Likes/Dislikes

PostingA spot of shopping

plustwos1_Small.jpg "What is it with you and your clothes?" I ask Va-vay.

We are sat in an Edinburgh cafe planning the final shopping onslaught before Christmas. My cup of hot chocolate must steel me for the fight with battalions of shoppers who are advancing on the city's shops like scavenging hordes. I have presents for everybody except Va-vay, who is unable to think of a single thing he might like for Christmas (saving arcane items of geekery that I do not understand well enough to purchase).

"What do you mean?" he replies. "I buy clothes, I wear them; they wear out. That's it."

This description barely does justice to the war of attrition Va-vay wages on his clothes.

"Yes, but Va-vay, the clothes disintegrate on you. Within months. Weeks even. Remember the Thomas Pink shirts?"

We both fall silent at the memory of the shirts, now reduced to dish rags and eking out their last days in a bucket under the sink.

"That wasn't my fault," says Va-vay. "Something in the fabric attracted stains." As if a laundress had put a curse on them. A Vanish-proof jinx that would defeat the housewives of Harry Potter.

"What about your socks, then?"

I've got the trump card here. Va-vay (who has size 14 feet) has issues with socks that not even his optimism can deny. They tend to sprout holes within weeks and his toes peep out to greet the world.

I've bought socks from all the obvious sock-buying places, thinking somewhere must have some that fit his feet. In vain. Our home is full of greying, unmatched socks that have wilted at the challenge of clothing Va-vay's feet. At night, his feet stick out the end of the duvet. Large and vulnerable.

I have offered to knit him socks, but Va-vay has declined, saying his skin allergy makes him sensitive to wool. Yes, it's hard to believe this is the same man who dashed across a busy B road to save the life of a caterpillar he saw stranded on the tarmac.

"Don't buy me expensive socks for Christmas," he says. "They're no better than the cheap ones."

"Va-vay, you do want something for Christmas, don't you?"

"You've got me a hat. That's enough."

"No! It's not enough. I want to buy my husband a nice present for Christmas. Why won't you co-operate in this? There's pleasure in giving as well as receiving, you know. You're making it very difficult."

"Oh, alright, alright. What about a pair of trousers?"

As well as having feet at the more err, generous end of the spectrum, Va-vay is also tall (around 6ft 6in). As you might imagine, trouser-buying has its challenges. We trail from shop to shop, meet assistants who laugh at us or cannot help, while elbowed by fellow shoppers who refuse to move aside for the buggy. I am paranoid that a stranger will touch me and cling to Va-vay. Our search for the right sort of trousers is proving fruitless.

Eventually, I spot a countryside shop purveying guns, Barbours, goggles, corded strawberry trousers, tweed caps, padded waistcoats and any other accoutrement you could imagine the sporting gent about town might need.

"Look, Va-vay, we could get you a pair of plus fours!" I tell him in excitement.

Va-vay glances in the window at the dummy done up in a pair of moleskin pantaloons that finish just below his knees. A shotgun trails by his side. Compared to his friend (in canary yellow trousers), his get-up looks almost sophisticated.

"Any pair of trousers is like plus fours on me," he says, with resignation.

We turn from the knickerbockers, and head for home.

Posted 18 December 2007 13:57 | Number of comments: 14 | Comments

Dilemmas Domestic chaos Edinburgh Husband Likes/Dislikes Out and about

PostingDog days

On holiday it seemed that Beanie greeted every slavering cur, half-rabid wolf and barking hound like long-lost friends, crying out 'dug' to them, oblivious to my maternal fears. 'Dug' is a recent addition to her vocabulary, a popular one, but Avignon pavements are narrow; its dogs can be unpredictable.

Imagine, then, her delight when, on a train journey home one day, we happened on a tiny 'dug' nestling in a woman's handbag. Combining as it did two of her greatest loves - 'dugs' and handbags - Beanie could not have been more entranced.

"Dug! Dug! Dug!" she pointed, desperate to ensure that I, too, had noticed this two-for-one miracle, this holy grail of travel accessories, the benchmark by which all other bags will now be judged. "Dug! Dug! Dug!"

"Yes, Beanie. Dog," I told her, a trifle pedantically, it must be confessed, but loving her innocent enthusiasm.

"Can she touch the dog?" I asked its owner in French.

"Ah, no, he has sharp teeth. Likes to bite." The woman made biting gestures.

