to hold about six tasks in my head at any one time, prioritising and reprioritising as new problems come up. This can wait, that is urgent, the other might seem urgent to the person whose problem it is but can go fourth on the list. Meanwhile there was a party going on upstairs and some of the partygoers were standing at the atrium railing, sipping their drinks and gazing down at us beavering away.

But it's fun, I enjoy it. There's lots of variety and the time speeds along when you're busy.

Nearly time to go home, phew. Tomorrow I'm going to finalise arrangements for a lunch for our old foreign desk team: that will be fun! Five angry, opinionated people get drunk in working hours! Whee! I'll have to get someone else to walk Bertie that night; in this job I don't get a break long enough to go home in, and there won't be time between lunch and starting work. I'll work something out. Maybe I'll bring Bertie to work with me -- he can sleep in the car and I can walk him in the park.