Not such a happy one for lots of people here: they've just called off the Hogmanay street party. It's 10:30pm, so there are tens of thousands of people jammed into Princes St, freezing but cheerful at the prospect of live music and a huge "seven hills" fireworks display. Now they're all shuffling off to find something fun to do. The culprit was the wind. Aberdeen's street party was cancelled too. Drummochter Pass and the Slocht are both closed by snow -- they're the highest points on the main road to Inverness.
I'm at work, get off at about midnight, depending on what happens new-wise. Bertie is sleeping over with friends -- latest report was that he and their dog, Oz the terrierist, are getting on famously, even eating out of each other's dishes! I'm going to meet up with Fiona -- the traffic should have cleared by then -- for a modest celebration and maybe a party or two, then home.
After a delicious lie-in, Bertie's minders are coming round with him and we're going to watch a work colleague dice with death in annual Loony Dook. Then off to Fiona's again, for brunch this time, and then to work. Which should be a doddle ... but you never can tell.
Happy New Year, everyone!
31 December 2003
29 December 2003
:: happy happy
My computer's mostly fixed but I cannot get the modem going -- which is annoying because I bought it because my old modem wouldn't work under Windows XP. Hah. So anyway, no snaps of my wunnerful Christmas yet, and very little blogging because I can only do it at work and I'm really really busy at work.
There was a Christmas miracle up north: Bertie made friends with a child, Andrew's niece Jenny, age nine. She loves dogs, so she was thrilled to be his first ever junior chum. He was so relaxed she could walk him on the lead, and chase him shrieking across a field.
Mostly it was a whirl of activity, a lot of which was kitchen-based. I didn't do any farm work at all, tsk. I'm getting old -- the silage pit has lost its charms (it does have some! it's warm on a frosty morning, for one thing). We saw The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, and went to a brilliant panto, Jack and the Beanstalk. Jenny senior cooked up a storm despite having fallen and hurt her back at the weekend -- roast beef and Yorkshire pud on Christmas Eve, and turkey and all the trimmings plus pheasants for the Big Event. It was great seeing Ian and Yukari again too.
I called NZ on the 24th, talked to Liz, Leigh and Ken. Big merries to all those I missed!
Once my computer's back up I'll post some snaps.
There was a Christmas miracle up north: Bertie made friends with a child, Andrew's niece Jenny, age nine. She loves dogs, so she was thrilled to be his first ever junior chum. He was so relaxed she could walk him on the lead, and chase him shrieking across a field.
Mostly it was a whirl of activity, a lot of which was kitchen-based. I didn't do any farm work at all, tsk. I'm getting old -- the silage pit has lost its charms (it does have some! it's warm on a frosty morning, for one thing). We saw The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, and went to a brilliant panto, Jack and the Beanstalk. Jenny senior cooked up a storm despite having fallen and hurt her back at the weekend -- roast beef and Yorkshire pud on Christmas Eve, and turkey and all the trimmings plus pheasants for the Big Event. It was great seeing Ian and Yukari again too.
I called NZ on the 24th, talked to Liz, Leigh and Ken. Big merries to all those I missed!
Once my computer's back up I'll post some snaps.
19 December 2003
:: I broke my computer!!
I did a stupid, stupid thing; then I did another stupid, stupid thing which compounded the earlier stupid thing. Finally, Windows XP did a stupid, stupid, stupid thing. The net result was that I spent most of today backing up my files (whew). I've done some research on the net and have a solution for the short term, but in the long run I really need to do a complete reformat and reinstall. Given the amount of damage already inflicted, I think that would be best.
The first indication that something had gone horribly wrong was pretty spectacular: the screen was filled with just one word, repeating endlessly:
Grub is a Linux boot manager. It wasn't working.
Ah well, I'll get there in the end. In the meantime, however, I am without an internet connection. GRUmBle GRUmBle GRUmBle. I won't even have this work connection, as -- hurrah! -- this is my last night before a whole week off.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Oh, speaking of Christmas, I heard a great one on the radio this afternoon: a woman who runs some kind of Christmas decoration business was wittering on about changing fashions in tree-dressing. Her favourite was a Byzantine theme she'd devised. "I wanted something colourful so I thought, where's a colourful place? And it came to me: the Middle East! Even though the Middle East has nothing to do with Christmas, quite the opposite in fact."
The first indication that something had gone horribly wrong was pretty spectacular: the screen was filled with just one word, repeating endlessly:
Grub is a Linux boot manager. It wasn't working.
Ah well, I'll get there in the end. In the meantime, however, I am without an internet connection. GRUmBle GRUmBle GRUmBle. I won't even have this work connection, as -- hurrah! -- this is my last night before a whole week off.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Oh, speaking of Christmas, I heard a great one on the radio this afternoon: a woman who runs some kind of Christmas decoration business was wittering on about changing fashions in tree-dressing. Her favourite was a Byzantine theme she'd devised. "I wanted something colourful so I thought, where's a colourful place? And it came to me: the Middle East! Even though the Middle East has nothing to do with Christmas, quite the opposite in fact."
