PhotocatsEyes

The Royal Yacht Britannia and me...

Was not a good combination. One is not supposed to spill cola onto the royal deck, which I did. I felt deeply ashamed, but nobody saw me, and after I cleaned it off, it only got a bit sticky. No biggie, as they clean the whole thing with a toothbrush every day anyway.
But other then this little accident, the yacht was fine. We did spend 3 hours on it, and saw it all, from top of the mast to the deep of the engines. Their engine is cleaner then my kitchen I must admit. Wished I could borrow some of the sailors to clean my house.

We entered the ship via the new Mall they built in Leith, the former main docks/harbor for Edinburgh. Big cruise ships still dock there nowadays, we saw a couple of them.

Lots of photographs of Betty of course, and lots of little tidbits to learn, one of them being that the marines on board the Britannia did not wear head gear, to avoid having to be saluted every two minutes. And they are the only sailors in the Navy to be called by their first name. They also know sign language as her Majesty can not be disturbed by yelled commands. Neat stuff all... I wonder who invents all those silly rules and regulations to be used in Navy and Army environments.
I wonder if I commit daily sins on base as I never salute anyone, first of all, I don’t know their rank, and after having called a colonel a corporal once, I keep my mouth shut.

The biggest surprise was that PHOTOGRAPHY IS ALLOWED and even encouraged. WOW... WOW... WOW.... The National Trust could take a look at this. It made my day.
I did not have to sneek, getting half pics because a hidden camera is not too good for photography.
I did commented on the green sign, and told them that it was more then appreciated!

From inside the new mall, we saw that a cruise ship had docked, and I was amazed at the sheer size. Six stories high, on a flat sea, the first cruise ship I saw that close in my life.
An unknown world to me, I am a kind of jeans gal, so cruise ships are off limit. You need to be able to dress up, way up...

We did have a nice day, and heavy cloud formations all around us, reflected in the water, they have built some new flats straight on the edge of the Firth. That is what i call a room with a view... But I digress, I was talking Britannia.

Not just a ship, no, Her Majesty’s Yacht. Her pleasure boat for protocol avoiding trips overseas. I could easily get used to a life on board, at least under the conditions this boat was kept afloat. 250 Men to cater and clean, definitely a pleasure...

A special clock, shiny silver, I think they have a crue for silver cleaning only. The whole boat is spick and span. I do hope they don’t get too much tourists like me on board, spilling fluids... It’s so NOT done on a royal deck...

I had a chat with one of the people working on the ship, and commented on his lovely pants. He told me they had been hand picked to match the decor, I thought he looked really flashy. A very friendly man, I loved talking to him.

We had tea in the new opened tea room, up on the top deck, with royal china, and boy, I bet Hyacint Bucket would have had a ball. I felt slightly underdressed for the occasion.
Even if most of the people there were in holiday clothing, I was not too far off. Mr Wonderful had a cream tea, the scone was to die for. I just had a drink, a special limonade, to black out the idea of my spilled cola.

We ventured up and down, through dining rooms set with royal china and glass ware, to be on the safe side, I did not even try to touch something.
In a way, I am glad not to be of Royal blood or belong to a royal environment, as I could never cope with the rigid rules, rules and more rules.
Stick me with the peasants please...

I loved the casual living room, with couches that looked expensive and comfortable. After all, our royal hinies need to be comfortable at all times.
Even at sea.
I thought it was pretty strange that Betty and Philip had separate chambres at night time, I guess the Royal penis and vagina (excusez le mot) are protocolled also.
Not only do they have separate bedrooms, they also have different working chambers, makes me wonder how much of a family life they really have... I think that being married to the Queen, King, President and other leading members is not much of a fun playing field. It comes with the territory I might add.

I can see that this ship was a pleasant stay compared to Buckingham.

From the decks, we can see the waters around the harbor of Leith, with some cormorands having nests on the piers.

