Brit GTG Glasgow 2011/ 2012

[Sundae]

Mr & Mrs Limey were once again kind enough to take me on a tour.
This time we took in some gift shops/ craft shops and I could easily have spent thousands. The driftwood chairs for example...
Instead I bought cheese that Mum didn't like (sigh) and some Arran beer for Dad. Well, Mr & Mrs Limey bought a cut price case and allowed me a couple of bottles as it worked out at 63p per bottle. Thank you.

En route I saw innumerable streams, brooks, burns etc. The whole landscape seems to run with water. Limey explained that the island is a big hunk of rock and anything deposited on it rain-wise finds its way to the sea by the most direct route possible. It looks and sounds beautiful, water running at full pelt, tufting white where it hits stones, hanging in long impossible skeins from overhanging rocks or rushing in shallow courses on pebbles. Everywhere is alive to the sound of water.

As last year, this is not the season to photograph Arran.
A mist was drawing in, as was rain.
I saw beauty, but the camera couldn't.

We drove back to chez Limey over the centre of the island.
I loved it. Bumps and humps and switchbacks and hanging drops. Limey says there are long term residents who will never take the road, regardless of time of day or season or weather. Limey is a rally-level driver though. I never felt anything but safe, and enjoyed the ride immensely. She's not a thrill-seeker; she won't take the road at certain times or conditions, but she knows her stuff.

No pics of this obviously.
But you should all try to persuade Limey to borrow a video camera and velcro it to her dashboard and capture the journey. Hey, if you set up a fund I'll even go with her to commentate

[limey]

It rains a lot ....

[Sundae]

HELP!
I am locked out of YouTube.

It's refusing my password, but I am locked in a ridiculous cycle of requesting a new password, and being sent an email sending me my USERNAME. WTF?!
I use my hotmail account to access YouTube. I know my username and I know my password. I do not have a Google account and I don't bloody want one either.


All I'm trying to do is upload a vid of Limey playing.
I can progress without it, but it would be a nice addition to the thread.

[limey]

I think we should let the Dwellars imagine "Limey playing" for a little longer ...

[Sundae]

Snort.
Limey playing with her husband and two other men. One young enough to be her son.

I will get over my sulk and post what I have later today.

[limey]

True, dat

[Sundae]

So, picking up the thread.
Limey settled me down with a bottle of red wine and my book, and of course her two gorgeous cats.

We sat in companiable quietness for a while; reading, chatting, relaxing.
Then off out in the cold and rain for the Limeys to play at an old folks home. A brass quartet, playing carols. I was offered the jingle bells, to play in Jingle Bells, natch, but had to decline. I have a haphazard sense of rhythm - I will lose the beat when clapping along, dancing and indeed walking up long flights of stairs. I recover well, but it seemed a shame to impeed true music with my inevitable slip ups.

Limey only wanted me to have them so I felt a part of the evening, so I was able to reassure her that singing was much more my forte, and indeed squeaked or bellowed my way through the carols, depending on how ridiculously high they went. When I rule the world all songs will all be transposed into the correct key for me. And it will become custom for all instruments to shift key whenever I am having trouble hitting the right notes.

So there.

Here is the incomparable Limey with her sousaphone.
She is mastering it, not being strangled.
Bless her, there was precious little headroom once she had it assembled - the woman is an Amazon which I'm not sure comes across in photos. I felt it even more this year as I wore shoes so flat they were almost aggressively so.

And as I have said before Limes is ridiculously accomplished. From what I gathered, she bought this instrument off eBay, for a dare. She thought it would be funny to have one and play it. Because you do, don't you. Why just play the tuba, cornet, French horn, trumpet, trombone etc (I have no idea if she really plays the whole brass section, but I suspect she does).

Mr Limey is equally varied in the blowing department (a-hem). It's a marriage of two minds as well as two bodies and it's lovely to see them interact.

Sadly I have no photo of the line-up as I covered that in my video clip, which I now have no way to show you, being locked out of stupidYouTubestupidystupid.com. There was Mr Limey, sweet young lad (no, TOO young and wholesome), Limey and chap with the trombone. I'm great with names, me.

[Sundae]

So back to the cosy cottage by the sea.
We had already agreed not to have a proper tea, as we were all stuffed from earlier - Limey and I for the second time by Sapporo Teppanyaki, that was a bargain meal in the end!

So we snacked on Sheldon's goodies, and on Turkey Jerky, which was as delicious as it is euphonious. As already said, the Limes are contemplating finding a supplier to deliver to the island.

I reintroduced myself to Morris (Maurice?) and I have to say I was quite successful.
I know that cats often trouble the people that dislike them the most. Despite enjoying eye-contact and affection from owners and familiar people, the majority feel most comfortable around those that avert their gazes and turn their heads. I gave Maurice this treatment as he is a very shy cat, who suffered early trauma, and he did relax around me to an extent. He curled up near my shoulder for a sleep, and went so far as to let me pick him up without any stress (I was sensible - it was a short spell and no squeezing or crooning!)

Two lovely cats, one lovely husband.