15 December 2003
:: damn
The police raided Ingliston Market -- no Christmas presents this year, then! (Kidding.)
I find the whole thing astounding, I have to say. It's been going on for years, both at Ingliston and at the Barras in Glasgow. And it's so blatant! I remember once seeing a woman come up to a bloke selling dodgy software, effing and blinding at him that he'd shopped her to the police and she'd lost a load of equipment. But no-one needs to shop anyone, they're all doing it right out there in public! Well, not the copying part, the selling.
I'll draw a veil over my own purchases at Ingliston. I'll just say the software industry hasn't lost a penny; I can't afford their finest products.
I'm feeling v. smug at the moment, having finished almost all my Christmas shopping. And I've still got a week to go! I still have to ice the cake, finish off a handcrafted gift, wrap some presents and distribute local cards. I'm off tomorrow -- appointment with the podiatrist in the morning -- working Wed-Fri and then off until after Christmas! Whoopee!
Mother and John, thank you very much for the tea towels. Gaudy is good! In fact I'm thinking of putting the very bright one up on the wall. Uncle Jock sent a calendar with a great pic on it of you and the Dick whanau, Mum. I think I'll frame that one at the end of next year.
I find the whole thing astounding, I have to say. It's been going on for years, both at Ingliston and at the Barras in Glasgow. And it's so blatant! I remember once seeing a woman come up to a bloke selling dodgy software, effing and blinding at him that he'd shopped her to the police and she'd lost a load of equipment. But no-one needs to shop anyone, they're all doing it right out there in public! Well, not the copying part, the selling.
I'll draw a veil over my own purchases at Ingliston. I'll just say the software industry hasn't lost a penny; I can't afford their finest products.
I'm feeling v. smug at the moment, having finished almost all my Christmas shopping. And I've still got a week to go! I still have to ice the cake, finish off a handcrafted gift, wrap some presents and distribute local cards. I'm off tomorrow -- appointment with the podiatrist in the morning -- working Wed-Fri and then off until after Christmas! Whoopee!
Mother and John, thank you very much for the tea towels. Gaudy is good! In fact I'm thinking of putting the very bright one up on the wall. Uncle Jock sent a calendar with a great pic on it of you and the Dick whanau, Mum. I think I'll frame that one at the end of next year.
10 December 2003
:: search
I'm completely addicted to this search thing: as I've said before, the statistics thingie I've got tells me the "referer" for my hits. And some of them are from internet searches.
Like "dog parka", for example. OK someone might be searching for that, but in Portugal? Why? Then there's "budgies sleep patterns", and "vegetarian perfume cruelty guerlain". Alarming that these people get my weblog up!
Oh, then there's "diy surgery dog spade" -- that really is disturbing, on both counts. In my defence, I was doing some diy, the dog had surgery, and then I bought a spade. They are not connected.
Here's one that was tooooo specific: "barevan christmas". It only gets one result. So: who was the mystery browser on Dec 05 2003 at 12:08:11 pm? Using a Tiscali connection? For 35 seconds? Ah yes, I have your IP address! I know your operating system -- Windows ME, the final clue.
Like "dog parka", for example. OK someone might be searching for that, but in Portugal? Why? Then there's "budgies sleep patterns", and "vegetarian perfume cruelty guerlain". Alarming that these people get my weblog up!
Oh, then there's "diy surgery dog spade" -- that really is disturbing, on both counts. In my defence, I was doing some diy, the dog had surgery, and then I bought a spade. They are not connected.
Here's one that was tooooo specific: "barevan christmas". It only gets one result. So: who was the mystery browser on Dec 05 2003 at 12:08:11 pm? Using a Tiscali connection? For 35 seconds? Ah yes, I have your IP address! I know your operating system -- Windows ME, the final clue.
9 December 2003
:: the hedge
After Saturday's Christmas experience I spent Sunday afternoon doing something much more satisfying: hacking back the rose hedge in the front garden. It's wildly overgrown and threaded through with honeysuckle -- sounds romantic, but it isn't. Rosemary next door got so sick of it snagging her guests she attacked it with the shears in midsummer -- not the best time of year to prune, but she was desperate. So I promised to give it a good trim this winter, and now it's a row of stumps. Once I've disposed of the mountain of clippings I'll feed the stumps and put some new compost around them. Just to show there's no hard feelings, you know. The roses should shoot back up, but if they don't they don't -- no biggie.
When I told Rosemary I might plant replacements if they do die, she hurriedly said she doesn't care if there isn't a hedge there. She says Mrs Blacker, the former owner, planted it because the paper boy and the postie used to cut across the lawn in front of the dining room while she was having breakfast, and she got sick of both the intrusion and the muddy trail they wore in the lawn. But as with everything else she didn't spend any time on upkeep and it grew leggy and mildewed and full of dead wood. In the spring I'm also going to reseed the front lawn -- now it will get a bit more light it might do better.
