What’s the Story in Dalamory

Life in Dalamory has suddenly taken on a more exotic turn. A notice in the shop announces a belly-dancing class on Saturday. Yes – a belly-dancing class. It invites women of all sizes (I guess men don’t have the right shaped bellies or something) – of all shapes and sizes to come along and try it out. I am mildly tempted, especially as it says, the bigger the belly the better the wiggle…..

There is a tussle going on in my life today. Should I write my sermon for Sunday or should I sit in the sun? Perhaps I should stick to office hours and just have long coffee and lunch breaks. Come to think of it, I could just aim to start at 2-00pm.

Oh I do like being my own boss.

Well he was feeling left out.

For the second day running, an irate and extremely irritable bird with a sticky-uppy tail has been complaining at all and sundry on one of our favourite walks by the River Orchy. It scolded, it ranted it rattled….. A small brownish bird. It could only be a wren. But why so cross I wonder? According to the bird books, the check check sound is its alarm call, so maybe it has young nearby. On the other hand perhaps it knows the nights are drawing in already. The darkness came last night shortly after ten o’clock.

I have blogged about Ben Fogle before, so regular readers won’t be surprised to hear that I was mightily amused at  fellow TV Presenter Kate Humble, who described him as a “dumb blonde”. Having said that, I have been impressed at his tenacity and penchant for challenges, none less so than his Atlantic Rowing feat with the Olympic oarsman James Cracknell. The series of programmes this past week have alternately annoyed me with their constant repetive reminders of what has gone before – too much like padding – but I have also been moved by what they went through.

I was always a fair-weather-sailor, so big waves terrified me. And yes, a campervan is adventure enough for now thank you very much.

August 1st is a date to note. (And not because it is Son No 1’s birthday, important though that is.) Emma the mobile dog groomer is coming to clip and bath Misty. It is time for the shaggy but cute cairn to have her first treatment with the doggy beauty parlour. Misty says she is not so sure about having her nails clipped.

What does one do on a summer holiday?  Read, of course. So I have declared this week to be a holiday week. So far I have polished off Breaking the Rules of Aging by David A Lipschitz; Swan Music, by Sarah Harrison (A well worthwhile read and the happy “find” of a new author I like); and two Barbara Taylor Bradfords……… I know, I am slightly ashamed of that, but it has been very hot. Oh and I have nearly finished Shattered Love, Richard Chamberlain;s autobiography.

Well they do recommend that the “elderly” take things gently right now. Not that I need any excuse.

And I am not complaining. 31.7degrees here in Dalamory yesterday.

OK so I succumbed and watched an alternative Big Brother. Esther Rantzen, Marcus Brigstocke and Ron Atkinson attempt to learn French at an intensive course in Provence.  That led me toute de suite to the Ma France interactive course provided by the BBC. Fascinating stuff. Now all I have to do is concentrate and then fix up some holidays in France.

It must be the heat.

I was fighting with the ironing board yesterday; eventually Him Behind the Wheel took pity and tamed the thing. I said, “What would I do without you?”

After a slight pause, he said, “Buy a new ironing board.”