ONE FLEW OVER THE COCKOO'S NEST?

I didn't realise until this week that the Brig O'Doon is a real place, believing for years that it was a mystical place conjured up by Robert Burns. Not only that, my sister in law lives a few miles away from it. As they say, you live and learn. And I thought I knew everything. Just goes to show doesn't it?

It's a beautiful spot in a village called Alloway, a few miles from Ayr in Scotland. The village also has a Burns monument and a Burns Visitor Centre so I guess he must have had connections with the area. Mind you, this IS only a guess!

The trip to Scotland was great. Davy's sister Mary and niece Margaret Ann live near me and we thought it would be good to take the trip to visit his other sister Margaret and her family. We had a great time just mooching around, relaxing and swapping memories. It was just what I needed.

One way and another I've had a very traumatic time this year but last week was the final straw prompting my decision to "be good to myself", hence the trip to Scotland.

One funny thing happened to me this week though, at least I hope that it's funny. I was booked in for my booster vaccinations and because I forgot my first appointment I was paranoid about doing the same again. I shortened my trip to Scotland, set up several reminders to myself and even asked my colleagues to remind me. So there I was on Thursday morning, having got out my appointment card to remind myself, sitting in the office chatting away. I had completely forgotten again! Kimberley suddenly remembered and I just about made the appointment.

As I was laughing about this with the Practice Nurse I suddenly wondered what I had done with my car keys. I looked around and said "Oh well, I've probably left them in the car". As I got up to go she reminded me that I had forgotten to pick up my jacket. "Ah! that's where my keys are, in the pocket". She looked at me strangely and said "By the way, how IS your memory?" "Not great, but let's face it I'm getting on a bit now". "No seriously Ann, are you alright Do you think that I should refer you to the "Memory Clinic"? My fear is that "Memory Clinic" may be a euphanism for the dreaded "One Flew Over The Cockoo's Nest" type set up. I declined. I may be old but I'm not in my dotage yet (I hope).

SWING THAT BY ME AGAIN?

OG and I just spent a very pleasant week in Switzerland with our two great grandaughters. It had been our intention to view new build chalets in the Valais but that proved to be impossible with two lively little girls in tow, so practically every day was spent at the swimming pool. No hardship there though! This particular pool is a series of natural 32C mineral pools and very child friendly.

Switzerland has no concept of "Health & Safety". The children are left free to roam and enjoy. Imagine a slide like this in England!



And this suspension bridge is over a 750M gouge. To give you an idea of how scary that is it's like slinging a suspension bridge between two structures more than twice as tall as the eiffel tower with a raging torrent running in the valley far below. Added to the fear factor is the sensation of terror you feel as it sways in the wind and rocks from side to side as you walk. We thought that it would be a great scary experience for the girls. It was, but scared? Nah. They deliberately rocked the bloody thing, howling with laughter as OG and I clung on for dear life.



And then we did a very silly thing. We re-visited Villar, the area where we used to live and fell in love with it all over again. Unfortunately it is a very expensive area and way, way beyond our reach unless we care to take out a mortgage again, which we have no intentions of doing.

Now the plan is to do nothing until next spring for various reasons including-

1. We should know more about the status of OG's cancer. He goes for another CT scan this month, with results on 4th September. I must say that he hasn't been feeling too great and is not extremely optimistic at the moment, although he looks very well.

2. The house renovations and a commitment that I have will be finished, giving us more time to sanzy doodle about.

3. Maybe our flat in Scotland will sell giving us the additional funds to afford an apartment in Villars again.

When I first mooted this as an idea the two girls got over excited at the prospect of another visit to the Alps in Spring. They don't quite get the concept of us needing to be child free so that we can concentrate on the task in hand. To them every day is an adventure. They absolutely love it there and have never forgiven us to selling our apartment.

And finally .... this comes compliments of DogLover -

The Highest Human Position In The World

Do you know who holds the highest position in the world?

President Barack Obama? Nope. Pope Benedict? Nope. The Dalai Lama? Nope.

Do you want to know WHO that person is? It's Babu Sassi, a fearless young man from southern India, and the cult hero of Dubai 's army of construction workers.

Known as the "Indian on the top of the world", Babu is the crane operator at the world's tallest building, the 819-meter burj dubai (http://www.burjdubai.com/ which, incidentally, is just a tad higher than the suspension bridge that we were on.

His office, the cramped crane cab perched on top of the Burj, is also his home.
It takes too long to come down to the ground each day to make it worthwhile - although, when the building is completed, its elevators will be the world's fastest.

Stories about his daily dalliance with death are discussed in revered terms by Dubai 's workers. Some say he has been up there for more than a year, others whisper that he's paid 30,000 dirhams ($8,168) a month compared with the average wage of 800 dirhams a month.