A lot of visitors entering the ship now, pretty soon, Mr Wonderful and myself share the decks and stairways with other people, all wanting to see the sights. It is interesting to see how a royal family lives, or get a glimpse of it. It must be wonderful to just step aboard and sail to the other side of the world, having servants to bring you anything you might want. I could adapt, but then protocol would kill me.
One of the most beautiful things I saw on board was the photograph of Diana breaking protocol to great her two sons when they come on the ship. She was a mother first and princess second. Something I admire. Even I have no specific interest in Diana. I have tried to find the photograph on the internet, but to no avail. Probably strictly copyrighted, and I don’t want fuss with British Royals because I used a picture on my blog...

It never stops to amaze me how order and clean are two big words on ships. Not one single dust fairy to spot, nowhere, not even if you look for them carefully.
Which is a thing I would do, as I am always depressed about my household skills.

Ropes, cords, chains, it all looks as if used daily, or at least dusted daily. One of the crew tells me that the whole ship gets at least its monthly clean up, next to the daily dusting going on in a strict routine.

And even on a Royal Yacht, the chains are thick and heavy.

Below deck are the cabins for military crews, a bit crammed, but here too the smell of soap and shoe polish. The bunks made with rules laid out. Four beds in the same way, mirrors of the other apposite bunks. How do they do it?

The Britannia sailing to France on the Anniversary of D-Day sets goosebumps on my arms, seeing all the little boats flottering around the Britannia and what I think is the Queen Elizabeth, ocean cruiser. Very impressive.

Too soon we are at the end of our tour, a last look towards the top deck, only the little motor boat to look at, the Royal Barge.

In warm shiny wood, with silver fishes. I wonder if they are the same fish as we saw in London, on the lantarns along the Thames.
It is a nice place to visit. I would say if you are in Edinburgh, peep over to Leith, and visit the Britannia, it is worth a couple of hours.
Some rare photographs, and it is a strange feeling to think that we stand in spaces where very known people have stood before us.
It’s a good thing that they restored the boat, so it will stay docked in Leith for generations to come. Nice to get a glimpse of Royal life.
Back to my scrapbook now that I am making about our Edinburgh visit.

Don’t forget: when in Edingburg, hop on the bus to Leith and VISIT the Britannia... It’s a must!

With love from Russia...

Not really, it’s made with love from Ripon, England. Only the made with love part is true. I have been doing it a lot lately. Making books with love. Giving them away. Some people say thank you, others don’t. But it is still made with love. The making part was filled with love.
So I was at it yesterday evening again, as Mr Wonderful was watching Star Wars the clones, and I can’t be bothered to watch it with him. I am not that big into space things...
I’d rather make books with love...

The kit I used this time is the digital baby love mini kit. I love those little kits that you can buy online, it is instant gratification because you pay and two minutes later, after download, you can work with it. No long drive over Skipton Pass to Embsay craft store... Nope, you stick behind computer and it comes to you... Love it...
As obviously can be seen, it’s baby papers, so what else to make then a little baby book, for the baby to come of course.

I have stacks of papers, and the book is only 6x6, a good way to use scraps, and economical in binding rings as I only need a six holer. I do use the bind-it-all from Zutter to bind the books myself too. And put in the holes. One scrapbook utility that was worth its money over and over already.

It’s a first week book, a spread for a day, small and portable, the perfect bragbook for grannies I would say. I might even be tempted to make them on order.
Shout if you want one...

The day stickers are from Katie Pertiet, also digital, but you can print them out and with a circle punch, it’s easy enough to pop it out and attach with a glue dot to get some
layering...

All we need now is the baby so we can take the photographs to go in the booklet. 3 More months to go.
Time to go to base now, and do some grocery shopping. Life is more then making baby books after all.

Beanstalk is happily surfing in Scarborough, Mr Wonderful treated him with a bed and breakfast for a couple of days so he can splash out his surfing skills.
He will be back on thursday.

Talk later!!!!

Christmas in July...

