Kiltman Goes To Cardiff

It’s Thursday now, and it’s taken me this long to get over the trauma of Cardiff. I returned from Cardiff this past Sunday evening. I was there to watch Scotland play Wales at rugby, where we lost badly, again. Now Cardiff is a great place, with fantastic beer called Brains. I love that stuff, I could drink it all the time.

Anyway, back to the trauma. After the game, the streets of Cardiff were packed with people in various states of drunkenness. Like most of my fellow Scotsman, I was wearing a kilt. There seems to be a particular breed of female that attends the rugby in Wales. Slightly larger ladies, short dyed hair, late forties/early fifties, not very attractive. These ladies seem to think that it is okay to demand that you show them what is under your kilt. Then, when you don’t, it is okay to shout abuse at you. And then when you ignore them further they think it is okay to grab at the bottom of your kilt, and attempt to pull it up so they can see underneath it. And when I object to this, it’s all my fault, and I’m in the wrong. Turn the tables now for a moment, if I did this to a woman walking down the street, I’d be getting arrested. It’s quite a scary experience to have all these old woman trying to grope you on the street

Dublin is up next for me. I’m still debating if I should wear the kilt or not

Pizza, Gym, Iron & Wine

So I was feeling a bit bummed out on Friday. Comfort food was in order, so I had a nice pizza and garlic bread whilst watching a movie. I watched ‘The Breakfast Club’. Nice movie, where not much goes on. I think the highlight for me is when they are all high, and Emilio Estevez goes for a dance around the library, jumping around and carrying on. Its not something I could watch over and over, but for a once in a while viewing, it’s not so bad.

Saturday morning I headed off to the gym, to pound out the pizza, and for general exercise. My personal best on the cross trainer is 10Km in 40 minutes, which is obvioulsy a pace of a KM every four minutes, at a pace of 15KM/hr. I was determined to make this again on Saturday, and I’m pleased to say that I made it. It was tough, with the biggest challenge keeping the pulse rate under control whilst you maintain the pace. I think I’m still feeling the affects of the effort today! But a good work out sure makes me feel better. I was feeling so energised, I went out for a long walk round my favourite part of Amsterdam yesterday morning. It was a beautiful day for it, listening to ‘Iron & Wine on the ipod.

I went off to see the band last night, and I have to say that it was beautiful. I think that this word best describes the evening. Sam Beam and his seven band members, playing a variety of instruments, it was truly amazing. The music made by all these instruments was just perfect. The vocals were superb, and it just created an amazing atmosphere. A drunk(stoned?) girl staggering all over my area threatened the tranquility somewhat, but I think some girls ‘talked’ to her, and she disappeared. Coming in a close second to the absolute magical qualities of the music is the magical quality of Sam’s beard. A true work of art! Hopefully, I will have some pictures to follow

Sam Beam

Iron & Wine

three couples, three babies, and the kiltman

Monday afternoon, and the monday morning blues are still lurking around.  Quite an interesting weekend this one.  My weekend involved rugby, couples, and babies.  One of which I fit in quite well with, and the other two, well, I don’t know much about those

 First, the rugby.  Scotland was playing at home against Italy.  Great things were expected from Scotland after a comfortable victory against the Welsh two weeks ago.  Filled with confidence, we charged our glasses and roared at the screen as the Italians kicked off.  A mere 18 seconds later the Italians were in front, 7-0, having charged down a clearance kick.  Relax guys, freak occurance, still got the whole game to get back.  Yip.  In six minutes we were 21-0 down, and staring defeat in the face.  Two errant passes found Italian hands, and they broke away for more tries.  To say my friends and I were shocked would be an understatement. 

 The only man that was happy was the barman, who was cashing in as we reached to drown our sorrows.  We ended up loosing by 20 points, not a good result.  It was also the Italians first away victory in the tournament, this being their seventh year.  If it could get worse, it really did.  The Irish beat the English by 30 points, and the English beat Scotland rather comfortably.  I’m going to Scotland on March 10th to see the game between Scotland and Ireland, and I am now not overly optimistic.  We could get a real beating that week.  And with the Irish being so arrogrant as a race, it could make for a really long night in Edinburgh

Sunday brought a refreshing change. After feeling sorry for myself most of the morning, I went off to meet some old friends in the afternoon that I hadn’t seen in over a year.  I was looking forward to seeing them again, people I had a lot of fun with a couple of years ago, we just drifted apart.  The afternoon was spent with three babies, seven months, nine months, and two years.  The parents all swapped baby stories, and poop stories, and I kinda didn’t have much to add to this discussion.  They all seemed so happy, which I’m glad to see.  I don’t know if I can ever see myself in their situation, I’m certainly a long way off that point at the moment.  I thought a lot last night about it, wandering if I could see myself doing that

But I do now have a new baby story.  And it is this. 

When is the correct time to stop breast feeding your youngster?

When the youngster grows front teeth and starts clamping down and biting your nipple

 Ouch!!!