I left school in 1981.  Off into the big wide world I went, straight into Nurse Training at one of London’s top five hospitals (The Middlesex Hospital, Mortimer Street) whereupon I parted ways with the majority of my school friends.  You leave school shouting “keep in touch, I promise” but that never happens.

I had booked to go south last November for a school union but never made it because of my back operation and had to sadly cancel the lot. Two school friends had also arranged to come back up with me on my return to Shetland.  This side of the deal they kept and are now here.

We have spent today talking and remembering our school teenage years together.  I shared my first dorm (dormitory) with “Bermuda” and sang and played music with “Frizz”.  My nickname was “Fran”.  And so, 32 years later, we still call each other by these names as if nothing has changed.  It just feels right.

I have my photo albums which we poured over at the kitchen table.

We all look the same, of course!  No one has changed.  I was keen on photography then too and now I am glad I have all my photos.

Obviously Frizz and Bermuda were introduced to the family.

Frizz brought me the most wonderful present – two cups that had obviously been modelled on Her Maj (simply stunning).  I burst out laughing.  They are perfection.

And then Bermuda amazed me with gifts (if you know me, you will understand about my recent love affair with See’s Candy, though I am slightly sad that I have to share this).

and the dogs and cats too!

There was also an amazing Bermudan Rum Cake which was incredible (we kept cutting small slices after dinner hoping no one would notice and the round is getting smaller and smaller).  This is a cake I must learn to make.

But, best of all, they brought me Brad Patt!

Anyway, it has been a day of memories, much giggling and saying “do you remember when……?”   Tomorrow, hopefully, we see puffins.

 

By Millhouse Independant (Indy PIng Pong to his friends)

Out of Muness Melinda

A beautiful black filly foal born this morning around 06.00 when no one was watching. Melinda was checked at 05.00 (nothing) and bebbie was up, wet and wobbly walking by 07.00.

With Tante Fivla for company in the field, they are a happy little herd and just getting to know each other.

Enjoy the photos.  No name yet.  Put your thinking caps on.

I hate her being an only foal so we will try and “borrow” another mare and filly foal to be friends together.

(and, yes, Melinda’s feet desperately need trimming but we didn’t; think it fair while she was so far pregnant to have to ask her to stand on 3 legs. They will be done shortly.)

It is hot. Very hot.  Even for Shetland.

Snati hates the water and put up a good fight.  Jo was wetter by the end.

The girls came round to play gymnastics and riding.  I am most impressed.  I never saw Haakon as this kind of horse, ever.

Iacs was a dear boy and contentedly went round and round.  I said I was owed £1 for ever cone Amber missed!

 

BeAnne, meanwhile, was busy.  Very busy.   In the muckheap.  Looking for fings!

Then Beeble joined in to help.

And it was deemed that they were both revolting

Very revolting!

So the horses were put back into their big 25 acre field.

They had been waiting happily together in the small paddock.

And we took everyone down to the stream for a swim.

and a paddle

  and a quick roll.

Snati was better about water this time.

I apologise that this blog entry being so short but I have had one helluva time getting to know my new camera which has been driving me mad. I took some amazing RWL shots (RAW by any other name) and can I get them to appear onto my computer?  Can I buggery.

Anywho, I have eventually but lost all the preset pretty filters that came with the RWL setting.  Here they are without being pretty.  Enjoy.  I am in a foul mood now soI can’t say anything nice about them except that I am still very worried about Jack, but perhaps it was just a very hot day and he is not his best in the heat.

  

But, on a good note, I have discovered that BeAnne has this amazing talent to work out exactly which flower you want to photograph and then go and sits in it!

A skill, none the less.

“Flink” is Norwegian for good.  I know a few other words but that is the main one I hear from Taktur’s Norwegian trainer, Bjørn.  He is very pleased with my 4 year old stallion, Taktur frå Velli II – IS2009180242.  Not one to boast, but this horse is only 4 years old and superb.

I have learned my lesson from yesterday’s excursion and, apart from this morning, where I caught Taktur and led him into the school, watched his training, gave him his food and put him back, I have spent the rest of the day in bed.  Now some of you might think that just catching and leading a 4 yo stallion is not a good idea.  But Taktur is different.  I lead him with a loose rope and if he wanted to bugger off, he could and never has.  He just follows me everywhere, standing patiently, never moving without my say-so.

(I have cut off Bjørn’s head off on purpose for not wearing a hat – he knows better.  My kids will tell you that if I have one thing, apart from trotting downhill, wet cotton wool on the side of a basin or bath, liars and the word “moist”, it is folk who ride without a riding hat – that just shows how rotten I was feeling this morning that I didn’t even notice or say anything.)

Amina, Bjørn’s gorgeous German Shepherd Dog, was a good girl.  She waited politely and is the nicest GSD that I know.  Her behaviour is exemplary and she only needs telling once to go and lie down out of the way while Taktur is being trained (even BeAnne has begun to like her which is a huge complement after recent form).

My rest so far consists of watching Star Trek V (not the best imho), Herbie (the one with Lindsay Lohan as she went off the rails for her “un-Disney-like behaviour) and now Great St Trinians Train Robbery.  I am holding out for Eurovision later on this evening – and yes, I love Eurovision and I won’t hear a word against it.

The best bit of my afternoon has to be a Skype call (if brief) from The Old Georgians of 1981 who had just had a rousing lunch at our school, St George’s Ascot.  It was lovely to see some familiar faces and everyone looked fabulous,  just like we did when we were 18.  I wish I had been there. I had my air tickets booked back in November but had to cancel due to obvious spinal reasons.  I was there in spirit.

You see, I is dead posh really! 

I drove into town today to see if I could.

The 45 minute drive was ok.  We pottered along chatting to my OH.  We did “the street” first, which was almost completely deserted.  I will put this down the weather.

Next, I went into The Camera Centre to say a huge thank you for getting me my new camera.  Did I mention, I have a new Leica camera?

These independent shops must be supported.  They kindly gave me a superb Tamrac camera bag, which will be very useful.  I was very chuffed (sorry for crap photo, see later).

We traipsed up and down the Street.  I love this shop. It makes me smile every time I go past, just because it is like shops from my childhood.

Then off for crappy fish and chips from a Take-Away that should know better.  We were very disappointed and scored their chips, on a scale of 1-10, as being a meagre 4.  I haven’t had chips since probably December and this totally un-made my day.

But the view from the car while we ate was nice, if rainy.

A quick Tramadol and off to Tesco’s where I came over all funny and had to sit down.  All I could hear was Pink Floyd Money track into playing in my head as the tills went kerching amidst endless tannoys saying “could so-and-so come to the tills”.

A friend’s husband came up to me and said I looked awful which made me feel a whole lot worse.  So I left OH to pack and pay while I went back to the car, put the seat back, wrapped my head in my comforting Middlesex Hospital scarf and lay comotosed on the way home drifting off listening to Rumpole on my iPod.

When we got home, 45 minutes later, I am sorry to say I left OH to unpack the car while I went straight to bed and to sleep.

I think, no, I know, I did too much.  Far too much.  Never again.  I want to be a hermit.