Today, the North of Scotland has been hit with gale force winds and very white mini hailstone balls. You have to keep your head down. It does give new meaning to the vernacular term 'in your face'. In the midst of this interesting weather pattern, my windscreen wiper decided it was time to meet up with its opposite number. It was firmly rebutted, tried to cling to the windscreen but ended up hanging limply to one side. The wind caught the wiper and attempted to wrap it round my wing mirror where it flopped helplessly till I could guide it to a more dignified position.

This dance of the wipers is going to cost me an arm and a leg

CONVIVIAL COMPANY,
GOOD FOOD AND
A GREAT ATMOSPHERE,
ARE HIGHLY INTOXICATING.

I KNOW THIS,
BECAUSE
I HAVE BEEN THERE,
AND DONE THAT.
MOREOVER, I WOULD DO IT AGAIN!

Passport control (at an airport that shall remain nameless):

TO AVOID QUEUES - PLEASE QUEUE HERE

LOATHE IT OR LOVE IT.

This is a version of the Hopefields game from courtesy of snacks@blogster.com where blog friends/buddies 'thoughtfully' answer festive questions.

MIDNITE SNACKS

Hopefields Game….

Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Eggnog with rum, hot chocolate w/cognac

Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Santa who?

Multi- colored lights on the tree/house or white?
Multi – or none - uh, wait, is this a trick question?

Do you hang mistletoe?
UMM… HELLO?

When do you put your decorations up?
maybe never? Is that too soon?

What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
shredded spiced beef, on toast

Favorite Holiday memory as a child?
decorating the tree, baking

When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
at school, at 6. boy was I pissed that my parents LIED. So embarrassed. I defended them/him. He must be real because “my parents wouldn't lie to me.” Oooooohhhhhh.

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Hello?

What kind of cookies does Santa get set out for him?
no cookies for the santa man. I don't need the extra calories.

Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Hate it, and don't miss it at all. Pretty from inside if you don’t have to drive or shovel.

Can you ice skate?
Yep. And wait till you see the tricks I can do when I’m sliding across the ice on my butt. Again.

Do you remember your favorite gift?
Pedro the stuffed donkey. Big, too expensive – cased the presents and knew he wasn’t there. I was so BRAVE and pretended to have a good time. Until I opened the last box, and found Pedro crammed inside. Still have him. Mom had to replace the velvet hooves with corduroy, and redo ears and eyes, but he endured. Much smaller than he was then, LOL!

What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
getting out of town.

What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
not a desert person.

What is your favorite Holiday Tradition?
getting out of town.

What tops your tree?
what tree?

Which do you prefer Giving or Receiving?
Giving. It is wonderful to have someone to give to.

What is your favorite Christmas Carol?
Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby.”

Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?
Addictive. Sugar and peppermint, whats not to like?

"...aiming for genial simplicity", is it possible?

WHOOPEE! My favourite - dark chocolate is back in vogue. I don't eat lots of it, a little is as good as a feast and it must be at least 74% but not over 86% Anything less is a kid sister/brother and is progressively sweeter so, not to my taste. Strange to say, I do not like cocoa or chocolate drinks but I do enjoy a little bit of good dark chocolate.

The Scotsman reports that dark chocolate is on track to outsell milk chocolate for the first time
.

I am smug - I liked it before I knew all that - I've obviously got good taste buds.D

I am sure there is a perverse type of telepathy at play in our house. It does not matter what time I get up in the morning, early, middling, or late, hubby gets a notion to have a wash just I prepare to, or I get into the Shower. This in itself is not remarkable except that our hot water pipe is shared between the bathroom facilities (and they get first shot of the hot water) and the shower. Therefore, whoever uses the shower when ablutions are in flow elsewhere ends up with------- you've guessed, a cold dowsing: brrr.

This morning I wanted to be ready and to sit comfortably to listen to a radio programme. Yet again, perversity ruled. I turned off the shower tap and decided to sit quietly in my bedtime glory in the kitchen, sip my morning tipple and tune in to the radio station.

A loud hissing rudely interrupted my peace, my fusion of listening and thought: the ruddy kettle had been switched on! By this point "Petal" was not in the least bit divine or sociable. She flounced back to the bedroom, propped herself on the bed then curled the bedclothes around her, switched on the radio and you know what - the snuggly experience was really delightful.

Um, yes the radio programme was okay too.

