Showing posts from May, 2008

Greyfriars Bobby; She is in love.

Last August we went to Edinburgh and saw Greyfriars Bobby, the statue. The Princess was so impressed she spent her hard earned holiday money on the cuddly toy who now lives on her bed. I know the story is sad, but I find it so lovely that a story from 150 years ago can still touch a 5 year old today. It also makes me feel sad, because I'm not sure the same thing would ever happen again.

If Auld Jock died now, he would most likely be cremated and his ashes stored somewhere on the off chance that any relatives came to claim him. Bobby would be sent to the dog rescue where, if he did manage to escape from the cage he definitely wouldn't get out the security doors to reach the city mortuary. If he did get there, then his entry would be blocked again by a numerical lock (dogs have trouble operating those; the key pad is usually too high up to reach) and a security guard who works there on the days when he's not a night club bouncer.

Even if Auld Jock had had a burial plot booked…

I have a crafty moment going on round here....

But the trouble is that I keep changing from project to project, ignore any house work completely and can always think of a reason why I need (that's need ) to go to Borders.
Apart from sewing blue Pinkies for the task master, there's a ripple blanket for DP, a waistcoat to knit for me, some mats that I bought 14 years ago to embroider, several cross stitch sets I have found and want to finish and a tapestry cushion that cost an indecent amount that I must, from shame, finish sometime. I will photo and post like a good girl sometime but, for now, I am in love with Photobox and busy cutting and sticking a scrapbook of our Scottish holiday last year. I'll leave you with my new header photo; the crystal bowl is at least 30 years old, the mat I embroidered myself. Enjoy.


I took my daughter to speech therapy on Monday.... she can't get the difference in saying G and D so we have a lot of dods but only one Dod. Do you get it? OK, so speech therapy is supposed to be only half an hour at 1.30.... but going and returning take a good 15 minutes (drive slowly) and play is at half two, and after play is only story time..... do you see where I'm going with this? All in all it makes more sense not to take her back into school, especially since my Dad can collect the Boys on a Monday so we (she and I) indulge and I mean indulge in feminine time. Translation; we go to Borders (and Starbucks within) where I get fleeced right royally. This week's highway robbery was a Japanese craft book, so cute that I have barely been allowed to touch it and, indeed, at the moment can't find it to copy and show you. Don't tell her, but I did get this matching volume;

so she will be getting the hairbands, bags and bits 'n' pieces that are dear to a young…