Thursday, September 27, 2007

spoiled brat

I am the birthday princess.

My friend Sarine says that in Armenia, birthdays are seven days and seven nights. Which means it's still kinda my birthday.

We had a great time in Edinburgh. Every time I go there I like it more. We ate well, consumed numerous bevvies of all kinds, did a bit of shopping (yes Matt bought more clothes than me! but we both came back with shoes) and went on a sorta-scary ghost tour. I do love the creative energy of Edinburgh, though some of it seems a bit contrived in places. There's more buzz away from the city centre, where people live their lives away from the glitter of the castle and the royal mile and the posh shops of the new town. I like the guts of a city, the crumbling buildings with a story.

And of course, we watched the rugby. Murrayfield with beer! And at £3 per pint it's cheaper than at most pubs.
That's the Haka - very cool moment. We were near the top and amid numerous loud, brash Kiwi fans, but Matt's pipes always save the day and they loved us within minutes of his first attempt at the NZ national anthem. The rugby isn't really worth mentioning, but the afterparty is. Highlights:
- Matt piping himself out of the toilets. He's now done this in Rome and now at Murrayfield and I'm frightened that it might become a tradition.
- Meeting random French guy/Polish chick and their gorgeous 5-year-old; our mate John and I spent over an hour babbling with all of them whilst Matthew piped for a crowd of hundreds. Okay, dozens. (See them all hovering outside the beer tent? Who knew the steps could be a stage.)
- Some dude placing a beer cup at Matt's feet and the change rolling in; £17 took care of taxis and a round later on. Which is great for us if this doctor thing doesn't work out.
- The general chaos of Scotland fans and Kiwis as things got sloppier and sloppier…two small nations of big drinkers.
- Watching a dude do a line of coke off his wrist on Victoria Street in the looming shadow of Edinburgh Castle. I've never seen anyone just do a line on the street before. Class.

The ferry. Carbon footprints be damned; how about the ongoing sickness from the 'rough' North Sea? I have a newfound respect for my mate G who works offshore. 'Rough' seas are miserable. I may now have to justify the added expense of a flight to the mainland rather than a 14-hour nonstop up-down-side-side-down-up up up-splash – think a tiny motorboat ripping through the wakes of large yachts. For 14 hours.

No rain this morning so took a walk by the water and look who I ran into! He was huge, and didn't seem too mind a pesky seagull flirting with him while I tried to say hello.
Back to the scribbling…amazing how horrible first drafts are. It's embarrassing. I took a week off, though, and the story is fresher now. I always have to take a step back to see it with new eyes.

The good end happily, the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means. - Oscar Wilde.

May we all live in our own fiction.


Erik R. said...

Hi. I found you a couple weeks ago via a comment you made on I don't know how much you follow isoglossia, but it might interest you to know that the BITWRATHPLOOB was also at that rugby match, partying hard with the kiwis. If you don't know what the BITWRATHPLOOB is, then nevermind.

I'm enjoying your blog. Good luck with the book.

sgazzetti said...

Envious. I love Edinburgh. I am wearing my All-Blacks shirt today, too! For our Testing Meeting!

It blows my mind to think that you and the BITWRATHPLOOB were at the same rugby match. I think the world just wobbled slightly on its axis from the bizarreness of it all...

hubbers said...

It would seem that the followers of BITWRATHPLOOB have found you.