Thelma & Louise's roadtrip without Brad...unfortunately

Have just returned from what one kind friend described as "my latest tree hugging adventure" when she phoned me this morning to see if I was speaking normally again - or still chanting.....

I did have in fact the most marvellous restoring adventure with my sister as we "seized the day" and headed not for the hills, but the sea. Proving Scotland has to be right up their with spectaculor AND conveniant as a holiday destination! Our itinerary began badly with the need to make our first decision 600 yards from her front door as to whether we went, as she put "by the motorway" (an A road) or meandered. In the end as Hedge had unhelpfully removed the map along with the rugby boots and jump leads from the boot of the car -we did both.

Thankfully we had no need for the boots or leads -and because we did a fair bit of surreptitious beach combing the boot looked like an "arty skip" on our return. We headed for The Creative Retreat - an escape from reality in the little seaside settlement of Gardenstown -6 miles from MacDuff - between Banff and Fraserburgh.

The villages claim to fame was it's eight churches to one pub -and a slight air of tumble weed rolling down the one main street that hugs the coast at the foot of a steep cliff. There is barely room for two cars to pass let alone any parking -but we did have a birds eye view along the length of the street from the sitting room window of the lovely simple little house we took. No need for a telly -there was a surprising ammount of to-ing and fro-ing with a marvellous "cast" -especially as we took the oppertunity to make up their script for them....

After arriving (my sister's not much of a map reader) - and not having the most specific directions -go left at the brown shed (which had been painted blue) go down a steep hill, then a steeper one and its the house up the steps next to the pub, red key fits lock....I was confronted with six doors and we had the first moment of a developing theme of helpless incontinent laughter as I tried the key in all six locks........At least the following day when we were the ones with people walking into our house yelling "Is this the right place?" we got a double laugh - especially the third time it happened and I made my sister wait until they came up two flights of stairs into our sitting room to enquire.....We were so busy unhelpfully snorting and giggling we could barely direct the "new comers" that in fact no it wasn't -such was their mortification - imagine heading into someones front room thinking you'd arrived!! they were all identifiable as other artists (so I didnt feel quite so bad) but they had yet to climb up the perpendicular steps on the outside of the house to the studio that was entered from the street above - the houses had a peculiar way of spanning two streets.

On the upside of their being a life class with the most fantastic professional model 50 steps away - I joined the class on the second afternoon and lost myself in a cosy fug of like minded people transporting myself back 25 years to art college - BLISS! and not bad results either.....

meanwhile my sister hugged rocks not trees and got herself as lost as you can in the quaint little streets where every close takes you within 2 inches of the inhabitants living room window, like some weird gallery -but every second house is a holiday home -with notices taped to the panes inviting you to look in and book -we only found ourselves inspecting two dwellings where the owners were living and very tolerant of us gawping.

The beach was brilliant with the most amazing stones - and tiny teeny little round bits of glass the size of cat litter with edges worn as smooth as a pebble. The pockets of our coats soon filled to the point of had we fallen in the water drowning would have been a certainty. Mo, a determined trophy hunter carried an enormous decorative rock all the way home despite my protests that she was pillaging -she ascertained with the greatest of authority that on a beach with a gazillion pebbles - there was plenty for everyone.

Typical Scottish short break weather -it rained, it snowed, it hailed, the sun shone, it was windy -gale force, warm -and freezing cold -all in two days!

The publican informed us that Friday was "Pie night" and to "expect a rush in the street at midnight" -unsure if he was pulling our touristy legs or not we were amazed when the cars started lining up and the scuttling started. Everyone kept disappearing into a wall - so when we went to investigate further and were completely blown away a. from the smell of the baking (whilst again slightly hysterical at the thought that they might be Sweeny Todding the tourists" we tentatively pushed open a plain brown door with no handle to be confronted with every sort of fresh hot pie - 2 for a £1 -in every sort of variety....although no canabills, and damn it the chocolate eclairs were not to be ready for another half hour......

We put the world to rights, talked ourselves to sleep, got caught out with the clocks changing - so didn't go to bed till 3am -laughed until we were sore, cried until we were better and slept like there was no demands on time. The initial purpose of the trip was to drop some pictures to a new gallery that is just re-launching, what we found was a vibrant art's sympathetic (mostly) - except for the local in the pub who thought Id been drawing newts - not nudes......I will most definitely return. Hedge would surely find it to his liking - just "knowing" there was a naked woman reclining in the room above him, plus hot pies and a cold pint within stabbing distance. the problem would still remain as to what to do with the boys....for Ferg there is no mobile phone signal (another wahay!) -the essential communication point that becomes as necessary as breathing for an adolescent. As for Archie and Fin -just too many doors to knock on and run away - too many windows to treat like the telly - they would certainly not have shown their mother and aunt's good manners -I'm quite certain they would have delighted in treating the going's on like a real life episode of Corrie....

