red in the morning

it was a light crisp morning. a girl in a red dress cycled through the quiet streets. occasionally crossing a smile on her way, a warm surprised smile at the red in the morning. occasionally holding her hand on her skirt as it billowed in the wind, a wind tunnelling through the canals, catching her as she passed over bridges and crossings. occasionally with a glimpse of a smile on her own face, as she thought of where she was headed, whom she was breathlessly journeying towards.

Betty and Ramsey Dunbarton

"It (the Braid Hills Hotel) had been the scene of many important events over the years: weddings, funeral teas, Rotary Club dinners and so on; and many people had individual memories of these occasions which would be triggered as they looked up at the hotel from the road below. For Betty Dunbarton, for instance, relict of the late Ramsey Dunbarton WS, the glimpse of the Braid Hills Hotel afforded her as she drove out each Friday to lunch with her friend, Peggy Feggie, in Fairmilehead, reminded her of the evening when she and Ramsey had dined there after the last performance of The Gondoliers at the Church Hill Theatre. Ramsey had played the role of the Duke of Plaza-Toro with great distinction and had ordered a bottle of champagne to mark the end of the run. And then, just as they embarked on their meal, the doors of the dining room had opened to admit the rest of the cast, who had decided to have their last-night dinner at the same place. Ramsey had looked surprised, and then embarassed, and she had said, 'But my dear, did you not know that there would be a cast party?' Without hesitation he had replied, 'Of course I did, my dear. But I chose to dine with you instead.'

Later that evening, as they returned home, he had said, 'I have to tell you, my dear, that I have lied to you. I did not know that there was to be a party. They did not invite me. I did not want you to be hurt.'

It was only the second time he had lied to his wife - and on both occasions he had done so to avoid causing her hurt or embarassment. The first occasion had been when they were engaged and they had gone for a walk down at Cramond. They had seen the Gardyloo, the boat then used to take sewage out to sea, and she had asked 'What is that odd-looking boat carrying, Ramsey?' And he had told her that it must be gravel, going over to Fife, in order that he should not have to tell her its true mission. Two white lies - both of which had been confessed, and both forgiven."

From The unbearable lightness of scones, by Alexander McCall-Smith

I loved this part, especially the second time. Read it again. 

away

I'm moving into a place without internet for the next 4 weeks...so perhaps my entry into blog world was shortlived...or I'll be back in a while once the adventure really begins =)

Cliffs of Moher

Kor came over and we visited Doolin, a little village in Co. Clare where they're famous for the sessions in their pubs, general folksy musical genius, and some mighty high cliffs nearby. Highlights of the trip, among others, were a rather sizeable cows bottom, 'who can take the best open mouth shot'-camera action, mysterious rock drawings, the massive chicken/mushroom vol au vent dinner and a couple of cliffs (though the natural majestic cliffs were somewhat spoilt by the crowd of tourists, ourselves included...). I left determined to someday pick up the fiddle like that girl who played so beautifully in the pub on Friday night, it seems you can take it anywhere and make any piece of music sound magical.










We met a curious amount of Americans, Germans and Dutchies, so it was a bit like a weekend at home in Amsterdam...except for the animals, hills and lack of public transport that is. The Irish in those parts definitely seem to love the Americans and viceversa. Met a lot of friendly older types in jeans and trainers, flags, and even the occasional sign post to America...

And of course there's nothing like an Irish cup of tea, with milk and half a teaspoon of sugar =)

And these are just funny...Kor definitely won the 'open mouth shot' competition.

August 12 - Celtic Daily Light

Alone with none but Thee, my God,
I journeyed on my way:
What need I fear when Thou art near
O King of night and day?
More safe am I within Thy hand
than if a host did round me stand.

The child of God can fear no ill,
His chosen dread no foe:
we leave our fate to Thee and wait
Thy bidding when to go.
'Tis not from chance our comfort springs,
Thou art our trust, O King of kings.

~Columba