Peebly Conditions

A few days before Christmas, Stu stumbled across a bargain - a night at Peebles Hydro (one of your more refined, spa-type establishments). Brilliant move all round, though as is customary with any trip undertaken by us, there were a minor hiccup:

Stu forgot to bring any shoes that weren't of the trainer (sneaker - see what living with Stu has done to me - I can't even say doona anymore, so derisive is he) variety. So that was a problem, because the rather posh dining room had a strict dress code after 7pm. We called concierge and explained our predicament. The man on the desk suggested Stu come down and try on their 'emergency' pair of shoes (size 10 - Stu's an 8). Apart from the obvious humiliation involved in having to wear what were effectively lost property shoes to a classy restaurant, they looked ridiculously clown-like. Fortunately our kindly concierge realised this, and told Stu not to worry about the dress code shoe-stipulation. They must have expected that on a night when the rooms were going half price, that a whole lot of plebs would be descending on their luxurious surrounds, and that standards would inevitably nose dive. Enter us.

Classy enough to bring our own picnic lunch to hotel, weather too shitty to eat said lunch out on the lawns, so we bunkered down in our room for cheeses, pickles and crakers. And an obligatory bottle of champers, Pats. Gym, pool, sauna, spa, etc etc. Then a gorgeous (massive) meal in the restuarant (we were in good company with the shoe situation, and were not shunned as a result). Finished the night off with a soak in the bath. So good, you forget how good. Just my luck to now live in a country where having a bath is not tantamount to Planeticide (like it?), and to live in a flat with no bath.


The view as we wound our way south to the lovely little town of Peebles. Damn was it cold. Not as cold as it had been in previous weeks, but still enough of a chill to make you crave hot tea and open fires.


One cold sheep on a windswept field. Poor sheep, I really feel for them in this kind of weather. I mean, it's not even bright and 'crisp', it's just plain unpleasant. I was happy to be in a car, speeding along - awful, selfish human being that I am, I still felt the guilt.

At least she had some mates to rally around. Sheep are pretty stupid though, um, collective body warmth anyone? Duh.

In the cocktail lounge before dinner at Peebles Hydro. Stu doing his best 'double-ard bastard impression'. Egads, we are both so pale.

Where you going?

The front entrance. I saw this and immediately thought of John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire. Actually, pretty much any Irving novel. Anyone with me?

Afore-mentioned tennis courts. Too few rackets, too much snow was the general concensus. Pity.