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16 October 2014

Flying Cat - may 2007


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The Eyes Have It!

Agent Fpu slid unobtrusively from Room 16 Central Command, mind-blown by Aestaewast. Suddenly, a calm quiet voice, that of ib's favourite Agony Aunt, Shetland Agent Scallowawife, spoke in her right ear, "This is the earring?" and thus first contact was made between two ID-protected bloggers. I'd like to say that Fpu made a really witty reply say, perhaps, "Pee You, Eff Pee You, secret cleaning agent, licenced to scrub," or some such, but I'm an honest cat and cannot tell a lie. SAS continued, "Ruthodanort isn't here tonight." (Poor soul, she's still trying to work out if this was some sort of special code. Good grief, I try my best, but sometimes...) I can only put Fpu's unaccustomed inarticulacy down to an excess of enthusiasm for the tremenjous selection of real ales on tap in the bar...wide-eyed but not legless! Following a short exchange, SAS departed with sundry agents disguised as members of a drumming group, having completed a successful mission.
The next day.....les agents parentals were seated in the atrium, keeping a watchful eye on the passing throng (boy, when they throng in Shetland, they do it properly!)....fpu sees a pair of strangely familiar eyes, (last seen peering over the top of a Norsk newspaper, on an Unstan Blog?) Was it? Could it be? The Eyes pass over the unremarkable features and EARRINGS of agent fpu without a flicker of recognition.....perhaps she is mistaken? The owner of The Eyes and her two Junior Agents rise and walk away....fpu alerts mpu to her suspicion and he casts a piercing glance their way and clocks....on the retreating back of the tallest one, a picture of....drumroll....Scallowawife, drumroll please...thanks!... The Swan!!!!! Too late! SAR had left the building.
Later the same day....pu's, having left Clickimin early to avoid further disappointment by 'Headline Act', arrived back at Central Command Bar to sample some more fine ales (all in the line of duty, natch) ....another day, another voice....The Eyes, accompanied by Junior Agents B and ? (Look, I do apologise for the poor quality of my agents, but me and m'Marmalade Chum just can't get the staff...) manage to make contact at last. Information changed hands. Junior Agent B has a very promising career ahead of her, either as a Private Eye or a jeweller...
Here are some photos, of very similar quality to my agents:-
Shetland youngsters
Shetland youngsters at the Youth Concert
irritating mc
Steve Cousins, MC and fire-eater and owner of the most irritating giggle in the known universe...especially two nights running!
Terra Folk
Terra Folk - "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.." surely Slovenia's answer to Lordi but without the makeup: a must for Eurovision (if they haven't already been there.)
ectoplasm
Can you see what it is yet?
That Drummer
That Drummer from Lazy Boy Chair. It is wrong to delight in other's misfortune. We know this to be true. But, when Gavin Firth broke a guitar string, and it meant fpu had an unobscured view of TD at the Legion, I fear some delight was felt. Tut!
La Cadiera Coixa
La Cadiera Coixa. From Aragón. Someone wants the cd. But Someone forgot to buy it. Estupido!
Posted on Flying Cat at 09:54



A Big Day Oot

Last July, when fpu asked Mandi at visitshetland to book accommodation in Lerook for the Folk Festival, little did they know that, thanks to Northlink, they would have a day to spare....but I bet the FF Commytee were not feeling like thanking Northlink, when they anounced their refit schedule. If the parental units had a tenner for every utterance of "P&O would never have done this to us", they might be commenting from a much bigger island on the backside of the world! Anyway, one volunteer organising committee's loss is another tourist's gain, and the pu's boldly went on the bus to Scalloway for lunch. At Da Haaf restaurant. En route, they recorded some of the sights/sites of interest, as you do. so here they are....
abandoning Hope
abandoning Hope
something fishy afoot
something fishy afoot
The Castle
The Castle
The Chippy
The Chippy, where, some moons ago now, all four bipeds encountered a dignified, elderly, quietly-spoken Norwegian man, who, as it came out in conversation, was one of the Shetland Bus men of WW2. Sitting on a bench in the evening sun with living history. And fish suppers.
going downhill
heading downtown
towards lunch
looking towards the promise of lunch
The Booth
The Booth. Something to do with "purple sweetie colours"...don't ask me, I'm only a cat.
The Museum
The Museum. Where fpu purchased, for a small sum, a pair of fingerless Fair Isle gloves with the pattern done in "purple sweetie colours". *sigh*
Shetland Bus
Memorial to the men of The Shetland Bus: there is also a list of names and the stones come from the men's home areas in Norway.
Shetland Bus boat
steel model boat on top of the Memorial.
new secondhand bookshop
the new secondhand bookshop...VG.
hands accross the sea
hands accross the sea
kirk window
kirk window
lunch
fpu's lunch....catfish. Am I to believe this? Did it ever look anything like a cat? And mpu had monkfish....honestly, the things they expect a cat to believe! Do I look like I came up the Clyde on a bike? No! (before anyone says anything to the contrary and you know who you are)
And, speaking of Tws, I would like to take this opporchancity to thank him so much for directing iBloggers to his Other Blog, because it led me to this one - www.blogstoday.co.uk/bloghome.aspx?username=katkin2. Thank you Tws for your continuing interest in and support for felines. Bless! (Never mind the printed matter, just look at those pictures!)
Posted on Flying Cat at 23:40



