Back of Beyond - December 2005

I find one of the best things about this whole blogging business is getting comments from people in other countries. Call me dull but I think this is just so exciting, not to mention educational, as I have a policy of repaying that person's interest by looking up where they're from. For instance, I had a comment a while back from someone in Egypt, who was admiring my photo of a freezing beach, I can only guess he was too hot. As I was thrilled to hear from somewhere so exotic, I got out my atlas for a close look at Egypt. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there is a place near Port Said called Dumyat, also the name of one of the Ochil hills near Stirling. That's Stirling, Scotland by the way. As I said, fascinating stuff.. . Today I heard from Illinois, which was also very exciting. I won't reveal the extent of my ignorance on that subject, suffice to say I know where it is now. It doesn't feature in The West Wing often, that's my excuse. Isn't the 21st century wonderful? You can sit at a computer in Illinois and read a complete load of nonsense written by someone in the advanced stages of hypothermia on Lewis. I would love to hear from somebody in Stornoway, Quebec, having just read about it in the Gazette today. Lots of snow there, unlike our own dear Stornoway where it's business as usual weatherwise, much to the enduring disappointment of my kids.

Just in case anyone was thinking of having fun in the run up to Christmas, the school have decided to have a parent's night. I recently read an article in the newspaper which claimed that it was the teachers who dreaded this event most, but I'm not convinced. The last one I attended, I was informed that my son was good with computers...so good, in fact, that he had hacked into the school system, which, it appeared, no longer worked. A lucrative career in internet fraud for him then. Not long ago he was asked to write a sentence using the word 'but' for homework. I checked his jotter. 'But they were never seen again,' read the sentence. I can't see what the teacher's got to worry about.

This blog has been a bit short of pictures so far, so here's a few to be going on with.

Well, I know any sensible person's mind is entirely focussed on proposed events at the Dell Fank in the spring, however there is this irritating little business of Christmas to be got through before we can really start planning our matchmaking festival wardrobes. Despite all attempts at resistance, public opinion (based on information gained from a certain toxic sweetie fuelled underage focus group) has dictated that The Festive Season starts here. To this end, the long awaited tree went up last night, the annual "spend three- and- a- half- hours untangling the lights and putting them up only to find they don't flippin' well work" ritual was successfully completed, all the swearie word boxes were ticked, but the actual decorating had to go on hold due to the prior commitments of a small person. The little Christmas angel then returned home and blew her stack over the fact that the sacred decorations box had been opened in her absence, even if it was only at the corner, in order to get those ******* lights out. A full festive flaky followed, with all the seasonal sobs and tears, until it finally emerged that the opening of the aforementioned box is her favourite magical Christmas moment, treasured from year to year. Blimey, thought I, what a fuss over nothing, but then I remembered that this is her fifth home and third island in eight years, so the Christmas box is about the only thing that's the same every year. Well, that and fighting with those blooming lights.