Perhaps I just really needed a holiday - I haven't had one for three years - but there was something about last week that changed me and the ambition now has to be to move to the coast as soon as we can afford it. Bollocks to this 'you don't want to move away from where all your ties are because you will end up lonely and wanting to return home' (admittedly that's what they say to lottery winners, but...), I think I'd like to give it a try and if any friends and family want to see us, hell, they can see the sea too.
The massive irony, which I mentioned earlier, is the price of modest properties in this neck of Scotland; if we really wanted to buy something cheap and didn't care where we lived you can get three bed houses in Stranraer for about £55k - admittedly, well according to locals we spoke to last week, Stranraer is the sink hole for Glasgow and the place is full of dodgy families, paedos and ex-cons, so I doubt that would be a viable choice, but given my line of work now I would find it quite funny should I ever go there to live that I would probably end up working in Scotland's coastal toilet port.
One of things I didn't emphasise enough about the week just gone was the general spectacularly big feel to where we were; even the thunderstorms seemed extreme and therefore standing in the Co-op waiting for the rain to stop became a new experience, especially watching the centre of Wigtown transformed into a torrent of rain water. There was rarely nothing to look at and while I imagine some parts would be grim and bleak in the middle of a cold winter; I expect that the scenery would still be breathtaking.
That Other Thing
So Britain only got 29 golds, what a piss poor performance; they should be ashamed of themselves... Or, WOW, what a fantastic fortnight of sport (shame I didn't see more than an hour of it apart from the football, which was, overall, a bit of a disappointment).
It was good to see London and the British cast in such a good light, especially by the foreign media. London 2012 may almost be over, but I'm glad we got it.
- My potatoes have been murdered by slugs.
- I haven't been listening to anything, all week, it has been an almost music free week, with just a bit of Classic FM and Radio 3.
- I am on the last couple of chapters of Gams of Threeps and I can't quite understand why aficionados of the books were disappointed with the, it seems, very few changes. If anything, the biggest change was the build-up to Ned's end; the politics in the series were essentially the same, but more emphasis was placed on other things and you also get the impression from the book that Ned's sudden fall was actually down to his daughter, which I don't recall happening in the TV series. Next is A Clutch of Clunge or whatever it's called and I shall read that straight away (I want to see what happens after I've caught up with the series).
- My summer writing project stalled, but then got inspired by the Scottish countryside. I've ditched my other ideas (probably to writing limbo forever) and am working on something else entirely. I've written best part of 5,000 words and it's all notes.
- We watched Battleship last night; complete and utter hokum from start to finish, but, you know, it was fun in an all-out action kind of way; but it amazes me how films with such awful scripts and acting ever get made let alone given the obvious mammoth budget this had. Tonight, I think I'll try and persuade the wife to watch the Closing Ceremony.
- I heard a couple of comments over the last couple of weeks about the 'fitness' of many of the female athletes. I was watching the women's 4x400 final last night and was transfixed by the six pack on the last leg runner for winner's the USA. Jesus Bing Crosby Christ, there was absolutely nothing attractive about it (mind you the US athletes all looked a bit like ugly donkeys, but that's just me being sexist, even if it is accurate).
- Cave farting.