Monthly Archives: June 2011

Stab Happy

I saw this today and it made me laugh.

I’m not going to launch into a debate about how this should be implemented – I can briefly sum up my response with “That sounds about right” but my problem with any story or development like this is as follows:

Britain is full of idiots.

There are idiots everywhere these days and quite frankly, I don’t trust them to implement this freedom properly. Bloody idiots.

Basically, this whole article reminded me of an massive argument I instigated with my ex. Which in turn reminds me of why I studied Philosophy in the first place. Essentially, the then-boyfriend claimed he would literally (and I DO mean literally) kill anyone who burgled his house.

As I generally love to stir things up a bit (with people I know, I’m a total fence-sitter with strangers “but they MIGHT JUDGE ME on my views”) I put forward the point that breaking and entering/theft were a lesser crime than full-on stabby murder and that perhaps he might be overreacting somewhat. Just to stir it up a bit more, I put it to him that he was actually the worst human being in the scenario because he committed that heinous crime. It all spun from the fact I was pretty horrified that my (generally speaking) ultra-liberal political ally had come out with a pretty conservative standpoint. I agreed on defending your property up to a point – if someone died as a result of your intervention then the law should protect you – but he was full-on up for a bit of pre-meditated killing.

Needless to say, the argument was pretty fruitless. Hours of cul-de-sac arguing with no-one getting anywhere and everyone getting irritable. Bloody hell, that’s fun.

I think I miss him a bit.

 

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Nobody loves you when you’re 25.

I’m having a little bit of a freak out at the moment.

This isn’t all that much of a surprise – generally I’m a neurotic idiot who reads waaaay too much into everything all of the time, but over the past few weeks it’s mainly concerning the passing of time. I’m 25 this year. 25. How did that happen? I remember graduating and thinking “Bloody hell, it feels like I’ve only just left college” and now it’s been 3 years since I graduated. I can’t really comprehend how quickly that time has passed, because it genuinely feels like I’m still fresh out of Uni.

I could put the passing of time down to having fun. Immediately after uni I was distracted with a boy, so that certainly helped to pass the time. Once that boy disappeared off the scene, I spent the last year actually DOING things, which I’ve noted here before. Holidays, day trips etc. I’ve been enjoying the fact I’ve had a salary and making myself incredibly poor as a result.

I guess what’s making me most paranoid about the passing of time is that I feel like I have little to show for 25 years of existing. The best thing I have is a degree. One that (to quite a few people’s annoyance) I didn’t work particularly hard for. Other than that, I’ve got bugger all to show for it, but plenty of excuses for why. I started typing my problems and subsequent excuses, but then this whole post turned out to be really bloody whiney, when the intention wasn’t to whinge at all.

Honestly, no whinge. Just a melancholy reflection on the state of my life. It’s not like it by any means bad, not in the slightest. But when your very closest friends are marrying off and having babies, it’s intensely difficult to avoid “milestoning” your life.

Blimey. I need Abby back in my life, she’d sort my whinging backside out in no time.

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Made my plans to conquer the country

I know I bang on about it quite a lot, but I really do fucking love Scotland. My trip up around the Higlands with Nicola only served to cement my obsession with the place – we had an absolutely awesome time. We started and finished the tour in Edinburgh, cramming in the Isle of Skye, Loch Ness, Inverness, Aviemore, Pitlochry and St.Andrews in between.

Me and Nic on our way up Arthur’s Seat. Rather stupidly we went the hard way up, but surprised myself by actually volunteering myself to do it. Anyone who knows me knows I completely loathe walking. Surprising myself on holiday seems to be becoming a bit of a habit.

After discovering the ‘easy’ way up the hill after going the hard way, we wandered around for a little while, while the sun decided to set. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Edinburgh with such nice weather.

Next day we set off from the ‘burgh over to the Isle of Skye, stopping off at various points of interest. I had a little bit of wobble as we drove through Callander – the last time I was there I was with my ex before it all went to shit – but cheered myself up considerably by feeding Hamish. Bit of a pampered coo though, he got very sulky once we’d run out of noms for him.

This is my favourite picture from Skye. We stayed for a couple of nights in Kyleakin and were treated to a really glorious sunset on our second night. Me and Nic decided to find the coastal path to the remains of Dunakin castle, but we’d gone in pumps which were promptly ruined by the sea, climbing up rocks and mud. The beautiful pictures made up for all the bloody midge bites.

“Is this where I find the sweet release of death?”
“I swear if this doesn’t burn off any calories I’m going to punch God”

Our tour leader Graeme suggested we stop off for some beer and cider supplies and go for a walk in the forest nearby. I presumed he just meant a normal walk, but this turned out to be the scenic path up here – it was, for all intents and purposes, a climb. Being a desperately unfit fatty it nearly killed me. But Graeme was awfully nice and I did my absolute fucking best not to be a big English jessie, so I made it up. By Christ was the view worth it. (Cider disappeared within a couple of minutes).

Essentially all my pictures were of pretty stunning scenery – particularly on Skye. According to folklore, if you dip your face in this river (which you may only do once in your lifetime) you’ll attain great beauty. I decided my face was excellent enough thankyouverymuch.

Ominous clouds over Eilean Donan castle, on a day which ended up being really bloody hot. I’m going to petition Hayley and Scott to get married there, as it is awesome. I’ll run around in my bridesmaid dress and pretend to be a princess – I’ve got it all planned out.

In yet a further attempt to prove that English girls aren’t wimps and also surprise myself a little bit more, I took a dip in Loch Ness in my pj’s. No, I am not doing a Reggie Perrin – I didn’t want to let the side down. Earlier on we’d gone on a boat trip around parts of the Loch and gone wandering up and down waterfalls in the baking sun, so it was at the very least pretty refreshing. Not as refreshing as the whisky passed around the bus afterwards though.

We spent our last night in Pitlochry, and after a box of punch, the evening descended into drinking games, booze runs and quite a bit of drama. Mainly because we were sharing the hostel with a Christian rambling group, so it kind of went without saying that we ought to drink and swear quite a bit. That was fun. Although not as fun as talking to one of the old men from the ramblers – he looked like a manic santa and spent a good 15 minutes telling me how he got rescued on a climb earlier that day and had just been let out of hospital. I dutifully responded with the appropriate “Oh my, I hope you are okay?” type of questions, but he shook it off. “Oh I’m fine my dear, I only had the one helicopter this time, last year it was two” he beamed, before disappearing into the night.

The last morning was spent at the Hermitage in Craigvinean forest. A really really beautiful place, which we probably didn’t appreciate enough thanks to the hangovers and drama. But, in retrospect, probably a really good place to be when in a delicate state thanks to the stunning scenary, tranquility and general atmosphere of the place.

A load more was crammed in (more views, many pasties etc), before winding up for a nice wander around St. Andrews (I did not find my own Prince William) and heading back to Edinburgh for farewells and a bloody good kip.

Other highlights included the battlefield at Culloden, eating the best fish and chips in the world (sorry dad), Peatbog Faeries, legendary tales of Invernessian housewives, trying to make sense of whatever Brij was saying, the ancient art of gossiping bringing all nationalities together, that freaking awesome cider on Skye and the almost constant presence of a kilt. Mmm.

So that was my truly awful introspective look at my trip, relevant to no-one and an exercise in showing off. But whatevs.

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