Ralph the Wonder Llama

Hello everyone. Alright, I flatter myself. Both. Ok, ok. You. Me.

Whatever.

I thought I ought to put my head above the parapet, so to speak, before the month is over and you all/both/one think I’ve disappeared somewhere unpleasant, like that last stretch of tunnel before one arrives at Queen Street Station, where for some reason it always smells really badly. In fact that wouldn’t be terribly far from the truth. The weeks seem to dissolve to a great extent, since I hardly see the sun and move in one seemingly constant transition between Edinburgh and Glasgow, east and west, sleep and waking, tedium and, well… At least now when I leave home there’s a faint glow in the east and the birds think it’s almost day, which helps a deal.

The job, I shall not speak of it too much, for t’is dull in the extreme, yet not a little stressful. No-one said it was easy, right? At least it’s now busy, so the days pass more quickly. I shall be billing them for overtime this week, too, since I’ve been doing more hours than is reasonable, so that someone can be there to communicate with the newly liberated Americans. I’m even working this weekend, of all things. Thank goodness I put that clause in my contract…

Anyway, I’m still here, just about, keeping life and soul together, just about. We’re off to Tigh Mor (props due to Sue’s folks for the chance to get posh for cheap) for a short but swanky trip the weekend after this one coming, and I think I’ll be well in need of it by then. In the meantime I hope to take delivery of something cheap but highly addictive, and something less cheap but super-cool. One will help me while away what short hours I seem to get here these days, and the other will help occupy me on the train between here and Weegieland.

Ooh the suspense. You might even come back to find out, eh?

In these straitened times it’s always good to find new ways to save a few quid. After all, we have to keep the wolves from the door, eh? Especially we llamas. Wolves are not our favourite house-guests, for reasons that ought to be obvious.

Anyway. I digress. One way to economise is to get rid of one’s telly. This would save on tv licence fees (for those of us that actually pay them…), electricity, and doubtless some time, too. Ah, but Ralph, I hear you cry (or is that the wolves again?), what if you actually want to watch some tv? No problem. For you see, the size of television now being bought by Joe Public has reached such epic proportions that it is no longer strictly necessary to have one in one’s own flat. As evidence, I present you with Exhibit A, the flat across the street’s new tv:

which is, as one of my favourite Scottish expressions has it, the size of nonsense. Bear in mind that this picture was taken from my lounge window, across the street, and to the other end of their lounge, a distance that must be not less than 80 feet. The picture is as clear as you like – almost the same, in fact, as looking at my own. Now of course, there are drawbacks – I’d have to go across and ring their buzzer to get the channel changed, and they don’t appear to subscribe to sky sports, but that apart, it’s perfect.

As long as they don’t close their curtains, that is. Then again, they seem to have hocked their curtains and lampshades to pay for the telly…

They (whoever ‘they’ are – you know, them, the ones that are always whispering about you in dark corners…) say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Well one of the travel sites I subscribe to, Wanderlust, is running a travel writing competition in which one must render a travel experience in exactly 100 words, no more, no less. 100 shall be the number of words, and the counting of the words shall be 100. Writeth thou not 99 words, unless thou proceed to write the 100th. 101 writest thou not. And so on, and so forth, ad infinitum (infinity is right out!)

Anyway, I’ve toyed with it for long enough, and submitted it just now. It’s about something that happened just after we’d visited the Red Fort in Delhi this past October, and it tickled me more than somewhat. See for yourself:

My 100-word experience – A Perfectly Indian Exchange

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