I hate it. It’s July for god sakes, I don’t want to think about Christmas. I only want to think about Christmas when it is that time of year, from the 14th of december till the 28th of december...
It’s becoming a general thing, the economy wants us to believe in Christmas in July...
Not me...
It’s summer, I want to think blue skies, animals enjoying the sun. People enjoying the sun. Scarborough, seaside, sand and water... Pampers filled with sand that make me cringe.
So I am not playing. No Christmas in July in my July month. We should all work together and act against it.
Why mix up events from one season to another?
We don’t walk around in swimming suits on Christmas day do we? Or should we wear Christmassy swimsuits in summer?
Hold it people, I do want to spend money, but I do not want to spend it on Christmas stuff in July.
We only have half a summer in England, and I am sure not going to make it even shorter by thinking ahead with six months...
Although: this Christmas I will have a grandbaby... Hmmm...

NOPE: I DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT CHRISTMAS IN JULY!!!!!

Scones and a phone entrance point...

In between my Jessica Sprague classes and going places with Beanstalk who is on a holiday here, we went to tea at S. House...
Google Jessica if you want to know more about the classes, I vouch for them, great stuff to learn, and even though I know a lot of photoshop, I still learned lots.
But what about tea and scones?
First, I did send off Beanstalk and Mr Wonderful to Leeds Armouries. A guys day out, with the order to come back with at least five photographs.
It may sound like a lot, but believe me, for Mr Wonderful and Beanstalk it is a huge amount. And the order was needed otherwise they would not take pics and I would not be able to make a small souvenir book for when he goes home.

They obliged... Can’t say with a lot of enthousiasm, but hey, who can be picky in situations like these.

I was the first to arrive at S. her house... It is a big stately home, and part of it is rented out as flats. My friend S. lives in one of those flats.
A bit of country life with a pinch of small towns around. Markington, Ripon and Harrogate to only name a few.

The scones came out of the oven golden brown. S. is a prolific baker, and she does not turn her hand over for scones, cupcakes and all other doughy gems.
She has the tools of the trade needed to work her cookie charm, and the results are always fantastic.

It’s a gift to be able to bake and cook. She definitely has that gift amongst others.

Her little six year old grand daughter has written up notes so we can see what is available at the filled table. Amazing that a six year old can write that well. I am stunned.
And after being 8 years in England, I finally find out that what we call flat cheese in Belgium is called Creme Fraiche here. And I dig in... My first flat cheese in eight years.
Yum...
I am also the rude one at the table, as I keep eating... Man, those scones go in sweet.
We talk, a couple of friends together, with Harrogate College as the main binding factor. We all went to the College to brush up our knowledge about webdesign, photography or multi media. It was a great way for me to get to know more people, when I arrived in England, I had left all my friends in Belgium... Most of them anyway...

After our scones and coffee we take a quick look outside, as we are all hunting to find the main entrance point for the telephone in S. her flat...
I guess the other renters must have been a bit baffled to see us jump up and down looking up in the skie...

We need to know that access point as S. is having trouble with her internet connection. The first thing to do then is to check out the main entrance point...

We all help... And discover that the main cable comes in via the huge pine three... This is Brittain remember, logic reasoning is not always the goal.
Health and safety might have been breached here big time, but you won’t hear me, as I don’t want S. to have to wait for a new phone pole for five weeks in a row.

We do not crack the secret of the main entrance on friday, but we will keep an eye open, and S. will try to talk to co-flat renters, and see if any of them possibly have the main entrance...
It sucks when you need BT in UK. BT stands for British Telecom.

While the others are scouting the walls of the home, I look down here and there to snap some summer flowers.
Plenty of those around...
Beanstalk is having a good time here, and it is nice to have him over. Too bad not more Belgians grab the chance to come over and stay at our house.

But OK, off to Embsay now for acrylic book covers, so I can start making his vacation book...

Talk later!

Homeless in Edinburgh

It’s true, it’s real, I find two suitcases when I peek into another open vault. The possessions of a man or woman who has nothing more in life then just this: two red suitcases. And a cone. I can’t help but wonder why a homeless person could and would need a cone. What I do realise is that you must be truly desperate if this is the only place left for a human to stay.
All the more sad as there is also a little note with text that I can’t translate.