We reluctantly trailed home passing a hobo hitch hiking that we decided was not Brad Pitt and therefore we had no need to stop for him - and after visiting Pennan (more beach combing and wet knickers)-and the RSPB reserve at Troup head where we lay for 3 hours watching gannets -I managed to controll my normal aversion to the birders as I saw for once the point of "watching" -I took nearly 200 photographs - please feel very free to decline the invitation if I ever offer to show you the results - I got a bit carried away with them wheeling overhead and took shot after shot of them zooming over. As we flicked through the digital results in the car there was a bird, and another bird, and another, and another -it seemed like a good idea at the time. I took several of my sister at the edge of the cliff instructing her two move to the right a bit.... it was only 150ft sheer drop off the edge -she sat on my legs and promised not to let go as I dangled past the point of safety to photograph nesting kittiwakes and gannets - another reason it was just as well the boys were at home (do as I say not as I madly do)

Only with hindsight did we realise that it was a moment of utter perfect bliss -not another human being in site - no wind, warm sunshine, warm tussocky grass to lie in, sensational views and a spectacular ariel display. Moments like that are hard to come by -confirmed by Hedge when I was describing it to him by "thank god I wasn't there...." I returned to find a clean and cosy house, the fire was on, hoovering was done, and the washing and ironing complete. A roast chicken dinner in the oven and the boys hysterical with relief that I had returned as they all said their father had been a tyrant with the hoover mop and bucket and wouldnt let them move without berrating them for the mess they were making. To be fair they can't acctually move without making a mess, it was so good to see them all again and 12 hours later the house is "back to normal" in a state of small nuclear device exploding in a skip...I was spectacularly grateful as coming home was as welcome as getting shot of them for 3 days had been, and there really is no place like home....well no bed and hugs anyway.......

Dog -gone Boy Blues

Oh how I love to blog.

My children are beyond fathoming - at least I dont have a teenage daughter plus her hormones to stir into the mix.... Menopause for dramatic effect.

Fergus is at RAF camp -he told me 14 of them out of the whole school had been "selected" -He "unselected" to tell me 7 of them were girls....I hope he learns nothing more than howmuch he loves his mother......I haven't heard from him since Sunday - yesterday I went into his room and cried my eyes out, which realy took me by surprise. a. it was tidy...... and b. gave me a minute glimpse of what it's going to feel like when he leaves home for good. His muted smell (ie diluted dolce & gabbana plus four days of the window open) made me miss him all the more, it was an improvement on his eye-watering "STYINK effect that normally precedes him and his bare hugs. On the upside meals are quieter and require less ingredients than a small population of a third world country so I keep over catering at supper time and the biscuits remain in the tins!!

Best of all my computer is nearly always available when I want to use it with fewer annoying downloads and randome music I have never heard of - or paid for.

Archie is not so easy to miss right now. He wont do anything other than "lolling" - Fergus's downfall is eating - Archie's is lolling.-Preferably in front of the TV. I am trying to comfort myself that he might need lolling and a boy needs peace and quiet to grow and ponder and mutate. But his lolling gets up every ones noses as he throws himself dramatically all over the sofa just as he's meant to go to the bus -or bed.He says he likes his bed better than anything - he just wont get in it when I tell him - or out of it when he's required elsewhere. Like school. "Shut-up" and "your Gay" remain the insult of choice.

Finlay it still excelling at junior gamekeeper pet of the family - which continues to be a red rag to the bull of his nearest sibling.....

Hedge is consistently smelling like an old kipper as the heather gets a torching in the name of grouse territory.

I made a presentation about my project today to the hardest audience in the universe - The Teenage brigade at the Academy in Aboyne. I spoke for 20 minutes to a sea of absolutely emotionless, expressionless blank canvasses -and I said any questions? and they all said no? then 2 of the clapped and they all left. I guess they save it all for their own mothers!! Their drama teacher made me laugh afterwards - she said" Thanks very much Mel that was absolutely fascinating - they were all enthralled and they are really interested...." (Thank god I hadn't gone to talk to them about something really exciting - it would have killed them)

We interview for the new head next thursday until then I remain a social pariah -after then - if we appoint -and she's good - it will all be forgotten - if she's no good - or we don't appoint heaven help me!!

