Friday, October 20, 2006

Pretty Cows in the Lake District

Beware a week-end away with middle-aged (give or take a year or ten) women who have responsible jobs in local government. The aim of the trip? To win as many games of cribbage as possible whilst imbibing copious amounts of cava and champagne. Then, during daylight hours, to stomp across the hills (refreshment breaks for namby-pambies only), equipped with as many outdoor accoutrements as it is possible to carry in one state-of-the-art rucksack. Personally, I prefer more-sex to gore-tex.

By the way, dearest friends, I can now officially confirm that I was unable to join the hill trek due to a condition in my feet called plantar fasciitis (oh thank-u god….). This is also known as “Policemans Heel”. Any suggestion of a relation to Achilles will be vigourously denied.

Did this stop me from joining in and having a good time? Lets look at the pictoral evidence…..

Taking the waters. The girlies make use of their sucky things. Look, they can drink water without using their hands – and in Unison too!! But later, explaining the dribble marks over one breast does, however, become a little exasperating.








Pretty cows – a photograph of cows asked for by my friends, who then disappeared into the distance. And they say I can’t take a hint……









Ooh look. There's more pretty cows!

Then, later that evening, things took a turn for the,well - dramatic I suppose. We became delusional on 2 counts. (1) That there had been four Charlies Angels instead of three and (2) That we were those Charlies Angels.

Of course, this had nothing to do with three bottles of cava and one of champagne and absolutely everything to do with a remarkable shared psychosis.

It was when we became so serious about getting the perfect media shot of Charlies Angels, moving furniture and taking pictures off the wall, that I started to become concerned. Should I have stayed in role as Bigsley after all? And if we were Charlies Angels, where was Charlie?


Sunday morning arrived. Were we affected by our weekend revelations? Yes indeed, note the overnight metamorphosis and behold –
The Sucking Angels…..














Thanks guys. It was much-needed lots of fun and I look forward to a repeat performance - where I may even be able to join you on the hills (if only because I want a sucky thing too).

We are indeed pretty cows!

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Angels or Reflections? Its all a bit deep for me...

OK, can someone, somewhere give me an answer to this one? I once knew a woman who was convinced that those strange, spherical objects you sometimes get in your photographs are actually angels (or ghosts or spirits, whatever name you would like to attach to ethereal beings). She was so convinced that she tried to persuade me of the same notion.

I am, I find, a bit of a spiritual waverer. However, in her defence (I feel obliged as she's not actually here), I must say that these spheres or faintly orbs do have a nasty habit of appearing in my photos when I least expect them. I've tried seeing if there's a mirror in the room or a way of the flash being reflected which could explain it. But, I have to say that I am, in a Long-John Silver kind of a way, well and truly stumped.

Last night, the full moon was an absolute stormer. Our village has no streetlights and is 12 miles away from the nearest small town so light pollution is very low. Although I know my digital camera really is no great shakes for a moon shot, I just had to have a go. I leant out of the bedroom window for this one - hubby hanging on to left foot just in case.....

As you can see, the angels outside were having a party - and everyone was invited.

Bizarrely enough, the next shot, taken only a couple of seconds later from the same place, resulted in - yes, the angels having left due to being caught unawares (or maybe I just didn't bring enough bottles.....).


For those more curious, the strange lines are telephone wires which the village elders and worthies are attempting to get buried underground.

I suppose it would improve my bedroom shots. (Can you say that in a blog?). Although hubby may get fed up of hanging on to my feet. (Now this really is getting bizarre....).

If there is anyone out there who a) has had the patience to read this, and b) has some kind of explanation, I'd really like to hear from you.


All comments and stories of angels gratefully received. Oh, and if you are that woman - I didn't doubt you for a second.

Honest.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

New York or North West Scotland?

From chaos to calm – The big apple & the big yin?

I left Yorkshire this spring for two very different holiday experiences…….

In an ambitious attempt to brighten up a soggy North Yorkshire spring, I arranged two trips, one to New York, with my mother, and the other to Wester Ross in Scotland with my partner. Different companions, circumstances and (as I was to discover), utterly contrasting holiday destinations.

Staying just south of Central Park in Manhattan on West 57th street, The Salisbury Hotel gave my mother and I a fantastic central location and the fact that we were there to celebrate her 80th birthday did not stop us from wearing down the shoe-leather. Easy access to Fifth Avenue meant lots of shopping and, in Trump Towers, lots of gawping and the use of their posh, marble and gold toilets (which, strangely, became my mothers favourite destination).

Our first meal was in the Brooklyn Diner where, due to a bit of jet lag, we generously over-tipped and were then treated like royalty. It may not be well known but if you want to experience the all-american diner at its best then it must be here. It also helps if your mother looks like the queen.