A Tramp Along Lerwick Street

It seemed only fair, having had a Big Day Oot in Shetland's second city, that the pu's should tak a smoot alang da street. The south end appears as if a cutting of Stromness has been transplanted from 59ºN to 60ºN...very roughly speaking, before the geographic purists jump on me! There's something rather grim about the Queen's....and I have insider information that the kitchens were once even grimmer. I'm sure they've been much improved over the intervening years, since fpu's mercifully brief 'career' as a waitress getting her bum pinched by oilies. (can anyone tell me why you called a very short skirt a 'pussy pelmet'? I wouldn't be seen dead in a pelmet of any description! No cat would...)
Bain
Bain's Beach. And the weekend's only glisk of sunshine. Don't blink...
Queen
Queen's Hotel, of fond memory.
a handy boathouse
a handy ensuite boathouse
...or perhaps something more sinister...
...or perhaps something more sinister...icefloe substitute...maybe
it was a grey day
it was a grey day on a grey street in a grey town
The Lodberries
The Lodberries. No. I don't know what it means. Before you ask.
exit
exit
you never know
Mrs Lodberrie sees Mr L off in the time-honoured style - "Clean hanky? Clean undies? Lifebelt? Have a nice day, jewel."
scrollbox
scrollbox
door
door
Anne of Grey Gables
Anne of Grey Gables. Or The House of Beige Shutters.
Whilst flying trough the pages of that esteemed organ, DaTimes, perusing the Folk Festival reviews, I noticed a small piece on a couple from New Hampshire, Eileen and Bill Elliot. Well slap ma thighs and call me Mischief, if the pu's hadn't jist darn tootin well met them in the Club! In the 70s, when you humans had an oil crisis and the Mediterranean countries were witholding supplies of Extra Virgins, or something, this intrepid pair sold up and bought 22 acres of unserviced woodland, where they have been ever since, pumping their own water, using suncatchers on the roof and keeping warm with woodburners fed by fallen timber. On two of he 22 acres, they grow most of their food and, with a small car, gain access (ACCESS IS NOT A VERB!!!!) to computers and the interweb at the nearest public library.
Fpu has just read Little House on The Prairie for the first time (Duh! My mamacat read it to me in my catscradle) and is getting all misty-eyed over log cabins, seminole patchwork bedspreads and hominy grits. Whatever they all are...Heavens to Betsy!....I wonder what mjc's up to just now....


Posted on Flying Cat at 00:06



Belated Birthday Greetings til Norge

It was a grey day in Kirkwall, but at least the rain held off for Orkney's Syttende Mai tog. One parental unit was slaving away in the Red Cross Shop and the other was at work earning a crust, during the morning, so I was unable to lay my paws on any photos of the visit to the Norwegian war graves in St Ola, but mpu had charge of digicam and took some pictures of the procession. There were 42 Norwegians in Espin Selvik's group plus three visiting yachts: a fourth yacht didn't make it due to unfavourable weather, having had to turn and head for home. However, every cloud....this meant there were two spare tickets for the dinner dance at the Ayre Hotel, so the pu's scrubbed up and went along. The food was like school dinners - the Ayre has never been so good as when the Dennisons had it - but it filled a space before the aqvavit which was probably a good thing. Due to the length of some of the speeches - no names, no pack drill - the Ronald Anderson Band, one of the best in Orkney, hadn't a great deal to do (apart from hang about waiting) but several dances were squeezed in before 1am and Auld Lang Syne. The pu's got a lift home, having abandoned Old Car for the night, which saved the cost of a taxi, and were jolly cheerful when they arrived. Not so cheerful the next morning, perhaps.... Cats don't understand these things...food never has an adverse effect on me!
Beginning at the Pierhead
The tog starts at the Pierhead...
along Broad Street
...and continues along Broad Street...
opposite the Orkney Museum
...opposite the Orkney Museum and Florabunda...
members of Kirkwall City pipe band
...accompanied by members of Kirkwall City pipe band...
...going into St Magnus Cathedral...
in St Magnus Cathedral
...and gathering together for songs and speeches of welcome and friendship...
the Norwegian visitors singing
...the Norwegian visitors singing, conducted by Espen...
on the Cathedral steps
...coming out onto the Cathedral steps to find a glimmer of sun has broken through the damp grey morning...
Norwegian visitor in her finery
...the tog disperses - a Norwegian visitor in her finery.
Posted on Flying Cat at 19:54



