The Last Bus Cafe.

Some of my readers will remember we first visited the Last Bus Cafe earlier this year.  Apologies, I still havent mastered links so you will just have to scroll back through my posts.  I really think a course on mastering computers is well over due.  Particularly as I write I have the heading, "An error occurred while trying to save or publish your post.  Please try again.  Ignore warning."  the latter I hit on and it disappears.  Until I decide to publish my post and then I have a real fight.

So this is it, the Last Bus Cafe.  A temporary building, therefore no need for planning permission.  Erected in a now defunct quarry, built on scaffolding, but sturdy as a rock, well I hope so.

Inside just a wow factor.  All ages congregate there.

Eyeing up the muffins.

Mine host.

The cafe is constructed in a disused quarry and is, therefore,  at the level of the tree tops.

The hill in the distance is Mormond Hill, which we can see from the other side of where we live.

So some amazing views.

Some wind chime!

If there is no-one around you ring this bell.

Moi enjoying the ambience.

Yesterday evening I decided to move stuff around..  The mantra if it aint useful or beautiful  - ditch it.  Ha, Minerva McGonagall is convinced she should be saved!

She has no need to worry, she isnt on the last bus to anywhere.  Well I hope not.

Visitors and Visiting.

As many of you know I spend most afternoons down the shed/summerhouse/drinking den/opera theatre/bird hide.  Well, not always alone!  

Usually one of our two cats joins me.

Over the last few days other visitors have called in.

Big Daddy.  He has become so brave he now hops onto the verandah and peers in.  Little and Middle Daddy still scoot off if I just lift a paint brush.  Making a terrific din as they do.

The deer don't make it into the garden as there are high fences between them and us, but they come near.

Buzzards call above our heads.

The toad was evicted from the garage.

Our wild birds visit in droves.

When I first saw this bounding around the garden I got really excited and thought, "Ye gods, we have a red squirrel."  Then as he/she slowed down I could see it was not a welcome visitor at all.  Corner one of these and it goes for your throat.

Visiting is sometimes as dangerous.

Plotting at the Lighthouse Museum.

At the Mission.

At Cafe Connect.


Sometimes it's safer to be home with the door locked.

Struggling.

With perspective...

With hands, and a pigeon that was bigger than a hen, when I first drew it.

And how to fill this big piece of paper, with pigeons flying, roosting, and whatever else they do...

Also struggling is my grandson who is a-l-m-o-s-t 4.  So as a bit of 'light' relief for me I did what I used to do for my daughters, when traumas loomed, new sibling, etc.  I wrote a book.

A bit of fun, can't beat it, eases the struggle.  And if you can laugh at yourself, you have just stopped struggling.

It is hard tightening one's belt when the belt keeps breaking.

We had good weather.  It was not raining. 

 Time to cut the grass.  

We have a steep slope in part of our garden so we have a light weight electric mower.  Somehow that bent a blade.

So out comes the petrol mower which goes so far, then refuses to re-start.

Must be time for lunch, and defrost the home made soup out of the freezer.

It didnt actually burst into flames but even after taking the plug from the wall it kept on fizzing......

And then...the main computer packed up.  The one the Dawn Patroller has all his photographs on.  Well, yes there is a back up one that stores the most, and this is what he was about to do and transfer the latest batch, when boom or should I say thud.  It refused to start.

Sorry for all the cartoons, but I am bereft of 'real' pictures due to the above.

So, we went out for a meal with our friends and forgot about it all.

The view from the restaurant shows my favourite lighthouse, Rattray Head.

Another favourite view is men in kilts.

There was a wedding also taking place at the hotel, where we were eating.

After all, you do not need a microwave just to heat soup, the blade on the electric mower can be replaced, the petrol mower just needed a bit of t.l.c. and some swearing and some adjusting (after I spent some considerable time finding the socket set in the garage.)  And we have a very nice man who is coming to fix the computer tomorrow.  And my camera still works.  And my trousers are still being held up by the belt.

We havent tried the strimmer yet.....


I apologise for the following, but we all suffer from the anonymous comment and I really should not bite, but one of this person's comment, it has to be the same one, on a particularly brave person's blog really made me see red, so here you go.

Anonymous.  If you are going to read my blog, read all of it rather than select parts which you put your own sad, small minded slant on.
Remember I am the one with the delete button.
You have one too.
If I offend you, or anyone else who shares their life and experiences, you too can delete .  Get a life.

