Where’s the soap?

Where’s the soap these days?  Am I the only one who uses a block of soap in the shower?  Blocks of soap are great. You can hold them as you slip and slide it across your body; dipping into crevices and cracks leaving a film of cleaning agent everywhere. As the soap block wears down (with time plus use) it gives one time to calculate when it needs replacement. At the moment it reaches a size that is unmanageable, one simply cranks out a new, fresh block and squeezes what remains of the old one onto the new. No waste. Left overnight it melds onto the oldy and is ready for the next use. 

In more recent years there has been a movement towards forswearing blocks of soap in preference for shower ‘gel’. I don’t like it. If you try to lather up while the shower is running it quickly washes off one’s hand and straight down the plug hole. Of course one COULD lather up outside the snugly warm shower of water, apply the gel and dash back under, but dear me, it’s a very cold, though brief, option.  

There is no block of soap at Ally’s house,  or Georgia’s. There IS one at Steph’s house, but only because I bought one. In London recently I went into a Boot’s Cash Chemist to buy a block of soap and guess what??!!!  No block of soap to be found!  Not ONE!  I arksed the chap and he couldn’t find one!  I’ll see if I can get one in Paris, which is where we’re headed now, on the Eurostar. 

Toodles!

The MOST Hotel

Our B&B was run by Rob (Scottish) and Nanette (originally from USA). Extraordinarily good hosts and their establishment, Cruickshanks, a gorgeous old farmhouse. 

A whopping great breakfast in the morning set is up till way past lunchtime each day, but they didn’t serve dinner. The only option was the Most Hotel down in the Whiting Bay village. It had recently changed hands and Rob and Nanette were NOT impressed. Reservations were hard to come by and they weren’t very accommodating. We weren’t able to get in on our first night, but booked all the others. Each night was themed, so fish food one night, barbecue the next. There must be a clear business plan at the Most to, at all times, make money. The meals were served on paper takeaway containers and piled on our table by a very obliging serving lass, who maintained a demeanor of constant apology. She almost cancelled out the appalling presentation. 

The actual food was quite good and gave us the energy to walk back up the hill to Cruickshanks. 

Not published

It seems that my blogs haven't been published. Intil now. Sozzles!

Arran II

Not knowing about how to get to, and about Arran, we went for the public transport option. This turned, at once, to be both the best and the worst decision. 

It was the best, because it threw us directly into the paths of your ridge-didge Arraner. Hopping on and off the local buses and making weird connections time-wise immerses you to some extent in the culture. Much more than sitting in a car does. The overwhelming conclusion we came to was YES, public transport for US. 

Now for the downside. 

1.  Lots of Walking

Our B&B was at a little village to the south called Whiting Bay. Well served by the bus, but not all that very frequent. Getting to, and from the bus stop involved walking variously up (to the B&B) and down (to the bus stop). Not only that, but dinner was at the only pub in Whiting Bay - the curiously named MOST Hotel. More on that later.

2.  Not getting to places easily

DJ had never seen standing stones, so we took off to see the stones at Machrie by bus. They were great, and we’ll worth the walk from the bus stop. After our visit we decided to walk back to Machrie for lunch and the bus home. 

We followed the Google Map route. After some brisk hiking we discovered that Machrie was behind us and we had been striking out in completely (185 degrees) in the wrong direction. The day was sunny, however and the birds were singing and do we continued to the next town, called Blackwaterfoot. The bus from there, after lunch from a ‘serve yourself and put the money in a tin’ bakery cupboard behind the pub. 

3.  Making connections 

A VERY scary thought was missing the ferry on the last morning - THIS morning, in fact. Logic has it that SURELY buses coordinate with ferries, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Bus routes on the island are way too complicated to describe here, so I won’t. Needless to say that wait times for the next bus are quite lengthy and confidence in getting there in time is low. We needn’t have worried because our host, Rob, was driving to Glasgow for a car service and was traveling on the same ferry as us. He gave us a lift. 

Arran

As a travel blog, it’s been very light on travel stories. So here is a little about our first travel destination - Arran. It’s a pretty big island lying in a huge sea that was viewed by some as an inland sea. It is almost completely surrounded by land mass. Yesterday we climbed the biggest peak on the island - Goat’s Fell (‘fell’ being a mountain).

