Chaos at The Castle
Aug. 22nd, 2010 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
endlessraritiesWe took the bikes out this morning, for the first time in weeks. The weather was 'orrible - ploughed out into a raging headwind, then five miles into the run, the rain started. My legs felt like rubber, so we turned around and took refuge in the coffee shop.
I feel utterly terrible today. Perhaps it's because it's been a really tough week at work: it can't be too much exercise, because I've done little to none. Two and a bit days in the field, and an hour's horse-riding - I'd have thought that would be balanced out by two days' 'rest' in the office. But no...
Maybe it's because yesterday also qualified as a tough day. We had a nice easy forty minute walk round the village, and in the evening, we went to the evening reception for my colleague's wedding. I opted to arrive fashionably late, and so I couldn't get a seat. We hung around for a few hours yapping, and somehow managing to avoid the ceilidh (a shame. I'm a BIG fan of 'Strip the Willow', but they were only doing the Orcadian 'Strip the Willow', which isn't half as good). By the end, my feet were too sore for me even to contemplate dancing, which was unfortunate. I was wearing fairly low heels, but since my normal footwear is Docs or walking shoes, the height difference made itself very apparent.
Today, I have a terrible hangover-ish feeling. Which is odd, considering that I was the designated driver and I only had three Coca-colas all night...
The wedding went well. I'd liked to have brought you some pictures of Kelburn Castle, with its hideous grafitti paint job, but it was dark and wet by the time we got there. The bride looked lovely, my colleague was obviously having a great time, and it was nice to socialise with my work-mates. The only low point was when I went to the barbeque to get my veggie-burger and was asked brusquely, by a drunken fellow in a suit, to 'geez a roll and a burger',
.
"I beg your pardon?" said I.
The request was repeated, equally rudely, so I replied with 'Get it yourself. I don't work here."
He kept on and on, so eventually I grabbed a bun, got the catering guy to stuff a sausage on it and shoved it at him with an equally surly 'Here.'
My husband thinks I was being a bit harsh. The man was obviously plastered, while I was stone-cold sober. I think it was a sexist Ayrshire thing - all women are either totty, or have 'skivvy' written large across their foreheads. Well, sorry mate. Not me. There are ways of doing these things. If you want someone to fetch you a burger, then wheedle, and cajole, and look all forlorn, and anyone would be hard-pressed to refuse. Take a surly domineering attitude, and you're likely to be rewarded in kind...
The veggie burger was very nice, though. And the cake was brilliant....
I feel utterly terrible today. Perhaps it's because it's been a really tough week at work: it can't be too much exercise, because I've done little to none. Two and a bit days in the field, and an hour's horse-riding - I'd have thought that would be balanced out by two days' 'rest' in the office. But no...
Maybe it's because yesterday also qualified as a tough day. We had a nice easy forty minute walk round the village, and in the evening, we went to the evening reception for my colleague's wedding. I opted to arrive fashionably late, and so I couldn't get a seat. We hung around for a few hours yapping, and somehow managing to avoid the ceilidh (a shame. I'm a BIG fan of 'Strip the Willow', but they were only doing the Orcadian 'Strip the Willow', which isn't half as good). By the end, my feet were too sore for me even to contemplate dancing, which was unfortunate. I was wearing fairly low heels, but since my normal footwear is Docs or walking shoes, the height difference made itself very apparent.
Today, I have a terrible hangover-ish feeling. Which is odd, considering that I was the designated driver and I only had three Coca-colas all night...
The wedding went well. I'd liked to have brought you some pictures of Kelburn Castle, with its hideous grafitti paint job, but it was dark and wet by the time we got there. The bride looked lovely, my colleague was obviously having a great time, and it was nice to socialise with my work-mates. The only low point was when I went to the barbeque to get my veggie-burger and was asked brusquely, by a drunken fellow in a suit, to 'geez a roll and a burger',
.
"I beg your pardon?" said I.
The request was repeated, equally rudely, so I replied with 'Get it yourself. I don't work here."
He kept on and on, so eventually I grabbed a bun, got the catering guy to stuff a sausage on it and shoved it at him with an equally surly 'Here.'
My husband thinks I was being a bit harsh. The man was obviously plastered, while I was stone-cold sober. I think it was a sexist Ayrshire thing - all women are either totty, or have 'skivvy' written large across their foreheads. Well, sorry mate. Not me. There are ways of doing these things. If you want someone to fetch you a burger, then wheedle, and cajole, and look all forlorn, and anyone would be hard-pressed to refuse. Take a surly domineering attitude, and you're likely to be rewarded in kind...
The veggie burger was very nice, though. And the cake was brilliant....
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no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 12:27 pm (UTC)I think you kept it together very well; I don't think I would have been so polite (I'd likely pretend to be more deaf than I actually am and completely ignore him unless he became *really* obnoxious).
no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 12:36 pm (UTC)I don't think I was wrong in interpreting it as one of those 'I'm a man: you're a woman. I shall do nothing for myself when you're here to serve me' moments. And they, really, really get up my nose!!!
My colleagues were surprised he survived the encounter...
no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 09:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 06:30 pm (UTC)My other theory is that he was deliberately trying to p**s me off so I squawked 'insult!' to my husband, who'd come running, and deck him, and start a fight, and so would start another Traditional Scots Wedding tradition, the brawl...
Again, he picked the wrong person. I can stand up for myself, thank you!