"Beanie," I whispered to her "The little dog might bite. We'll just look at him for now."

She listened to what I said, clambered back up on my lap and watched the puppy from afar, interjecting every so often: 'dug!' - and then again - 'dug!' until both she and the dog fell asleep.

Posted 16 October 2007 12:06 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Daughter Holidays Likes/Dislikes Out and about

PostingFamily outing

Wildflower Garden FlotterstoneIt's an effort to have a family day out, but these days the effort's more than worth it, especially now The Bean is a little bit older. It wasn't always like that.

For about a year after she was born I was too scared to leave the square mile around home. Can't say why, but the post-natal world can be a scary place. I began to think dragons lurked outside the city centre.

Also the effort of getting anywhere with a baby seemed to outweigh any actual pleasure from the outing.

Then in February we bought our first car, after I finally got fed up with the hassle of getting a buggy on a bus.

We've spent the last few months practising our driving and today headed out to some of the hills surrounding Edinburgh for a day in the countryside.

Even a few months ago a trip like today's would have involved 70% hard work to 30% enjoyment. Today's ratio was the exact reversal - lots more fun than effort. The Bean's Dad and I held hands a lot and didn't even bicker about the route.

The Bean perched aloft her father's back in her Vamoose rucksack, surveying cows, flowers, hills and trees with intense curiosity. While covered in a rain hood that made her look like a trainee bee-keeper.

We marched along muddy paths, past old filter beds, stopping in the Wildflower Garden to smell the honeysuckle (pictured), until we reached the Glencourse Reservoir, which provides some of the city's water.

We got some great pictures of The Bean playing with buttercups, surrounded by long grass nearly as tall as her.

Even though we're city-dwellers, I'd like it if The Bean learns something about the countryside, as I love the outdoors. "Look, Beanie! Cows!" her father and I chorused. Then mooed in unison. Good fun.

The Vamoose carrier got properly broken in, too - it's mud-spattered! So not just another piece of expensive, hardly-used kit she'll outgrow in months, unlike a lot of the stuff we bought when she first arrived.

We even managed a bite to eat at the child-friendly and welcoming Flotterstone Inn on the way back. I hardly felt traumatised or hassled at all during the entire trip - a novel sensation. Now I can't wait for our next outing.

 

Posted 08 July 2007 20:55 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Car Daughter Edinburgh Fun Husband Kit Likes/Dislikes Out and about

PostingTagged.... 8 facts about me

My dear fellow blogger Omega Mum tagged me a little while ago, so here goes:

1. When it comes to bedtime I wake up and become energetic. However, I have great difficulty waking up most mornings. I am the reverse of my husband in both respects.

2. Although I am Scottish, I speak with an English accent. Despite this, I become offended if people express doubt that I am really Scottish.

3. My husband and I spent our first night together in a Spanish mountain refuge surrounded by fifty unwashed and flatulent fellow hikers. A trip to the 'toilet' involved abseiling down a nearby cliffside, past a pack of wolverine hounds, complete with camping light strapped to my forehead.

4. Speaking of dogs, I have a pathological terror of the beasts. When I was four I nearly drowned running into the sea to escape one of them. My father ran in after me and pulled me out. I remember sitting in the sand dunes afterwards with my Grandpa, holding my dad's wet trousers out to dry, while my dad wrapped himself as best he could in a towel.

5. The first boy I ever kissed had gargled beforehand with TCP. He was diabetic and had needles for his insulin in his pocket. The worst bit is that he was the one who dumped me.

6. In 1984 I won a letter-writing competition in The Scotsman to be a judge for the Perrier comedy awards at the Edinburgh Fringe. I spent two weeks watching four or five comedy shows daily. I also got to hobnob with lots of journalists and comedians. It was lovely. Except for a minor faux-pas at the final dinner. I misjudged a skittish vol-au-vent that shot out from my plate onto the middle of the table. There was a ghastly pause in which I debated whether to haul it back in or not. Greed eventually got the better of me.

7. I love being outdoors. It is one of my favourite things in the world and where I feel most at peace. I am nearly 6ft tall and a good walker.

8. When I was at university I sank a punt. I cringe now, looking back. My fellow punters and I were so drunk and wet no taxi would take us, so we had to walk home, an hour's trudge via the city's ring road. What's worse, I let someone else explain to the authorities what we'd done.

Posted 15 June 2007 13:35 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Dads Husband Likes/Dislikes Out and about