From the tippy top of Goat’s Fell you can clearly see why the island is promoted as containing elements of lowlands to the south and highlands  (massive rugged peaks) to the north. Our B&B host, Rob, is a fully qualified geologist and explained the geology of the division that separates Scotland  north and south, cutting Arran Island into two separate areas. 

The climb to the top was very hard going, especially the scramble up the last 400 mètres. Nonetheless, we made it, proving once and for all that Australians are the best in the world at everything. 

As usual, the climb down was excruciating on the legs, so we retired to the pub for dinner with very trembly knees. The day was unusually sunny, so the adventure was perfect. 

Aran jumpers

One of the sources of anticipated excitement about visiting the Isle of Arran in Scotland was the prospect of browsing through endless Aran jumper shops. Do YOU know about Aran jumpers?  Traditionally off-white, with cable patterns. I had one as a youngster that my mum had knitted. 

Anyhow, on Day 2 of our stay on Arran, I began casting about for these traditional jumper shops. Imagined entering the shop with head bowed to avoid banging it on the impossibly low doorway to this tinkle of a bell to announce my arrival. An earnest Aran jumper knitter would lift his/her head (no gender exclusion here) from furious knitting and ask if they could be of any help in finding the perfect Aran jumper for ME. 

Now, here’s the rub. You, the astute reader, will have by now anticipated the trap into which I had fallen. You will have understood the problem from my very careful - and quite deliberate - spelling of the word ‘Aran’. Yes, Dear reader, ARAN jumpers originate in the Islands of Aran, situated on the far western coast of Ireland. Being, as we are, visitors to Arran in Scotland, my dreams of Aran jumper browsing have been well and truly DASHED.

Toodles!

Ear worms

 

I have always suffered from ear worms. You know, songs that pop into your head and won’t let you go. You won’t have known this about me. I would be suffering an ear worm while I was speaking with you one-on-one or in a group conversation.

 

 Where do these frigging songs come from ?  It’s astounding. However, when I deliberately work through the lyrics, it becomes apparent.

 

A good example is on a bike ride with chums – maybe a Wednesday morning to Beechworth, Frankie Laine’s The Gambler will suddenly appear and firmly ensconce itself. Why this song (about lost love) ?  It’s about pursuit of love as a gamble, similar to playing a game of roulette. Frankie sings :  ‘… While the wheels are spinning, spinning, spinning, I’ll still think of winning …. Get it ?  Spinning wheels !  On the bike. Up to Beechworth. Bike wheels. OMG !!!

 

Well, last Monday, sitting in the double-decker bus, hurtling towards Victoria Station at dawn, suddenly the Peter Paul and Mary ear worm pops in :  Well eary in the morning, about the break of daaay … ON and ON and fricking ON !!!

 

HELP 

Ally

It would appear that our daughter Ally is having way too good a time living in London. We are staying with her in Hackney, in a block of apartments that are curiously described as ‘Mansions’.  Apparently, this désignâtes the flats as being slightly bigger than your normal, run-of-the-mill apartment. Couldn’t see it, myself. 

With such a frenetic social calendar it is very generous of Ally to spend time with her aging ancestors. Nonetheless, she hurtled down to Brighton yesterday to see her newly-beloved football team Leeds go down by one goal. 
Toodles!

Off to Arran

Up early this morning (yeech!) to catch a plane at Gatwick for the Isle of Arran via Glasgow. Getting up early is OT Groombles' thing, but the old Circadian rythms haven't yet kicked in, so I woke at 4:30 - plenty of time for a 5:00 am departure. JUST caught the 5:15 bus and JUST caught the express train to Gatwick at ictoria station. The journey into town in the very early London light was gorgeous, but the absolute highlight (apart from being on holiday with DJ) was spying a cluster of haircutting shops with the standout neon sign: Barber Streisand. Fabulous!! There WAS one diastrous moment, however. You'll need to brace yourself for this one, but Security snaffled my pot of hair product! True story. Astonishing! Apparently it was too big a pot. My basic instinct is that this was too tempting a prize for the security chap on duty to sllow it to pass through to its tightful owner, viz. ME! Toodles!