There is a little red-headed girl who lives at the end of our street. It is her birthday today. I know this because her parents decorate the tree in their front garden with balloons and stars each year on her birthday. I do not know the family but every year when the balloons and stars go up in the tree I heave a sigh of relief and quietly wish the little red-headed girl another happy birthday.
It is not that she has a life threatening condition or illness, as far as I am aware, but that each summer she has been running, cycling and playing ball games in the street. This began as soon as she could walk and has always been unsupervised by any responsible adult. I am simply glad that she has survived to play another year.
Ours is not a busy street and it is a 20mph zone but I am amazed that in her short life she appears to have avoided injury or death as she runs and cycles back and forth across the street. I suppose, like us, other drivers know that she is there and reduce speed accordingly but she must also lead a charmed life to have reached another birthday. May you have many more birthdays little red-headed girl. I just wish your antics didn't leave me with my heart in my mouth so often!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Travelling (too) light
I would like to consider myself a seasoned traveller. I have travelled en famille, with Sean, with friends and as a solo traveller. In fact one of the original thoughts I had for a title of this blog was 'An Idiot Abroad' as I knew I would inevitably have to recount some of my strange experiences and situations that I find myself in when I am let loose on the world.
Despite a well stamped passport and a long term love/hate relationship with Scotrail and East Coast Railways I have never mastered the art of packing. I belong firmly in the school of 'I might need this so I will pack it despite the fact I have never needed it before'traveller. This is not to say I always remember to pack everything that I do need. Most commonly I forget to pack my hairbrush and toothpaste but I have been known to completely miss out underwear. I tend to think that as long as I have my passport and tickets I can always pick up anything I have forgotten in a local shop when I reach my destination.
Sean, on the other hand, is an expert packer. He always says, 'Lay out all your clothes and money that you wish to take, then pack half the clothes and twice the money.' He got packing down to a fine art when he spent three years commuting between Aberdeen and The Hague. Each Monday he would leave for the airport with a carry on case and return on Fridays ready to do it all again the following week.
Recently we travelled down to Bridge of Allen for a wedding. We stayed overnight in the Adamo hotel where we had a wonderful evening meal before retiring to the bar and finally to bed in preparation for the forthcoming wedding. Given what I have stated above, imagine my shock when Sean's first words when he woke up in the morning were, 'I haven't packed my tie.'
This revelation, in normal circumstances, would not elicit the panic I felt just then. After all, suitable neck wear can be picked up in any gent's shop or department store. The problem was that we needed a Red Gordon tartan tie to match his kilt! However, not only were we still in Scotland (there would have been no possible solution in any other country!)but we were in Stirling so there simply had to be kilt shops aplenty in which to find, if not Red Gordon, then something suitable. Given that, it still took visits to two shops before he returned with a Red Gordon tie!
The wedding, despite the rain, was wonderful. The Bride, beautiful, the groom charming and the guests, witty. And Sean, well turned out and handsome!
Despite a well stamped passport and a long term love/hate relationship with Scotrail and East Coast Railways I have never mastered the art of packing. I belong firmly in the school of 'I might need this so I will pack it despite the fact I have never needed it before'traveller. This is not to say I always remember to pack everything that I do need. Most commonly I forget to pack my hairbrush and toothpaste but I have been known to completely miss out underwear. I tend to think that as long as I have my passport and tickets I can always pick up anything I have forgotten in a local shop when I reach my destination.
Sean, on the other hand, is an expert packer. He always says, 'Lay out all your clothes and money that you wish to take, then pack half the clothes and twice the money.' He got packing down to a fine art when he spent three years commuting between Aberdeen and The Hague. Each Monday he would leave for the airport with a carry on case and return on Fridays ready to do it all again the following week.
Recently we travelled down to Bridge of Allen for a wedding. We stayed overnight in the Adamo hotel where we had a wonderful evening meal before retiring to the bar and finally to bed in preparation for the forthcoming wedding. Given what I have stated above, imagine my shock when Sean's first words when he woke up in the morning were, 'I haven't packed my tie.'
This revelation, in normal circumstances, would not elicit the panic I felt just then. After all, suitable neck wear can be picked up in any gent's shop or department store. The problem was that we needed a Red Gordon tartan tie to match his kilt! However, not only were we still in Scotland (there would have been no possible solution in any other country!)but we were in Stirling so there simply had to be kilt shops aplenty in which to find, if not Red Gordon, then something suitable. Given that, it still took visits to two shops before he returned with a Red Gordon tie!
The wedding, despite the rain, was wonderful. The Bride, beautiful, the groom charming and the guests, witty. And Sean, well turned out and handsome!
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