Oh Wait: This Just In

Who knew that we were in for a life of such fabulous connections?

Via our [now sadly online] favorite newspaper we have been alerted to the fabulousness that is Scottish loo paper… Yes. Apparently this stuff is all the rage amongst the questionably celebrated. And speaking of questionably celebrated, you also ought to know that, now that we are bound for the Isle of Gaels, we can get candles from the same place that Madonna & Guy Ritchie bought theirs for their über-super-amazing-astoundingly-fabulous nuptials. Yes. We have arrived.

Signing off in deepest sarcasm,

– D & T

Emptying the Cupboards



So, since the cupboards are pretty much empty, we’re in the process of making do with whatever’s left in the freezer and those odd bits you always end up with in the pantry. In this case, we’re doing a stew of mung beans with a bit of soy-cheese … along with some of the last slices of sourdough. We have three loaves left now, and two of those are pumpernickel. So, we’re stretching the sourdough, delaying the end. It’s to last another three weeks, and then we’re on our way.

{EDIT: Leave it to some people to use this as a forum to only discuss the bread. That mung bean stew is a work of ART. With our one remaining tiny paring knife, two onions were sliced thinly and browned with bell peppers and… Thai curry paste. The only seasonings we have are things like vegemite, soy sauce and all the opened curry pastes. And guess what? Adding a can of tomatoes and some hominy made for a tasty and satisfying soup on a cool and windy day.}



Aside from the dearth of bread, though, is the absolute lack of spices. Even the “to hand” spice rack is empty, and all of the bulk spices are in a crate, on a ship by now. This makes cooking a real challenge – and makes us use things like those strange little packets of soup mix which have lingered for so long. This also gives us a chance, though, to really examine what is in the freezer … and to discover that we’re going to have to let go of about 40 Chocolate Habaneros, because there’s just no way we’re going to eat them in the next three weeks!

{EDIT: Also found in the freezer: three big bags of sliced bell peppers. Rock hard frozen bananas. Half bags of frozen berries. Popsicles. A half pint of soy ice cream. Except for the bells, that sounds like the makings of a dessert to me!!}







We’re also saying fond goodbyes to our Marsh Mallow, our newly-blooming Chiltepin peppers, whose flowers are about the size of your little fingernail, and to the also-flowering Oregano, which has flowers about the size of a grain of rice. They’ll stay with relatives, and hopefully provide great flavors for years to come.

{EDIT: Not having to actually “give up” my plants makes this so much easier. Yes, my sister will probably kill them all — but inadvertently,see? And they’ll go out well-loved… *sigh*}

WC vs. bathroom vs. ensuite

I think… we might be getting somewhere.

It’s been a bit of a frustrating week. First, T’s bank card was frozen because the Fraud Alert people, grateful though we are to them, thought there was ‘unusual activity’ on the card. Apparently, T is such a homebody that ‘unusual activity’ means ‘She spent money.’ We had to use D’s card for the hotel for T’s Conference, despite the fact that it was reserved on her card. Weird. (We have since written the bank an extensive and detailed letter informing them that the end of this month and onward is going to open up a whole new world of being alert, and to be prepared for actual monetary expenditures…)

Also, we had also decided to begin anew The Great Obsession, and start flat-hunting on-line, which meant hours of computer obsessing and peering at virtual tours and typing in postal codes into Google Earth to see how close or far a place is from the University. Reading the small print to determine the difference between a WC vs. an ‘ensuite’ vs. a bathroom vs. a shower room has also been an interesting part of the process. (An ensuite means a bathroom in a bedroom. A bathroom… could mean a room with a bath. Fear not, U.S. folk, we will have two bathrooms in the American sense, so visiting will be comfy for everyone!) We have also learned the difference between a double bedroom or a single bedroom, and a box room… and found out that most ‘lounges’ (formerly known as ‘living rooms’) have … doors. Even some of the kitchens we’ve seen have doors to close them off from the dining room and lounge. It’s definitely a different style.

A few of the ‘letting agents’ have been great to work with, replying reasonably to email and following through as if we were worth their time. We are quickly finding, however, that unlike with renting in the U.S., this letting business is best done via the telephone… which requires us getting up at five or so, trying to find brains and the ability to speak, and then listening carefully to extrapolate linguistic meaning from pleasant Scottish burrs, e-nun-ci-a-ting so as not to cause undue amusement (one lady was chuckling between every other word. Surely we don’t sound THAT flat-vowelled and nasal? She should hear Southerners or Midwesterners!). Anyway, after all of that effort? We have been put off a bit.

“Oh, well, Bridgeton is undergoing a redevelopment,” one estate negotiator informed us. “There are some areas…” When we asked her to elaborate, she said she couldn’t. Okay, then, why bring it up?

“We only deal with foreign letting for property sight-unseen over £5000,” another agent said. “It’s just not our policy. We had one American woman…” and we were treated to yet another story about a Loopy American who came and hated a property and raised a big stink/fuss/threatened tears/ threatened a lawsuit, etc., after not liking what they had chosen.