Is it a note for a friend to tell that he or she will be back soon? If someone knows a bit of csech?, could this be translated? Or would this be breaching confidence?
Hmmm, maybe for the best that I could not read the language. Obviously the person knows how to read and write, so what happened in his life to end up here? Is it temporarily?
Will he get a grip on life back after a while? Hard to tell... Unlike a lot of people I do believe that homelessness is not a choice. Although it might look like it in certain cases.
Life can happen, and sure, a person can attribute to going down, but we tend to forget that in modern society it does not take a lot to end up on the streets. And sleeping rough.
The person behind the note and the suitcases lingers in my head as we walk a bit further on this peacful cemetery.

The buildings in the background is the full centre of Old Town Edinburgh. We are not in the outskirts, we are in the busy middle of the city. A five minute walk from the Royal Mile.
The thriving heart of the old Edinburgh.

Another huge toomb, carved gems. I don’t know if toombs fall into the category architecture, I would definitely classifie them under art.
The people who it was carved for has been gone for almost four centuries, the carver will have followed, yet 300 years later, we stand here in front of it and gaze in awe.
I wonder if anything is done to preserve the leftovers at this point, so they don’t decay further. I know Edinburgh Old Town is a world heritage centre, but am not exactly sure what that holds for cemeteries in the package.

Next to the big one, a tiny stone, the wife of Colonel Campbell who died on the 27th of july in 1839, aged 76... She was born way in the 1700’s. Amazing. I take it that she must have been loved a lot, as it says on her stone that even Jesus wept.
I do hate it when people tell other people after a loss that God needed the person who died, which always makes me angry. How on earth can you tell a couple of parents who lost a child that God needed their child more then they do? That it is in a safe place now? How can you state that and not blink an eye?
So I do like this take on things: even Jesus wept...

And amongst the big and huge toombs, I try to look at the details, like this monument for Thomas Bannaty... There are skulls and more elaborate symbols, but he also has 3 or four little chubby angels guarding him. It is a reoccuring thing, that humans think that angels are beside them after death, and that often angels are chubby little kiddie pics. With filled cheeks and full bellies.

I find an orange one, a weird mix between a baby and a grown up face, holding a staff. A man on the right could well be Father Time, cutting life short.
How symbols stay up over centuries.

I hope my dad is surrounded by some of the little chubby ones, he loved kids, loved his grand children, it’s a nice concept to think that he too will be surrounded by angels.
Maybe only human babies who died become chubby angels. Grownups might stay grown ups, over the rainbow. Who knows...

Another pair of wings, clearly a child, the face slowly getting wiped by time passing by.

Mr Wonderful and i leave the cemetery, and take a last look at Grey Friars Bobby, the sun is in a blue sky. Nice to come back to present times.
After having wandered around in old times a bit...
What else is there to see in Edinburgh?

Living with the dead...

OK, I promised to tell you about Grey Friars Bobby, so here it is. When entering Black Friars Cemetery. I am deeply confused as some say Grey Friars and others say Black Friars. I will have to dig in and find out why both names seem to be used.
The small dog belonged to a policeman named John Gray in 19th century Edinburgh, and he passed away. He was buried in the above cemetery, and his little dog kept guard on his grave for fourteen years. How can anyone abuse dogs if you hear stories like that?
And the layout has been made after following one of Jessica Sprague her dig in deep digital scrapbooking classes. Labor intensive I must say... but I like the result.

Special arrangements were made for the doggie, as a person living close kept feeding the dog, and he also had a special collar, that said that this dog was not to be taken into the pound. It breaks my heart reading about it. 14 Years for godsakes, how is that for loyalty beyond the grave? We can learn from a little animal.

The beastie lived on to the age of 16, and got buried close to his former master, as a thank you from a group of people who knew how the story went. Gosh, I am sobbing again.
I wonder why I want to hang out on cemeteries when I can’t cope with some of the things I see and read there.