[Sundae]

Note - I kept photo taking in Limey's house to a minimum.
Do try to persuade her to take photos of her wonderful possessions.
A Russian Father Christmas for example was crying out for a photo.
And more I won't even mention because no-one should ever feel their privacy is compromised. Take it from me I could have taken 50+ photos of interest.

Ditto Mr Limey.
Limey has not given his name on here, or I think any details of his job and their life.
Suffice to say he is exactly the person you would hope Limey would be with. In an ideal world he might also have a couple of million in the bank, and possibly magical powers, but as a real life husband he's a good catch and it's obvious they love eachother.

So, anyway.
I woke up in my lovely comfy Arran bed, with Jasper (ginger cat) snoozing alongside me. Tart, said Limey. But I think she meant him, as I'd made no promise in that direction.

I had home-made bread and Dutch cheese for breakfast.
VERY good.
We went to see a different carol concert, and then came back to chicken fajitas. I assembled them because I was getting a twitching in my fingers at all the lovely ingredients Sheldon had sent and needed to be part of it.

Limey provided all the other ingredients however, so the triumph belongs to her. At least I thought it was a triumph - there were not any leftovers at least. Bloody good show Sheldon & Limey!

Another relaxed time, full bellies and chat and wine and some Arran beer. For me at least - Limey was driving and both Mr Limey and her were playing later.
And then. And then. And then I was leaving.
It seemed odd that in six hours I'd be on a sleeper coach and homeward bound. I felt as if this was Christmas and I was leaving early.

Thanks so much to my Arran hosts.

Arran Sunset ale on the trip back.

[Sundae]

Back to Glasgow, and thanks to Sarge I was able to get a taxi from the train station to the coach station. It only cost £3.90 which shows how close it was. Yes, Limey had told me I could get a bus, but I was cold and wet and dispirited when I left Glasgow Central last year and I was no less so this time.

My trip home was different this year though.

I arrived at the coach station 55 minutes before the coach was due - my shortest lead time ever.
I went to where I thought the coach would pick up (confusing signs, no change there) and immediately spoke to a lass who was getting the same coach.
Okay - we could both relax.

30 minutes before the coach was due to leave, it pulled in at a different stand and shouted us across. This kind of punctuality AND courtesy is almost unheard of on coaches, which usually make you wait outside in the rain until the very second before they are due to leave, before telling you there is a problem with the brake-lights, or air-conditioning, or toilet and herd you back into the terminal, so that there is no longer any sense that those who were there first are first in the queue... I digress.

Same driving team as before. Lovely chaps.
And this time I was seated in the coveted front section.
Only six seats and therefore the first six bunks.
Once again I scored a bunk on the lowest level. Best berths. Result.

Not only that, the driver assured us we were the only FIVE in the section, so I immediately spread out on my double seat. Selfish witch.

The journey wasn't ideal.
Oh it was hot!
I got up at 02.00, feeling like I was being roasted in a coach bunk coffin. Got out to sit in the middle seated section (didn't want to make a meal of it with the drivers up front) and still sweated. Went back to bed just before 04.00. Crashed out and was disappointed to be woken before 06.00 because we were coming into London early.

But the five hours I slept were far more than I would have done on a normal coach, and although I was hot I never felt as wretched as I have on other coach journeys.

All in all I would recommend a coach sleeper service. If you are someone who likes to cocoon themself then all the better. Otherwise, get fit enough to sleep in a thong in public. Because although each bunk has curtains, they simply can't close to the extent that privacy is 100% guaranteed.

[limey]

We're (me, Mr Limey and the cats) so glad you had a good time. Let me assure all Dwellars that Sundae is the perfect guest! You are welcome at any time!!

[BigV]

Panto. ... panto.. panto.. mime? like ... mimes? Turns out, nope. I urge the other ugly Americans here to shed their ignorance with a click, below.

Oh....

If you think of the British as reserved and proper, think again. This is the season when the Brits loosen their stiff upper lips and, even in these austere times, devote themselves to merry-making. They grab their kids and head for the theater for a raucous and peculiarly British form of entertainment: the traditional Christmas pantomime.

Myt favorite part: "it always involves a lot of cross-dressing, which is always funny to the British". bwaahahahahahaha

[Sundae]

A good introduction, especially as it includes audience reaction.
Well worth hearing.
Although I disagree re exporting panto. The Aussies and Kiwis get it. I think.

Anyway, here is my explanation from 2008. I hadn't seen John Barrowman in panto then, so this reflects my childhood expereince.

[DanaC]

And, once again the Krankies were really funny.

In fact, when J asked me, and what about the Krankies, I said before he'd finished the sentence: Oh, I love the Krankies! There followed an awkward pause as both my and J's ears heard the words coming from my mouth. Did I really just say that? Apparently, I did and I do.

[Trilby]

Sigh and sigh again.

Looks like such a lovely time you all had! I'm burning up with jealousy, actually.



I'm so glad you all get together over there to REPRESENT!

awesome, all of it.

Dani is very lovely, Sundae is all sunshine all the time and Limey looks stunning and I covet that black top she's wearing with the embroidery.

You all make me happy.