While we understood their policy, and the fact that there are Loopy Americans, we were frustrated, and almost considered just going and staying in a hotel and doing footwork when we arrived, but the idea of doing all of that then simply sent one of us who is more obsessive (ahem) into overdrive. With a long list of flats that looked acceptable, we simply phoned letting agents one after another, until — bingo. Someone who said it sounded perfectly reasonable to him to rent something before we arrived, and said he had no problem with helping us out. Good bless Graeme at Chattelle Estates — (which is apparently pronounced like Gray-eme, not Graham as we supposed); stay tuned for next week, we’ll let you know how it goes.

– D & T

Pictures Returning Shortly



In the continuing saga of the broken camera, I sent it to the Canon factory – for the second time – to have it returned unfixed yet again. This time they returned it without examining it much, as the problem is apparently with the lens, which is a Sigma. So, the lens has been shipped to the Sigma repair people in Arizona, and we purchased two new lenses, just in case.

The first new lens is a “Canon EF 50mm f/1.8 II Standard AutoFocus Lens – USA” and is quite compact … and much faster than the generic “Sigma 28-200mm f/3.5-5.6 DG Compact Aspherical Hyperzoom AutoFocus Macro Lens with Hood for Canon EOS Cameras” which is on its way to be repaired.



To fill in while the Sigma is being repaired … I bought a “Tamron 75-300mm f/4-5.6 LD AF Macro Auto Focus Zoom Lens with Hood for Canon EOS – with 6 Year USA Warranty” … yep – 6 year warranty. Exactly.

The new ones arrived yesterday, and I shot a “junk” roll of film with them, and it was truly a pleasure to hear the camera taking pictures again. Like nothing else, if you like film cameras, I’ll tell you. Also, taking pictures with the 50mm is lots of fun, because the lens is so “fast.” That “f/” number in the lens name is talking about how fast light goes through the lens, or how much light can go through the lens; the lower the number, the lower the amount of ambient light needed to take non-flash photography. So, the 50mm will shoot in a room with the shades drawn, no problem.



I threw away the roll – it was just for play, and had gone to the Canon factory half-shot anyway – but will be taking pictures of all manner of things in the days to come. So, this is a bit of a celebration for me, and a feeling of intense relief – especially knowing that, at the very least, we’ll have pictures of the coming adventures.

The Beginning of The End

So, D. has taught for the past three days, and now only has three more days of teaching before he’s officially done working. It’s truly a blessing, as we didn’t expect to have the income. We’re left with things like selling the cars (which has proven difficult, as we packed the title documents), and holding a garage sale. Oh – and borrowing pots, pans, and knives from relatives, as we packed those, too!

Yes, we’re ready to go. T. is wrapping up a manuscript revision before we leave, and D. is contemplating his new camera lenses … and hoping that the one sent for service will return before the train leaves!

So, the Hobbits are still at home … but that home is becoming gradually emptier, cleaner, and less of a Hobbit Hole. We anticipate marvelous pictures, glorious tales of adventure (and, possibly, culture shock and woe). For the moment, though, all is quiet, and the Hobbits are still At Home.

– D & T

Parthenogenesis



Our little blog has grown … somewhat unmanageable as of late, as our lives have devolved into chaos. I realized that I hadn’t posted anything whatsoever about knitting (even though I have been knitting), nor much about baking (and, well, ok, I haven’t been, much). But this move seems to have claimed our lives to such an extent that it’s bled over onto the blog world … and has been an undue burden upon this little site.

So, with little fanfare and only a bit more ado, we’re launching Hobbits Abroad – a blog about our lives outside of the home; about travels, discoveries, etc.

You’ll probably see a few posts scattered through this blog which are only teasers for the full article over at Hobbits Abroad, but we’ll discontinue the practice after a few weeks, and just let the parting be complete. So, good luck to the new site, and may it stop infesting our “home” lives! It had better, if we’re going to continue to keep our interests here alive through this transition.

Hillbillies, Fight Songs, and a Frantic Flat Find

Well, I’m not sure what to make of this, but…

It appears that Scotland is …from whence hillbillies have sprung.

Now, bear with me:

According to a Scottish history site onto which I wandered recently, the Ulster-Scots who immigrated to Appalachia were fond of singing about their politics — and one song was about William of Orange. The Orangemen sang a song with the refrain “Hurrah! Hurrah! We are the Billy Boys!” — stating, in so many words, that they had King William’s back. The tune to this rousing bit of patriotism (apparently also part of the fight song for the Rangers Football Club)… is also the tune to “Marching Through Georgia,” a noted Civil War song (amusingly detested by General Sherman, as it was played at almost every function he attended after his… um, march. Through Georgia. I guess it was his own fault.) full of the usual romanticized nonsense written by the conquerors… At any rate, the ‘Billy Boys’ who lived in the Appalachian hills after a generation or two became hill…billies. And quite possibly hillbillies with no memory of the connection to the past, ironically enough.

If you get a chance, read this article in full. Though it reminds me, with great amusement, of the father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding who could explain (or make up) the Greek connection to everything on earth, it does have some fascinating aspects.


