Waiting for my milkshake to bring all the boys to my yard.
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Sod it then. Here come the girls! Much more fun
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Our whole motley crew.
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And lunch. Wow. People come to the museum just for lunch and I can see why.
Carlisle-crap-Bistro-train-station-crappy could make a fortune if they sold this food, instead of the soggy muck they dished up.

When we arrived we were the only ones there, but apparently Tuesdays tend to be hit and miss. Limey says it's extremely popular. Not hard to work out why. Varied and interesting menu for such a small place. Table service with a smile. It's probably not licensed (didn't look) but you don't go to a museum to get lathered up anyway.

I went for the most boring and basic. But it was a million times better than the expensive club sandwich my Support Worker bought me in Leeds. Toasted mozzarella, ham and red onion.
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The Limes went for something along the lines of Coronation [curried] Chicken baguette. Both declared it very good. All made to order - Mr Limey didn't want cashew nuts on his, so he didn't have them. No peeling food out of plastic wrappers here.
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We were offered dessert. I said No of course. Then Limes read out the Specials from the board behind me and as soon as she said there was a strawberry pavlova I caved in like a meringue. It was delicious.
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Mr Limey demurred, but Limey had the Award Winning rice pudding. Well, it's award winning now, as Limey voted it the best rice pudding she's ever had. It was coconut, lime and... ginger? She will elucidate. Not my bag, but apparently a wonder of its kind. And I have to say it smelled divine.
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But when they came, they hogged the tractor so limey couldn't take your picture. :haha:

Kids, you can't kill them and you wouldn't want to eat them...



















I wouldn't have complained if there were beefy Scots farmers on the tractor ;)

The tour package from the Limey/Carruthers travel service is quite extraordinary. :notworthy

The museum (shoulda linked before) is just outside of Brodick. So we went there afterwards. It's the largest town on the island, and the main port.

I decided to linger, going back later by bus via Lamlash and Whiting Bay. Or vice versa.
In truth my photos might mix all three places up; I'm wearing the same clothes so I can only go by the order in which I took them.
If so, apologies to Limey and anyone who might happen in here who knows the island better than I do. It's not that much of a stretch; that's how we snagged Carruthers after all (that and saving my life has rendered him responsible for me in perpetuity).

Oh, Brodick is where I met the ape.
I was actually playing with a red squirrel puppet for a while. This chap appealed to me, and of course the match with my hair was noted immediately and I was requested to pose. Well, you only have to ask me once. Or not even. Then we left him behind.

oof. I could go for that mozarella ham sarnie.

More pics from the same day.

Horses on the beach.
I loved the tiny rider on the tiny pony.
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Holy Isle.
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This is the right way up!
Greenery growing in a wall.
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You have seen my backside, but this is nicerer.
An advert outside a cafe in Whiting Bay (I think!) showing what this place can look like when it's really Summer....
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Another wall shot. Holly! They need to get that seen to, it's a tree. Trees have a habit of wrecking masonry...
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And me, in case you forgot.
This is definitely Lamlash. I know because the seafront there is a bone of contention according to the Arran Banner (local newspaper). This expanse of lawn may not be there in thirty years time, due to erosion.
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And on to another day!
My birfday!! I was really very spoiled this year. I had a card from across the Atlantic which arrived on the actual day (a miracle of timing) as well as a little funding for the trip sent to my hosts - I'm sure they made appropriate thanks.
I also had a beautiful knitted collar/ scarf from Limey, some chutney from the cats and my ape!!! It turned out there was a little jiggery-pokery behind the scenes, and Mr Limey purchased said primate right under my nose.
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Off to Machrie Moor to remember Brianna.
It was supposed to be hot as your hat, but on Arran the sunlight gave up and died about halfway through our walk. It was humid though. I took her a stone which was pretty much heart-shaped. There were more people around this year, so no poems or singing.

I had a quiet moment and I'm sure Limey did too.

