Spanish Umbrollies.

Okay, so I actually got back over a week ago from Majorca but my computer decided to give me The Blue Screen Of Death as a welcome home present so I've had no computer AT ALL for the past few days. That in itself is a very very painful experience for a person of my generation, trust me. Very very bad. :P

On the plus side though Majorca was lovely, but check out the photo above to see what kind of weather we had. Like home away from home really...


56 days to my birthday; 59 days to Christmas!

Happy October Hols!

I'll be back next Friday.
(Armed with stories and photos I hope)

Today was a Sloe day.

Something we do in the Dornan household is... actually I'm not sure what the right word for it is but I'm going to say forage; we use what grows around us locally in the hedgerows and woodland for preserves and such like things. Does that make sense?

We live in quite a rich area for the likes of blackberries, rosehips, sloes, crab apples and hazelnuts so we've always gone out picking them before turning them into jams, its like a family tradition. From our youngest years Glen and I can remember doing the same thing; a day would start out to be warm and dry so we'd all decide to don our oldest clothes, grab our tubs that had been used when our mum and dad were little, and head out to a quiet place somewhere to pick whatever particular fruit the season offered.

And no matter what fruit it was they were always on the highest, most inaccessible trees and bushes around, who's branches and leaves scratched any visible flesh they could reach.

On blackberry picking days we'd come home with our arms scratched and stung by brambles and giant nettles, our fingertips would be stained blue with the juice from the ripe berries, as were our mouths as we would eat more than we picked along the way - but we didn't notice. Oh no, we were far to excited to see how much we had picked and watch as the fruit bubbled and sloshed in our Granny's giant jam-making pan.

It was all great fun and the same fun we had as kids we still have now. Recently, we'd been trying to source Sloes as they're in season but many of the usual hedgerows had been cut back so there were none around. But thanks to a family friend we managed to find some on the hills over looking Stranraer before Cairn Ryan today.

One rock pile, one high broken fence, one drystone stone dyke and some sheep coupled with the fact that sloe bushes are the jaggiest bushes ever, meant they were pretty hard to get to but we eventually did and we collected 7 and a half pounds of them. Despite that my arms now look like they've been in a fight with a particularly angry cat, it was great. All that's left to do is to prick them all and follow my Gran's recipe to get the Sloe Gin we make every year. Even though I don't drink, its rather good stuff...

For more photos like the one on this post from today, go to the top album on my sidebar. :)

Wordless Wednesday - The Scar.

A Pleasent Afternoon.

I'm a fan, now.

Do you ever have those moments where the importance of what happened at the time didn't really become apparent til ages after? Turns out I have.

Months ago at school one of my everso-exciting PSE classes was covered. (I know, I know, I've not hooked you in on this one yet but bear with me.) It must have been quite a few months ago as it was a horrible, grey morning, (admittedly, that could apply to June...) the schools power had been flickering on and off for most of periods 1 & 2 and the building itself was shaking due to the wind battering against it's glass walls outside.

So, sitting in a dimly lit Admin class at one end of the street, the class was allowed free reign of the computers to look up medical facts a figures - which actually meant seeing who could be the first one on Bebo after getting around the school's banned site block.

However, typing with freezing fingers soon grew too much for many and we resorted to just sitting talking. Our cover teacher was milling around the tables that we were huddled round, engaging in various conversations as he did so. I remember wondering how on earth he hadn't caught hypothermia (he was only wearing a shirt) and trying to place his name - he was new, you see, but I'd seen him around the school in his distinctive white shirt.

The conversation moved on and so did the teacher. Sitting down on the edge of my desk he joined in the conversation about my epileptic Boxer dog - turned out that since moving here, he had a dog with Epilepsy too! We chatted up to the bell about it, he mentioned that he read on a Chinese website somewhere that feeding them chicken and fish helped, so he tried it and it actually was easing his dog's fits.

I left the room still mentally chuckling at the way he had of saying things, his accent and delivery amused me, but I still didn't know his name - something which I didn't find out until last week.

Turns out the teacher whom I'd sat and discussed my dog with was none other than Des Dillon. Yep, the very same Des Dillon who wrote the likes of 'Me and Ma Gal' and 'Picking Brambles', and who writes for BBC Scotland's River City.

As he was teaching at our school, the English Department and their powers of persuasion managed to get Mr Dillon to agree to bringing his new production "Singing I'm No a Billy, He's a Tim" to the town. Us lucky seniors got to go along and watch it this afternoon and to be honest, I'm not sure what I was thinking before it. Here's the description:


What happens when you lock up a Celtic fan?
What happens when you lock up a Celtic fan with a Rangers fan?
What happens when you lock up a Celtic fan with a Rangers fan on the day of the Old Firm match?

Fireworks! That's what!

Follow Billy and Tim, on their journey of discovery. Both have been steeped in bigotry since birth: is it possible for them to change their views? Des Dillon creates the situation, you watch the sparks fly as Billy and Tim clash in a rage of deep-seated sectarianism and hatred. Are you singing their tune?


Now, I'm not a football fan. I don't support Rangers or Celtic and I'm not totally 'clued up' on all of the songs or history of the teams, but the dialogue and story doesn't need you to; I totally enjoyed it. Dillon's writing and story comes across effortlessly to both the football-mad and the football-inept, and the actors involved are excellent. I wont bore you by mincing my words, so read about the play here, and an extract from it here.

So, all you out there, I highly recommend you all go see it if you get the chance! It makes a really good night out, but various places its going are already sold out, so I'm not sure about the avaiablity.

Oh and before I forget, back to my discussion with Mr Dillon about his epileptic dog. His newest book out [that I've ordered] is entitled "My Epileptic Lurcher" for which the synopsis is:

"Manny Riley is a recovering alcoholic and struggling scriptwriter with a serious anger management problem. Lately, though, things have started to change for the better. A happy marriage, a move away from Glasgow to an idyllic seaside village and the adoption of Bailey, a lurcher with epilepsy. He'll soon find that these things only open up a whole new world of problems he'll have to face up to. And he has to do it all without losing his temper."

Anyone else seeing any paralellisms? ;)

Eeek Indeed..

As Stephen has mentioned over on his blog, the past few weeks at school we've been talking about Universities and open days and everything between those two. Incidentally, due to going to the Open Days I missed my period of PSE so I've not yet been told much about the UCAS Applications and Personal Statements, or what they involve, but from what I have heard, I'm terrified.

Well, okay, not terrified as such; more... intimidated.

Intimidated [a bit like my Guinea Pig above] because a Personal Statement appears to involve having to make yourself sound interesting and worth while to the Uni you are applying to. Now, this may not come as a surprise to you, but my blog is called "Nothing Special" for a reason. I epically fail at talking myself up and at the moment, like Stephen, I'm having trouble thinking of interesting things to say about myself. I don't tend to do anything interesting, and even the things I sometimes do that I find interesting are totally NOT interesting to anyone else.

(This is the point where I stop typing, frown quizzically and the voice in my head asks "Why do you blog then, geek? I'm sure you can think of something.")

So yeah, I'm starting to think about what to write so that when I get to PSE, I'll have a few ideas. Luckily, the trusty Internet is at my fingertips and there are plenty of good examples to be found for helpful tips.

*thinks positively*