View from the house; we've hit a thaw..apparently!
Sun setting
G'bye sun; we only knew you for a brief moment...but you warmed our toes and noses..we'll miss you.
Despite the brief weather talk, it was a lovely Saturday night and the house was toasty...very, very important when accepting invitations these days. We had lovely chilli, guacamole, sour cream, cheese, tortillas, wraps, antipasti, couscous, olives, dips and much, much more. Delicious. Sam even came up with two lovely wee birthday cakes Happy birthday Ann and Ian....*thrrrp* with fireworks on top...yup, actual burn-your-eyebrows-blind-you-for-life fireworks...but we Glaswegians like to live on the edge I know you're not Glaswegian Sam but you have to accept an honorary status after at least 10 years.
The spread; that empty space was filled with glorious couscous!
Ian and Ann's surprise cakes! The now no longer have eyebrows.
During the holiday period, the cold doesn't seem to be as much of a nuisance because the kids are here, we're all playing and snuggling up to watch old movies which is great fun...I forgot how funny My Fair Lady with Audrey Hepburn was:
Eliza Doolittle: My Aunt died of influenza, or so they said. But its my belief they done the old woman in.
Mrs. Higgins: Done her in?
Eliza Doolittle: Yes, lord love you. Why should she die of influenza, when she come through diphtheria right enough the year before. Fairly blue with it she was. They all thought she was dead. But my father, he kept ladling gin down her throat. Then she come to so sudden she bit the bowl right off the spoon.
Mrs. Eynsford-Hill: Dear Me!
Eliza Doolittle: Now what call would a woman with that strength in her have to die of influenza? And what become of her new straw hat that should have come to me?
[pause]
Eliza Doolittle: Somebody pinched it. And what I say is: them 'as pinched it, done her in.
Lord Boxington: Done her in? Done her in did you say?
Lady Boxington: Whatever does it mean?
Mrs. Higgins: Its the new slang meaning someone has killed her.
Mrs. Eynsford-Hill: Surely you don't think someone killed her?
Eliza Doolittle: Do I not? Them she lived with would have killed her for a hatpin, let alone a hat.
Mrs. Eynsford-Hill: But it can't have been right for your father to be pouring spirits down her throat like that, it could have killed her.
Eliza Doolittle: Not her, gin was mother's milk to her. Besides he poured so much down his own throat, he knew the good of it.
Lord Boxington: Do you mean he drank?
Eliza Doolittle: Drank? My word something chronic.
[responding to freddy's laughter]
Eliza Doolittle: Here! What are you sniggering at?
Freddy Eynsford-Hill: The new small talk, you do it so awfully well.
Eliza Doolittle: Well if I was doing it proper, what was you sniggering at? Have I said anything I oughtn't?
Mrs. Higgins: No my dear.
Eliza Doolittle: Well thats a mercy anyhow...
....but after the holidays have past, there is that week. That first week the kids are back to school, I'm barely organised and it's too damn cold anyway! But then we move on to this week. I always like this one as motivation goes up and the blues come down; it's week 3 of the new year already and the cold, despite it being a big blue pain in the pants, is not going to limit me anymore. The heating is on full blast, the thermals have been sent over by helicopter, courtesy of Marks and Sparks and I'm going out. Yes! Out I tell you. If you don't hear from me for a few days, send a mountain rescue team up The Whangie. Tell them to bring gin. Lots of it.
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