Strawberries, T and Snow Patrol sleepiness

Last Wednesday, a week ago tonight, on July 4th, Ka and myself celebrated our third year Wedding anniversary. We didn’t celebrate with anything particularly special. A Chinese carry out from the Jasmine Inn and the exchange of a couple of small presents followed by a couple of bowl of strawberries.
For some reason we both went out and bought each other strawberries to celebrate. I’m not sure what the relevance of strawberries was, and even why we both intuitively thought they would make a great surprise present on a Wedding anniversary? Perhaps it was the Wimbledon influence?
A David Guetta album too. Ka liked the ‘Titanium’ single so I got her the French DJ and producer’s album.
Or David Ghetto as Ka calls him.
He was just one of the acts we missed at the weekend.
We had tickets to T in the Park this year but decided against it after Ka got pregnant. Now that she’s getting a little bigger, a little more uncomfortable and a lot more intolerant to the idea of camping, we thought best of it, but did manage to sell the tickets on to a couple of guys in Andy’s football team. Looking at the news reports and pictures from the festival over the weekend I am now very glad we made that decision. It would have been a nightmare putting up with Ka in those rivers of brown. Colin and Jillian were there and posting on facebook, mud up to their shins. Colin text me on Friday night, raving about how wonderful Florence and the Machine were but no matter how much he may want to go on about it I’d rather wait and see Florence in the SECC at a semi ludicrous price than in the mud of Balado.
I have wanted to see Florence for a long time though and I suppose I was secretly jealous. In fact, I’m not sure Pauline’s ever forgiven me for calling her a b*tch, at Christmas time, when she revealed she’d bought herself and a pal some tickets to see Florence and her band at the SECC when they played back in March.

No, instead of Balado, Ka and myself watched from the comfort of the couch on Friday night, occasionally getting up to dance when the mood took us, jumping about like loons to Olly Murs. He did ask us to dance with him so who were we to refuse?
Afterwards Snow Patrol took to the stage and so we swiftly fell asleep.
Nothing against Snow Patrol. I quite like Snow Patrol.
They do make you awfully sleepy though. Unless you’ve got a lighter, at least then you’d have something to do to keep you awake, keep your attention focused... but even that could be dangerous. You may inadvertently end up setting yourself on fire by falling asleep in mid lighter sway. The alcohol fuelled mud underfoot at T in the Park wouldn’t do you any favours either. A burning Snow Patrol fan stumbling through the mud, ablaze, screaming, confusing others into thinking they’d accidentally taken a wrong turn and dropped by the Wickerman festival. The screaming Snow Patrol fan being commended by passers by for his Edward Woodward tribute.
Anyway, on Saturday night we went out to dinner to Viva Pizzeria Ristorante, on Bothwell Street where we enjoyed a slap up meal involving meatballs, veal ravioli and chicken, washed down with a healthy glass of wine, or soda water and lime, in Ka’s case. Afterwards we walked up West Campbell Street, up on to Sauchiehall Street heading to the flicks to see Jason Segal and Emily Blunt in ‘The Five Year Engagement’, a film that’s been advertised and reviewed as a very strange, odd, occurrence. A half decent romcom.
Unfortunately, as we stood in the queue, a flash of red on screen alerted us to the fact that it was sold out so we ended up donning the 3D glasses again for the new Spiderman movie starring Britain’s very own Andrew Garfield.
Even though it’s barely been five years since the end of the last trilogy with timid Toby McGuire, it seemed a little strange for a new trilogy to start all over again and for that reason I wasn’t that fussed about seeing it. Even so, the new movie was surprisingly enjoyable with Garfield suitably impressing as the geeky, awkward Peter Parker with the spider bug and Rhys Ifans as the villain of the piece, a villain with heart and reason. There’s only one scene in particular towards the end which lets the film down a little, veering into American cheese, but, on the whole, a pretty good piece of escapism with a great moment involving Stan Lee in headphones.
Earlier that day, on the Saturday morning, Ka and myself took a trip along Calderwood to see a house. A house that’s been sitting on the market since the turn of the year.
The rain was peeing down and we arrived in the slightly crowded street early, barely able to see the property’s front door through the pellets of rain bouncing off the windscreen. Getting soaked in the short run to the front door we were greeted by one of the sisters leading the efforts to sell her parents’ home. My Aunt Anne knew the family and had been insisting that we go and view the property from as far back as February and we were only now getting round to it. With baby number two growing well, we thought we’d better start making a move, literally.
The short trip was worth it.
We liked it. It was a blank canvas and I like a blank canvas.
I like a blank canvas because it’s there for the taking. It’s empty and waiting for you to begin to create something wonderful with.
Ka likes a blank canvas because it is clean.
Plain and simple.
Clean, pristine and white. Perfect for the taking.
As soon as I got into work on Monday morning, whilst everyone mourned Andy Murray’s loss, I made sure I made a quick phonecall to the sellers’ solicitors and requested the Home Report.
By Tuesday morning, we’d made an offer.
Fingers crossed we may have a result by this time tomorrow.