Scottish Sundays: Carried Away

I do get over-enthusiastic sometimes, who would've guessed?
While I have trouble sticking to vague deadlines, I seem to be ok with working my socks off for non-important self-imposed mass-participation deadlines. In the past I've rather pitifully wrote 50.000 word novels of eternal crapdom* just because thousands and thousands of others were doing the same. Now that I've found other, more rewarding hobbies, like Spinning** someone has figured out that we can make en event of that too. They named it the Tour de Fleece, and it lasts as long as the Tour de France. The goal is to spin every day, and rest on the rest days. No amounts or distances, that's all to your own liking.

So I've spun too much already this weekend. I'm not allowed back on tonight, it's already past 11pm!

 

So to keep this short, we went to the local Estate "Wolfslaar" which was celebrating its 500 year anniversary. It's a pretty building, erected in the 1800's which has served many purposes amongst which housing a school for midwifery. At the moment it's a Michelin starred restaurant, set in a stunning setting

 

It has been lovingly restored so if you want to, you can even have your wedding here.
However lovely it is, it was built as a family home, but no one has lived here since the 50's.

 

In an unfortunate turn of events, we caught a cat lurking around our nest earlier this morning. When we got back, it seemed like our lovely blue-green eggs were carried away. The nest is empty, the blackbird has returned to the nest a few times but never stayed. There is no sign of the eggs or possible hatched babybirds at all to be found. This makes me sad.

 

In better news, a baby was born and the Photographer and I are discussing possible camping trips. 3 weeks 'till touchdown.


*yes, crapdom, they were never edited, so they can't in all reality be good as they are
**oh the Spinning...

Scottish Sundays: No rest for the wicked

Hebban olla vogala nestas hagunnan hinase hic enda thu.

No I haven't lost it. Those are the first Dutch words written down EVER (that still remain). Roughly it means something like "All the birds have started their nests except for you and me". If you look around... that's kinda true. Big bellies are popping up all over the place, and I think I've mentioned that before. Never mind that, look at this picture!

This past week, a female blackbird (I'm guessing) started ripping bits off of our vines and flying in tufts of moss to build this nest! How weird, it seems rather late in the season to start building. The nest has grown in size since then, but I haven't spotted anything in it. Yet.

Nothing much has happened this week, apart possibly from the fact that my job got extended for another 2 months. In spite of that, some more job applications have been sent. Luckily I had already decided to stop stressing out about it, as there isn't much point to it. Something will come up, eventually.*

So, while I was procrastinating this weekend, I got the pictures off my phone and stumbled upon this, which shall be the Scottish picture of the week. It was taken at the Ullapool Golf Club. it includes DH, who, I've decided, needs a nickname like every other DH mentioned in blogs. From now on, he shall be called the Photographer. He doesn't often appear in pictures because he hogs the camera.**

I want my summer back. With sun and time off. No more of this nonsense.

Back to knitting warm cardigans it is for now. I hope that bird can swim...

* So I've been told
** He will deny this