It's not her grave after all, it's a public place.
But it's where I think of her resting. I'd give anything to have her there with me in person instead.
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Then off to Blackwaterfoot, to the Kinloch Hotel for lunch.
It was, in fact, the place Limey took me when I visited after hearing of Claudette's death. So I remember her there too.
This was a more pleasant occasion of course, although Mr Limey was feeling a bit crook - we assume just because of the humidity, because he perked up just fine in the end.

I had an open sandwich of vegetable ragu with chorizo.
The flavours were lovely, but I had assumed the bread would be toasted. If it was, it wasn't very well toasted, so by halfway through the bread was soggy enough to be a bit unpleasant. So I just ate the topping. Which was lovely in itself.
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Mr Limey had the Man Vs Food style large lasagne.
It looked and smelled amazing, although I could not have tackled it myself.
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Limey had a pot of mussels.
I had previously been tempted - I do love me some mussels. But they came in a Thai broth, which I was wary of. I like them as Frog intended...
She reported that they were very good; so good she didn't even touch the two bread rolls which came with it.
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No dessert this time. We all rolled out of there so full it would simply have been impossible.

We dropped of Mr Limey and then hoyed off to the nearest beach for birthday beach fun.
It was marvellous. Despite the greyed out skies and sea breeze it was still warm. Warm enough for a sundress and flipflops and paddling, and you can't ask for much more than that.

I pretended I was scared of jellyfish (I am, I just didn't really believe they were there).
And sea snakes and sea spiders. But really I just don't like the feeling of seaweed on my ankles. It makes me think of phlegm.
Limey was very patient with my silliness, whether she believed it or not.

I prefer to eat seaweed than have it touch my feet.
I'm sure there's something important psychologically there...

# It's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spent it with you... #

What a wonderful birthday.
Many thanks to all here (and not, but I've thanked them where they can access it) who helped. From good wishes, practical help, financial help and cards and presents and all. Never did find out who sent my t-shirt.
And obviously especial thanks to my hosts, who looked after me so superbly, and put up with all my oddities.

The Limes had to go out for something previously arranged, so I stuffed myself on remarkable artisan sourdough bread - made in Blackwaterfoot - local cheese and lashings of Schloer. I also stuffed my brain with really mindless reality television. If I want to watch something worthwhile I go to the library and watch it via the internet. If someone gifts me an evening of satellite TV on a large screen I consider it a free pass to the lowest common denominator.

I enjoyed.

I think the cats did too. Just for the record.

Off to Brodick the next day...

I admit I made a mistake.
I mentioned Crazy Golf in a fairly indifferent way. I even mildly disparaged the course I saw. Mr Limey admitted he preferred pitch n putt (which I loathe) so I let the subject drop.

I was wrong.
With two such genial hosts I could have pushed. Because the truth is I LOVE crazy golf. This is my only regret from my holiday; I didn't get to play in Brodick.

Okay, it's out there now, I don't have to mention it again.
But yes, it is eating away at my soul.
Pitch and putt.
Not my idea of fun.
Too hard to cheat and I'm rubbish at it.
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Crazy Golf.
Love it. Comes from the 'rents I'm afraid. And my bro and his wife have an ongoing competition waged around the world on these courses.
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Oh wait, did you forget what I looked like? Never fear... you're only ever a few posts away from a selfie. I have a note from my Mum which says I'm allowed to. (Actually it just says "Lovely photos, thank you" but that'll do, right?)
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And my hair absolutely does not look like straw. I mean when did you ever see lilac straw?

I went to Brodick early, on the bus. Limey was undertaking an heroic amount of work - squeezing it in early and late in order to make me a priority. The Limes had a treat in store for me later in the day, but I wanted to eat up all the time available doing and seeing things.

Also, I'm solitary by nature. Although I was not in any way distressed at being cheek by jowl with the Limes and cats, I was aware that having a houseguest 24/7 (and I was only one in a long chain) does have an impact on your privacy as a couple.

So that's why I went early, and met them later.
All I really did was wander, take photos, read in the sunshine, take photos and impress young Scotswomen with my hair. No, really. THREE people complimented me on it. One actually crossing the road in order to do so.

Anyway, enough about me. No, really.
Gratuitous shots of Brodick instead.
Go there, it's lovely.