I am right now in the lobby of the Falkirk Park Hotel, waiting for the hubby to come back from work. This is all part of my crazy, unconventional life. When I am here in the UK, I often come along with the hubby when he has out-of-town projects (he has projects in Inverness all the way down to Tilbury) that requires him to be away for a few days. During daytime, while the hubby is off to work, I either go out to discover wherever area we’d be in (experience the food, take pictures, do a bit of window shopping, visit museums, ….) after I’ve sent work electronically to my assistant in the US. This way, my assistant can do his part of the work when his day in the US starts. We coordinate over skype at some point, usually the afternoon, and the assistant leaves the work he has done in my email inbox for review when his day is done. Complicated? It’s just another way of “time-shifting” in real life I guess. And effectively, we stretch the day longer by the time difference across the pond.
But anyway, today I am feeling seriously unwell. I will spare you the details but give you the general picture in 2 words: “food poisoning”. Thanks to La Banca, the Spanish tapas place. I’m thinking the paella mariscos was the cause, not so much because was cooked badly ( in fact, it was good, and the hubby ate the same thing and he is alright). The only thing though is that my stomach has always been a little strange with soggy-rice and seafood combos. So today, although I had planned to going around Edinburgh, I had to stay in at the hotel and just do work. Now if only my stomach would hurt less and bloat less. So far, I’m managing …. but the pain is irritating really.
Now to the point of this blog entry. There is an ongoing wedding reception. Of course I only find out when droves of guests suddenly walk in : Men in skirts, women in funny hats, you get the picture. Perfect — I am etched here, with luggages lying around, and in sloppy fitflops, — I’VE BECOME THE WEIRDO SITTING OUTSIDE THE WEDDING RECEPTION AREA WHO PEOPLE CAN’T WAIT TO GET RID OF. It also doesn’t help that I do not in any way look remotely Scottish. I am getting (polite but un-hideable) stolen glances, as I shield my laptop screen so nobody finds out I am writing about him/her/them. Meanwhile, bagpipes are playing and it is such a beautiful sound : sad, soulful, dignified, very present but very restrained. Interesting, they’re playing an old song my dad used to sing for my mom. Now I am feeling sad remembering. But enough for now. This is the first Scottish wedding I am observing up close (even though I am not among guests, or the attending staff). And …. oh, there is a girl in a gold dress with a gold feathers headband, and another lady in red, with red shoes, and a red purse. Yet another one in blue and white, a shawl and …. is that another headdress of feathers?… this time matching blue. They’re big on feathers on the hair it seems. Very interesting ….. I will try to post pictures later. Meanwhile, I am turning my spy report off. :)