Sheep may safely graze
I'm a bit mystified by sheep logistics, behind my cottage is a selection of rough pasture and heather moorland. When I moved here last year there was a flock of about 300 sheep bumbling about on the other side of the fence (or occasionally in my garden, when the escape committee put their collective mind to it). When the lambs went to the pie factory, the yows (as they are called here) were taken away for a change of scene over the mountain to Ballogie. I thought that was it, the farmers were confidently predicting that this winter would be worse than last year. So, I was surprised when they all came back again, with the addition of the tup, an extremely shaggy creature, dyed that shade of synthetic orange that immediately said afghan coat to me, I can imagine him sidling up to an innocent ewe and offering a blast on his clerkenwell carrot as a prelude to lurve. Even in a flock, there does seem to be some scope for individuality, they all came back yesterday (minus the kebabs obviously), and already there's one four miles down the road towards town, while the rest are heading for the ski slopes at Glenshee. The tup is still hanging in there, I wonder what it's going to be like when the baby baa lambs start to eventuate.
A funny thing happened on the way...
I was walking into Toulouse today, about to cross one of the bridges over the Garonne, when my eye was caught by a glint of metal on the pavement. At the same moment, someone coming the opposite way also spotted it, and stooped down to pick it up. He straightened up and showed me what appeared to be a gold ring.
So far so good, but next he surprised me by handing it to me, saying that his hands were too small. Rather at a loss, I continued on my way, stuffing the ring into my pocket. A couple of minutes later, he came charging after me, and asked if I had any money. I gave him some shrapnel, which was all I had, and he asked for more, about 5 euro was the figure he had in mind.
When I explained that this was all I had, he wandered off again. I can't think that this was a scam, or if it was, I can't quite see how it works, in the meantime I have a chunky, possibly gold ring (it has hallmarks). Can anyone explain?
Long time lonesome...
Greetings from the banks of the Garonne, it has been a long time, both since I was last here, and since I last blogged. Apologies, I moved house in July last year, and my new place, although splendid in its isolation, is too remote from the exchange to permit Internet access. My own stupidity, not realising I could get a blogger app for the iPhone, has also cramped my style.
So, here it is, the return of Way out West, hopefully I will have interesting things to see and do. This year is looking quite interesting quite a lot of festivals, and with any luck I'll manage to avoid the Olympics entirely.
one is a publisher...
I have finally got it together to get off my backside and publish my book. The back story is that several years ago I wrote my small detective novel (I don't mean the detective is small, just that it isn't 500 pages long, as seems to be the fashion at the moment), with the feeble hope of generating enough interest/income to buy off the taxman. Sadly my magnum opus was met with a crescendo of indifference from the publishing trade, and feeling discouraged, I stuck it in a metaphorical drawer and sulked. The advent of the kindle and it's various electronic brethren reawakened my interest, and after a bit of research I decided that I would e-publish it myself. This has proved to be an education in many ways, the process is quite straightforward, but untangling all the kinks created both by my ineptitude at using the word processing software, and by microsoft's obsession with embedding auto corrects and other buried functions into the text has taken me nearly two days of fiddling. Along the way I had to create a cover for the book (I got carried away and ended up with four, one of which will be the cover for book two), and no doubt there'll be other things I have yet to do. Currently the book is available only on the smashwords website at the princely price of $2.99, once it has gone through a vetting process it will also be available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble for the same price,and it'll even have an isbn number. It can be found on:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/53805 
This is my cover design for book 2 (I managed not to do books 3, 4, and 5)
Labels: book, dead in the water
If I had a hammer (revisited).
Busking has achieved new heights here in Frankfurt, this gentleman has fitted a grand piano onto a trailer, and is thus able to bring his own unique musical talents to his audience. Would that his ability kept pace with his ingenuity, still, he has lovely teeth.
Frankfurt has many curiosities, among all the Euro stuff, and many galleries, I found a hammer museum, if I had found it before I encountered this gentleman, then I might have called for a No.4 Piano destroyer. Street art, never there when you need it.
Labels: hammers, pianos
Hug a hoody?
Since I moved to Scotland there have been a number of siren voices commenting 'aye, you'll need a cardi now that you're living in the north'. I have never found it hard to resist the call, the cardi, in my mind is associated too closely with a) slippers (nuff said), and b) with starsky and hutch. However, browsing the sale rack in a fashionable boutique here in Sheffield, I came across a heavy, zip up top that I rather liked, and at a bargain price too. It was only after I had bought it that I realised that I might have bought a hoody. Ah well, I thought, small risk that I might be mistaken for a juvenile, although delinquent remains a possibility.
I then thought, what of Mr Camerons' big society, are we not supposed to embrace the hoody and all it represents?
Well blow me down if, the very first time I wore it out, I wasn't pounced upon and hugged, and not just once, but twice! The first time was a charity mugger, who took my refusal in good part, and the second was a rather stoned back street masseuse who promised to make me happy for two pounds, and also didn't take offence at my polite refusal, giving me a boozy hug to see me on my way.
So, maybe there's something in it after all...
Partridge Family
This is one of a small family of partridges that have started hanging around in the garden, the cat is pretending he's not interested...
and no, there's no sign of David Cassidy anywhere, either...
