Life's a Beach

Well, we have more pictures of myself on the beach. To those of you who say that there are no pictures of myself on Lewis except on a beach, I say - it's a bloody island, what do you expect?



Here is a picture of me on the beach with the dog. The dog's name is Ceri as she is very sweet - we have taught her to play fetch and tried to teach her to swim. But she is very affeared when her feet come off the floor of the water, and so does not like it very much.



Here is the dog looking down at the river (heavy with peat) which flows down the beach to the sea. That dark bit there is very deep, and she did not really like going in it at all. She could tell it was deep, and decided not to.

Not shown is dad telling us all to be careful near the edge of the river and then falling over himself.

When in Chrome

Oh, God.

Right, does anyone else have to deal with this sort of thing? My mother and I despair - we really do.

The oven needed cleaning, it was full of ming and smeg (these are technical terms) and so mother and I went to the supermarket and bought a canister of Mr. Muscle Oven Cleaner ("Loves the jobs you hate" - I'm not sure it really does, I think it's just chemical waste).

Anyway, on the front of said product, it reads "POWERFUL CLEANING PRODUCT - read instructions before using!" On the back, the legend reads "Read all instructions before removing lid."

The oven is a huge thing, really chic and very expensive. It has a manual with it which contains instructions - one would have suspected one would read it. In fact, one would suspect my father would have read it about a million times before even turning the oven on. My father is the man who, when confronted with a webpage which reads "Stage 1 : Click Continue" and a button marked "Continue" and nothing else, rings me up to ask what to do. And after I have said "Click the continue button, dad" proceeds to spend five minutes ensuring I fully understand exactly where said button is on the page.

Okay, so, the oven and cleaner.

Dad took the top off, opened the door, whipped out all the chrome shelves and stacked them on the floor, and covered everything in Mr. Muscle. As the room fills with noxious fumes, he sits down with the oven manual and reads it.

I saunter in. "Dad, have you read the instructions?" "Ah, well, no, son - but I had an oven cleaner once before. You just do that with it."

"Did you wear gloves?" I ask, reading the first of the admonishments. "Ah, well, no, son - but it's okay." "No, dad, it's really not - it contains formaldehyde. Look, it says in case of accidental contact, seek medical advice."

"Ah, be reight."

I read onwards. "Dad, what are those shelves made of?" "Chrome." "Chrome? Chrome as in the chrome listed in this list of things which should not be cleaned with this product?" "Ah, you don't want to pay any attention to that." "Dad, it specifically abdjures one from using it on chrome . . ."

Mum comes in - "Jim, what are you doing? Did you wear gloves?" "Don't worry woman, 'twill be fine. Oh . . ." He shows me the bit of the manual he has just read;

"DO NOT USE MR MUSCLE ON YOUR OVEN AS IT CONTAINS CHEMICALS THAT MAY DAMAGE IT!"

Right, what is this? I wouldn't mind - but in any other circumstance my father would read every last thing which formed part of a series of instructions. We got him on eBay last night - five bloody hours. I've installed software with him - it's all I can do to stop him reading the license agreements. He counts the pieces and dowels of MFI furniture, for God's sake.

What is this with oven cleaner? Do we feel it's such a low-tech system it needs no guidance?

Heads up, people - anything which contains chemicals I cannot pronounce and which I am sure are used to stop dead bodies from decaying is something I really want to use responsibly. There was a woman who lost her arm to Mr. Muscle - dad was cheerfully regaling us with this tale as he sluiced the carcenogenic materials off the oven and myself and mum tried to stop the dog licking them off the floor. "Ah, she must have done something wrong."

"Yes, Jim," says mum, "she didn't wear gloves. Put some gloves on!"

Dad's response in all of this? "It says oven cleaner - you would expect you could clean your oven with it."

My response? "You don't clean your teeth with shampoo." He stayed silent - now I come to think of it, there is a certain foamy quality to his smile.

Darknight

Visual proof

Okay, here are some photographs of what we went and did yesterday; we have not taken the camera with us (and by "we", I mean "Dad" as it is his camera) very much before, and have certainly not taken any pictures with it.

