WOG BLOG

:: Wog Blog ::

:: WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT? ::

:: Welcome. This blog will present a wog perspective on matters. And this wog will decide what matters.:: ::bloghome:: | ::contact::
::WOG FROG(&SPAIN) 2006::
:: Day 1 of 14 - Start Here
::WOG MOG LEJOG 2005::
:: Day 0 of 14 - Start Here
::WOG ON THE ROAD 2004::
:: Day 1 of 10 - Start Here
::NORMBLOG PROFILE 84::
:: Wog Blogger Profile
::A Few Recommended Oz Blogs::
:: Tim Blair
:: Belmont Club
:: Silent Running
:: Bernard Slattery
:: Tony the Teacher
:: Yobbo
:: Adrian the Cabbie
:: Andrew Bolt
:: Romeo Mike
::A Few Recommended News Sites::
:: News Now
:: Sydney Morning Herald
:: The Daily Telegraph
:: The Australian
:: The Financial Review
:: Atlantic Monthly
:: Drudge Report
:: Counterterrorism Blog
::A Few Recommended US Blogs::
:: Jules Crittenden
:: Glenn Reynolds
:: James Lileks
:: Little Green Footballs
:: The Corner
:: Matt Welch
:: Ken Layne
:: Stephen Green
:: Eugene Volokh
:: Iraq Now
:: Jeff Goldstein
:: Powerline
:: Opera Chick
::A Few Recommended Italian Blogs::
:: 1972
:: I Love America
:: Il Foglio
:: Il Nouvo Riformista
:: Wind Rose Hotel
:: Libero Pensiero
:: Beppe Grillo
::A Few Recommended UK Blogs::
:: Oxblog
:: Harry's Place
:: Theo Spark
:: Tuscan Tony
:: Biased BBC
:: Melanie Phillips
:: Oliver Kamm
:: Samizdata
:: Harry Hutton
:: Norman Geras
:: Tim Worstall
:: Freedom & Whisky
::A Few Recommended Other Blogs::
:: Gates of Vienna
:: EurSoc
:: Iberian Notes
:: Healing Iraq
:: Baghdad Burning
:: The Messopotamian
:: Mahmood's Den
:: No Pasaran!Merde in France
:: Dissident Frogman
:: The Head Heeb
[::Archives::]
November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 April 2006 June 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 May 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 November 2008 April 2009 May 2009 October 2009 April 2010 May 2012

:: Thursday, 18 August 2005 ::

WOG MOG LE JOG - DAY 10 EDINBURGH TO HARROGATE

Yesterday was an artsy day in Edinburgh, wth a visit to the
Portrait Gallery

to check out a fantastic paitning called "The Oncologists" which I was not allowed to photograph and which I cannot find online.

It is a very large, modern and moody affair. Fantastic and likely to become one of my all time favourites.

Yiss, it is that good.

Then it was orf to the Modern Art gallery for the Francis Bacon exhibition, which was also fantabulous in that macabre way that Bacon had of rendering everything kind of twisted meaty, you know?

Again with the no photos so youse will have to make do with
the cover art of the published gallery stuff picked up. That is only two thirds of 'The Oncologist' painting. It is missing a whole other oncologist.

There was also a trip in to the National Gallery itself for a pilgrimage of sorts to this Rembrandt self-portrait which is so expressive and perfect, with his hat that looks so very real and velvetyfelty.

Then, having got my art fix outta da way, it was on the road.

Mucho laughter with the concierge guys who were refusing to go get the car for me. Only the Spaniard (I think), Mandy, was prepared to go. The rest of them declared the car too hard to drive, and far too claustrophobic with its little cabin and tight footpedal zone.

One guy the night before had apparently tried to move the car and got so crazy inside it that he had a fit and was screaming to be let out.

Mandy was laughin' up a storm as he related this tale of scots weakness.

Not a 'Colin McRae' moment, but more a 'Carlos Sainz' triumph, and if youse do not get that reference, then youse are obviously not rally driving fans. And youse should be.

But I digress and anyhoo. It was on the road for one of the bestest drivey days ever.

Down the A68 from Edinburgh to Jedburgh, the last stop in scotland before coming across the "England" border stone, which was a parking stop filled with campervans and tourists so the Mog and me went cruising on by.

And why stop anyway? Cos the A68 keeps going down through North Yorkshire to Darlington and then you take the A167 from Darlington to Thirsk

and the roads are literally like rollercoasters.

Just up and down down down, with blind summits and no trees for reference in lots of spots. I was enjoying a mixture of sheer driving pleasure and terror at the prospect of being one of the 75-deaths-per-annum annouced in big depressing signs by the side of the road.

Way to make me crazy, road-nancies.

So, up up up and down down down all the way along, rolling hills, filled with gigantic hay bales and perfect dairy cattle and only the

occasional traditional English hold ups of huge tractor type things

forcing the applicaiton of the Mog's spongey brakes.

Soundtrack for the trip was a fantastically weirdo English country music radio station. Yah, you read that right. The annoucer sounded like he came off the classical music broadcast station, but instead he was introducing Suzie Bogguss. And natch, not being a true country music fan, who eschews making fun of their dumb names and even dumber pronounciation (no offense, but, cos I lerv my country music; heck, I am a Louvin Brothers fan, and they do not come much weirder than Ira and Charlie).

So he announces a Bogguss track and asks listeners to identify the opening line of the song, which he swears is:

We were always looking for tuna, with our heads in the clouds.

and damn, if he was not a hunnerd per cent right. She means to sing 'true love' but it sounds like 'tuna' and that, readers, is objectively hilarious.

Many giggles on the rollercoastery roads.

Made it in to Ripon late afternoon, and had to do some serious swerving and doubling back, to capture this image of suburban loveliness.

Just a house on a corner in a street, but so English and lovely.

Mog has the turning circle of a football ground, so it gets a heap of attention whenever I am pointing him to do special things like uturns and doubling back to see stuff and all that. Thankfully, folks are so tanken with the car, that i get happy nods rather than smirks and disapproval.

Now, not a lot of pics of the fab drive on account of all them A roads is single lane stuff. So motorpics at speed are not a sensible risk taking activity. I did get a bit of one machine I encounrtered, however, but it isn't a good shot for youse readers. The machine was some sort of harvesting ploughing thing, attached to a huge tractor and it was obviously ploughing vast fields of shit, no two ways about it, cos as it drove ahead of me, giant patties of the stuff were being flung on to the Mog.

Thank Jeebus the roof was up, keeping not just the sun but also the fecundity of rural England offa me.

Still, with the Lyndyrd Skynyrds going on the weirdo country station at that time, all was well and happy, if a little stinky, in the Mog.

Next stop, Rutland. The littlest region in England. Home of some sort of giant Rutland Water fake lake or something, we'll see.

Also home of The Rutles, and their truly great track:
Get up and go,
Get up and go,
Get up and go back home


Ha!

Happy happy.
:: WB 1:41 am [link+] ::

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?
This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?