I can see the Minions in their field from Thordale – they are currently living in a five acre croft across the hill.  During the day, I do a head-count fairly regularly so I know they are all ok.  The wee blob on the far left is Newt.

As they were crossing the field, having spotted me watching, they were in a silly-billy mood so I walked over the scattald (grazing for hill sheep) with Pepper and climbed up the hill to watch the boys playing.

Their eyes were on me.

But silliness was stronger than trying to talk to me.

And I stood behind the wall watching them annoy each other and bounce around like ants on a hot pan (a Chinese phrase, apparently).

The sun was setting and the Minions had finished annoying each other so Pepper and I went home again.

Watching the Minions play makes me hopeful that I made the right choice putting them there.  Yes, they are a little fatter but the weather is only going to get colder and very likely worse so the natural workings of their own internal combustion engines and thick coats will kick in to keep them warm and happy (and I don’t have to lug hay).

It was a pretty tortuous journey home yesterday. I started my journey at Paddington catching the Heathrow Express and that was the only easy part.

Saying goodbye to London was sad. I had had a lovely holiday with my family and friends.  Really special.

All day, I was checking the flight from Edinburgh to Shetland which I reckoned would be the one to be cancelled.  I also had a spare set of keys for my sister’s house in London in case I didn’t even leave Heathrow. Be prepared was my mot du jour.

Heathrow was fun. I was body searched by two stroppy mares in uniform, while I argued for my belongings that had gone through the scanner to be put into a safe area.

The flight took off on time and landed bumpily at Edinburgh but I had reached my “half-way” point.  On the plus side, I sat next to a very nice lady who kept saying to me, when I told her my worried tale of travel woe “Visualise the Win and it will happen”.  So I tried my hardest but then the fun started.

The Shetland flight was delayed a bit – fair enough, I thought. The weather was vile.

As the afternoon progressed, flights were being cancelled and our’s was delayed a bit more and more and more….. so I made plans to stay in Floss’ flat (she was home looking after the animals) in Edinburgh.  Add a migraine too and I was feeling very dodgy.  Anyway, our flight was called we eventually took off around 19.30, I think.

This morning, has been lovely and quiet – the wind has dropped right down.

Lambie pretended he didn’t know me.

And Monster has made himself a new bed on OH’s soft guitar case.  He’ll be pleased when he finds it.  I am saying nothing.

So, that’s me. I visualised the win.

I went into town today to meet up with another cousin for lunch in Chinatown.  As I used to live in London for 15 years (1981 – 1996), I mostly know my way around.  More people, yes, but the buildings have remained the same.

Chinatown was very colourful and vibrant. It got busier over the day.

We looked at all the restaurants, which have taken to having their menus with pictures outside, and chose an old favourite, the Wong Kei. I used to go there a lot when I was nursing a few streets away.  Nothing much had changed. They were suitably rude, the food was adequate and they asked us to pay and leave!  My cousin thought it was all hilarious, including their attitude.  I was rather hoping they had got better over the years. Obviously not.

After a lunch, feeling rather full, I showed her around a Chinese supermarket which is a superb Aladdin’s cave of food and drink.

Onward, ever onward to Liberty, possibly my most favourite shop in the world. It is elegant and perfect.

And full of “lovely things”. I was drooling at their silk scarves, perfume and material. We had a splendid wander about just soaking up the whole experience.

My life in London could not more different from my life in Shetland.  I enjoy both worlds very much but tomorrow I will attempt to come home, battling through Storm Babette. Wish me luck!

Again, apologies for nothing yesterday but I will make up for it today.

Yesterday was spent at Tate Britain, Millbank looking at our cousins with our cousin.

We had arranged to meet our cousin in the foyer first. She had travelled especially to do this.

The Tate is big so we wandered about through the different galleries soaking up the atmosphere and the art and then we found “our” painting.

It is obviously a very popular picture and possibly the must-see of their collection.

We asked a total stranger to take our photo standing in front to show all of us cousins together. The two little girls are our first cousins three times removed, I think.  They are our Great Great Aunt Kate’s (of the Diaries) first cousins.  Their mothers were sisters.

It was nice to see they had an armed guard taking care of our cousins.

But I was slightly concerned by their neighbours, for obvious reasons. Young men all “bare nekkid”. I expect the girls avert their gaze in good Victorian fashion.

And we wandered around, going from room to room, admiring the incredible artists, some of whom were contemporaries of Aunt Kate, which made it even more fascinating. I even managed to dredge up some Greek, or was it Roman, God mythology for my cousin, which hopefully suitably impressed her.

Of course I had to take a photo of this painting but I found it worrying as the cliff was far too alluring.  Lambie would’ve been down that in a shot to go and get stuck.

Finally, the gift shop and we found you could buy our cousins in many forms including a spectacle case, fridge magnet, bar of chocolate and a tea towel!

It was a memorable day out and I’m glad we’ve all seen Polly and Dorothy (or Poz and Doz as they were always known) together as a family.

Apologies for the radio silence but I have been at a school reunion lunch seeing friends from over 40 years ago and we are all exactly the same.  I kid you not. No one had changed and we just restarted our conversations where we had left off last time.  I love friends like that. The best. It was just like school all those years ago.  I also think being at boarding school adds another level of friendship because we suffered together.

Afterwards, I went back to Dorset on the train to stay with one of my school friends from the reunion in her perfect thatched cottage, complete with roses around the door.

What can I say? Well, I have never laughed so much in my entire life.  All evening tears were rolling down my cheeks, crying with laughter while we remembered our school lives together.  There was even singing (just don’t ask – wine may have been involved and I was not responsible but someone had to show them how to do it properly and, as Deputy Head of Music, that job was mine).

Moving swiftly on, I also met possibly the best dog ever and I am totally smitten. She was a delight. The name? Wiggie.

Anyway, I am back in London now having got the train back to London this afternoon.  I have a large glass of wine sitting beside me and a large cheesey grin on my face from remembering all the laughing.  It was the best time.

I think school friends are the best. Time hadn’t changed us. Nothing better, really.