Operation Arthur's Seat

Nothing better than a trip to the homeland.  And surprisingly, considering the guest list, without incident.  Well when I say without incident I'm glossing over Monti's encounter with "Peter" aka "Legion" the Leith Rottweiler, the mystery of the missing duck and AXPK 90's suspected car fire.  All in all a successful family gathering.

SWFwltm1BDFLT/CH&HW - GSOH!

One out of six isn't bad... After many years of repelling the corporate dollar I've finally succumbed and sold out for the corporate cent, a meagre pension, a perks account (discount at Nandos) and a glass office. It truly is the end of days. Don't worry they'll find me out soon enough and I'll be back on the road again. Sub-letting a room from the delightful Ms Cheeseman a mere Special- Brew-can-throw-away from The Holloway Road and flathunting like a ... flathunter. Most of the agencies seem to be manned by small pretty Eastern European girls - at least I think they were estate agents - who patiently stand there whilst I enunciate "I don't want to sleep in my kitchen". In my head I sound like a level-headed business woman who knows what she wants - the reality - ranting wild-eyed Scottish nutter talking about sleeping with pots and pans. Has the circus left town? There seems to be a glut of rooms available for very, very, very, small people.

Reading: Last Night In Twisted River (John Irving)
Listening: Postcards From A Young Man (Manic Street Preachers)
Watching: my sanity slowly unravel

Snow business

Finally able to venture out on non-icy pavements without providing hilarious entertainment for small dogs and children. Even Mr Snowman has waved his icy paw and melted away leaving a pile of cherry pips. New Year resolutions = 0 Oh maybe find a job ... and somewhere to live ... and lose weight ... and stop drinking ... and start writing... and stop using elipses so much ... not really New Year but Every Year.

So - where are we at? Living in Dickenson Towers til the end of Jan with heart-stopping views across London. AXPK90 is pretty much snowed in up North with Monti, Sam and the snapping Tortoise. Inheritance or not Freda, one more nasty nip and you're a hairbrush. M n M have started proper school and Slap's joining them for school dinners today. Boiled cabbage n lumpy mash or salad n chicken nuggets? Ms P is back on the road soon and Linda J back from Sri Lanka this week. Stomp booked in with the Little Hippo for Wed on the (hopefully still snowy) Heath. Oh and after a romantic NY Eve proposal Alex has agreed to become Mrs Hat. Congratulations.

London's taken a while but the slow grinding of stiff wheels and rusty cogs is starting to pick up pace and though a little clunky today it feels like the machine is back in working order. A bit like the lift in Dickenson Towers.

Reading: The Tortilla Curtain by TC Boyle, JobCentre bumpf
Listening: Women's Hour
Painting: knitting bag
Knitting: jumper

Not all dervishes are whirling

Our last day in Istanbul. What we've learned so far:-
1. Forget about beach towel stereotypes, get down to breakfast early
or the Germans nab the butter.
2. Don't sleep with your windows open when you live next door to a
mosque.
3. A carpet salesman never just wants to give you apple tea - and no
that's my mother not my sister.
4. Never say to a man with a stringed instrument "Do you play"? (I
should really know this one by now).
5. Ice cream can be eaten with a knife and fork.
6. Don't follow a man with a suitcase assuming he's going to the
airport (cf: Hell's Angel and Milk Bar in Epping Forest).
7. When visiting Istanbul stay longer.

La Revedere Romania

So anyone who tells you Romania is only one hour ahead because of British summer time... Sprinted for train at Bucharesti Nord and made it without skinning any teeth (?) The Istanbul Express wasn't much bigger than the slow train to Nairn - 2 carriages. With one foot on the crumbling concrete platform and one on the trembling boards of a rickety wooden cattle wagon we quizzed the guard with our best Romanian. Sleeper hasn't arrived you say? Can only take you as far as Gorna Oryakhovtsa? Oh that Gorna Oryakhovtsa, with the Hilton, ATM s, oh and of course connecting trains... And which country did you say that was in... Dragged a reluctant AXPK90 from the moving train trying to convince her Michael Palin only got a bed for the night because (a) a production team of 20 (b) he was a Python and (c) muchos dinaros. Finally admitted defeat and headed for airport - not before AXPK had negotiated an overland cab fair of Euros 1,000 with the local gypsies.

Woken at 2 am by the border police trying to hammer the door down. AXpk90 told them to go away (thinking they were drunks she says). Came back with reinforcements and insisted on passport check - those pesky police. Arrived unfrisked at Bucharesti Nord and ran the gauntlet of dodgy cab drivers. Managed to get a bona fide one. Confused us though saying Wednesdays were always this busy. Didn't like to tell him it was Friday. The Romanian Knowledge seems to consist of stopping many people and asking directions. Finally made it to Moxa Hotel - beds in the shade of a precariously large and ostentatious chandelier, staff lovely and very accommodating - at least four came to help us work the coffee machine in our room. Dined at The Hilton and wandered round Revolution Square looking for bullet holes before nightcap in hotel bar. Catch the Istanbul Express tomorrow (though if that's express I wouldn't want the slow one) - 20 hrs! Look out for more border police action.

Gnite Vienna

Lying in my bunk Bucharest bound watching the Hungarian nightscape fly past. Squeezed in one last bratwurst before departure then dined on red wine and paprika crisps - you don'tget much for exotic than that. AXpk90's on her Nintendo and what started as a small gathering seems to have escalated to a full blown party in the corridor outside our cabin. Roll on Romania.

"Did' Vienna - well went to Opera and ate loads of lardy cakes. Tried to visit the toy museum but the owner of the clock museum told us it had been closed these last three years now. "Why?" We asked, having already stepped into the pages of Grimm. Because the private owner died... No doubt found face down in a pile of wood shavings his favourite chisel buried deep in his back and tiny tiny footprints leading away from the scene of the crime...Hehehehehe