He was slumped semi-comatose on the settee in from of the huge TV. Took ages to get him to answer the door - me ringing and ringing and everything. In the end I let myself in, sat down on the chair in the well-appointed hallway waiting for the sleepy man to appear. Toots had fallen asleep 'watching' snooker. I'm not surprised really since the chaps no sooner had put the balls in a hole than the other man got them out again. At that rate they would be going at it a week next Thursday.
Anyway, I had a camera with me and caught the fella staggering around waking up. Maybe he required a dip in a lochen. I dragged him out for a stroll all the same - but not near a lochen as it happens.
Oh no, I got wet. Fell backwards into a lochen. And gosh was it cold. Fair took the wind out my sails I can tell you.
We, Eve and I were trying out the wee inflatable tender boat thing prior to putting the bigger boatee in the harbour thing. Thought we better get used to paddling since the mechanical paddling device is yet to appear back from Angus the Outboard.
A rather water-damaged snap of Eve, the motorised carriage and the wee boatee - prior to my swimming incident.
I mean, the sun was shining, we'd spent all morning up to our armpits in soap suds washing the big boatee, airing the blanket things you hang on the big pole in the middle of the boatee and what have you. So I suggested we go up to a lochen on the way out to our peats. Twas Loch Gormag Mor apparently - all water and no people to gawp at us. Only, after putting the thing in the water, Eve climbed on board in her dainty way while I pushed the thing away from the shallow water - then 'leapt' in - actually, when I say 'leapt in' I really mean struggled in but it doesn't sound quite so proficient -especially when you then proceed to topple everso slowly but definitely backwards into the cold peaty water.
I laughed. An everso strained laugh but I definitely laughed an then got in again, boots filled to the brim with water and then proceeded at a leisurely paddling pace northish until the breeze blew us westish after about 3 yards until we grounded - again. I leapt out and pulled the tender thing to the side. We came home soon after where I dried out then went to bed for a little while to recover my senses.
As it happens, this camera - the Olympus XA2 - was in my pocket when I 'swam' so the snaps are not what they could have been. Sorry and all that.
I have been to four 'proper' football matches in my time. Chippenham FC back when the football was leather and the ground wet and muddy. Briftol Rovers V Exeter on a Boxing day at a pitch with a speedway/dog track around the outside, some game in Chile and Man City v someone - for which I got free tickets - back when City didn't win much and I worked over the road.
I didn't really enjoy any of the games - but the crowds were fascinating. In Chile the TV reporters went onto the field to get a few words from a player if he fell over near the edge of the pitch. At Man City some chaps in the stand spent ages berating some player fella - until he scored, then he was the best thing since sliced bread [which I really don't like as it happens].
But I'm keen to get a few snaps of the milieu as it were. The 'crowds' as the react to the play. I must do that sometime. It came to my mind after snapping up Internationale Carloway ground the other day.
See, I love the work of one Cyrille Rabilliard like this one from a horse race. I might just go along one day.
In the meantime, here is a snap of sheeps. That's what they look like. Well, this one anyway.
Had a lovely visitation from The Artist formerly known as Jon the other evening. What a lovely surprise that was - especially since he brought Andrea with him. That's the sculpterister Andrea not me. From Edinburgh apparently. And very lovely she is too I must say. We talked all three of us and then four as Eve came home. That's Eve from Leeds way, the partnerister.
In front of the cooking device we talked - it's warm there. And the reels were waiting where they had been earlier. Waiting for the film from the Perkeo and everything.
This is from the film in the Perkeo. Was it worth the wait?
The Artist spoke fondly of the film at the Arts centre - so we went to watch it. Something of a metaphor along the lines of cake is not a good thing' or something like that. Didn't really understand the thing - the colours were nice, Tilda Swinton looked fab and the shapes on the screen too were interesting, but the story? I was hoping The Artist would explain all. Only he didn't go. It was The Grand Budapest Hotel.
Is sunshine a mark of sophistication? If it is, and it might well be somewhere, we had that. The other day for an hour or more. And I have a snap to prove it. The local chapter of boys on bikes were out in force, doing their thing. With gusto. If that's not sophistication, what is?
And I noticed The Moped parked in front of An Lanntair. Sun glistening on its,,,,, its bits. Is that not sophisticated?
I know, I took these snaps with some dodgy cinematic copy film using a little point and shoot camera I found down the back of the settee, but hey, did I look sophisticated?