Let’s blast on through this catch-up game, shall we? Man, was it so much easier to catch up on these daily blurbs when I was sitting round on my butt all day. Well, so it goes!
14-3-17 Tuesday Dinner Parties
I’m disappointed to admit that while I did take a few photos today, I didn’t take any of the pièce de résistance. That being dinner with some new friends of mine, older friend’s of H’s, partners Will and Rene, joined by friends Sophie and Bob. This lovely gathering took place in Will and Rene’s gorgeous, spacious flat (living in Edinburgh often inspires a bit of flat-envy when your peers snag good ‘uns). They were the picture-perfect hosts, having thrown together a four course meal for us complete with fresh bread, two fancy cheeses to go alongside, soup, a vegetable tart, a “rough” salad, AND… a lemon possett to top it all off.
Ugh. Seriously though. We jokingly told them that we’d never be able to invite them over to our own smaller flat, because we couldn’t possibly compare. Honestly. I know it’s a stereotype that gay men are good at everything, but come on!! Impeccably classy flat complete with an entire wall lined with books (book envy!): check; amazing cooking abilities: check; great chat: check….! Honestly. Some people just have it all!
It’s a shame I didn’t get a photo of the goods, but the chat was really great and I was too busy stuffing face. So here’s a photo of a cherry tree from work. See, y’all? Spring is really happening… very slowly, but it’s happening!
15-3-17 Wednesday: Viceroy’s House
Hey, did y’all know that Pakistan used to be part of India?
…….oh, you did? Oh, right. I mean, I did too of course. Yeah, everyone knows that, haha! (Nervous laugh.) I was just making sure you knew.
I spent the day at work only to shuttle straight back into Edi to scoop up my wee friend G, the one I’m volunteering for. She’d suggested when we last spoke that we go to see a film, one called Viceroy’s House. I didn’t know much about it at the time, but was happy to oblige as I knew it was available in audio described. We decided first to go for some food, and as G is from Africa herself, we settled on a place both had been before, a wee Sudanese joint called Nile Valley Cafe.
I know, I know. No one actually cares about photos of food right? But come on, cut me some slack. Look at them beans and tell me you’re not wishing you could try a bite. No? Okay, maybe it’s just me. Anyway, it’s not like I could take a photo of the film, okay?!
Anyway, Viceroy’s House is the story British colonial India set in 1947. It features the story of Lord Mountbatten, the last Viceroy in India who is tasked with overseeing its transferal from British hands, to their own granted through independence. While I did enjoy the film, I did actually think it would have been better suited as a documentary, as I know very little about India at all and its history with the British. The film took some liberties with something that happened and resulted in the dislocation of more than 11 million people, resulting in widespread starvation and other horrors. The film rather glitzed over that, briefly mentioning that in the credits. I guess the “drama” of it (adding a unrequited love story, naturally) was nice enough, but it could have been a bit more reality-based.
Truthfully, it did feel a bit long in the end. G had put on her sunglasses and popped in her earbuds to listen to the film, and I have a suspicion she may have nodded off once or twice during. I had to fight the sleepywinks as well, so I can’t say I blame her! Still, I think we both enjoyed the outing, but were happy to return to our beds by the end.
Ah, work! What can I say.
Look. Here’s a photo. That should do it eh?
Honestly, I can’t really recall much about this day at all, so there you go!
Work again. As we have a few staff members out sick, it was just three of us in the plant area today which meant for a highly busy day. Lots of plant deliveries showed up, from alpines, shrubs, and container plants. That meant for lots of running about receiving them all into the stock, putting them into semi-decent looking displays, and cleaning up after ourselves. I’d say considering our numbers we did a pretty fine job of it.
Too bad I didn’t take a photo of any of my displays. I did however discover this.
Yeah man! We sell Scottish eggs. Which are, as we all know, born from the bums of kilt-wearing, drum-playing hens. Rock on, gals.