But here are some pictures of us as we walked around various bits of Lewis and saw things. Most of them are the ocean and related bits of land, which is quite nice, frankly.



Above, we can see a small area of Lewis where there are no piles of stones. However, the locals have noticed this and - through a government grant - have built a pile of stones there so that people will know it is Lewis. I find such a use of tax dollars to be acceptable, especially as they are not mine.



Above we can see Eoropie Beach. I have conveniently marked myself among the thronging hordes there so that people can tell where I am.



Eoropie beach again. That bit of sea is the Atlantic.



These are cows - not rather large sheep (everything on Lewis appears to be sheep orientated, although I have yet to see a specialised lamb restaurant). The humour of cows just wandering onto the beach cannot be underestimated. I wanted to see if they could be chivvied into the water, but I felt such a plan might not have merit.



This is the Butt of Lewis, which is far to the north of the Island, and is very rocky and stormy and so forth. Not shown is the torential downpour which stuck about a minute after this picture was taken. Also not shown in the nice little Church we went to see which Dad pissed up the side of as he was caught short.

Privately, Mother and I feel that God was having revenge upon us in return for Dad's urination on His house with the rain. One cannot be too careful these days . . .

Wee piles o' stones

Right, Lewis appears to not consist entirely of God-forsaken swamp - a considerable amount of it appears to be piles of stones.

Today, we went and looked at the Calanish stones (note for students of linguistics; these stones are called something else in Gaelic, but I think they just make the names up). Said stones are a bit like Stonehenge, but not in Salisbury.

We also saw a Brok - which is a sort of fort / palace thing in pre-Roman times. It was very large, but built for very small people with low doors and so forth.

We then went to see black houses - which are a sort of house built out of dry stones and with thatched roofs.

Ultimately, these things are all piles of stone. That appears to be one of the technological limitations of the island - the idea of building appears to be to put stones on top of each other. Then again, I'm not sure exactly how else one is supposed to build anything . . .

We also saw the sea - which was next to a pebbly beach - and I fell over and got covered in algae, which I don't recommend. Still, it was a laugh and I got to see the Atlantic - which is rather large and wet.

Darknight

I met Ronnie Corbett!

I did, you know.

Right, here I am in Lewis - I've been here for a day. On the advice of my mother, I do not describe it as a God-forsaken marsh.

So far, Lewis is rather nice, actually - it is very flat in comparison to Sheffield, has loads of cars, few people and really big houses with lots of land. The roads are long and flanked by rather under-developed farm / moorland and there are loads of Protestant Churches. It is, in fact, a lot like America.

Mum & Dad's house = v. nice and they have a lovely garden (backing onto said "moorland with drainage issues") which is full of chickens and vegetables.

Getting here was not a problem at all - I got on the train, then on the plane, and that was that.

How did I meet Ronnie Corbett? Well - it's not a long story, but it is quite cool.



(In case you don't know who he is!)

I was walking along in the airport, when I saw a man who looked a lot like him queueing. I looked again, and it was him! So, I went up and said "Mr Corbett?" and he said "Yes." And so I told him he had been a great entertainment for years, and I thanked him.

He seemed like a nice fellow (not immediately laughing etc. - but I guess that such things are an act for the camera) and he wasn't stand-offish or anything. He was quite friendly. Of course, one does not want to go up to him and say "Hey, Ronnie! 'I look down on him'!" and annoy him with that sort of thing. So, I was nice and polite and respectful.

Today, the plan is to see the Island while Dad is as work. Mum and I are going to "do the town".

And everything here is in Gaelic - the street signs are in both English and another language. It is very like America - ¿dónde están los haggis?

Quick update!

Right, an update because otherwise Liza will kill me - she says it's just not good enough for me to be playing second fiddle to a Hodgebeast who is about the same size as a large grape.

Today is my last day at work and tomorrow I take the train to Edinburgh and then take the plane to Stornaway. In fact, I suspect the plane will take me to Stornaway, rather than the other way around.

