O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree...............

I wonder if the planets have all been out of sync and in conflict this week - browsing round the blogs it would seem many of us have had a really rotten week.

Touch wood I haven't suffered from this lurgy (although 2 out of the 3 children were ill with it last weekend); but I did have the misfortune to perform a rather painful ballerina split in my wellies whilst walking Megan on Monday lunchtime and ended up pitching face first down the hill into a water filled stinky peat bog and sprained my right ankle and left wrist in the process. It doesn't matter where you are, how much pain you are in or what you look like - your first thought is always 'I hope no-one saw me'

Megan thought it was a hoot - 'Do it again Mum!'; I managed to right myself, climb up and out of the bog and hobble rather painfully and slowly home stinking like a wart hog and bleating pathetically like a lamb! Poor me.

Anyway I ended up confined to bed again - there must be something about Mondays that just doesn't agree with me. For goodness sake - the winter months are supposed to me my time off and I don't want to spend them in bed convalescing.

Anyway, there is only so much daytime TV drivel a girl can stomach so yesterday it was time for another big adventure. The hunt for a Christmas tree!

It was like some kind of military exercise - the planning was unbelievable, Buck House has nothing on Seaview! Dog cage out of the car, back seats down, front seats moved forward, all the puppy dog paraphernalia packed (just in case!), saw, sheets, dog.................you know by the time we set off I was beginning to think we wouldn't have a room for a tree.

Anyway, 30 minutes later we went off road and up into the forest hills to choose a tree! Well, we were spoilt for choice - where do you start when you have miles and miles and acres of pine trees to choose from - big trees, little trees, tall trees, short trees, green trees, blue trees, stumpy trees, fat trees, thin trees, trees with cones, trees without cones, trees that shed needles, trees that don't, fragrant trees, non-fragrant trees...................................................well, you girls know what it's like. It's like asking us to choose a shade of paint for the wall - there are 213 million shades of magnolia for goodness sake, so how am I supposed to choose a tree from a whole forest.

Simple solution - leave it to HE man.

Before I could say "Yes but no but.......................", my man was off into the forest (complete with saw and yellow wellies) and brought me back this fine specimen.

After a wee bit of re-arranging in the car (leaving me to hobble 15 miles home was non-negotiable) the tree was in the boot and we were back home before nightfall.

I love real Christmas trees - I love their colour, scent, shape and their style but I do suffer with my conscience a wee bit; cutting down a tree just to dress it up and then throw it out naked in a month's time seems quite brutal, even though we had millions to choose from.

Well the tree was in, cut down to size (just a wee bit more lopped off).................and then handsomely dressed in its best bib and tucker. I adore the traditional wooden ornaments with lots of reds and greens with a splash of bright shiny baubles.

Every year I buy a couple of new additions and this year I bought these lovely wooden ones

An Angel
everybody has one looking out for them

Good ole Santa Claus x

Frosty the Snowman
This is as good as it gets!

Fingers crossed the tree is still there in the morning - Megan has been stalking and eyeing it up; she thinks it's her new chew toy!

Rainbows and Robins

“Red and yellow and pink and green, orange and purple and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too. Listen with your eyes, listen with your eyes, sing every song you see – I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing along with me…………………………………………………”

I have always been captivated by rainbows – the bright spectrum of colours, the wonderful perfectly formed arch, almost like a secret doorway inviting you into another world. The magical tales we are told as children – that there is a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow; and all the songs that are sung about rainbows.

Rainbows are magical to me – I always feel closer to spirit when I see a rainbow; for me rainbows are a time when angels and fairies make their presence known on earth; I find great comfort from rainbows and always feel uplifted and at peace. Luckily for me I live in a place where rainbows are abundant – sometimes almost daily. I never tire of seeing a rainbow and I was particularly thrilled to have been honoured by the visit of 2 rainbows on my birthday last week whilst I was in Oban.

I love robin redbreasts too. For me they are cheeky chappies with a lovely plumage – bright and cheerful, bringing joy especially in the gloomy winter months.

We have a robin in our garden – he makes a daily appearance in the autumn and winter months; I’m sure he’s about throughout the summer too but we see less of him then. Not long after Megan came to live with us, I noticed the robin in the garden regularly and then I realised that there were two – a smaller less colourful robin who I assume is a female. The female seems particularly partial to human company – she sits in the trees and watches our antics and hops along the garden fence and wall whenever I am out in the garden playing with Megan.

After a couple of weeks of regular visits I remembered how much my mother loved robins – she always fed the birds in her garden but robins were her favourites. I mentioned this to my sister Sarah and told her I thought Mum had come back to visit me in the form of a robin. She suggested I feed it cheese gratings – as Mum had always fed cheese to her robins.

The robin loves the cheese and on the days I have forgotten to put it out, she comes into the house to remind me. I have found her in the dining room and upstairs in one of the bedrooms; a couple of weeks ago she was sat on the breadboard in the kitchen helping herself to the crumbs on the board and on the evening of my birthday 10 days ago, as we were all sat in the dining room enjoying my birthday dinner, she flew in and sat on the carpet in the lounge looking through at us as if to say Happy Birthday to me before flying off again.

A year ago today, I was with my darling mum when she died. At her funeral we played ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’ by Israel Kamakawiwo, a song Mum had heard on the radio days before she was admitted into hospital and a song she absolutely adored. Many of you who left me posts on my birthday said you were sure my mum was with me on my special day – I am in doubt whatsoever that she was.

And so, whenever I see a rainbow or a robin, I know my mum Millie has stopped by for a while to say hello.

UPDATE: The photo below was taken this morning by John - not only did a rainbow show this morning after I had published this post but the robin sat on the garden wall in front of the breakfast room for me too!