Mum handled the whole trip brilliantly - if not a little eccentrically. Only an octogenarian Yorkshire lass could come all the way to New York with the main intent to go shopping in search of the perfect knickers. I’m not sure that Macys - as the worlds largest department store - had ever dealt with the likes of this kind of tourist. As they didn’t come up with the required goods, it took a trip to downtown Orchard Street market, on the lower East side, to provide her with them. A small, tightly packed shop, reminiscent of “Open All Hours” with equally bizarre staff, produced an array of huge nylon lacy pants in lurid, traffic-light colours. Smitten, she bought a dozen pairs.

We covered a lot of ground. The Guggenheim museum was definitely worth the uphill walk to look at the exhibits, but the foyer of the Empire State building was an hours wait to go up, which didn’t appeal to our feet. The Staten Island ferry was both free and fabulous with great views of the Manhattan skyline, Ellis island and the Statue of Liberty. New York is a great place to get around for an older person as yellow cabs are readily available (once you’ve mastered the art of waving them down).

On a days escape from the matriarch (she is overly fond of mafia movies), I explored Central Park and the Museum of Modern Art. MOMA is not to be missed even if, like myself, you only have a basic knowledge of the classics such as Monet, Dali and Van Gogh. They’re all here, and then some.

The “Top of the Rock” experience on the Rockerfeller Centre included a film, shown under your feet, from the viewpoint of its construction workers, who balanced on girders to achieve this 1930’s masterpiece. Then, film images were projected on to the lift (sorry – elevator) ceiling as we travelled up all 65 floors in 45 seconds. I hate lifts but adore heights so the film came in useful, with the end result of a breathtaking view of the Empire State Building and all of Manhattan laid out before you.

Whilst I scaled the heights, my mother went in search of freebies in Tiffany’s and, once again, took advantage of her favourite washrooms in Trump Towers. Oh was there ever a venue so aptly named…

On arriving home we were enthralled, tired, dizzy, and in need of a rest. Two weeks later, I got one.

Gairloch in Wester Ross, one of the most beautiful parts of the Scottish Highlands, seemed the perfect antidote to city life. Looking out onto Ben Eighe in the Torridon hills, its easy to see why it was declared Britains first National Nature Reserve. With the quartzite-topped hills and views across to Skye, the scenery immediately invokes that feeling of awe, wonder and yet at the same time, calm. On good days from here the isles of the outer Hebrides can also be seen, as well as a vast array of local birdlife including ptarmigan, peregrines and eagles.

Gairloch is the name of a collection of small hamlets along the coast. We stayed in Strath at Newton House, a B&B with views of the bay from a large ensuite room, comfortable bed and great breakfasts with no hassle. The nearby Millcroft Hotel had recently been taken over and in the evenings we benefited from the friendly family owners who tested out their (very proficient) culinary skills on us. We walked Flowerdale glen to find two waterfalls and visited the tiny, but friendly and well laid-out, Gairloch Heritage Museum.

Everyone was genuinely welcoming in the town although a local café, dedicated to outdoor beefy-types, did seem to have a constant supply of staff with a sense of humour bypass. After many attempts to melt their cold shoulders, we decided it must have been written into their job descriptions.

Inverewe gardens, just a few miles away are full of beautiful and unusual flora from all over the world, able to grow in the warm gulf-stream climate. The road from Gairloch to Poolewe also presented dramatic vistas up Loch Maree. The Wester Ross Coastal Trail road route passes through some of the most spectacular scenery in Scotland.





On the far North West side of the peninsula in the wild wind and open atlantic setting sits the Rubha Reidh lighthouse. If you fancy a get-away-from-it-all-I don’t-care-how holiday, you can rent it. However, its not easy to get to and you’ll never find a yellow cab in these parts.


On the south side of the peninsula lies Red Point, a beautiful and spectacular stretch of coastline. With no access road and a two mile walk to get there, it seems virtually untouched. An old boat house, however, gave the gold-red sands some scale with a sense of wilderness and also abandonment. The beach to ourselves and the sun shining miraculously, we explored the rock-pools, shells and corals for hours.

Listening to the gulls cry and the waves lapping gently it was hard to think of leaving. We stood on the headland just up from the waters edge, looking down to the beach and across to the distant islands of Skye and the Hebrides, bathed in sunshine.

The question,from my partner, when it came, seemed inevitable. “So, New York or here?”


Sorry New York. No contest. My soul will always win.


New York:
Salisbury Hotel 123 West 57th Street
http://www.nycsalisbury.com/
Brooklyn Diner 212 West 57th Street
http://www.brooklyndiner.com/

Gairloch:
Ben Eighe National Nature Reserve
Located on A832 north of Kinlochewe
Newton House B&B, Mihol Road Tel: 01445 712007
Rua Reidh Lighthouse, B&B/Hostel Tel: 01445 771263