~The Rave:ment of a Disturbed Divine Frog~

My birthday desperation came to an end. No balloon animal cufflinks for my husband, oh no! Instead he suggested I repeat an old birthday custom; I would pick somewhere, arrange everything, not tell him anything about it except what to pack. Then, when we were ready to go, I'd just punch the postcode into the satnav and away we would drive. I chose Pitlochry.

Pitlochry is one of those parts of the highlands loved by Queen Victoria. It's near Blair Atholl, Dunkeld, Aberfeldy, Killiecrankie. We were staying in a place which had all the hallmarks of a proper highland hotel; antler chandeliers, stag wallpaper, tartan curtains and no corner bereft of a stuffed animal or two. Getting there required driving past R's place of work. I tried to tell him we were having a sleepover in his office but he assures me he was never convinced by this.

A rainbow came down right next to the road we travelled, so clearly we were close to treasure! It warmed my heart, which is just as well, cos by the time we were safely ensconced in the 17th century inn with its welcoming pints and hard working log burner, snow was pelting down through the twilight. When we woke, the mountains were dusted in pretty warning.

We walked, found the delicate waterfall called rather prosaically 'the black spout', then wandered through the town spending an awful lot of money until it was time for our Blair Atholl distillery tour. We were introduced to great whiskies and pleasant company until it was time to go back and stuff our faces again. I am still digesting.

As ever my problem with Scotland is that I am not quite opening the door in the wall. I am always just passing by and I will always be back soon and then I will -

But being dragged away is what I do. There will come a time to find the magic that's beckoning, maybe visit Schiehallion and other fairy domains. But with poetic sense, which is the only sense that works true re Faerie, there's always that caveat that one day the sojourner does not return.

As it is, I learned a few interesting bits of folkore, and may record them later.

But for now, it's enough that he had a wonderful birthday. I see him smile and I smile too.

Well gosh. That got difficult.

Watching Landman which we've been thoroughly enjoying. And then in season 2 something happens which immediately caused a problem.

( SA triggers behind the cut )

There's probably some useful lessons in there somewhere.

Maybe I wouldn't have been as easily shaken had I not been in this odd not-quite-hypnogogic state recently. However, this is the second PTSD experience I have had this year, so I need to be careful. It is better, almost healed, but I mustn't push it.

Anyway, leaving that aside, Landman is fun, so much fun it wouldn't surprise me if it contributes towards R's interest in visiting Texas. I know he's up for Austin, but he wants lots of live music while I'm a bit more interested in the amazing book festival mentioned by mallorys_camera. Places of interest include Austin, San Antonio, Amarillo and surrounds, Palo Duro or maybe even Big Bend with the Rio Grande. I almost want to see Marfa, but if the lights don't turn up I can't imagine it would interest R at all. I don't think he's seen a James Dean film in his life.

Anyway, maybe now is not the best time for that plan. Let's see how the world and the West settles.

Despite the beauty of this Spring, the last few days have been troubled.

Not by anything real.



Right now, Nuclear Man's being Sweeney at me. This is a haunt, two steps down from seeing him standing in a room going Wooooh, severe enough to make me wonder if he's dead or something. And I'm not experiencing proper memories of him either except for his declaration that if he couldn't have me in this life we would be together in the next, that in some way he would be kissing me and making love to me forever. He was utterly romantic and utterly cringeworthy. The cringe outlasted the romance by decades.

I don't regret the end of our liaison at all, in fact, I pretty much forgot him. Some of that might have been the burial of embarrasment and guilt, but some of it was a natural response to a dead fire. Because of him I burned through disasters and dead ends, it was not pleasant and it left a scar or two but it helped me to find and respect true love. If he's OK and I'm OK, it's just another Sweeney.

So why is he here now? Gosh mate, do something or go away. This is so peculiar.