Looks like we’ve got an explanation on the visa work thing. According to the Home Office website, {And yes — there apparently is a building in the UK that has the words ‘Home Office’ above the door – it’s what they call their Office of Homeland Security. The easily tossed off phrase ‘The Home Office?’ Sounds much less threatening.}, D. doesn’t need to get permission to work, he only needs a National Insurance Number (NIN), but there are certain types of work he’s not allowed to do — one of them is being a professional sportsman or entertainer (!!!), being self-employed, or starting a business. I expect we’ll figure it out, but meanwhile, once abroad, we have to live frugally on what we earn in pounds and leave what we can in reserve for American expenses back home (including the house). I am glad they’re allowing us to work — and interested in seeing how little work we can get away with and still live well! (Gasp! I know – that’s not the Puritan ethic upon which our country was built. I tell you, we’re straying already.)


So, the other day my stylist was reminiscing about her time living in Belgium, and how there was this nasty thing that looked like a pizza, but instead turned out to be a rhubarb pie with “a sunken in crust, and hard sugar on the top.” Well, I went online just looking for tidbits about regional cuisine and all, and found first of all, a picture of the pie — only with apples, but it’s got to be the same thing (and looks quite tasty, to me!). AND, I found a BBC show called Good Food, and it appears that they are doing a Glasgow episode come autumn, and Scots celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay will be on hand. This… does not excite me. Perhaps because I think foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, sarcastic misogynists are a dime a dozen. But that could just be me.


Well, the staff at Her Majesty’s Britannic Consular were a bit surprised to find that we hadn’t already rented a flat, so we are now ending our five day, 12-step ‘stop-obsessing-over-online-rentals’ fast. Let the obsessing continue!

– D & T

Visas Granted!

We’ve been granted Visas! Woo Hoo! {Or is it now, “Woot?”}

Yes – Tuesday the movers came and carried away most of our worldly belongings … to ship them to Glasgow … and we hadn’t been granted our Visas yet.

Today, however, we spent a lovely several hours at the British Consulate and were rewarded with Multiple-entry Visas, good until 9/1/2008. D’s says that he’s a Student, can Work, and has “No recourse to public funds.” T’s says much the same, aside from the fact that she does not have to seek approval from any government agency in order to work while in Scotland. D’s says “Work (and any changes) must be authorized.” According to the embassy worker, that just means that he’s a student who is authorized to work, but must get the British version of a Social Security Number. we’re not sure, but it sounds awfully much as if there will be no restriction as to the number of hours he’ll be able to work. And the public funds bit just means that we can’t go on welfare. Yeah. OK. {No, no, no, it’s the dole we can’t go on. The dole.}

We followed the advice given us to bring way more paperwork than we’d ever need, and it was good and true advice. We were told:

The British LOVE bureaucracy — never, ever think to yourself: “Oh, no one will ever ask me about such and such.” Yes, they will. Always try to out-think them in stupid requirements. Sometimes this will actually come in handy — they’ll be impressed by how ridiculously prepared you are and let you slide where other people would spend two hours being probed.

Because we were so overprepared, in bringing color photocopies of all sorts of documents {And then they had the nerve to only want black-and-white}, in bringing 13 months of bank statements to be notarized, etc.{AND after all that nonsense, they didn’t even look at the immunization records we schlepped along. Days of fevers and chills and for what??? Oh, yeah. Greater health down the line. Never mind.}, we were given a reprieve of several hundred dollars by the consular notary. You see, for a consular notary to use their stamp, they charge $71 for each document they stamp. Because the notary was amazed at the volume of documents we were sending to the bank, and because she was offended by the documents they were asking for (among them deeds to property and our marriage license), she let us slide by with a charge of $71! She asked us, “so do you have just loads and loads of money?” {Which elicited a noise somewhere between a snort and a squawk} When we told her that we were transferring £5,000 into the account, just to get it open, she was absolutely disgusted with the bankers, and we had won the day.

We were told to have a lovely day, to top it off. We were told this several times, and were told that we’d love Glasgow, because, although it rains, “it’s not a cold rain … but kind of a warm rain. It doesn’t soak you through, it’s just kind of … gentle.” Hah! Gentle rain, we’ll meet up with you in 33 days! {We were also called ‘luv,’ as in “There you go, luv.” That’s just not what you find at your local DMV. Still not sure how I feel about it – do I prefer the honest acrimony of low-wage state employees, or knee-jerk sweetness? Or are people from the UK really that nice??}

We looked at last year’s schedule, did a bit of thinking, and came up with the fact that D’s only allowed to take 2 classes each term aside from the mandatory course “M. Litt. 1 Course 0.” So, he’s looking at 6 hours of class per week, plus whatever studying he has to do outside of that time. We think that we’ll be doing a fair bit of traveling & having fun, if that’s all there is to it. {Oh, hah. The visa didn’t restrict someone’s work hours… Methinks the business will be up and running — if that’s what is called ‘traveling and fun’ these days…}

– D & T