Sunshine on a rainy day...

...a couple of bright outfits and opening my final 'Malaysia' storage box (holding birthday presents).

Rainy days

It has been raining non-stop for the past 4 weeks. Non-stop. Morning, noon and night. It's the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and the swish of the windscreen wipers and the skoosh of the car wheels in the puddles welcome my dreams at night.

Initially, I stuck to me commitment to treat this period of study much like a job and make good use of my Paris work clothes. But, that only led to water-marking numerous pairs of quality trousers and destroyed 4, yes 4 pairs of boots including one pair of wellies (my front gate might also have something to do with it but the basic point is that my feet got wet).

I used to leave the house every morning fairly certain I looked ok (teeth brushed? check. Hair brushed? check. Clothes brushed (a requirement in these sawdusty days? check. etc). But I was also very certain that I didn't arrive at Uni in quite the same condition. Needless to say, my poor bike hasn't seen the light of day in a month.

Today, well, today I woke up and there was yet more rain and I realised that if Mohammed won't go to the mountain, then the mountain will have to come to Mohammed. Then after such exertions I dived back under the covers and went back to sleep.

When I did get up, I put on my plasticy trousers, pulled on what was left of my wellies, buttoned up my waterproof jacket (and not just a pretend pretty one. This is a sail-in-all-conditions waterproof), swopped my 'Driving Miss Daisy' gloves and grandmother's vintage wool 1940s hat for a fleecy versions, grabbed my waterproof rucksack (yes, it really was that wet) and stuck my head out the door. Pulled it back in, waited another 10 minutes, then struck out again. This time I had my hood up and even so driving, icy rain accompanied me to the bus-stop. And somehow in this country it can even sweep down out of the sky, around the corner of your hood smack you in the chops with it's frigid arctic palm...and from all directions all at the same time.

But my o my, how my luck was changing. No waiting time for me. The bus was just arriving at the stop. I squelched up to the door, opened my rucksack, pulled out my wallet and...not a cent.

I had no bus money.

I rang my mum.

I got a lift to skool.

Good job I was wearing all those waterproofs then.

Saturday night in....

What a week! Friday

And then by the time we got to Friday I had realised two things: that wet is definitely worse than cold (see earlier debate) and that this is actually abnormal weather, even for here (thankfully, I wasn't sure I could manage a whole winter with this damp).

I crossed Stirling Bridge this morning and it was the roaring of the river that drew my attention. This river normally just drifts towards the sea. The tiniest bit of hardened clay and she just lazily turns away, does a big stretch of a bend and meanders on her way for another 10 miles or so. But today she was a brown, roaring, swirling, destructive monster of a river, churning around the old stone legs of the bridge and heaving trees, soil and a couple of fences along with it.

My house is the house way there in the corner: close to the river but not close enough. Although the river has risen by quite a number of feet, the other river bank is flat all the way to the University, meaning I won't be needing that ark anytime soon.

The little black speck below is the life-ring, normally at the river's edge.

I looked at a flat in this stretch of houses, but after seeing the flooded garden, am awfully pleased I said no.
I don't know if you can see the little seagulls paddling in their makeshift day spa but it seems you need webbed feet and a wee orange beak to truly appreciate the weather.

I've had a little time to observe seagulls of late (while the rain is efficient, the buses here are not - generally least efficient when the rain is most efficient). They are fascinating little things. The little guys stand on the spot on the banks of their pond and pound the earth one foot at a time and hey presto, 30 seconds later and worm number 1 has popped out to find out what's going on. Gobble gobble.

I gobble gobble my fair share of treats too..once I'm back in the warmth of home where the only water is the type I'm pouring into my tea.

What a week! Thursday

I spent good money on these booties. I expected them to keep me warm, dry and snug the whole winter long. So how disappointed was I when some wool lining suddenly found its way from inside my snug schuh, to face the great outdoors. And with the way the week is going, it's a pretty wet world. And I'm wading my way through it.

Ugg.

What a week! Wednesday

As I stood there shivering by the side of the road waiting for my lift home in the dark and the driving, freezing sleet for the third week in a row I thought to myself, if this carries on for another couple of weeks I'm going to find myself the nearest dove and a large supply of wood. At least choosing the other 7 family members wouldn't be too hard ;-)

What a week! Monday

A bit of inspiration in the skool toilets...

What a week! Tuesday

A make-do ruler in a lecture. And tasty.

Some of you won't need 3 guesses...

..to recognise these places...

St. Andrews by the Northern sea, A haunted town it is to me! A little city, worn and grey, The grey North Ocean girds it round. And o’er the rocks, and up the bay, The long sea-rollers surge and sound. And still the thin and biting spray Drives down the melancholy street, And still endure, and still decay, Towers that the salt winds vainly beat. Ghost-like and shadowy they stand Dim mirrored in the wet sea-sand.

 St. Leonard’s chapel, long ago We loitered idly where the tall Fresh budded mountain ashes blow Within thy desecrated wall: The tough roots rent the tomb below, The April birds sang clamorous, We did not dream, we could not know How hardly Fate would deal with us!  O, broken minster, looking forth Beyond the bay, above the town, O, winter of the kindly North, O, college of the scarlet gown, And shining sands beside the sea, And stretch of links beyond the sand, Once more I watch you, and to me It is as if I touched his hand!

