You say it best.....when you say nothing at all

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open ones mouth and prove it". Wise words from Abraham Lincoln, and an ethos I've been following of late, hence my lack of blogging prose. I am favouring this excuse over the rather more plausible laziness theory.



A secondary excuse is that of Mike and Vals recent visit. Their week long stay encompassed a few activities, such as (illustrated above) a trip to the funfair. Do you lose more money paying for the rides or by having your pockets picked at a fair? I can't quite decide.



Crathes Castle above, and a startlingly rare visit from the sun. We paid for a tour of the castle too. Curiously I felt disappointed with the visit, as not much had changed within since my last visit from a few years previous. Yes, my unconscious isn't quite bright enough to realise that centuries old castles located within protected trusts usually don't change a great deal. Was I expecting flat screen TV's? I've perplexed myself somewhat.



Will Luca willingly dress up at Halloween? No? Will he wear this freebie Knights costume every other day, with the exception of Hallows Eve? Most probably.



On the train with Grandad. Good fun, but more amusingly was the "flyball" event being held on grounds near the platform. "Flyball" is a dogs agility event, and so with time to spare before the trains departure Luca and I went down to watch. Lots of dogs on display, albeit some not quite as friendly as you'd wish. Luca encountered one such beast. He approached the animal without caution, only realising his error when the muscular hound made a dash for him, jaws agape. I knew the dog was tied up on a long lead. Amusingly, however, Luca didn't.


"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" came the howl as those 12 inch long chubby legs whirred in the breeze, like a Caucasian gnome version of Usain Bolt. He's never moved as quick in his entire life. I don't think I've ever seen him as scared either. I still guffawed. Bad Dad.

As I quite can't recall the likely portents of this above cafe conversation, nor can even conceive a pithy comment related to it I'll give up and get ready to retire to bed. With Scotland having resumed normal weather conditions my toes are as numb beyond belief - yet we get used to this sensation up here peculiarly.

I love our country. At what age is it acceptable to wear socks to bed? Am I nearly there yet?

**Useless fact of the day - A human head remains conscious for 15-20 seconds after being decapitated**