Orkney Folk Festival 2007

The 25th Orkney Folk Festival is over. There will surely never be another as good. Johnny and Marie Mowat, Mr&Mrs Festival, have bowed out and, if it's not another Melba, that will mean a sea change. Or maybe no-one will notice any difference. The new committee will have their work cut out. Although the festival proper starts on Thursday evening with the Opening Concert in the Stromness Academy theatre, all week musicians - instrumentalists and singers - have been going around the county to visit schools and do workshops with the children. (mpu had the good fortune to drive Stravaig and they made an old man very happy...he likes feisty women). Christine Kydd, one of Scotland's finest singers, had one group of 60 kids, which was a lot, but how do you choose who to leave out! It was a festival of memorable music and memorable moments, one of the best being Shetland's finest band Hom Bru in Club1 late on Saturday night....when they were very very cheerful indeed, quite as cheerful as you'd ever want to see a bunch of musicians....any more cheerful and they wouldn't have held it all together! Real edge of the seat stuff. Gluffed wi der bright red een indeed! After which....the parental units came...
creeping home with dawn
creeping home with rosy-fingered dawn after the Festival Club, Sunday am.
later the same morning
later the same morning
en masse
Sunday afternoon in Stromness Town Hall - The Fiddlers' Rally
fiddles and accordions
fiddles and accordions
two young accordionists
two young accordionists waiting...
accordions
accordions
white shirt
girl in white shirt playing
listening
listening
concentration
concentration
dwam
in a musical dwam
ferry inn
Sunday afternoon, outside The Ferry Inn
carpark
"It's alright, I brought my own cushion"
stramash
Sunday evening, Stromness Academy, Stramash at the end of Farewell Concert2. Tom McConville (Northumberland), box player from Irish band North Cregg, Rod Paterson (Easy Club, Jock Tamson's Bairns etc), Doris Rougvie (Glenfarg) and others.
cat
Monday morning. It's all over.
Posted on Flying Cat at 21:41



Saving Erik

Me and fpu were desperately trying to get Rolling Acres into some sort of order, prior to my next visit to Big Cage, when we spotted two buff-bottomed bumblebees in a flooded plant tray. We quickly flicked the poor drookit bumbleeries onto the grass, but one was already headed for Honey Heaven and beyond resucitation: the other, Erik the half-a-bee, was alive but very soggy, and his wings were glued to his fur, so we got him on to a bit of sun-warmed rock and took him into Flying Shed. The sun shining through the double-glazed window helped start the drying process, but Erik was very weak and not able to groom himself, so fpu went and got the Hunny Pot from Anorak Towers. As you can see, hunny has wonderfully restorative powers: that bear wasn't as daft as he looked! However, in his first efforts to exit FS, Erik got one leg caught in a strand of spiderweb, and had to be re-rescued, before buzzing off into the bee-loud day.
soggy bee
half-drowned Erik staggers towards life-saving hunny...on the rock
hungry bee
slightly drier Erik sooks his hunny through his personal inbuilt straw
flybee
much fluffier flying Erik, before beeing ushered out the door
Posted on Flying Cat at 22:27



Frequent Blogging Alert! Angry Cat!

We - me and fpu - we hates the weather up here at times like this. Mpu and m'Marmalade Chum are more philosophical...karma beings. Lookit this. May. Nearly summer. Evening. Force 8 gale. Tender new bits of Rolling Acres flying hither thither and yon: gunnera hates wind: all the whitebeams, rowans, willows and rugosas are head heavy with early summer foliage and flowerbuds: we remember June 2001, when two well-grown whitebeams were ripped untimely - one survives as a shadow of its former self, after being staked through its roots in desperandum: why bother transforming a boring grass desert - and a pox on all you who don't even try! - into a magical artist's garden of circles, curves and ponds, with nectar flowers, hidey-holes and insect liff galore, for this to happen? We gotta get outta this place.....
tree circle
Tree Circle
willows
Willows
ash
Ash
gunnera 2
Gunnera
Pond 1
Pond 1
Well, que sera, sera: I'm off to Big Cage in the morning and the parental units are off to Isle of Man for mpu to dribble over big throbbing machines and fpu to .... er ...well anyway, rant over, thanks for reading if you have been...
Posted on Flying Cat at 21:09





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