There are a couple of cemeteries in Edinburgh, this is one of the oldest. And boy, would I NOT want to live in the houses bordering on it.
I would not appreciate it to on a dark night know that outside my kitchen window the cemetery lures.
Some of the toombstones are literally build against the backs of the houses. Call me slightly paranoia...

It has to be said though that some of the stones are to classify under art. Some of the earliest stones date from the 17th century, and the years and weather have chisseled some of the carvings off. Depending on where they stand on the cemetery.

One of the first vaults I see has no door anymore, and when I peek inside, there are glass bottles and pants, a homeless must have sheltered here for a while. Sad really to realise that in our modern society, living people have to spend the night in a vault on the cemetery because they have no place to go.
Guess they are safe here, as I don’t know any person who will go dig round on a buriel place at night.

In earlier days, the cemetery was also known for the robbing of bodies. Real body snatchers. Edinburgh had a university, with the beginning of medical studies, and bodies were hard to get by. Some obscure figures made sure that the doctors who then performed illegal post mortems to find out about the human body, kept an eye on the cemetery and who got buried that day. At night they went in and had a new corpse to deliver to the medical institute. They were paid good money, so it did not take long before they started killing people to deliver them stiff and well to the school. Eventually, it was found out and they hanged, after which event their own bodies ended up on dissection tables too.

I could stay there for a long time, it is almost miraculous to be able to look at the elaborate stone carvings, lots of skulls and other symbols. A special kind of humor is used on some of the toombs. Often a detail tells more then the whole stone.

Too bad that a lot of stones are in severe decay, 400 years is a long time to stay fresh. But here and there we can decipher a whole message.
I thought that “O death where is thy sting, O grave where is thy victory” was very appropriate.

I take it that in modern times nobody would have money anymore to have stone carvers carve like they used to do in previous centuries.
Of course, all the graves here are from rich people, the back of the cemetery has some mass graves, where poor people were laid in unmarked group graves.
The distance between rich and poor gap death...

I wonder how this place would have looked like a couple of hundred years back. A tardis would come in handy I must say, it would be neat if we could meet up with some of the names on the graves. Military people, professors, famous poets, children dying before their parents. With an extremely high child mortality rate way back.

Behind the walls one can see the old Town, with rich and high patriciars houses, and a church.

I am toying with the idea of putting all my cemetery shots in sepia tone, to get a feel for what it must have been like, but I only partially succeed. Our modern days are in too much colors...

And something odd catches my attention. I see two men sitting down, it looks like one of them is portraying a gargoyle, the other one is photographing it.
My curiosity is too strong and I go up to ask the gargoyle if that is what he is doing: portraying a gargoyle...
He is not, he is a story teller, telling stories to tourists and people who want to listen, and he is the subject of a project by a photography student.
At times, my mind wanders way too far.

They leave for another shooting place, and I take a better look inside the vault. I see a cape, wild weeds, hmmm, what is in there?

A peek through the fence shows us a figurine with a stone cape around his stone shoulders. Must have been a substantial person.

His face has been damaged over the years, and the lettering at the front of the vault has been wiped out by centuries and bad weather, so no way of finding out who this person was...
A couple of more stone details tomorrow before we jump back to colours and the 21 century... Spooky to stay on cemeteries too long...

I am ready for a cuppa, let’s see if the pub is open already... Grey Friars Bobby will stay in my thoughts the whole day...
Talk later!

Color snippets in Edinburgh

If you ask a hundred people about colour in Edinburgh, they will tell you that there is no colour. That it is dim and subdued. Depressed is often used. I do not agree.
The overal view may be pastel, but there are several bright spots filled with primary colours. One has to find them. That’s all...
I was on a colour quest last week thursday, when we were walking and taking the sightseeing bus. The busses have their value. When the weather is nice, it is fun to sit on top and just sit and relax, while the bus takes you along, you can do 3 tours in a row if you want. It’s a day pay ticket, hop on and off.

