So, back again. Weather lovely, Great Outdoors out of bounds, due to The Midge, a miniscule insect that abounds in vast clouds and sinks its microscopic jaws into any available part of one's anatomy, though preference is given to eyelids and bits normally covered by underwear.
We had a wonderful summer and were on our way back up the east coast of Scotland, healthy and relaxed, when flood warnings on our intended route sent us over to the west coast. Now the west coast of Scotland is deservedly famous - hauntingly beautiful, steeped in history - but a night's camping in Glencoe resulted in Bill being bitten so badly that I thought I'd have to take him to A&E. Face almost unrecognisable, eyelids swollen nearly shut, high temperature. The journey home was a bit of a nightmare and he's not really been well since.
Anyway, to happier memories. We were away for about 5 weeks, commencing with a journey through the Highlands, the highlight of which was our visit to Culloden. It was very moving, particularly for Bill, who had ancestors killed there. We also went to Edinburgh Castle, Bill in his kilt. He now features on the snapshots of dozens of Japanese tourists. We spent much of the holiday in England - a few days in Hastings and a few days in Cornwall, both courtesy of dear friends, bookending a long stay in a very sunny London. Great to see lots of old friends and a privilege to be at baby Annabels' welcome to the world. Clothes were purchased at Petticoat Lane and Bluewater (of course!), theatre was Kneehigh's brilliant production of Brief Encounter at the Haymarket Cinema and we went to the first Folk Prom, wonderful, apart from the Bartok, which bored me senseless and sent Bill for an early trip to the bar. Perhaps our best night out was Deep Purple at the Motor Show on a gorgeous warm evening with a beautiful sunset to drive home in.
We also took a day trip to France. We got to Folkestone and I drove into a carpark and asked if it was the right place for the ferry to Boulogne. 'You're too late,' the attendant told me. 'About 8 years too late.' Apparently there no longer ferries from Folkestone, so we went to Calais instead. I got very confused at the terminal in Dover. Looking for a place to park, I accidentally started driving onto the ferry, without a ticket, so they sent me through a tunnel where I was stopped by customs. 'Stop!' I threw my hands in the air. 'They're not armed,' Bill said gently. I think I've been watching too many American films. It was hard to convey what I'd done wrong - they thought we were returning from a booze cruise. Calais has really changed from the last time I was there, nearly 30 years ago. Then, it looked like the war had only just ended; it's all smart now.
The first few weeks back were difficult for me: I was homesick and found it hard to get back into life here. But am now happily settled into my new home with Bill on Flotta and my new timetable and classes. The teaching is going well; I feel better organised, for one thing. The nice little Drama job one day a week has been axed because of funding cuts, so money is tighter, but working 4 days a week is very pleasant! A new timetable on Hoy has meant that I am now timetabled for one afternoon's Drama a week and I'm pleased to say they're rising to the challenge. (Pause for quick preen.) I did a whole day of Drama on Stronsay last week, when several classes were off on trips, so I had the whole of Primary 7 and Secondary 1 (sounds impressive, but there were only 17 of them) together for a day of acting out Scottish folk tales, which was great fun. Not so many funny things to report this year, perhaps because the kids and I are more used to each other, but I struggled, as usual, to teach iambic pentameter. 'It's called iambic pentameter because each line has 5 ti-tums, called 5 feet. What do you think each individual ti-tum is called?' 'A toe?' How much more sensible than a foot, eh?
Bill took the better photos, but I haven't yet sorted out how to get them on this blog. Above are: Bill, a redcoat and a Jacobite at Edinburgh Castle, a scene from the War and Peace Show in Kent (I also have a video clip of a Spitfire that suddenly appeared overhead and rather stole the thunder from the parade of tanks), a roadside scene in the Highlands of Glen something-in-Gaelic-I-can't-spell, and a random Italian tourist with a stag that turned up at a tea van near Inverness .
