Bank Holiday Monday (raining)



Tales of goths and poets; Julie and Julia

I returned home to Edinburgh and  went to rent a room in a flat belonging to a French lady and her two daughters.

Francoise worked and her two daughters went to school .

The girls were outgoing and slightly goth, only mildly so although at the time I thought they were more extreme. They spiked up their hair, wore DM’s and black eyeliner and torn jumpers and hung out with friends who were similar.

I did some paintings and drawings after they let me take some  photographs of them, the older girl dried and spiked up her hair and I did a couple of drawings I liked. The younger girl, Julie, sat for me and I did some small acrylic paintings that I found again recently although they look relatively tame.

Old work can make you cringe a little and be hyper critical but at the same time it is a record of that time and it brings back those specific days in your life.

I was free and had a whole life ahead of me that I did not know.


After a year and a half I moved away.

A few years later I met the younger sister on a bus again and  I had my first child in a sling in front of me. She had calmed down her image and her hair was longer. She cooed over the baby.

I think she must have whispered secret goth things into his ear. Little did I know then, that in his teenage years, this baby would do the whole eyeliner, roc boots,long black coats and chained trousers thing….

This flat that I had stayed in with Francoise was four floors up and was a two storey flat. The front room was a circular turret and it was in Leamington Terrace. The Scottish poet Norman MacCaig lived on the first floor. I passed his door a lot but I think I only ever saw him once .

I hadn’t quite got au fait with the Scottish poetry scene beyond Robert Burns and I am not that much more knowledgable now just more interested. Every now and then his name crops up and I wish I had known a little more. More recently I clicked on a book on Amazon and got a hefty volume of his poetry through the post. I am reading some and it is easy and gentle to read. I am trying to find the one we looked at when I was at school……. In the meantime here is a bit from one of his ….’ Aunt Julia’

......She was brown eggs, black skirts 
and a keeper of threepennybits 
in a teapot.

Aunt Julia spoke Gaelic 
very loud and very fast. 
By the time I had learned 
a little, she lay 
silenced in the absolute black 
of a sandy grave ......

Weekly Photo Challenge : The Sign Says ..

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA When we are out and about we are constantly reading, whether we like it or not.

Everywhere we are almost bombarded with instructions about what we are allowed to do and what we are not supposed to do…..

(It was a cold snowy day and I had no intention of swimming!…)

all memory 141and it looked a little unsafe in there too!


there must have been a marathon starting somewhere but this sign would only make sense to ‘those in the know’!


I think I must read a sign like this almost every day, as do loads of other drivers (I must read it about 300 times a year so over the last ten years I must have read it ..oh..too many times.. 😦  )

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAeven country roads have signs


I don’t think this cyclist had given the sign above his head much notice!