Holyrood (the scottish palace for Queenie Elizabeth) has a bright red lion with yellow on the side. He’s perched on a crown, looks rather uncomfortable to sit I must say.
But he has a nice view all the way up the High Street towards Edinburgh Castle.

We take a break before we go in to the St. Giles Cathedral, they have a cafe in the crypt, the red berry tarts catch my attention.
I went for one, a real tooth breaker... The berries were lovely, but you need hammer and chissel to get through the cookie part.
I tried desperately to get my fork in, to no avail...

They have a nice assortment of cakes and fudge things. I am not a lover of fudge, the cherry thing was my sin.

We had to sit inside, as the spots on Parlement Square behind St. Giles were filled up when we arrived. No biggie, the crypt is cool, and we can look outside through the glass.

Colour inside St. Giles too of course, the glass in lead windows are vivid and come to life. Remember to always shoot glass in lead windows without flash.
If you use flash, you will not see the colours.
Back on the street, my hunt continues...

Police boxes, better known as Tardisses. Hmmm, don’t know if there is a plural for Tardis. Dr. Who used them as a time machine if I am correct.
I never got the concept. In real life they are police boxes, where if you are lucky, can find a policeman to talk to when in need of one.

Funny, the ones in Edinburgh are the first ones I see in real life. I hope that the Daleks stay away. I am enjoying myself, and do not want to have anything to do with evil, not today.

And even the toughest worker needs a break now and then, for tea or a read, this is after all Edinburgh, city of books and depressed poets...

Back at Waverley Bridge bus stop, the rail way station on one side, the bus stop on the other. Hec, even a daily life bus stop can brighten up the day.

So does the gig ticket office close to the South Bridge. I try to avoid festivals, but I do appreciate the tickets.

And we have a yellow cows end sticking out of a wall. It does make sense in Edinburgh. The head is around the corner, this cow is a fierce jumper. I love stuff like this.
It’s nice if people smile for silly things. And living in Edinburgh, where a small two bedroom flat goes for 1000 pounds a month, one can use all the smiles there are to get.

To finish it off, a splash of what I call Tuscany red. A new hotel built in the style of the surrounding buildings. Good! That is how it should be.

Keep the clean modern style of glass towers away from Edinburgh Old Town. It is perfect as it is, no need to change.
Tomorrow is cemetary day. I love old cemetaries, and we found one... with a dog story attached. Tomorrow!

Romantic city: Edinburgh

Edinburgh... A moody city. When seen under severe cloud cover one might get the impression that Edinburgh is somber and grey. Not much colour.
Not so on a sunny day, which we had on thursday, when we explored the city.

There is a lot of colour in Edinburgh, but you have to find it, and it is in the small details that we can find it. You have to go up and close.
Which is also what we did. Correction, I don’t know if there are a lot of tourists that are scouting for signs and history plaques, but I read them all. That is the ones I can find.
It’s kind of a weird city. But I love it. Build around a concept of high seven story buildings, with small alleyways to the second row of flats tucked away behind the street facing ones.
Rich people could afford the street, poor people had to be content with the lesser housing, in packed tenements. And I know, when I hear tenement my stomach begins to roar.
I think packed rooms fit for two filled with 14. History was not always gentle.

So when walking down the Highstreet, the Royal Mile between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood, you can see the small high entrances, and you know that when you go in, there is treasures to be found.

The concept works. There is a vague gridplan, and the closes take you from the Centre of the Old Town towards the further spread streets and alleys, towards the New Town.
I am a definite lover of Old Town Edinburgh. I love the mysterie, the closes leading to other layers of life and society, all of that with a dressing of grey brown moody strings attached.

I wished all the closes would give way to Old Town buildings, but it ain’t so. Some show new generation flats, which are not near as attractive as the old weathered stuff.
I am all for conservation and keeping the old sights alive, Mr Wonderful believes in change and new things, very american of him.

We walk a lot on thursday, close in and close out. Going up and down, stairs to take, go back to street level, not a boring minute.