The Wanderer Returns

When John was a commercial fisherman catching lobsters and velvet crabs for the Spanish market, he did so from The Wanderer, a tiny 19ft Orkney Fastliner. When he retired from fishing, he kept the boat and it has become a toy, a play thing, a................................pleasure craft........................of sorts,.........................................so to speak.

Don't get me wrong - it ain't posh and it's not a floating gin palace, but it has brought us hours of fun and pleasure especially in the summer months when we have gone out in the boat and cruised the hidden bays and coves, exploring the white sandy beaches, enjoying sausage barbecues and letting the kids have fun in the sun building sandcastles or burying each other!

The Wanderer has provided us with a fantastic means of 'getting away from it all' - especially as it allows us to get to places you can't reach by car or on foot and this very often means we are the only folks there. Yeeha!

Yesterday was a big day on our calendar - getting The Wanderer out of the water and on to dry land where she will remain over the winter months! This year this task has been later than usual - we've had to wait for a calm day and schedule it between tide times (which are big at the moment with the full moon), the ferry runs to Iona, the swell of the sea and of course the weather.

Yesterday was perfect.

The three of us tramped over the hills and across the moors to Bullhole where The Wanderer is kept moored whenever there are strong westerly winds - John marched on ahead, a man on a mission, Megan was in her element snuffling backwards and forwards in between belly flopping in the peat bogs, and me.....................well, I followed up the rear huffing and puffing like a wart hog

Having arrived at Bullhole, the next stage was for John to row out to The Wanderer in his wee dinghy - Megan and I watched on the hillside entranced as this ritual was performed.

This is how it goes:

1) First of all a pair of 'sexy' yellow waterproof trousers go on over the normal trousers and yellow wellies;

2) lumps of granite are tossed out of the dinghy - these keep it weighted down in the event of high winds blowing it away;

3) the dinghy is baled out using a battered old plastic tub;

4) a foot pump is then put into action to ensure the dinghy is fully inflated (accompanied by an impression of a snorting bull - his sound effects not mine);

5) and for the grand finale - the dinghy is then hoisted onto the head and back (again accompanied by sound effects) and the trek across the rocks towards the water commences............actually it's more like a waddle and it reminds me of the Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles.

Check out the photos - what do you reckon?

Megan was completely bemused as she watched this spectacle as you can see from the expression!

The good news is The Wanderer is now out for the winter and on dry land; we managed a final sail in her and Megan is now officially a young Sea dog having earned her place as First Mate on her maiden voyage aboard The Wanderer (albeit in my arms, on my lap and sloppering all over my face just so she could see over the side!).

Two Worlds

I spent the weekend with my delightful 14 year old stepdaughter Amanda celebrating our birthdays together in the grand city of Edinburgh.

It was a truely girlie weekend - posh city boutique hotel, fine food and dining, cinema, shopping, cocktails at lunchtime at Harvey Nichols, pampering sessions with facials and manicures, thai cuisine and a fabulous dance musical called The Car Man (music from Carmen, story line based on The Postman Always Rings Twice).

We had a great time together doing what girls do in a really packed 2 days and as much as I enjoyed it and I'm happy to have had the opportunity to spend time with Amanda, it was also a timely reminder of why I'm so pleased I don't live on the mainland.

Congested traffic, pollution, lots of people(!) most of whom seemed to be walking about in a zombie like state with angry faces and gritted teeth spending huge amounts of money I'm sure they could ill-afford; shops galore full of clothes that are extortionate in price and never really going to be worn and vast quantities of food thrown away from restaurants and other eateries because folk order more than they can eat!

We didn't see much change from £1,000 for those 2 days away.

In contrast, I spent yesterday and today with John and our 12 week old pup Megan enjoying and appreciating so much more, the rather simpler things in life - the views from the breakfast room, the stormy weather, walks on the beach, the antics of Megan and the love of a good man.

Priceless!

I know where I would rather be and I wouldn't swop it for all the tea in China.

Puppy Love

Well what can I say!

I’ve fallen in love ...............yet again, at the age of 42 years and 11 months! This time with a gorgeous chocolate Labrador pup called Megan – she’s 11 weeks old today and has been occupying most of my time over the past 4 weeks.

Hence the reason for not blogging!

I’d forgotten what it was like to have a baby in the house and now I remember all those reasons why I said 13 years ago, (after doing my duty for Queen & country and giving birth to the last of my 2 strapping sons), I wouldn’t be having any more babies...................early mornings, toilet training, teething troubles, regular feeding, constantly saying Noooooooooo (which bit of NO don’t you understand?), continually having to remove things out of the way and having eyeballs that swivel 360 degrees in the back of my head. It’s absolutely exhausting!!

But I love it.

What fun we’ve had this past month getting to know one another. Never having owned a dog before it has been an incredibly steep learning curve for both John and me – not least because what seems pretty simple, ordinary and normal to us humans can mean something quite different in doggie language.

Megan was born to Jura and Sidney (both chocolate Labs) who live on Iona and is one of a litter of 9. When I saw the notice in the shop next door saying they were for sale, I just knew it was meant to be. We had been talking about having a family dog for sometime but were constantly procrastinating and putting the decision off – when was a good time, would we be tied down, where would she live, did we have time, weren’t we busy enough......blah, blah, blah.

And after all the doubts and anxiety about having done the right thing? Well I would never have guessed at the joy, fun, love and laughter such a bundle of brown fur and long gangly legs could bring into a home.

And her full pedigree Kennel Club name?

Kenmilleven Melting Wispa................but we prefer Megan, who at 11 weeks old has already captured and melted our hearts forever.

PS: Many thanks to all of you who have posted comments saying you are missing my posts. All is well – just frenetic at the moment :-)