Sign Language

I have just eaten a sandwich for lunch. The ingredients contained, in tiny writing, "reformed ham."

What was ham before the Reformation?

When did The Ham break-up - was anyone at their farewell gig?

Was the ham let out early for good behaviour?

I really think I should become vegetarian. At least until dinner tonight.

Sign Language

I have just eaten a sandwich for lunch. The ingredients contained, in tiny writing, "reformed ham."

What was ham before the Reformation?

When did The Ham break-up - was anyone at their farewell gig?

Was the ham let out early for good behaviour?

I really think I should become vegetarian. At least until dinner tonight.

Taking the Piss

I had a hospital appointment today. Way back in July, my doctor referred me to the local hospital for some tests. (Good thing it wasn’t urgent; though I guessed myself I wasn’t dying, when I didn’t die.)
Amongst these was a urine test: so they needed me to take them a sample. Without giving me a sample bottle – instead, they recommended taking the sample along in a small bottle.

I was at a loss; I don’t keep small bottles at home. In the end, I took an empty coke bottle, rinsed it out a few times, and used that.

This meant that I had to carry a coke bottle half full of urine to work – and this made me feel very uncomfortable. There was no way that anyone could mistake this for coke, and I kept it hidden away (the things men have to put in their brief cases!), but still – I did feel a bit weird carrying my bodily fluids around – outside of my body.

I was early to the hospital, and sat playing sodoku for forty five minutes, holding tight onto my sample, which a nurse removed from me tight grip.

Fortunately, the doctor declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, which was what I thought anyway, my symptoms disappearing sometime in August as mysteriously as they had appeared.

Taking the Piss

I had a hospital appointment today. Way back in July, my doctor referred me to the local hospital for some tests. (Good thing it wasn’t urgent; though I guessed myself I wasn’t dying, when I didn’t die.)
Amongst these was a urine test: so they needed me to take them a sample. Without giving me a sample bottle – instead, they recommended taking the sample along in a small bottle.

I was at a loss; I don’t keep small bottles at home. In the end, I took an empty coke bottle, rinsed it out a few times, and used that.

This meant that I had to carry a coke bottle half full of urine to work – and this made me feel very uncomfortable. There was no way that anyone could mistake this for coke, and I kept it hidden away (the things men have to put in their brief cases!), but still – I did feel a bit weird carrying my bodily fluids around – outside of my body.

I was early to the hospital, and sat playing sodoku for forty five minutes, holding tight onto my sample, which a nurse removed from me tight grip.

Fortunately, the doctor declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, which was what I thought anyway, my symptoms disappearing sometime in August as mysteriously as they had appeared.

Sunset

I walked back from the hospital to my flat through one of Edinburgh’s many parks. The skyline showed the silhouette of the castle and the Old Town running down the Royal Mile to Arthur’s Seat, the city’s pet mountain.

The sky behind me was a wonderful collage of colours – crimsons and oranges set against a pallid blue that tended to green.

It was strikingly beautiful.

Sunset

I walked back from the hospital to my flat through one of Edinburgh’s many parks. The skyline showed the silhouette of the castle and the Old Town running down the Royal Mile to Arthur’s Seat, the city’s pet mountain.

The sky behind me was a wonderful collage of colours – crimsons and oranges set against a pallid blue that tended to green.

It was strikingly beautiful.

Walkin'

When I can, I walk to part of the way to work: a couple of miles besides the river that runs through Edinburgh, the Water of Leith, before I pick up bus to take me the next few miles.

The walk is largely through woodland, coming out to cross small roads and climb beside weirs and waterfalls. (Ian Rankin frequently sets parts of his Rebus novels along the Water of Leith – notably in “The Falls”.)

At this time of year, it is barely light as I walk along, the sun coming and skimming the tops of trees and buildings as I near Roseburn.

For the last week, there has been a frost on the ground, hardening the mulch that autumn has left on the path. The river steams in the morning light. Where the grass gets a glimpse of sun, there are frost-shadows, and the footprints of dog walkers are black against the crystal white.

There are few birds at the moment, the swans and dippers having flown away. (I watched a family of two swans and four cygnets depart in October, flying low of Murrayfield as they headed west.) But there are herons hunting stately and still – and a rare flash of iridescent green-blue showing a kingfisher darting above the surface of the water. (I have never seen the kingfisher stationary to recognise it; just a darting colour.)

One day last week, running late, I walked through the New Town rather than beside the river. The rising sun turned the Edinburgh sandstone to honey, the rough surface picking up the shadows.

(Once I have worked out quite how to do it, I shall add some illustrations...)

Walkin'

When I can, I walk to part of the way to work: a couple of miles besides the river that runs through Edinburgh, the Water of Leith, before I pick up bus to take me the next few miles.

The walk is largely through woodland, coming out to cross small roads and climb beside weirs and waterfalls. (Ian Rankin frequently sets parts of his Rebus novels along the Water of Leith – notably in “The Falls”.)

At this time of year, it is barely light as I walk along, the sun coming and skimming the tops of trees and buildings as I near Roseburn.

For the last week, there has been a frost on the ground, hardening the mulch that autumn has left on the path. The river steams in the morning light. Where the grass gets a glimpse of sun, there are frost-shadows, and the footprints of dog walkers are black against the crystal white.

There are few birds at the moment, the swans and dippers having flown away. (I watched a family of two swans and four cygnets depart in October, flying low of Murrayfield as they headed west.) But there are herons hunting stately and still – and a rare flash of iridescent green-blue showing a kingfisher darting above the surface of the water. (I have never seen the kingfisher stationary to recognise it; just a darting colour.)

One day last week, running late, I walked through the New Town rather than beside the river. The rising sun turned the Edinburgh sandstone to honey, the rough surface picking up the shadows.

(Once I have worked out quite how to do it, I shall add some illustrations...)