I will be spending a week with the parents, and will then move south again on the 31st, coming back to Sheffield. I shall then spend the night at Daveanhelen's house (which is very nice) and get a lift from Dave in the DaveMobile (TM) in the small-small time in the morning to the train station, whereupon I shall catch the train to Gatwick and then fly to the USA. I should arrive in Detroit at about midafternoon, local time.

No flowers, please.

So, that is the plan and that. I shall attempt to take photographs with the parents' digital camera and post them on the blog, so that people know what is going on. I daresay that Hodge Jr. will also be continuing his travels - I hope he returns from them before we fly on the 1st, as otherwise he will have to make his own way to Detroit.

Official Statement

In light of the current domestic situation of increased terror alert in the United Kingdom, and the impact this has on many individuals in her ally, the United States of America, I have taken it upon myself to issue the following formal statement, which can and should be passed to any and all parties concerned.

The practical impact of the increased security at United Kingdom airports is, at worst, an inconvenience and nothing more. Any concern which might be felt is entirely down to illogical emotional reactions, and I urge everyone to keep calm and not imagine disasters where none exist.

I understand that people are concerned for my safety. This is, in itself, touching although unwarranted. The logical conclusion to draw is that the increased security currently employed at UK airports makes travelling safer, not otherwise.

And, just in case anyone is not crystal clear on this.

I am not afraid - neither should any of you be. I have had my life and the lives of those I love threatened by far more immediate and pressing dangers before, and this does not phase me in the slightest. If there are people out there who think they can injure and hurt and cow my nation which has stood involate and uninvaded for nearly 1000 years by simple terror, they are very, very mistaken.

To those individuals, on behalf of my nation, I say this;

You'd better be damn sure you know what the Hell you are doing - 'cause sure as sunrise Her Majesty's Government won't let you have a second chance. You'd better be damn sure you can hit us so hard we never get up again - 'cause nothing else will make us surrender. You'd better be damn sure you're 100% committed - 'cause we'll be on you like a lion if you're not.

You know where we are - we're where we always have been, heads above the parapet. You are where you always have been - slinking and hiding and skulking in shadows.

I'm flying on the 1st of September to Detroit - come Hell or high water. Thousands more of us will fly to the USA before and after that.

You know where we will be.

Quick update

According to the people in the Archdiocese of Detroit, our forms have arrived there!

Which forms, you ask?

Oh, just don't ask - the forms which prove I am a Christian and a Catholic and am legally entitled to get married and whatnot. Getting these there has been a bit of a nightmare, frankly - one which we have spared you, gentle reader.

Mainly due to the fact we didn't know they weren't there until about two weeks ago.

So . . . they are there now. Bargain.

Darknight

23 days!!!

Time for an update – it’s been over a month so I think we are due.

As of today, 23 days and Simon will be here!! Oh my!!!!

Preparing for guests to arrive is one thing. You tidy the house, you make the beds with fresh linens, you dust and dust again.

But preparing for your future husband to come – forever - is a completely different concept. How DO you prepare for such a thing? I can do the tangible, like moving things around, making space in closets and drawers, ensuring he has room for his boxes when they arrive for the shipper. All the nesting stuff.

But how do you really prepare for the rest of your life with another person? I think the short answer is, you don’t. You can ask all the what if questions, till you are so tangled up in hypotheticals, that you can’t even think straight.

Or, you can just have Faith.

This is how I have decided to handle this massive and amazing preparation. With Faith.
Way back at the beginning of our courtship, I asked Simon, what if?? How do we know? And his answer was, simply, “How does anyone ever know?” And he’s right. No one who ever takes this step from being alone to being part of another person, ever knows what they are getting into. You just do it on Faith. You pray that you have made the right decisions, and the rest is up to God.

And so this is how I’m approaching this whole amazing adventure we are on. I’m putting it in God’s hands, and letting Him run with it. He’s had pretty good success with the whole universe and stuff, I figure He can handle this.

Oh – and in the process, I’ll bounce around like an excited little kid waiting for Christmas, just knowing that soon he will be here!! Finally!!! And no more email, webcams, or headsets for us!! Woo hoooooo!

23 days and counting!!

~Liza