I'm lining up next years project - I'm planning on contiuing to promote the arts in the local community by becoming a network promoter for the North East Arts Touring brigade - We hope to to put on touring theatre in Finzean. Should be a laugh, it may not be rocket science -it remains to be seen if it's Shakespeare.

Bee The Border had 4 puppies last Monday, and she's sulking cause she cant leave me babysitting and go with the keeper. However they are utterly adorable and it's NOT often i get sentimental over puppies. In another couple of weeks we will have to persuade the boys that once we have paid for the stud fee (£300) we cant possibly afford to keep one. Hedge says he thinks it's quite good money for a shag - and wonders if there might be a market for him somewhere.

Saturdays. BBC Radio Scotland - go to -Out of Doors programme -podcast is still available to download until this Saturday 21st March. Their gallery also has 3 of my shots Im particularly fond of.Thats the boy home from school so better go and be yummy as I have yet another meeting tonight....lots to do and mushroom stoganoff to make for the tea. It's Fergus's favourite..........

Thought for the day: Go with the flow........

The Cat knows best -95% sleeping -5% left to sleep and chase mice......

I was just going to exalt on the merits of listening to one's gamekeeper when as a ghillie he used to tell me to just go with the flow....and when I was battling with decisions, or erasable children, or recalcitrant dogs, or wayward family, or troubled friends - and his short answer has always pretty much been - don't fight it - go with the flow...and it always USED to irk me that in some way that seemed like giving in, or conceding a point and as a resolutely stubborn person of the highest order - it simply wouldn't do to "give in"....However today I had one of those rare moments of blinding revelation - as with all things the zen the more simple the better. What is harmony if it is not fluid, and peaceful and stripped bare and un-complicated. Although I believed the Dyslexic Institutes mantras of "if he cant learn the way you teach - teach them the way he can learn" whist on the other hand (the leftie corry fisted cack handed way) I didn't really understand what that meant. And because we are creatures of pattern and habit we get into a belief system of its our way or the high way - or in Archie's case - "no way"!! so at this very point in unrepeatable time - this moment of the universe let it be said that by going with the flow - by stopping trying to stop time/pack everything in/always rushing and STILL being late/ worrying about when I could take time to enjoy rather than resent... - give up the responsibility for control - actually going with the flow rather than feeling I'm not waving but drowning, I'm not a little duck gliding along the surface whist maddly waggling beneath -Im not resisting - I'm accepting and I'm going to enjoy the ride - be swept up in events and see them for what they are - never as bad as they might seem, always could be done differently with hindsight - and operating under forces that are beyond my control - that's not to say that I don't take responsibility for my actions - but that if everyone did this and stopped blaming everyone else for their problems then we might achieve greater harmony and that can only be for a higher good. The papers are full of the skating pensioner who has been fined £1500 for breach of the peace - or skating in a built up area -he said he thought everyone thought of him as more of a threat than he actually was! - God I wish I could skate - let alone still be skating at 71 - let alone causing a breach of the peace - excellent - cue virtual Mexican wave of support.
And as I sat poised to type another slewth of minor misdemeanors about the high jinks of my own carnival monkeys I logged on and my eye caught the headline that David Cameron's son Ivan had just died. So instead of suspended realisation of my existence let it be known that I realise what I have and celebrate that instead.

Guns of Navarone! -welcome to my world....

Eyeball's and snowballs

EVERYONE seems to be complaining about the snow - Its the new literal credit crunch -Not me I LOVE IT - there's nothing so important in my life right now that I cant do from the safety of inside my own front door.Despite the fact that the kids are on a 3 day week - and off now until next Thursday when Archie reliably informs me that there will still be snow and the schools will inevitably still be shut. Hedge, who usually thrives on extreme conditions - and is completely and directly in competition with the forecasters -when they say it will rain - he says it will snow -when they say it will snow he says it will rain - or pass us by....Is BORED with it all - it means he wont be ferreting this afternoon and neither will he pot anymore deer before the season closes on Saturday. But Tuesdays predicted snow has fallen this morning and from the bright blue skies of yesterday we have whiteout conditions - the bird feeders are flying perpendicular to the bird table and the "wee flakes" are coming down in horizontal straight lines - that's right - sideways.