I am retired? Really?

The view from the shed/summerhoose/drinking den/opera theatre.  Definitely going to paint this one.

Blue is not my favourite colour for within the house.  But outside I just love it.  I am now the proud owner of two potfuls of Agapanthus.  And praying they survive for years to come.

I just love the plant, love the colour and love the contrast of colour.  Yellow roses, brighter yellow Creeping Jenny and the spikes of lavender, and that dash of red as the Oriental Poppies finally 'go over'.

The advice from Doug on Monday was to put lines in to indicate the water reflection, I think it has worked.  But will re paint this picture.

Another of my tribute paintings to Robert Burns.  I have still got looads more to do, the more I read of his poetry the more I am inspired.  He was nae bad.

Some sketches of the pigeons and the loft.

I am trying to plan out a big picture incorporating the lovely retired human pigeon racer, the loft and his pigeons.

So - plenty to do.

Meanwhile, I have other things to do.  

I have been having one hell of a struggle with the local paper.  I send in a report on the doings of all that we volunteers/artists/friends of the lighthouse museum/et al and every time what is printed in the newspaper bears no resemblance to what I have reported.  No dates are given, information is totally changed, we have exhibitions 'returning' when they havent even taken place yet, the bare facts I want to go in are totally ignored.  No wonder I have high blood pressure.

But then, there is always a little bit of light relief.  

Down at the Seamens Mission.  

I had said, "If one more time Murray comes in and gets us all to sing, If you are happy clap your hands, he wont see retirement."  

Guess what - here we all are doing it again.  Today is his last day.  May he have many more, somewhere else.

Living by Fraserburgh today, and yesterday.

Monday morning I accepted an invitation to visit Douglas Irvine's workshop and studio in Fraserburgh.  I took along two of my paintings for him to frame.

Instead I had an art class.  T'was wonderful to have someone give constructive criticism and point out how I could (vastly) improve the two pictures.  What is more Doug had talked himself out of some business, not going to have the pictures framed, until I have done the extra work, how refreshing is that.

And he made me coffee.  

I mentioned that at our art group our next topic was sport, and that as I was fed up of the Olympics, I was going to do pigeon racing.  Coming from Yorkshire I remember the lofts around (and the s*** on everyone's roof.)  I was struggling to get a picture from the internet that hit the spot.  (Like a g spot to an artist.) 

"Get in your car!"  he shouted, locked up his work shop, and we were off.  Round all the back streets of the Broch, "Park there, no-ones going in there or coming out."

So I parked across the entrance to a yard.  Inside which was 

The Scottish version of a pigeon loft.

Doug bashed on a door in the corner and out came this wonderful smiling chap.

After introductions and explanations were made, the lovely chap shot into the shed and brought out this beautiful bird, and they both posed.

One of the birds above is a great champion, can't remember which one, but he is now retired.  In fact they are all retired as our human pigeon racer is also retired.

But still very proud of his beautiful birds, and rightly so.  Beautifully kept, he did say, "They need a clean out, "  Well I think their loft/coop was somewhat cleaner than my house.

I took lots more photos and have done loads of drawings and paintings.  I hope to be able to give one to this lovely man.

I drove us back to Doug's framing workshop.  He then proceeded to bring out all these piles of prints of old photographs.  Knowing my fascination of the history of the Broch (Fraserburgh) out they came .  I was drooling.

Then, in walks this chap with only one arm.  

And, for I dont know how long, I listened to him, looking over the photographs, explaining about the fishing, the boats, when steam replaced sail, what the fish barrels were made of then (willow)  and how that changed, (metal bands) and see this building above and the horse and cart going round the corner.  Well horse and carts transporting the herring couldn't see round the corner so they kept crashing into each other, so they removed the corner of the building !  How amazing is that!

You do not need television, or dvds, you cannot beat the real thing.  Listening to someone who knows, who remembers, who lived it, who lost his arm in a winch, threw it in the wheel house and carried on fishing . (So tales tell?)

I said to the man "You should tape all this that you are telling me." 

He said, "Ach there are hundreds of books about the herring fishing."

Me, "But nothing beats hearing a voice who remembers."

How lucky am I to live here today and hear the tales of yesterday.