‘Tis not the fanciest restaurants nor Michelin starred, but Spoon is by far my favorite place to eat in Edinburgh. It’s not crazy expensive, the atmosphere is warm and inviting, the wait staff uber-friendly (but not in a cheesey, b.s.-y way). and the food! Delicious and nutritious (lots of veggie and gluten free options)!

Isn’t it sweet? It’s homey without being too “done” and sugary sweet looking. It’s what I want my home to feel like (and smell like). It also happens to have great views of Nicholson street because it’s up on the second floor (first floor in British) of a lovely old building.

Here’s what we ate:
(p.s. Cullen skink is a savory, aromatic smoked fish soup — kind of like clam chowder)

And this is why we went:

My husbando just found out that one of his papers will be published soon — and (sorry for the mushy cheese) I am so very proud of him!

When you guys come and visit, I’ll take you to Spoon — just let me know when 😉

—–

Dear Kitcath,

As I said on skype, we are definitely going together! I AM SO EXCITED that you bought your tickets. So we have what 27 days until you are here!!!!!! EEEEE!!!! Hope you have a marvelous Monday!

xoxoxox,

Lar

Sometimes living in Scotland makes you feel like English is not your native language after all. “For goodness sakes,” you say, “what is a ‘heid’ and what is a ‘skittle’?!” Luckily it doesn’t really matter because you’ve already tried haggis and actually liked it, so you intrepidly move into the land of other new Scottishy words. It turns out that “heid” (rhymes with “need”) means “head” and “skittles” isn’t colorful candy bits, but old school bowling. Growing more Scottish by the minute, you are!

This weekend, Matt and I decided to embrace the Scottish and go play skittles at the oldest pub in Edinburgh, the Sheep Heid Inn, for my birthday.

Here’s how we got there:

(Errr. or maybe it was more of a take-two-buses-and-then-walk-15-minutes kind-of-a-situation, and then Matt posed in front of this Mini because I asked him to and it was my birthday so he did).

And this is what I wore (sensible as always) to crassly stand on the bowling lane:

Wannabe Balenciaga dress by Primark and shoes by Mango.

And here are all the dapper gents that came to my party:

Okay, maybe these skittlers weren’t at my party, but they were at a skittle party in 1913 at the Sheep Heid. Just 99 years too early, gents!

Isn’t it a lovely old place? Legend says that there was a pub in this very spot since 1360 and that Mary Queen of Scotts and her son James loved to stop here for a wee rest and skittle game on their way to Holyrood Palace from Craigmillar Castle (tough life, those royals). The name “Sheep Heid” came from the gift James gave to the inn keeper: the head of a sheep. yum? Poor sheepy.

Lovely spot, isn’t it? I highly recommend a visit if you’re in Edinburgh. Not only is the inn chock-a-block full of historical lore, but the wee village of Duddingston where Sheep Heid is located, is so charming. Nestled just at the foot of Arthur’s Seat and spitting distance to downtown Edinburgh, Duddingston still looks much as it would have in the 17th and 18th century when Bonnie Prince Charlie stayed the night, and later J.M.W. Turner and Sir Walter Scott.

Seriously, what could be a better way to spend an afternoon but skittling and rubbing shoulders with British ghosts?

Oh gracious! I just forgot today is the 4th (Matt and I are being uber British and forgot all about our independence). Hope all you American readers are having a lovely day of fireworks and hot dogs! xoxox

—-

Dear Cath,

Oh I so wish you could have come skittling with us! We’ll have to take you to Sheep Heid if you fancy it. The atmosphere is lovely and I wouldn’t mind more of a toddle around Duddingston.

I cannot believe how hot it is in the ATL. I mean I should be able to remember what that is like, but I can’t! Today felt warmish — maybe in the 60s– and I actually wore a skirt (with tights)!

We will properly celebrate our bdays when you come into town. I know I sound like a broken record, but I cannot WAIT!!!

LOVE,

Lar

p.s. Our instructor today actually said the phrase “Easy, peasy, lemon squeezey” and I almost squealed in joy, but I reigned it in and looked calmed while saying “difficult, difficult, lemon difficult” in my head.

Before I get on with more Oxford photos (thanks for all the sweet comments on my first Oxford post!) I wanted to share with you a little something I’ve been doing. I feel reticent about sharing too much personal stuff on this blog because I’m always worried I’ll bore the socks off you while also sounding too naval-gaze-y. So with those impending threats in mind, let me share away!

I’ve been a graphic designer since graduating college, but I’ve been itching to spend less time on my computer and more time creating with my hands. I found this wonderful course to give me a jump start into the world of scenic design and live performance with a vague idea that one day I could work on shoots like this if I learn more about 3D design.