Anyway - I'm very happy - apart from my broken tooth that means that I can either wait 5 weeks till my dentist appointment comes around for him to stick a big needle in me - or I could phone him at 8.25am and request an emergency appointment. I phoned yesterday at 9am to be told I was too late - for the emergency appointments of that day had already gone. Apparently you can only have an emergency at 8.20. the rest of the time it is not convenient for the receptionist. I said "what constitutes an emergency?" she said "are you in pain?" I said "I have 3 children and have you met my husband" this did not constitute urgent status apparently. Anyway I thought "emergency" meant lots of blood, but "pain" is apparently the marker here. I was ruminating away about breathing in with my mouth open in a blizzard and the eye watering shoooting needle feeling in my gum, when she told me the dentist wasn't in anyway. I know he reads my facebook - so Alan if you've made it to my Blog - I'm in pain - when can you fit me in between ski runs?

What I was thinking of posting about this morning was, (given the title of my blog, I feel the need to say that I really do not need to make this up)- Hedge and Fin went on a deer mission yesterday, Finlay came back with a collection of antlers that Hedge said, -to give him his due he worked away with a saw the whole morning until he had retrieved all the booty he wanted -(Charming most seven year olds collect football cards). Nobbler antlers are not the handsome and acceptable "face" of trophy display - the type that makes you want to throw your hat up in a James Bondish manoeuvre -more like twisted sticks of that boring sea weed -the only thing that indicates they were once attached to a deer's head is the little dot of marrow at one end. I don't have a problem with these "trophies" - it was however one step too far even for me -when I went to put his washing away and discovered the eye ball nestled in amongst his pants. It's a strange and not particularly nice thing an eyeball. First of all its very cold, slightly slimy and very blue. The realisation of what it was hit me at the same time as I was already committed to holding it in the palm of my hand. It doesn't stare back at you as sci-fi might have it - it's just cold and blue and orbital - Funny how texturally "boney" is not nearly as disgusting and off putting as "squidge". I asked Fin if he had lost anything ....at the same time as Hedge said to him - what did you do with the eyeball.....He was a picture of innocence - I had removed it from it's hiding place as I was (from experience) completely certain that he would forget about it and where as I can cope with my sense of sight and touch being assaulted- I absolutely draw the line at smell. That and the fact that he was planning to put it in Fergus's bed.

On the subject of Fergus and fondly remembering what a cherubic delight he WAS. Im at the same place with him as I am the Spaniel puppy. Bo at 8 weeks was all legs and adoring spaniel eyes, then came teeth - then came spaniel adolescence which is on a parr with adolescent adolescence, except I could still put her outside and lock the door - which is really where I am tempted to go with my eldest air to the throne. The line between "it wasnt me who ate all the biscuits" and "it wasnt my fault it got broken" has been crossed. The trouble with "it wasnt me who........." and "it wasnt my fault I got caught" is the responsibility that teenagers are genetically modified to be without -my problem is then- well who's fault was it? -and does it really matter anyway...... My day always decends into the mire (with eyeballs) when he greet's me with I was called up to the office again.....the reply from me is "what for this time" the reply from him "it wasnt my fault". My question is: does this translate into a man and a life of of taking no responsibility - or is it hormones that put him at the incident scene -he seems to be afflicted with wrong place wrong time-itis. he cant seem to make the leap from -being there- to being involved. We sat him down last night - when honestly I may as well have been talking into a pillow - I was mwa mwa mwaaing - and he was hearing blah blah blah. he woke up at one point when I said "Fergus if a woman was assulted by two men out of the ten in the room - would the other 8 be innocent?" Both he and Hedge by this time were staring at me quite blankly. Ok so it was a bit of a leap to snow balls..... he had only been lifted with 7 other boys -2 of whom were throwing snowballs at someones house. (and of course he didnt do it, it wasnt his fault etc etc) Perhaps I did go abit far to illustrate my point (for the record his fathers contribution wasnt much better -he felt the need to point out that the perpetrators were from Ballater - and in his day it was the just the same -as all the bad boys came from Ballater....... (thank you Cheif sitting Bullshit -Kofi Annan - and YOUR point is?)(at least mine was interesting)He also threw in for pudding that Fug should simply avoid the company of these particular boys. easier said than done me thinks. He is adamant that I will NOT be going up to see his deputy head - (who also sent me a letter home a fortnight ago owing to Fergus once more being in the wrong place/wrong time when the same snowball boy had shouted something unrepeatable at a maths teacher, the deputy head was of the opinion that Ferg had misplaced loyalty....which as it happens I did not agree with.) This in a month that has included a phonecall from his guidance teacher about him signing my name for me (how kind....(it wasnt MY fault))on a red puni and trying to pass his scribble off as mine.....still whilst paying me back for his pre christmas down loading habit, the day after a two hour (one way) argument about trust. (and why didn't I.....?)Ho hum it never snows but it Blizzards.Like Ive said before - this is cheaper than therapy, and a load off my shoulders - thers' something quite comforting about delivering my musings out into the world wide web it certainly puts them into perspective. they are a snowflake in the blizzard of unimportance. Archie mean while is sweetness and light this morning -he was found at the breakfast table stirring his orange juice with an 11" icicle - very cosmopolitan- then I discovered he was storing them in the fridge..... (good mood entirely due to the lackness of scholastic imperative) Always look on the bright side I say, it's 2 more years before he becomes a teenager.....and 6 until Fin crosses the divide. Oh my god that's 16 more years - I could be responsible for the collapse of the web.......................