And street life is buzzing. The High street is in big parts made into pedestrian walk zones, bordered off with the high flats, Edinburgh is very much alive, and gearing up for the big Tattoo next week. When marching bands will occupy the open spaces, and the castle will be heeving with visitors.

When I look down on High Street, I can see the water blink, the Firth of Forth, Edinburgh lies close to the water. Things to tell about our water day too, but not now.
For now I am still thinking back at the colours and sights and sounds of the city.

It is definitely worth peeking in towards the closes, it’s where the little gems are. Weathered wall paintings, one layer over the other, you could go back in time just by analyzing how many layers of paint have been smacked on top, hiding what lies beneath.
Smith Firework Manufactureres is on its way out, soon enough the sign will be washed off completely, a shame really. I love it. The different lettering, what they tell us, how they show us who and what lived in town.

The mural at Close 221 has almost completely dissappeared. Can’t feel but sorry, I would have liked to see what it had and what it was talking about.
The metal plaque marks the spot of the old Stamp Office close...

And the further down the High Street we walk, the better we can hear the sound of music. Two young guys trying to make money. They do, they play wonderful, I sit down for a while and watch and listen. Life is good. I tip them well, and go further down. Lots more to see and find.

A further walk will bring new treasures, Mr Wonderful is getting hungry, food is the message. And food in abundance around us.
Come back for more Edinburgh if you liked this entry... I am only brushing the surface...

Yes, life is good!

Our last night in Edingburgh

We are going home tomorrow... Nice trip, lovely weather, a boat trip, city trip, it all went smooth.

Talk soon!

A birthday piglet...

I don’t know if you ever heard about Skype? The best application for computer geeks abroad ever. I can talk for free, with moving image and sound to my mother in law in Phoenix Arizona, seated next to my computer, with a cuppa, it is like sitting across the table in her living room.
I have tried to get more people on it, as it is a totally non paying application, it reduces phonebills to almost nothing. That is if you use the program instead of taking up your old phone.
So on Friday I had a live line to Belgium, to the kitchen of my brother’s family, where my godchild Judith was going to open her birthday present I sent her earlier in the week.

It’s like magic, I love the fact that I get a glimpse of daily life in Belgium, when I am sitting in Ripon England, and can see exited faces and questionmarks...

She was in a birthday mood already, flowered up and all, and I wondered if she was going to like the little book I made for her.
Her brother was curious too, stood with his nose over the event, while she fiddled to get the package open...

The book came out, and I saw her tooth missing smile, I hit the jackpot... It’s always a question if the techie kids from today will appreciate a simple booklet.
No flashing lights, just a spiral bound booklet, with a story about a bird princess and a bird family. Only the dad was a rabbit.
And that is fine, it is a made up fairy tale, and in my made up fairy tales, bird princesses can have a bird mom and a rabbit dad. Her siblings were little birds too, me myself was a chicken. With a camera.

It took mostly time, and copy and paste in photoshop. As the bird heads were replaced with little pics of the kid, but it all ended well...
And my godchild is 8 now... She was born a couple of months before I moved to England, darn it, finally a godmother, and then I move abroad...
But as stated above, Skype wrecks the distances, and I am enjoying the birthday exitement in my hometown in Belgium, Kortrijk.

See the purple chicken with the camera, hey, that is me. Self portrait... It’s nice to be a chicken. At least in a fairy tale book. A chicken with a D300 is rather flashy I would think...

She tells me that she will keep the envelope too, hey girl, that is fine by me. It’s your package, it’s your birthday, it’s all about YOU...
I love those little snippets of Belgian life trippling in to my British life now.
I wished my sons would install skype too, but they are too busy with Facebook...
But that is another story...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUDITH!!!!

If the blog is silent over the coming days, it’s because we are cruising the Ye Old Town of Edinburgh. Mr Wonderful has a couple of days off, and we decided to go North, and explore some more Scottish habits.

I will take my laptop with me, of course, so if you want to check Skype out, hit the green call me button on the upper right on my blog page...

Talk soon!