So it happened. Whoosh. Just like that *snaps fingers*
Last week I found my first. Grey. Hair….
Well, to call it grey would actually be kind, frankly – it was stark white, like the bark of a beech tree in strong sunlight. Nathan, of course, thinks it is hilarious that I’ve been struck down in my prime after years of my pointing out that he has the best part of a decade on me. (And we’ve laughed our way through the entire catalogue of ‘Just for men’ quips over here, before anybody even thinks of leaving a comment) I can’t believe it though! I’m not even thirty! And who’s to say that it will stop at my hair? I can literally feel the colour, the life, draining from me….
Ok, ok… So a tad dramatic, but it is quite a shock to suddenly be confronted with one’s mortality. To realise that you may still feel 18 on the inside, but on the outside….
(Again – before anybody feels the need to ask – yes, I plucked it, ok?! Despite the grave warning from Nathan that removing it would cause ‘four more to turn up for the funeral’ I still grabbed those tweezers and dragged the little shite out by its root. It’s gone. Dead. Over!)
As it happens, the hair incident didn’t knock me off my feet entirely. Nope, I managed to do that all by myself. The reason that there’s been a much longer than usual delay in posting is because I’ve been rather tied up with growing myself a new liver. After a lovely day out on Saturday (more about that anon) Nathan and I decided to go out and investigate the local bar a bit more fully. I should have realised that God intended me to be the punchline when the crowd we found ourselves in sounded like the set-up for a joke – “Right, so there were these two Englishmen, a Scot, an Irishman and a Geordie Lass in a bar…” Oh sweet Jesus did I make myself ill. Even now I cannot comprehend how I found myself uttering the fateful words “I’ve never had a tequila slammer -can I try one?” Suffice to say it was messy, painful and has put me off of alcohol for life. I’ll leave your imaginations to fill in the blanks – I certainly wont be incriminating myself any further!
On a slightly happier note – prior to pickling my insides with alcohol, I do believe that I found a little bit of heaven on earth! It may not look much here, but this is Kincardine O’Neil:
It is known as one of the oldest villages in Deeside and has managed to retain a real sense of that ‘age’. It was just so, well, ‘quaint’ I guess would be the best word. We had a great morning there, despite the fact that there’s not an awful lot to do. The red sign you can see in the picture above is for the village store – a real old-fashioned shop with floor to ceiling shelves, a thick wooden counter and a vast array of different goods on offer. Obviously it has been modernised, but you can still imagine how women would walk through the village toward it wearing aprons and bonnets, and carrying baskets with which to fetch their purchases home. Next door the fun continues, with Dee’s Tea’s Vintage Tearooms. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before as I’ve been told about it by several people, though Saturday was my first visit personally. All around the walls of this light and bright cafe are shelves, boxes and cabinets stuffed full of glorious handmade objects that are being sold on behalf of local crafters. (I enquired about getting involved and have been asked to take some sample stock down! More soon!) We enjoyed thickly sliced smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on bagels with strong coffee and a relaxed browse of all the goodies before carrying on with our stroll through the village (one ‘strolls’ in the country, my dears! Walking is a town thing!) We got even more of a sense of the history of the place when we stumbled across the ruins of the old parish church and hospital…
The Church and hospice are believed to have been built in the 1330s, though they went through significant changes/alterations over the years. Eventually in 1862 the Church was abandoned and the roof was removed. By 1869 the church interior had been divided into burial plots:
Morbid as it may seem, I really enjoy walking around graveyards and reading all of the old headstones. I may not know the people, but it is always interesting to see what information is provided about them and use that to imagine what they may have been like. Particularly poignant was one plaque on the righthand wall of the church interior which was put up in 1960’s in memory of a daughter lost aged 13. I guess it strikes more of a chord because the church was already in ruins by the time the plaque was added – I could all too well imagine the family, grieving, standing exactly where I was standing and seeing the same decay as me. Strange.
As if to complete the magic and wonder of this beautiful Deeside village, on the way back to the car we spotted a newly opened yarn shop! Nice to know that I can get supplies not more than 20 minutes away! Bizarre, though, to think that living in London we had further to go to get decent craft supplies than now and yet its much, much farther to get to a Tesco here!
Feeling inspired, when I got home I re-arranged some bits and pieces to create my new crafting area at the top of the stairs. From the skylight I can see the top of a mountain, but it’s the natural daylight that makes this such a perfect sewing spot!
Had I not gone out and got myself hideously drunk only a few hours later, I may have had something crafty to show you all…. Alas, I’ll have to make do with a shot of my handpainted vintage sewing box with scenes from Norway on it. This is the result of one of my proudest shopping experiences – my friend Zola and I wrestled it from the grimey hands of a hairy faced old woman who wanted to buy it for re-sale purposes! Ha! Good times….
And finally…. Here’s wishing my darling niece a very happy 1st birthday.
MR x x x