But everyone agrees, he's worth it - because nobody else would have the courage to do the job!

CRAZY 8Ss MEME

I was tagged for the crazy 8's meme by Laurie so here I go:-

8 things I’m passionate about

My husband (does he count as a thing?)
My family
My friends
My business
This country (England, Ireland, Scotland & Wales)
Justice
Shouting and swearing at the morning TV news because of injustices
Removing Gordon Brown from Office

8 things I want to do before I die

Stop swearing
Out live my husband (he would never cope without me)
Out live my children
Out live my grandchildren
Out live my great grandhildren
Lose weight
Be massively rich
See my house renovations finished

8 things I say often

Any cuss word
Whatever
Don’t jump on that settee
Get off that table
Look at this house, it’s like a bomb’s hit it
What do you want for dinner?
I’ve had it, I’ m off!
Thank you (well, maybe not that often!)

8 books I’ve read recently or am still reading

Parellel Worlds, Michio Kaku
The Amish, Donald B Kraybill
Seize the House –When Nixon met Mao, Margaret Macmillan
Genome, Matt Ridley
Half of a Yellow Sun, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Bonfires of Vanity, Tom Wolfe
Salmon Fishing in the Yemen, Paul Torday
Double Cross, James Patterson

8 songs I could listen to over and over and do

Love is all around, Marty Pellow
You are always on my mind, Willie Nelson
This Old Road, Kris Kristoffersen
The Beatle, Help
I can’t get no satisfation, Rolling Stones
Mr Tamborine Man, Bob Dylan
Everything I do, Brian Adams
Hotel California, Eagles

8 things that attract me to my best friends

Insanity
Humour
Loyalty
Understanding (them understanding me that is)
Vulnerability (I don’t like people that think they know it all)
Lack of smugness (is that gramatically correct?)
Alcohol
Shared likes

8 people I think should do Crazy 8s

over sixty now
Cristal jigsaw
Valleys mam
Wake up and smell the coffee
Stinking Billy
Marla Fauchier Baltes
Frog in the fieldDulwich Mum

TAXI DRIVERS WE HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED

On our recent travels we have engaged some delightful and very interesting taxi drivers. I guess to be a successful taxi driving you should have a keen eye, razor wit and a profound interest in humankind. The taxi drivers of Belfast have all these qualities in spades. Each one has his own “take” on the past “troubles” and the future prospects of the city. Their observations are fascinating, rich in history and very passionate. A city of philosophers who have kissed the blarney stone.

In Scotland our taxi driver, on hearing our destination, said he had worked at the Singer Sewing Machine factory with a guy from that village when he was younger. “That guy” turned out to be one of my young man’s childhood friends. They had a good Scottish blether about this and that, and my young man was able to inform the driver where their mutual friend could be found drinking on a Friday night. This bought us a good discount on the fare! Result!!

But it was in Stockholm that we had our most exciting and unforgettable experience. We hailed a taxi. Through the half opened window I passed a card bearing the name of our unpronounceable hotel. The driver was wearing nail varnish which should have alerted me to the fact that this was not your usual run of the mill alpha macho male.

It wasn’t until we were underway that we all noticed his extreme oddity. He was very old and decrepit (even by our standards) with grey stubble on his head and chin, a hair lip, no teeth, long varnished nails, earrings, bangles on his wrists and a ladies hairbrush in his side pocket. OK……..too late to get twitchy (unless we were prepared to jump from a moving vehicle) so we chose to ignore all the bad vibes and “act British” as though there was nothing unusual going on here.

Now I can “act British” as much as you want, but don’t try to rip me off. Do that and you can forget the “stiff British upper lip” and in its place comes “belligerent stiff British bulldog”. I think you can get my drift here can't you? Right - he did try to rip us off. The journey into the city usually cost about £15, he was asking double. Out came the bulldog.

Foreigners are ignorant and usually unschooled in the intricacies of the English language and as I didn’t want him to misunderstand me I simply yelled at the top of my voice “too much". As anticipated, he understood this simple phrase and started yelling back in gibberish. I continued to shout “too much, too much”. He quickly gave in to my superiority and reduced his rate to £25. I continued yelling “too much, too much - £16 - no more”, “come into the hotel” and got out of the taxi. One of my travelling companions duly handed him the equivalent of £16 and also got out. Well…this enraged him beyond belief. He recognised that I was the one making the decisions here and ran up yelling in foreign at me and spitting in my face.

People that know me well know not to yell (especially in foreign) and spit in my face. It makes me mad and that’s not nice. The pen, being mightier than the sword, appeared in my hand and brandishing it I continued yelling “give me your driver’s number” and maybe a few other choice words thrown in for good effect. For a few short seconds we stood toe to toe screaming at each other. I won. He left. Now he knows not to mess with us Brits. Rule Britannia.