So on Monday I started at Scenehouse and all-things-set-design have been commandeering all my brain power since. Potentially switching careers is incredibly frightening, especially because I’m not sure if this will lead anywhere or just give me a great deal of respect for all the people who make a stage production happen.

Anywhoodle, that’s all. Just needed to share seeing as I can’t think of anything else but props and model-making at the moment. I promise to return to regularly scheduled programming next post!

—-

Dear Cath,

This no-skyping thing during the day is so hard! It’s so weird not to have chatted to you for two whole days straight. I don’t like it! Our studio at Scenehouse doesn’t have wifi, so even though I have my computer with me most days, I haven’t been online.

Right now you are in class, so I hope it’s going well! I know your midterm is looming. I hope the trappists monks gave you so meditative inspiration last weekend, so you feel less stressed about next week’s test.

Miss you oodles of caboodles,

Lar

I just got back to Edinburgh from Oxford via a very long train ride (oi, I feel creaky!). Matt is down there for a conference and I thought I’d tag along for the weekend bit because who doesn’t want to see awesome old buildings in the rain? (Yes, we do indeedy have those things in abundance in Edinburgh as well — apparently I have a thing for damp stone).

So here are just some quick pics. I might foist some more on you in my next post because my second 12 hours in Oxford were beautiful and sunny, but these are here just to wet your appetite (and remind you of the trade-off for beautiful places in the UK: the crap the weather).

I originally thought of starting this post like this:

“Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they had done in Newman’s day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime, and the rare glory of her summer days – such as that day – when the chestnut was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas, exhaled the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral hush which gave our laughter its resonance, and carried it still, joyously, over the intervening clamour.”

Because who doesn’t love an Evelyn Waugh quote? And because all my views about Oxford before actually seeing it in person have been formed by watching the Jeremy Irons version of “Brideshead Revisited.”

But I was worried starting with a hoity toity literary quote about my brief sojourn to Oxford might sound a touch pretentious — especially because I’ve only read Brideshead Revisited once and seen the tv series multiple times (the book is wonderful — but the tv series is just so pretty what with the stone and the champagne and Castle Howard). I don’t even remember the Oxford bits in the book.

More to come . sans hoity toity quoting.

—–

Dear Cath,

So glad we could catch up quickly on skype. This week will be crazy busy for both of us, and getting to see you briefly on skype (even in my sleep-deprived state) is better than not seeing you at all. I wish I could take you to Oxford next time you are here (fancy a 6 hour train ride?) — and I would make it be sunny so we could eat strawberries and drink champagne on one of the quads (which they keep gated against us hoi polloi — but we’d sneak in some how).

I’ll write to you all about what I learn my first day in my course tomorrow. Fingers crossed for me! I’ll have mine crossed for you and your impending mid-term!

xoxoxox,
Lar

p.s. Forever and always missing you!

Seriously. Next to a dumpster just a few doors from my flat. Just sitting there in all their red-soled glory, slumped against a giant trash can. And. they fit perfectly. I take this moment to humbly genuflect to the shoe gods (or dumpster gods? or just karma, the universe, gods, god? I thank you all.).

Outfit dets: Primark peacoat • Madewell scarf and skinnies • Christian Louboutin boots via the-dumpster-in-front-of-my-house

That Matt and I just happened to be walking past the dumpster at that time of the day (they weren’t there an hour prior, when we had left the house), and that it had not rained and turned the boots into mush still boggles my mind. And on top of all that, why would someone ever throw away a pair of $1500 boots? Turns out there was a broken zipper and some scuffed up soles, but otherwise they are shipshape and the leather feels like buttah!

After I snatched them up (glancing furtively left and right), gave them a sniff, shook them upside down, tried them on, and took these photos, I scurried to our shoe repair shop around the corner. In a week I’ll have resoled (just the front scuffed bits) and re-zippered Christian Louboutin stiletto boots. I might be $100 poorer for the repairs, but I’ll be a pair of Christian Louboutin’s richer (I’ve never had or thought I’d have Louboutin’s in my closet). Totally worth it don’t you think?

I do think this beats my $1.60 Bottega Veneta purse find at Good Will.

—–

Dear Cath,

I’m still kind of reeling from the shock of finding these black beauties. I will take gobs more photos once I get them back next week.

I wish you could have been with me when I took them to the shoe repair shop. The very nice (and very Scottish) cobbler was not “familiar with shoe maker’s mark” (dude! red sole!) so me saying “these are Christian Louboutin’s I found by the dumpster!!!” did not impress him a bit. But when I told him that the boots were originally £800, he literally clutched his counter and doubled-over while gasping. Yeah! That’s the reaction I was looking for!

I hope you are having a lovely week and that the universe leaves at least a pair of Choos by your trash bins!

Love,

Lar