I Am Sad

Why, you may ask? How is this possible? I am in the middle of a lovely holiday, seeing breath-taking sights, drinking pints, not a care in the world. But unfortunately, tragedy struck on my last night in Liverpool. I was sitting at the Cavern Club, former musical venue of the Beatles. I went to take a picture of something I found fascinating. And it just didn’t work. The instructions on screen said “Turn camera off then on again.” I followed them, and it still didn’t work. Since that night, I’ve tried everything. Fully charged battery. Check. Change the memory card. Check. Download pictures. Check. Give it a bit of a rest and try again. Check. All efforts were unsuccessful. And now, my one-year old camera is dead, and I have five weeks ahead of me, and one behind, photographically undocumented. It really is a tragedy.

So, since I have no photos to share, I will give “word images” of some highlights.

2:30 am. Hostel hallway in Liverpool. Tousled hair, squinty eyes, pajamas, wallet in hand, asking hostel worker if we have to evacuate due to the fire alarm.

Teeny, tiny, narrow country English, lake-side road. Anna squeezing our car between a stone wall and a tractor. Me gnawing my nails and praying we fit through.

Me seated on a grassy hillside staring out at a postcard-perfect lake surrounded by lush green hills, sheep chewing their green grassy dinner nearby.

A sunny day in Glasgow. Corner coffee shop. Me standing, cell phone in hand, arms straight and stiff at side, uncomfortable look on my face. Strange Scottish man, curly longish hair, hugging me. (Side note: not hot, not rich, not my age, not a missed opportunity. My quote as he hugged me “Oh, ok then.” His reply: “If the sun doesn’t come out today, my day will still be bright because of your smile.” Seriously? Seriously.)

Seated in a booth at Kama Sutra Indian restauarant (Truly. The menu cover had a romantic black and white photo of a couple in an intimate embrace) in Glasgow with Anna and Gerry. Three starters on our table; me taking my first bite of haggis, Indian style. (Scary, but surprisingly tasty. If you don’t know what it is, don’t google it cause you’ll think I’m gross. Although, as Anna said, anything fried and dipped in sauce would taste good.)

Outdoor seating on pedestrian only Rose Street in Edinburgh. A small salad, a glass of white wine, crusty white bread, and a heaping bowl of brothy mussels. Squinting in the bright sun. Tide pen in hand trying to “erase” the soupy mussel mess I got on my white T-shirt.

Seated in an old Edinburgh square surrounded by stone buildings and cobblestone streets. Half pint in hand. Dusk. Male and female actors telling the stories of Scottish literary figures.

Really really hope I can get my camera fixed.

Tomorrow, big tour around day in Edinburgh. xx