Yes, so that was Sunday -- I was out there until dusk, my feet freezing in my wellies, chopping away at 6ft high rose bushes. Overnight there was a harsh frost, with a fog to boot. On the way back from the morning walk I saw another neighbour trying to start his car. Rrr rrr rrr, rrr rr rrrrr. "Good luck!" I said cheerily. Ten minutes later I was sitting in my own car. Rrr [silence]. Rrr. Eh? I phoned Green Flag and just had time to wash the dishes before the mechanic was there with his jumper leads. Brrrmm! Apparently it was the cold. All I need to do is pour a kettle of boiling water on the battery. I have never heard of this, but that's what he said. I haven't had any problems in previous winters -- maybe I need a new battery.
So then I got my parcels posted and the cards and fuelled the car and and supermarketed and walked the dog again and made a curry and conked out on the sofa in front of the telly. Very enjoyable time off.
When I told Rosemary I might plant replacements if they do die, she hurriedly said she doesn't care if there isn't a hedge there. She says Mrs Blacker, the former owner, planted it because the paper boy and the postie used to cut across the lawn in front of the dining room while she was having breakfast, and she got sick of both the intrusion and the muddy trail they wore in the lawn. But as with everything else she didn't spend any time on upkeep and it grew leggy and mildewed and full of dead wood. In the spring I'm also going to reseed the front lawn -- now it will get a bit more light it might do better.
Yes, so that was Sunday -- I was out there until dusk, my feet freezing in my wellies, chopping away at 6ft high rose bushes. Overnight there was a harsh frost, with a fog to boot. On the way back from the morning walk I saw another neighbour trying to start his car. Rrr rrr rrr, rrr rr rrrrr. "Good luck!" I said cheerily. Ten minutes later I was sitting in my own car. Rrr [silence]. Rrr. Eh? I phoned Green Flag and just had time to wash the dishes before the mechanic was there with his jumper leads. Brrrmm! Apparently it was the cold. All I need to do is pour a kettle of boiling water on the battery. I have never heard of this, but that's what he said. I haven't had any problems in previous winters -- maybe I need a new battery.
So then I got my parcels posted and the cards and fuelled the car and and supermarketed and walked the dog again and made a curry and conked out on the sofa in front of the telly. Very enjoyable time off.
7 December 2003
:: some pix
I did the Christmas shopping thing today -- went in on the bus and spent half the day trekking around various shops. You lucky people! My favourite purchases turned out to be decorations for the cake. I found cute robins, the kind with real feathers, for just 90p each! Bargain. I tried to have a look at the Christmas market, but it was too packed.
Here are some other photos from the past month:
Blackness Castle with 1,000 acres of sky.
Couple of autumnal shots from Blackford Hill.
Here's a picture taken the day Bertie was bashed up by the marina cat. His wounds have healed up ok.
Here are some other photos from the past month:
Blackness Castle with 1,000 acres of sky.
Couple of autumnal shots from Blackford Hill.
Here's a picture taken the day Bertie was bashed up by the marina cat. His wounds have healed up ok.
2 December 2003
:: changing faces
Another day, another new look: I didn't really like the last one, and as I said I changed it by accident. So here's another one: Bluebird. Nice and simple.
Today's Scottish word is dreich, adjective, dreary.
As in, "The weather's awfie dreich the day, hen." Damp, dull, with the kind of rain that is too light for the intermittent setting on the windscreen wipers but still manages to soak you through on a short walk.
See: smirr, smur noun
1 drizzly rain
verb (smirs, smirrs, smirring, smirred)
[intransitive]
2 to drizzle lightly
Well, we've had a good innings this year, weatherwise. I'm only grumbling because today was the day I was meant to heave my old mattress and bedframe out on to the pavement, and I forgot. And now I'm going to have to do it when I get home. At 1am. In the smirr.
Today was also the day I chose to lock myself out of the house again. Happily I hadn't mucked up my Cunning Plan and managed to get in ok, albeit with a wet bum and a very confused dog.
Speaking of Bertie, his leg had miraculously healed by the time I got home from work on Friday night. Which is just as well, because I overslept and missed his appointment with the vet on Saturday morning.
Today's Scottish word is dreich, adjective, dreary.
As in, "The weather's awfie dreich the day, hen." Damp, dull, with the kind of rain that is too light for the intermittent setting on the windscreen wipers but still manages to soak you through on a short walk.
See: smirr, smur noun
1 drizzly rain
verb (smirs, smirrs, smirring, smirred)
[intransitive]
2 to drizzle lightly
Well, we've had a good innings this year, weatherwise. I'm only grumbling because today was the day I was meant to heave my old mattress and bedframe out on to the pavement, and I forgot. And now I'm going to have to do it when I get home. At 1am. In the smirr.
Today was also the day I chose to lock myself out of the house again. Happily I hadn't mucked up my Cunning Plan and managed to get in ok, albeit with a wet bum and a very confused dog.
Speaking of Bertie, his leg had miraculously healed by the time I got home from work on Friday night. Which is just as well, because I overslept and missed his appointment with the vet on Saturday morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)