This afternoon, I sat, and I sat and I sat. Whilst I was sitting, I was enjoying the company of an octogenarian Italian friend who became my friend during the time she was teaching me her beautifiul language many years ago. She has also taught my daughter who was in fact her very last pupil. During our meal, people greeted us as they passed by our table. These were very mature people who my friend had taught at the local high school in decades past. Our waitress, not known for being warm and friendly, was particularly solicitous and smiled a lot.

Later, we moved onto a local bar to sit comfortably in their all-encompassing armchairs, to continue our varied topics of conversation into the twilight of the afternoon. No matter where we were, people treated us with courtesy, friendship and care. Any assistance my friend wished was quickly forthcoming. When we departed, her gloves and a package she had earlier left on the bar were brought forth from safekeeping and handed to her. She was not in the least bit concerned about her belongings, my friend knew that like herself, they would be looked after.

It was heart-warming.

Okay - I've been taken gently to task about my 'Ladies Only' blog of yesterday when I eulogised about Swedish Massage. (No change there, I hasten to add.) Perhaps one of our gentlemen contributors would like to redress the balance and give their perspective of the same therapy...

A Swedish Massage is to be highly recommended. I indulged in one today, and it is only the second time I have experienced this therapy.

Ladies, you do need a therapist that has a confident and sensitive technique. Therapists who are timid in style and approach will never offer a competent massage of any kind. There is nothing worse, for example, when having a hand massage to wonder where the finishing touch has gone; was it a passing sleight of hand...

I must arrange to have another relaxing Swedish Massage, and soon. Yes - I shall sleep really well tonight .

Tonight was the night I was going to write about our town's fun day; I will have to keep you champing at the bit for another day. The evening is maturing and I need to go out to buy film seats for Nanny Mcphee.

It is so nice to be able to spread my relaxation around a range of enjoyments without feeling a pang of guilt about not developing an argument for an academic assignment that I should be getting on with, or pretending it does not really exist on my planet... to justify my lack of attention.

For anyone who may be in the uneviable position of needing to procrastinate take on board the following maxim:

Procrastination is a process. One must simply let it run its course.

Harry Potter! I am not, though it may seem to the contrary, attempting to replicate Mr Snape (Sir...) or conjure up Dobby. Snape has a relatively subliminal, role in the latest film and dobby is nowhere to be seen.

However, there is plenty else to occupy ones senses. There is lots of humour, much to giggle about and there is the dark side with smashing great effects, all rolled up into one super film.

Yes, the playtime with the giants could have been developed, what there was, was cute and did leave ones imagination free - the film was after all an age 12 rating - Reeta Skeeta was a pain, as she should have been. Sirius did not have much of an airing:he is important on many levels in this story and yet there was no real impression of that in this portrayal. He came across like he was a magical MI5 one-off messenger.

Surprisingly, there were times in this film when Harry was a bit wooden and Ron, who has seemed stiff and uncomfortable in role previously, was fluid and amusing in this one. I would love to have seen the teenage angst and third party games and rows played out more. They would provide for visuals that work.

Many of the issues would be addressed by the production of a longer film. My main grouse is that the films are too short, though I believe the current one had an extra quarter of an hour: in my view that is not enough. I should like to see a feature length Harry Potter, especially as the stories are becoming more complex. If Tolkein's work can merit lots of film time to develop the plots and sub plots, so can J.K. Rowling's masterpiece.

I now know where the Hogwarts naming hat was found; the flattened version of John Knox's breeches, the huge pancake brim with which I was doffed, (see previous post) is definitely, in my humble opinion, IT! It only rises to a pinnacle on really out of this world magical occasions and as for chatting - that's definitely got to be reserved for the Gods on other planes, not for amongst us lowly muggles.

On Wednesday 30th November 2005 I graduated with an MSc from Edinburgh University.D The ceremonial took place in the McEwan Hall, a rotund building that dates back to 1888.

I was allocated a front row seat in the McEwan Hall for the graduation ceremony together with the PhD’s. They were kitted out in black robes like mine but with wonderful thick vivid red silk grosgrain bands and similarly vivid red silk lined hoods. I had a 3" silk green band with flashes of white around the shoulders and a green silk lined hood. The hoods were really deep, mine ended up just above my ankle and a little above the hem of my graduation robe. (Anyone else with my kind of enrobed 'greenery' ended up in the rows behind.)

All the graduates were, in time honoured tradition, invested with their respective statuses with a symbolic doffing on the head of a pair of John Knox's old velvet breeches which had been fashioned into a bunnet. Just as well, as I am not sure I would have been too thrilled to have been batted around the head with a manky old pair of untreated trews!!