on time

The title of this post first refers to the fact that the content today is very, very fresh, aka, the pictures were taken yesterday, and this, my dear readers is a great great great leap for humanity (at least for humanity the way I know it.) I'm on time with life. For once.

Second, it is a metaphorical reflexion on the fact that time has passed so quickly that the eternity I had imagined having in September is now beginning to lose its breath and expire. Time is running out and decisions have to be made. But more on that later. Or more on that never.

I write this, snuggled up to a Nutella jar (/trying to channel my inner Cassandra Mortmain) because Nutella is delicious and brings loads to your body. Especially your waistline. And your face. 

Now that I am finished with the useless introduction, I can properly move on and relay the events of yesterday. They were not of any particular importance, but there were some (good? I think.) photos, and the idea of having an online travel journal is beginning to grow on me.

(I realise that this last bit was yet another useless fact about my life.)

Yesterday, we visited Falkland and Anstruther in the East of Scotland. But before you get too carried away, this will be no history lesson. I am ashamed to say that I know (almost) nothing of the history of the UK, let alone that of my very own little Lebanon! (very very ashamed about that.) So it will be a story in pictures. And casual thoughts, unrelated to history or reality.


I don't ever recall not living in the city. And cities, as I maintain, have come to suffocate me. (Not all of them.) But it fascinates me how people who grew up in the city want to move to the countryside, and those who grew up in the country want to move to the city. People are never satisfied, or happy. When I think of myself, and of how I really, really do not want to work anywhere near a computer in the future, I can only attribute that to the fact that I've had way too much computer in my life. Others, who have had no access to it are desperate for it. I, who have had a full, wholesome education sometimes feel suffocated by that education, I feel like there is no way for me to properly put it to good use. Somebody who has never had the chance to go to school will value this education so much more than I ever will. But anyway, all this digression is to say that I wish I could live in a lovely little village like this one.

I'm intentionally starting the series of photos with this one. Doors are a big thing in this village. They are a big thing anywhere, don't listen to me being silly.

Hallo Kim and Tiph!

Silin and Silvia being perfectly complementary. Both in colours and smiles!

Do you remember in my last post how I lost my mind when I saw flamingos? Well you can imagine what happened when I saw horses. (cc. previous posts on my second-hand obsession with horses.) If you squint your eyes, you can see Clint Eastwood galloping in the distance wearing a cowboy hat and holding a stereotypical lasso in his hand. Or maybe Lucky Luke. (Can you tell that I know NOTHING of the cowboy culture? And that my knowledge of it rests on some very prejudiced and possibly imagined snippets from hollywood movies/pop culture characters?)

(l o s i n g  m y  m i n d. . .  Look at how close we are!)

(Tiph's fabulous hair blending in / competing with the horse's.)

(I don't know why I've insisted on including all these pictures. There isn't a single exceptional one.) This last one even proves that perhaps I should resign myself to the reality that I cannot take proper shots of animals in motion...

Smiles smiles everywhere!

Kim and the staircase. (Thus begins the Kim series.)

Inside the Falkland Palace, which we also visited, Tiph and I indulged in a little mirror picture because "the lighting was so good." We then had an impromptu and intense giggle fest while the guide was solemnly telling a tragic story to a very quiet room...

Here is what happened as I was taking this (terribly bad) picture (below): I walked into a room that looked like a study, where the tour guide was speaking to a group of older people. Of course, I didn't really care about the history. All I saw were the bookshelves, and in my head, could only picture how nice they would look in a photograph. I walked past everybody, and positioned myself before the bookshelves to capture the best picture possible. I could still hear the tour guide speaking, but his words were gibberish to me. I didn't think he might have been addressing me. The room went quiet and I distinctly heard: "Oh, um, technically, we are not allowed to take any pictures in this room," he said. To me apparently. Because no one else was taking pictures. I turned (back into a child) and looked at him with frightened eyes and uttered a million sorrys, throwing in an "I swear I'll delete it" (as if he cared/ who am I kidding, hoarder that I am, I wasn't going to delete it), to which he replied: "oh, no no don't delete it! I was just telling you..." It was pleasantly awkward. No, it wasn't pleasantly awkward. It was embarrassing. Everyone was looking at me and I wasn't Elvis. They had no reason to look at me. So I calmly apologised and then ran far far away where I got lost in the forest and the hunter found me, took out my heart out, gave it to the Evil Queen and now she's the one typing up this story. Hello. :)

Just kidding. Here's the photo.

Kim on the grass.


Anstruther used to be an old fishing town. It slightly reminded me of Saint Malo (which I love dearly.)

Kim on the sand.

Hayo Megan! :)

Kim by the sea.

The wannabe loon that I am.

Kim in the sky.

The picture below is a close-up of the bottom-left area of this magnificent seashell wall (for which I also went crazy).

It was quite difficult to capture the pictures below at the right moment. Cars kept showing up. Which is normal. Cars are everywhere, all the time, naturally. Maybe I wanted to believe that if I managed to keep the cars out, the photos would have been timeless, not stuck in a certain decade or a certain century.  

Everybody made fun of me for stopping to take a picture of this. But I'm in love with doors, textures and colours. I just couldn't resist. Also, Karaoke with Ross?! Yes please!

The award-winning fish and chips lunch we had. To be honest, I never thought I would use the words "award" and "winning" together in one sentence after leaving advertising. I cannot say that I was happy to remember that they existed. They just remind me of long, stressful but incredibly void and meaningless hours of work over projects laden with lies, projects nobody believed in, projects that wouldn't make it past the floor they came out of. It breaks my heart that advertising controls the world we live in. But that's a tangent that I cannot bring myself to hop onto because it's endless and it's sad. The fish and chips were quite nice. At the beginning. Also around the middle. By the end it was more like: Why am I still eating oil? And why is it so important for me to wipe this box clean? 

To conclude, I would like to turn into a jar overflowing with melted cheese (that sounds terribly disgusting, I'm sorry) this was a lovely, colourful trip, and it was made even lovelier because it was spent with beautiful people.

I hope to see you soon? Very soon? But I won't make anymore promises of the kind. Because I'm secretly, accidentally a liar.



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