When you are well wrapped up in cold conditions, as much as 90% of your remaining heat losses can come from your scalp…
Fresh snow absorbs sound, lowering ambient noise over a landscape because the trapped air between snowflakes attenuates vibration. That´s why it gets so quite when it snows.
Cloudy, fog or heat haze? Not sure but no azure blue sky to greet me today. Turned out to be something that burnt off quickly.
Its Wednesday so it’s Friendship Circle! Today we are celebrating a 92nd birthday and being part of such a caring, supportive group.
Beautiful evening and had dinner at The Trickled Trout sitting in the garden. Great to catch up with travelling companion and discussing final arrangements: when I will pick her up and who is brining the hairdryer!
Green with some flashes of summer colour.
It’s a beautiful day and am sipping green tea in the garden of our rented apartment in the center of old town Tbilisi.
Ahead lies a trip to the main wine producing area of Kakheti. Hundreds of grape varieties are grown here. I am not a wine lover but have been told on more than one occasion that I just haven’t found the wine for me yet. So I will willingly continue my quest for the elusive right wine (didn’t work out when in NZ…).
A hazy sky this morning. It is a sad day, a day saying farewell to a very dear neighbour and friend. A brave lady who despite two heart valve replacements and all the other life effects of Lime disease still enjoyed good coffee and laughing.
Don’t cry for me now I have died, for I’m still here I’m by your side,
My body’s gone but my soul’s is here, please don’t shed another tear,
I am still here I’m all around, only my body lies in the ground.
I am the snowflake that kisses your nose,
I am the frost, that nips your toes.
I am the sun ,bringing you light,
I am the star, shining so bright.
I am the rain, refreshing the earth,
I am the laughter, I am the mirth.
I am the bird, up in the sky,
I am the cloud, that’s drifting by.
I am the thoughts, inside your head,
While I’m still there, I can’t be dead
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.
And another glorious morning. Even in summer in Scotland more than one day (even one day) of sunshine is a blessing!
I am now the owner of a new shiny passport with lots of pages to fill with new travels and adventures starting on Saturday. So impressed by the Passport Service, easy online application where you upload your picture (perhaps not my best decision to take the picture after two night flights and little sleep) and hey presto after paying the money your passport is waiting for you at your choice of appointments.
The top of the town seemed very quiet. One section of Sauchihall Street is still closed after the fire in March rendering the whole block unusable/unsafe. Meanwhile just a few days ago the newly refurbished Art School from a fire a few years ago is devastated again by fire.
My tourist sunburn from yesterday (triangle on my chest with necklace mark and in legs where shorts rose up when sitting) is still an alarming shade of lobster pink. Thanks to the magic of repair-all-cream there is no heat or pain. Just shows how good the factor 50 spray is…and also that I haven’t learnt anything!
Having arrived in Georgia knowing very little about the country, I thought I would do some reading about the Balkan states before heading there next week. Jason Smart’s Balkan Odyssey gave a flavour of travelling around. I gave up on E L Bono’s Who the Hell is Albania that may well be full of gens if information but reading it from the perspective of a plastic bag got old…quickly. The story of M Edith Durham’s journey in High Albania at the turn of the 20th Century will give a rich cultural background but not what I was looking for. So I have come across Adam Yamey’s Albania On My Mind detailing his life long obsession with this elusive state. However, the name Stalin keeps coming up in any book about the Balkans region and also in Georgia. So I am now reading Simon Sebag Montefiore’s Young Stalin. Talk pubout being sidetracked…but all links together.