Archive for August, 2003

Accidents will happen

Friday, August 29th, 2003

We have had three accidents in the last twenty-four hours (‘they come in threes’, said the GA darkly). Someone put something through one of the glass panels in the greenhouse; the kitchen tap wobbled on its moorings, came loose suddenly, and erupted like Old Faithful – some exciting moments ensued till the relevant stopcock was […]

Handbags at Dawn

Tuesday, August 26th, 2003

Herd cats. Keep the peace between the tenor and the soprano in a travelling opera company. Organize Benedictines. But do not, if you value your sanity, engage on a building job with two gaffers and no underlings. The peace has been kept hitherto by Dr Biswell, who is currently in the Beautiful South, and we […]

New Neighbours

Thursday, August 21st, 2003

There is a large triangular chunk of rough land out beyond the garden. It’s hard to know what to call it. Stuff. Raw topography.Whatever it is, if left to its own devices it produces inconceivably large amounts of willow-herb and dock; I suppose it would settle to forest in a decade or so but meanwhile […]


Tuesday, August 19th, 2003

There was once a hairy chap called Garry who we hoped would do most of the painting, but unfortunately, he is out on the rigs –– his regular employment –– having been suddenly summoned away by an exciting helicopter. So I am getting round the upstairs windows, which are going to have to be painted […]

Expeditions to Naboland

Friday, August 15th, 2003

Naboland is a Scandinavian word meaning ‘the neighbouring land’ – I’m not at all sure if it’s semiotically fixed to one particular spot, or means ‘the place next door’ from wherever you happen to be. We went down to Fife yesterday, which is our personal Naboland, from that point of view. It was rather a […]

The view from the scaffold

Sunday, August 10th, 2003

I went up the scaffolding today to paint the gutter and the upstairs window-frames. By the time you’re up two storeys on a scaffold, it feels like a very long way up; quite pleasant, once you get over seeing the ground between your feet, a strange little temporary world, gritty with stone-dust and bits […]

What do do with a chicken

Thursday, August 7th, 2003

The Scottish Professor is devoted to two magazines – one is FMR which is an unspeakably chichi art mag aimed at rich ladies (if you think of the Burlington Magazine you have sort of hit the general area but since FMR is in Italian it is much, much more so, and molto elegante). The other […]

Scotland’s Premier Two-Day Agricultural Event

Monday, August 4th, 2003

The Turra Show, what else? Most of the North-East seemed to be there; but alas, not Winston the Horse. Everyone having been up since five doing the hair-weaves, dreadlocks, manicure, etc., it was discovered at the last minute that he was too big to fit in the borrowed horse-box. There was a great deal […]

Local Heroes

Saturday, August 2nd, 2003

Dr Biswell, Ganimedino and I headed off at about lunchtime to witness a major local event, the Banff to Macduff Swimming Race. Banff and Macduff are effectively twin towns. Banff is an erstwhile county seat, which has doctors and lawyers in it and is respectable. Macduff is a fishing town, and contains ships’ chandlers and […]

(The) Key of England

Saturday, August 2nd, 2003

With recent discussions of Keys in Rogue Semiotics, I thought it perhaps worth throwing into the equation a little scrap on the subject of the Key of England (one imagines with ease the parallel universe in which it might be simply “Key, of England”) especially since Prandial is interested currently in those of us who […]