Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from February, 2018

Scottish Sheep Are As Hard As ...

Despite the Siberian snow today, DD and I decided to go for a walk up a local hill in the one 30 minute slot where it wasn’t snowing for the entire day.  Reaching the field at the top of the hill, the snow was almost knee deep in places and DD marked out her sledge route; she realised that she had no choice but to head towards a flock of sheep that had congregated at the bottom of the field. After one complete ‘sledge’ the sheep ran off, but returned soon after to watch her walk back up the hill with her sledge.  One brave ewe followed her along her sledge tracks, but then stopped and stared at us about 20 feet away.  Puzzled by her interest in us, DD tried to communicate in ‘sheep’ with her with a series of ‘baas’, but the only response we got was a Paddington Bear/Taxi Driver hard stare.  We then resorted to a primary school playground game of slowly moving towards the ewe when she wasn’t looking, and standing very still when it turned her head back to look at us, with the intent

Anyone For A Tunnock's Teacake?

Darling Husband (DH) is Scottish, which has its ups and downs.   The upside is that I always have free access to numerous jokes and monetary advice. The downside is that we have to find room in our house for numerous IrnBru cans and Tunnock's Teacakes.   When Tunnock's factory had to shut down temporarily, DH took upon himself to mass buy their teacakes to the point where we were unable to shut our 'biscuit drawer' (yes, we have such a thing in our house along with a 'crisp drawer'.  As I said, I live with a Scotsman).  My access to Hobnobs was severely hindered until such time that the teacakes were consumed by DH. However, the latest catastrophe is that IrnBru is changing the sugar content of their brew.  DH has commandeered the boot of the car, a drawer in the kitchen and the top of our fridge-freezer for a post-apocalyptic storage level of multi-pack cans of the original IrnBru recipe.  If Tunnock's was to close permanently or when the original

The Etiquette Of Swimming

Today, I tossed off the snow from my car and made the 30 mile round trip to my 'local' swimming pool.  Yes, gone are the days when I was always 2 miles from a swimming pool.  And yes, you read right...flippin' 30 mile round trip!  How is that 'local'?!  Well, its rural Scotland, so yeah, you do need to drive to get to most municipal buildings. Anyway, determined to have my dip, I arrived on time (for a change) and quickly donning my swimsuit, cap and goggles, I climbed into a surprisingly warm pool.  It was the 'lunchtime' session filled mainly with elderly women and one man.   Following lane etiquette (although no lanes were marked off), I chose a line down the pool that wasn't obstructing anyone else; a few ladies were chatting at the far end, but the rest of the pool was pretty clear.  However, after two lengths, I discovered that I was in someone else's 'line' and she wasn't going to move despite me starting my length before her

New Year, New Blog

It's 2018.   I've decided to: look at my old blogs; discovered I can write after all; start a new blog; take the pish out of Scotland; learn more about sheep. Tata for now... Photo  © Paula Gilfillan. All Rights Reserved.