 And therefore art thou yet more dear, O, little city, grey and sere, Though shrunken from thine ancient pride And lonely by thy lonely sea, Than these fair halls on Isis’ side, Where Youth an hour came back to me!  A land of waters green and clear, Of willows and of poplars tall, And, in the spring time of the year, The white may breaking over all, And Pleasure quick to come at call. And summer rides by marsh and wold, And Autumn with her crimson pall About the towers of Magdalen rolled; And strange enchantments from the past, And memories of the friends of old, And strong Tradition, binding fast The “flying terms” with bands of gold,—  All these hath Oxford:  all are dear, But dearer far the little town, The drifting surf, the wintry year, The college of the scarlet gown, St. Andrews by the Northern sea, That is a haunted town to me! 

- Andrew Lang

Some Scottish glamour shots...

Autumn Days and the grass is jewelled..

I think Autumn was probably a couple of weekends before last. But in the few hours during which it lasted (before the sun disappears until April) I went shopping. And I came across a bag of English Cox apples.

Now are these not the quintessential symbol of Autumn? They somehow only taste right when the weather is cold, wet and windy, and sometimes even only when they are in a bucket of water and you're trying to sink your teeth into them. I think I might revive 'dookin' for apples' as a good Autumnal tradition.

A month later and I rediscovered my forgotten Coxes under a couple of cardboard boxes and a cloud of dust. And you know what? They were still wonderfully, perfectly delicious (once washed). The crunchy crispness just fits the chilly weather.

The 5th

Do you remember remember the 5th of November? It's been a while since 5.11 held any significance for me, being piggy-in-the-middle for the past few years to the two French holidays of 1st November and 11th November.

But as I'm back in the UK and 'everybody else is doing it', I found myself just after 19h30, absolutely frozen and staring at a few puffs in the sky, about half a mile away and at eye level. Funny how when you're 8 years old the fireworks seem so high in the sky...and funny how after Bastille Day fireworks teamed with the 125th anniversary of the Eiffel Tower, anything else does seem to be lacking...well, sparkle.

At least it did all go off with a bang. After the weather we've had over the past 7 days, I'm surprised anything managed to go up in smoke. Biking to work one morning in the pouring rain and then biking to work the following morning in freezing temperatures, I really was hard pressed to decide which was 'better'. But I highly recommend a few minutes in front of a bonfire to set the world to rights.

A Lesson on Scottish Weather*

The weather today? Damp. Well, actually, it's a little more than damp today. I would say its verging more towards wet. I should explain the Scottish climate to those poor people among you who are not fortunate enough to live in this wonderful place we call Scotland.

The Scottish climate consists basically of two main things. The first of these is Water. It is very important to have a good grasp of all things watery if you want to understand Scotland. The second important thing is Wind. Wind comes in two forms - personal wind (which we won't go into) and climactic wind. Usually in Scotland these two things - wind and water - are found together in combination but they can also happen independently. So, as you may guess, we can have a number of possible permutations;

1) Water on its own. This comes in a number of forms; Mist, drizzle, spitting, showers, shit rain (sorry, excuse my spelling, that should be sheet rain), downpour, torrential, and the type of rain you only ever get on weekends and public holidays.

2) Wind on its own. This also comes in a number of varieties; breezy, windy, brisk, blowy, gale, storm, and hurricane.

3) Windy water. This combination occurs when the water component is more important than the windy component. So the rain may be driving rain or it could just be p*ssing it down. Windy water may also be used as a description of the weather on Scottish beaches.

4) Watery wind. This combination occurs when the predominant factor is wind but with some water. This is frequently hard to distinguish from combination 3). Why? Because one minute it will be p*ssing down, then a minute later it may be driving rain then still later it may be absolutely fookin' pouring.

I should, for the sake of accuracy, point out that there is a fifth combination. This combination - no water, no wind - is, I understand, technically known as sunshine. We have heard rumours of such a climatic condition and indeed I have friends who claim to have experienced this. However, I am not inclined to believe them. Personally, I believe that this is one of those theoretical constructs that sounds good on paper when the equations are worked out but which is never truly encountered in real life. However if any reader has encountered this condition in Scotland we would be interested to hear from you.

Well this is all getting very technical but now we have covered the major points of water and wind. Just now I want to introduce a third factor - temperature. Most of you will have heard that well-known Scottish expression - It's bloody freezin'. Actually this is the anglicised version. No true Scot would actually use the word bloody in this context. To do so would risk being taken for a real Sassenach. The true Scot would say I'm fookin' freezin'. However even this is not strictly true. There is an unwritten rule in Scotland that one must never - ever - admit to being affected by the temperature. It is acceptable of course to admit to being affected by water, so, for example "help I'm fookin' droonin'" (excuse me sir but I appear to be drowning) is perfectly acceptable. Equally one can admit to having been affected by wind - either of the personal or climactic kind. So, for example, statements that take the form "Fook me, d'ye smell that yin?" will often be heard. If you do hear someone say "I'm fookin' freezin'" then you should suspect that their ancestors may not be wholly Scottish. It is interesting to compare Scottish usage in this respect with Geordie culture where it is customary for young ladies to wear less clothes at night the colder the weather gets, and to do so without complaint.

To return to our third factor then. Temperature. This comes in three basic variants. Mildly cold, very cold and fookin' freezin' (remember never to admit personally to being freezin' - fookin' or otherwise). Each of the combinations that we discussed earlier can be found in each of the three of these temperature variants. So, for example, we may have mildly cold windy water or freezin' watery wind. As you can begin to see, the variation in the Scottish climate is endless.

* Author Anonymous