Archives for posts with tag: Travel

That’s how the tour guide described my marriage prospects during my recent trip to Alaska with my mum. Luckily I like beards or the odds wouldn’t have even been that favourable.

It was mum’s 70th last year so she wanted to go somewhere different and as she isn’t hugely keen on the heat or foreign food Alaska seemed like a good choice.

The first thing that hit me when getting off the plane was the weather – after four months of searing heat in Turkey, the sight of drizzle and grey skies was a wonder to behold – for the first 2 days anyway!

p1070995So, what can I say about Alaska? It’s big, it’s roomy, it’s not highly populated, it’s a tad nippy and there’s lots of animals there that you wouldn’t invite to join you on the sofa.

The highlight for me was a visit to the husky kennels which has led to me becoming completely obsessed with the Iditarod (a 1,150 mile annual husky race across Alaska) so that’s my 50th birthday treat to myself sorted – no, not doing it (I’m not an idiot), but going to see the start of it in Anchorage. Did you know that not all Huskies are the typical fur laden, blue eyed dogs that you see on the big screen? No, me neither, but they come in all shapes and sizes, all of which are beautiful obviously.

I doubt any visit to Alaska is complete without a visit to Denali National Park – 6 million acres, 1 road. The Scottish Highlands on steroids. A 7 hour (yes, 7) bus tour only shows you a little bit of it. That 7 hours was made all the more joyful by the little baby who poo’d itself shortly after we got going (bless) – I’ve never been so glad I chose to sit at the front of the bus, and thank the lord for windows!

14388810_10154226901365141_1811242726_nOf course, the more comfortable way to see everything is on a glass roof domed train journey, watching the vastness go by as you tuck into a hearty breakfast then move on to smoothies (my mother is going to hate this picture!).

And, Alaska being Alaska, there were glaciers and icebergs to visit. Now that, I think it’s fair to say, was a pretty chilly day. Luckily though we were kept warm with clam chowder and, even more luckily, weren’t added to the ‘ships hitting icebergs’ statistics.

Speaking of ice, the icing on the cake was getting the opportunity to sit on Santa’s knee in September but if you are going to visit a town called North Pole you’d be very disappointed if it was Santa’less wouldn’t you?

p1080109All in all it was a pretty memorable trip and if you like wilderness then it’s definitely one to try.

As for me, well no bearded Alaskans caught my eye so I’ll have another look next time.

 

Well, what a productive week it’s been my friends.

On Friday I took the kitties to the vets for their rabies injections. Now anyone who has been following my blog will know that Munch turns into one big claw as soon as she sets her eyes on the vet. However, I’ve now come to the conclusion that this has nothing to do with being frightened of needles but more the embarrassment of being put on the scales, because my Munch, bless her, is not the slimmest cat in the world…and us women don’t like to weigh ourselves with an audience do we?

The other reason I know it isn’t a fear of needles is because Munch isn’t afraid of anything. How many other cats do you know will stare down a vacuum cleaner rather than run behind the nearest sofa? Maybe she thinks it dispenses food. I don’t know.

Fearless

However, in the end, to be on the safe side, we went with a stealth attack. As she cowered in the back of the cat basket we simply took the top of it off. I guarded the front, my sister distracted her by tapping her on the head – apparantly a good distraction technique although if someone was tapping me on the head I’d probably punch them – and the vet did her stuff. Voila. Done.

The lovely Scot working hard

In other exciting news, my buddy Scot came round to decorate my flat on Saturday. Now what can I tell you about Scot? Well, firstly I can tell you that I’m not spelling his name wrong. His mother either nodded off or the pen ran out when they were doing the birth certificate but he does only have one T at the end of his name. Scot is what is known as an ‘Essex Boy’ – he’s got the gift of the gab, he’s got charm, he’s got the gold chain round his neck, he’s got a great sense of humour and an enormous smile. He also, I discovered this morning, cannot tell the time, arriving 2 hours late but I guess you can’t have everything. I tell you now though,  if I was 20 years younger and knew then what I know now this poor guy wouldn’t even make it out of my flat before committing to marriage and children. He really is one in a million. And he paints really fast. Bonus. Although in hindsight that may be because he can read my mind and wants to make a rapid exit before I finalise my evil plan.

And did I mention my sister is buying my flat? No? Well she is. Awesome.

And my final bit of news. Well, this really is the icing on the cake. The company I currently work for have agreed to take me on as a powerpoint specialist – that basically means making documents look pretty. But I can do this from the bed/balcony/bath/bar/beach in Turkey and I can choose how little or how much I work. I’ve even worked out I only need to work 3 days a month to earn enough money to live on. Sorted.

But, is it all going too well? I don’t know. I worry. What if a cat gets ill, what if I get ill, what if  my mum gets ill? What if my flat burns down before I sell it? Ok, ok, I’m getting silly now. I’m going to stop worrying and be very British and have  a cup of tea and a biscuit.

See you soon….

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