Best. Stuff On My Cat. EVAR.

So I'm trying to figure out whether or not I want to try and take a banjo in a case as a carry-on when I come home in December, because I'm worried that it will get destroyed in a shipping crate. No, I can't actually play the banjo.

My life rules. #grins#

Fountains Abbey Photos

The Owlvark in the nave of the church; photo taken from one of the side aisles.





The fireplace in the "Warming Room, " Owlvark providing scale.





Abbey walls of the Cellarium, built partially over a creek. The monks actually diverted the course of the creek to run through and under the monastary.





The church from the back. Unfortunately there's no one in the shot for scale. It's massive, though.





In the nave, looking from in front of the high window frame in the last photo, towards the front.

A Day At Fountains Abbey

This site is so big, I don't really have a photo that can show it all in one. So I'll use this for the opener, and tomorrow or the next day sift out some more shots from the 300+ we took so I can share the awesomeness, as my kid brother would say.

A Day At The Races

This is the entrance to the paddock; when it's time for the race, they don't use track ponies, they just lead them to the gate and let the jockeys canter them to the start.

The paddock entrance, and the cooling down area, were by far the most interesting bit to me; out of professional and personal interest I like to see how they're handled, untacked, cooled out, mounted up, etc. You couldn't get into the area without an armband, so we had to observe from across the track. It was still fascinating, though.

Last night I actually dreamed about eating a burger from Max and Irma's. In honor of me apparently finally losing my mind from a lack of decent beef, I present the lyrics from Jimmy Buffet's "Cheeseburger In Paradise, " a song which up to now I thought was more or less fictional.

"Tried to amend my carnivorous habits
Made it nearly seventy days
Losin' weight without speed, eatin' sunflower seeds
Drinkin' lots of carrot juice and soakin' up rays

But at night I'd have these wonderful dreams
Of some kind of sensuous treat
Not zucchini, fettuccini, or bulgur wheat
But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat

Cheeseburger is paradise
Heaven on earth with an onion slice
Not too particular, not too precise
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise

I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz Fifty-seven and French fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer
Well, good God Almighty, which way do I steer
For my cheeseburger in paradise

Heard about the old time sailor men
They eat the same thing again and again
Warm beer and bread they say could raise the dead
Well, it reminds me of the menu at a Holiday Inn

But times have changed for sailors these days
When I'm in port I get what I need
Not just Havanas or banana or daiquiris
But that American creation on which I feed

Cheeseburger in paradise
Medium rare with mustard'd be nice
Not too particular, not too precise
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise

I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz 57 and french fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draught beer
Well, good god Almighty which way do I steer

For a cheeseburger in paradise
Makin' the best of every virtue and vice
Worth every damn bit of sacrifice
To get a cheeseburger in paradise
To be a cheeseburger in paradise
I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise...."

We're going to the races!

QI has reminded me of my long-standing wish to give Stephen Fry a big hug and take him out for coffee, so we could hang out for a couple of hours and talk about books.

Best. Dr McNinja. Ever. Although that's coming in against some pretty stiff competition.

I got a spam today asking if I have fungus. What? I mean, 1) are they asking me if I have a fungus that I wish to get rid of, and, if the answer is affirmative, therefore wish to sell me a cure, or 2) has someone invented a fungus which is now all the rage, and since I may not have some myself, wish to offer me some of their generic-brand fungus, with which I can be on the leading edge of whatever fungus would be on the leading edge of (a stump is the first thing that leaps to mind, actually) without having to spend a bundle on brand-name fungus?

Hmmm. The link offers me a holiday in Spain. I guess we'll never know.

I found some pony friends while the Owlvark's folks were at a woodworking shop. Both mares were a little leery until they found out I was willing to scratch itchy spots.

Remember the night wave photo? This is from below, at low tide.



It wasn't nearly as cold as you'd think for the Atlantic in October.



The Owlvark's stone pile- it's fun to watch the tide knock them over.

Oh, whoops- the last two pics in that set are from Scarborough; we went there in the evening, as it's just up the road from the other town.

Us at Robin Hood's Bay, not that you can see anything of it from the photo.



Ah, there we go. Robin Hood's Bay- the postcard shot, as it's apparently referred to.



Geraldine, helpfully providing scale to the height of the waves. Last weekend was the highest tide of the year, so we went out to see the waves. They were pretty spectacular.



So spectacular, that we stayed watching them for about three hours.