Friday, 17 December 2010

Keeping the Festive Spirit Alive

The boys just lurve their secret santa presents.
Office secret santa pressie swap, complete with girl Santa Dawn.  It was meant to be boy Santa John, but one size definitely does not fit all, and those santa pants will never be the same again.
Andrew's gift - candy nipple tassles, to be used in the event of sexy time.
Now Dawn, you may be petite, but that reindeer is still looking a few kgs shy of a decent ride home.

Harry's secret santa present - chosen and made by yours truly.  The pornographic gingerbread men were the surprise hit of the night.  The stress boobs will come in handy (get it) I'm sure.
Close up.  Disclaimer: Santa does not condone kiddie porn.

Christmas in Eburger is in full swing.  The proof is in the turkey.  Please look away if you are appalled by gratuitous shots of turkey carcass.
The comparatively sedate table, devoid of food throwing and carcass fondling.  This was moments before I got hit in the face with a projectile rasher of bacon.


Yvonne is about to fling a deadly brussel sprout.  The little fuckers were rock hard and bloody hurt.  Seriously though, the food was better for throwing than eating.
Dawn and Michelle save the turkey from further humiliations.

Michelle moves from turkey to chicken boob (blessedly not a real chicken boob).  Moments later, Jonathon the inexplicably munted guy to her right grabbed said boob and flung it over his shoulder to the other table, where it knocked a glass of wine all over the MD.  To her credit, our boss didn't lose her shit, but it did signify the end of Christmas Food Fight 2010.

Aem no' trouble, youse is trouble!
Pretending to enjoy the disappointing pudding.  Oscars all round.
Oh lovely ladies of the dance, show us yer stuff.
The boys in blue.  Lending serious credence to the running joke that they all call eachother up the night before a party to decide what to wear.
Ugh, the end of the night, and thing fall apart.

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Hither the weather is is winter

In the Botannical Gardens enroute to the village of Eburger for what turned into a very boozy afternoon pub sesh.  I forget how many bottle of red wine were consumed.  It's for the best you know.


These shots are before th snow got crazazy - when it was all still fun and games, albeit on the brrr side.

It starts to get a little crazy.
Outside my office on Dundas Street.  Can't wait for those footpaths to become icy sheets of wrath.
The park near our place at sunset (3pm)


Christmas markets.  We stayed a while, until I couldn't feel my toes under four layers of woolley sock.





Refreshing summer cocktails may seem a little out of place, but it was better than waiting in an hour long line for mulled wine.

Monday, 6 December 2010

All that watching - and for what?

Well, as you may or may not be aware, a hotly-anticipated trip to Barcelona last Friday, (I have been glued to my Lonely Planet for the last month or so, dreaming of Gaudi marvels and the plane tickets have been in my hands since September) was cancelled at the last minute.  We'd been glued to the TV weather reports all week, all regular activities were temporarily suspended the moment a perky, well-dressed presenter trundled on screen with his/her dinky little Met Office map.  We listened with undiverted attention to any reports regarding Edinburgh airport.  We even went as far as to cancel our hotel booking, so as not to be charged in the case of a no show, thinking we'd just book something when (if) we managed to land in Barcelona.

See, here in Eburger, nay the UK, we've been having the sudden (and horribly early) cold snap to end all snaps.  It's plunged to minus 8, and for the last 9 days, we've had 2 days where it hasn't snowed relentlessly, all day.  Now I hear what you're saying my fellow Europeans, and all you North Americans out there, minus 8 and a week of snow?  Childs play.  Yes indeed, children are having fun, and no doubt the proprietors of those ski 'resorts' in northern scotland are rubbing their hands with glee. 

Or they would be, if anyone could get there.  Thus, the problem.  Getting anywhere in these conditions in this country is downright dangerous, if not impossible.  Roads turn to ice, or slush before the gritters have time to finish their 2nd round of morning tea.  Airports remain closed because they can't clear snow off the runway, and cheapo companies refuse to de-ice planes, or pay to have it done. Lorries jack knife because they fail to take in to account the newly treacherous driving conditions.  Traffic comes to a standstill, buses are sent back to depots, and thousands of people are left stranded at their offices, in their homes.  Supermarkets are cleaned out, and no-one delivers fresh supplies - people panic buy in apocalyptic proportions.

I'm not being melodramatic here, these things are happening all over the eastern side of the UK.  From north to south, British infrastructure has all but completely collapsed.  It would be laughable, if it weren't so lamentable - and it's so ridiculously avoidable.  Better preparations, more supplies, enforcing the use of winter tyres, SNOW PLOUGHS! GRIT!

Today, Stu headed off to Stirling. He was excited about his second day at a new job - should've been his second week, but he couldn't get there for the better part of last week.  Ordinarily, this would be a 50 minute drive of about 30 miles.  During the calamity of the 'big freeze' that has been this fortnight, he's left the house at 7:15 in the hope of being at work by 9am.  Today, he left the house at 7:30, and he made it to work by 9am, only to find out that the office was closed due to snow (um, it's an office, you work inside).  He turned around to head home, with mixed feelings about his 5th reprieve from the rigours of the daily slog.  He only just got home, and it's now 3:30pm.  That's travelling at an average of 5 miles an hour, for 6 hours.

Anyway, enough ranting for now, the point of my story, before I was distracted with rage is this: Edinburgh airport was open last Friday night.  Flights were coming and going, albeit not in the usual volumes, and with significant delays due to the weather.

Our flight to Barcelona?  Cancelled due to unexpected country-wide air traffic control walk out in Spain.