An unadventurous, but very nice day – and only three pictures, I’m afraid. Still, you should consider yourself lucky. The initial draft of this post said ‘no pictures.’
I took Mike to his workplace in the morning and went for a walk in the nearby Skipwith Common National Nature Reserve. It goes without saying that a certain furry whirlwind was there too. What could possibly be a valid reason for visiting a Nature Reserve otherwise?
For lunch, I met my fabulous friend and comrade in misery (we were writing our PhDs at the same time), Emily. I had suggested the Library Cafe at the University of York as our meeting point. Being the hopeless nostalgic that I am, I will always be drawn back to places which have meaning to me. Even if it is the Library Cafe.
I was overjoyed when I discovered that they still served the Greek Salad I used to eat on a (very) regular basis during my more studious years. As I am running out of creative ways of saying ‘we had a really great time and enjoyed every minute of it,’ no matter how true this is, I will just leave it at that and not even try to rephrase.
I am sorry. I am sure that you must have been expecting some more substantial content. You will probably just have made it to this point of this my most recent report, halfheartedly, perhaps, and a strong, healthy dose of pity (‘well, she is my friend, after all’) kept you going. Well, I have bad news for you: today’s post will indeed remain on the surface of absolute triviality – and almost no pictures either. And unless you impatiently scroll down for a quick look as to whether the whole tedious read will be worth the wait (it’s not), you’ll have bear with my meaningless babbling just for a little longer. Today, you see, you’ll have to earn your pictures. Shame on me. Truly.
In my defense, (not for the relentless palaver though, there’s no excuse for that) I’ve never been much of a selfie person and Aramis was home most of the day. Resting. Relaxing. Snoozing. Barking in sync with the hammering of the workers next door. They’re doing up the house which – gasp – has recently sold for more than £300’000, you know. Moment of impressed silence. Mute, but mutual, understanding among neighbours and associates (i.e. the likes of me) that one’s own property on the same street may unexpectedly have risen in value too. It’s the people from number three moving in, you know. They’d only be renting before. Astonished looks in the direction of number three.
More curious minds than yours may wonder how I manage to get around town. Never mind, I’ll tell you anyway. This is of great importance, particularly now that I have gone on a more or less frenetic search for the items that family and friends have asked me to bring back. They’re all situated in this weird and rarely considered sphere hovering between the everyday and exotic: an egg-poaching pan, a body brush and refills for a scouring brush. Not until you have seen it for yourself will you understand the wonderfully wide (and frightfully confusing) range of body brushes on offer in Britain.
But back to my method of choice for moving about town. At a particularly lucid moment of my existence I remembered that a) York was a very bike-friendly and that b) our family was in proud possession of…
Well, unfortunately it does not (yet) have a name other than the prosaic description of what it is: a folding bike. In German, they are called ‘Klapprad.’ A word, it seems to me, that – already in the way it sounds – embraces the essence of such bikes, which, in their appearance, always and involuntarily incline towards the ridiculous.
It, or Klapprad, has been on this journey from the very beginning. Up until yesterday, however, it has lived in the shadows of the passenger seat, more or less neatly tucked away in a disproportionately large red bag with handles. Unnoticed by anyone, including the customs officers, it had entered the country with Aramis and me, and had patiently and unassumingly been waiting for its (not so) great moment of proving its usefulness.
So I now wheeze around town with it, blissful for not having to walk all the way. This, however, has a significant impact on my tendency to take pictures everywhere I go. Because now I no longer ‘go’, I cycle. Yet cycling and taking pictures at the same time do not agree with each other very well. Bad for my readers and the blog, practical and handy for me.
In other news, this arrived today:
A parcel. From Stornoway. Can you guess what it is? Here’s a hint:
In the evening, I met Linda and Mike for sushi at our favourite and by now probably traditional restaurant. A little later, Linda and I caught up with the two latest episodes of a tv series (any educated guesses?) and let this unadventurous, but very nice day come to an end.
The Adventures of Aramis 