Monday, 17 June 2013

Edinburgh, Shouting Tubes and Scaring Young Men


That's me back from my visit to Edinburgh to see my daughter, Ciorstaidh. 

Had a lovely time - went to look around the Georgian house on Charlotte's Square, shopped, had a champagne afternoon tea at The Prestonfield House Hotel (where Ciorstaidh works when she's not studying Anthropology and Geography at Edinburgh Uni), also happened to step into a couple of notable drinking establishments, namely The Banshee Labyrinth, Bannermans, The Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's (I think it was called - it had a hidden toilet behind a bookcase!!) and never forgetting - The Hive

It was my second outing to The Hive - both times I have gone there on purpose, which may surprise anyone who has ever been there themselves.  What a hoot!  Tuesday night is rock night, so Tuesday night it had to be, despite my having got up to catch the ferry from Stornoway at 4:20am that day.  After much shouting, singing and jumping about, we got back to Ciorstaidh's at about 3:30pm - a tad sweatier and more dishevelled than when we'd left. That was a loooooooooong day, but as we had scheduled in zero for Wednesday morning (I'd assumed I'd require my beauty sleep) it was fine.  I didn't in fact alight from my boudoir until quarter to one the next day - just in time to scrub up for afternoon tea at the Prestonfield.

What a place that is!! Fantastic - it's like a museum without the velvet ropes where, rather than be discouraged from touching the exhibits, you are expected to use them, sit on them, balance your tea on them, and if your scone happens to shed a crumb or two you don't feel like they have taken on glacial proportions and staff aren't warning fellow afternoon diners - and perhaps even shipping - about them. Instead, one simply brushes them onto the carpet where a thousand crumbs have been swept before from decades, nay centuries past. Everyone was most hospitable and charming - well, except - apparently - it wasn't okay for me to try and nick a peacock - tsk - it nearly fitted in my handbag, too (note to self: before next visit to Edinburgh get Ann Mairi at Sunnybunny to do me a handbag big enough to get a peacock into, properly - stupid sticking out beak, nearly got away with it, too).

As for the Georgian House it was most enjoyable - best thing in it - a Georgian toastie maker - so much better than modern ones, which in my personal experience, get so ingrained with burned on crud  that you can't get out, even with a toothbrush (someone else's preferably), you have to throw it out because nobody wants to risk contracting botulism.  This was a simple, solid silver rectangular box with a six square grid in it.  All you did was slap in your bread and cheese of choice, snap down the lid and stick it over the fire!

 I also liked the "shouting tubes" - you know, so upstairs can speak to downstairs. I want a shouting tube, in fact,  I want many of them, in secret, all over the house to scare the living daylights out of family members, oh and better still, people at the door:
 Disembodied Voice of Me: "Hello, may I be of assistance? Hmm, the WatchTower - a fascinating read I'm sure. Do leave me a copy."  (sinister laugh).

So that's that, didn't get to see The Static Cult but apart from that it was all good, especially seeing the most lovely Ciorstaidh.

Tonight's tune is for Joe France: a friend of Ciorstaidh's and a reader of this most noble of blogs:
The Bloodhound Gang "Mammals" - your look of pant-wetting terror was priceless, Joe!!!!

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