Life is never uneventful in this house. The last seven days have included a visit from my pal Angie, a trip to a storybook castle in deepest Aberdeenshire, a Japanese party and a burglary. Oh, and the Inland Revenue are about to sequestrate me. I’m not sure what that is, I just hope they use an anaesthetic.
Angie and I were close friends a few years ago (before I met Louise) until she eloped to Bristol, got bairned and turned half-sensible. She doesn’t visit Edinburgh anywhere near often enough and when she does it’s for about two and a half minutes, like this weekend. Even so, we managed to fit in the fireworks at Next Generation, lunch at The Compass and nachos in The Basement: a minor miracle in view of the the other things I had to do.
Louise had been working on a Quirky creation (a wedding cake – see picture) all week which we had to deliver on Saturday to Lickleyhead Castle in Aberdeenshire, a round trip of almost eight hours. It’s an absolutely spectacular castle, the ideal place for a group of friends to rent for a special occassion but a bit out of my league, unfortunately.
We arrived back in Edinburgh and I whisked Alice off to a party at neighbour Fiona’s. Fiona has had a Japanese girl, Akitzu, staying with her all year and Akitzu’s friend Mee (no, not me, her name is ‘Misuzu’) is visiting at the moment. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the evening eating sushi and taking photos.
Sunday had been a pretty uneventful day and at midnight I was lounging on the sofa in my dressing gown nodding off in front of the TV when I heard a noise outside in the street. Now, this is nothing new as our street does resemble a war zone most nights as the drunken hoardes make their way home, but this was different. I can’t say any more as my evidence will be part of a court case in the near future, but I eventually got to bed at 3am after the twat who broke into my property was arrested. Result. An Englishman’s home is, after all, his castle, especially in Scotland.