Update

I know it’s been pretty quiet round here for a bit, but it’s probably going to stay that way for a little while.

As some of you know, Sophie and I are splitting up. I still love her to pieces but she feels she needs to live on her own so she’s going to stay with our friend up in Dunoon until she finds somewhere permanent.

As my head’s in a bit of a mess at the moment, I’m not going to bore you all with self-pitying rambles. As Sophie put it, normal service will be resumed sometime.

Soon, hopefully.

Music Be The Food Of … erm …

As as rule, Beloved Sophie and I don’t have arguments. Disagreements, discussions, a battle of wit and wisdom - yes, but not proper shouting matches. The closest we ever come is during DIY sessions or while pontificating about music.

The last such wrangle was over the meaning of a Cat Empire song. While not wishing to go over the details of it, in short I was completely correct and she was very, very wrong.

This week, it got heated fairly late on after 3 bottles of wine. I don’t remember the fine details but Beloved suggested I am “a crap musician” for reasons involving Paul Simon, Josef Mengele and the Bhundu boys.

I am ashamed to admit I had no answer to that.

Seeing stars

Horoscopes are bollocks.

We all know it.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you sneak a glance. I was reading my Metro news today, starting as usual with the Nemi cartoon and happened to spot my horoscope. WOE!! alack and alas!!! this weekend promises Aquarians “a tricky moment to negotiate in relationships”.

Panicked, I checked Beloved Sophie’s horoscope to find Pisceans are also due for relationship issues this weekend. Gadzooks!!

Just as I was looking up the number for the Samaritans, I spotted that Cancerians are headed for a “relationship shake-down”, Scorpios are warned not to trigger off relationships that are in a “volatile state”, Capricorns need to take care of someone’s feelings and Ariens have to “get serious where love is concerned”.

So either half the population of the globe is going into a relationship disaster zone or, as I said above, horoscopes are bollocks.

Furthermore

To follow on from Sophie’s post here

Last night we were enjoying the television for once. We’ve hardly been watching TV since we came back from holiday. The Sky subscription stops on Saturday night, the same night smoking in pubs will be banned. Sophie is convinced this is a sign of the coming of the apocalypse and society will fall to the Visigoths before Monday teatime. However, I digress.

We were watching a surprisingly entertaining programme about Paris. The subtitles when thusly

“why, yooo ‘av a very luuuvleee market stall, monsieur”

“ah yes and zat ees a lovely pear, you have there”

obviously, we fell about like the hyped up 10-year-olds we basically are.

Sophie snorted:-

“ah the French. They just don’t DO double entendres”

ummm …

Oh it’s a jolly holiday with Sophie …

A week in Sunny Scotland with a first experience of sailing and a recap on our drinking skills, with my beloved by my side. What more can a man ask for, short of singing rude songs and a side platter of nostalgia?

Drove up to Dumfries on the Friday afternoon with the traditional stop at Tebay services, now featuring a snazzy and posh Deli/Organic/GorgeousStuff counter. Drove on with the traditional “wooohooooo we’re in Scotland!” when passing the Iron Bridge.

Maw and Paw chuffed to see us, of course. Spent a cheery Friday night nattering to them and being fed to within an inch of our lives.

Shona arrived on Saturday so more nattering before Sophie and I went for a mooch round Dumfries. There was some sort of street theatre going on which was probably very entertaining but I got distracted by the woman in a ringmaster’s outfit and stripy tights “training” another woman in a Lion suit which appeared to be slightly too big for the pert bottom she ended up virtually baring in the High Street. Hence my distraction …

The centre of Dumfries is a bit of a sorry sight. So many boarded up shop fronts and what’s left is mostly charities and cheap tat. I remember it being a lot busier and the shops being more varied. Whether this is a trick of my memory or a sad symptom of the growth in out-of-town shops, I don’t know. There was a market behind the steeple which was quite cool but I did leave town feeling a bit sad.

Saturday night and it’s off to the pub with Tracy and her new man, Jack who turned out to be a semi-pro musician and a top bloke all round. We spent the night discussing guitars, music, songs and generally boring the arse off of the womenfolk. Smoking is banned in Scottish pubs now so as I was with 3 chain smokers, I spent more time than I care to outside in the freezing cold - and I don’t even smoke.

Once we’d out-stayed our welcome in every pub we could find, we headed back to Tracy’s flat where I strategically passed out on the floor. We somehow managed to get lost between her flat and the main road which is quite an impressive feat, but eventually found the taxi and made it back to my parents’ house.

Sunday, as you may imagine, was quiet.

Monday morning, and we said all our goodbyes before heading north. We decided to take the coast road which, to Sophie’s relief, only referred to the part around Largs and not going via Stranraer. On reaching the road approaching Ardrossan, my excitable driver spotted something:-

“OOOOO, LOOOK SEA!!! SEE??? SEA!!!”

“ROAD!!! CARS!!! RRROOOOAADDDDDD, WOMAN!!!”

“what? oh yes, those…SEAGULLS!! I CAN HEAR SEAGULLS!!”

“WILL YOU CONCENTRATE ON YOUR DRIVING?? WATCH!!! CARAVAN!!”

“WOOOWWW!!! Proper ROCKS!!! I’ve never SEEN a ROCK POOL, d’you think there’ll be a rock pool? maybe i can get a bit closer … “

“hailmarymotherofgodprayforussinnersnowandatthehour…”

“you’re not even Catholic, smart arse”

“…ofourdeath - i don’t care, it’s worth a try - LORRY! LORRYYYYYYYY!”

” I saw it, I saw it. Calm down. Honestly, what a wendy”

“you mean Jessie. No, wait …”

200 miles and Four of my Nine Lives later, we approached Greenock. Or Gourock. One of the two. I get them confused. Just as we were coming in, my phone goes.

It’s the police.

in Holyhead.

in Wales.

… to be continued

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