Mair Sna'

Wee flakes BIG Snaw allright -my mumused to say "a puckle flakins maks a muckle" -which is based on "mony a mickle maks a muckle" -with lovely symetry translates to lots of little things turn into a mountain.
Lots of socks, pants, wellies, over trousers, under trousers, vests, gloves, snow boots, mair socks, hats, hoodies, t-shirts, mair pants.....all wet......all make a stormy soggy path scattered along the prescipice to the washing machine mountain.
Day 1. Plan : Massage with my lovely aromatherapist followed by a creative meeting with someone who has written a song (luckily he IS a musician) for the play and wants to play it for me.....and in return I want to ask him to be the stage manager....Im hoping either he or his wife will (hopefully both) step up. We are slightly thin on practical creatives. Followed by a lovely drive to my picture framers to order the next batch of prints - the sale of which - through 3 galleries are funding my "other work" at the moment.
Day 1 Plan 2:Emergency Measures - are now in place. Massage cancelled as her kids and my kids are rampaging at home. mine in a state of heightened adrenalin rush and snow blindness - it's either that or cabin fever - so it was just as well I draped the mountian of sogs over every available radiator in the house last night - so the have dry rations today. the house smells permanantly of wet dog. hedge;s welly's have a whole micro kingdom on the inside. he's gone off to shoot a deer and left the little darlings with me....If I take the boys to "hear the song" I will then have to contend with Finny's every second question of "Am I in this bit?" - "Can i be in this bit" - "have I got lots of lines yet?" "can I have lots of lines" "Pleeeease!".
At this very moment I can hear them feeding Special K to the Spaniel puppy and I need to go and save some milk formy coffee - will we ever see civilization again.

Fergus at least will be no trouble today. he got up checked the website - found out that 111 schools were shut and has retreated back to his nest. His only request that I buy him a "stud" for his ear to keep the hole he's poked through it with a needle -open. The disgusting piece of inch square nickel plated diamante laden bling he's been wearing has worn thin in three days. i have studiously ignored it - on the grounds that I was expected to over react. When he finally drew my attention to it (and it WAS pretty hard to ignore - ) I told him that he would probably get hepatitis C leading to Aids for sharing some scuzzy girl's nasty ear-ring - acctually I told him he would get HRT and HMV but luckily being dyslexic he didnt seem to notice. Me ? over react? naw, I can't wait for the big tatoo.

It Snows, it rains, its SNOWS and now it rains again...

This morning I am supremely SMUG to say that despite the fact the children were all up and dressed before 8am (it's usually a struggle to get Archie out by twenty five past on the 5th shout and the threat of a hot iron in his lug'gol) I strolled through the most beautifully snowy narnai known to narns. I just suspected that it was not going to last - despite being perfect igloo building material I had a glorious amble and came home to the joyful cavorts of Archie Shand snow boarding upright over the bracken on an up turned sledge. Largely impressive stuff -and I almost went into "thats'ma boy" proudest mummy mode when I realised he was wearing my favourite (and my "best" Boden blue velvet with red spotty lining "smart" coat) As I stood at the wrong side of a pikey wire fence hurling insults and abuse at him he threw a snowball at me.

And it hit me right between the eyes. There's very little that can be said when rage is teetering on the brink of explosion - it was an almost out of body experience - looking outside at my simmering self and critising my own lack of wit/humour/awe at his cheek. Anyway, I had had a lovely walk and have spent the afternoon writing 3 pages of doric shmoric dialogue for my play. its a bit like sherbit - impressive at first pass but imediately fades to nothing at all.

Asking Hedge for some assistance - I said what would you call a "mess"? he said "our house" - No I patiently explained I need a doric word for mess - and do you know how helpful he was? He said. A Mess.

Thanks Hedge. (I now have snorrel, midden, & red-up so that's just fine.) I am still recovering from PMS - Post Miracle Syndrome -but I have the local minister and his fire side reflections to thank for that. Too much staring into the flames has affected his rationality me thinks.