I woke up this morning with absolutly no voice. My cold has been moving very distinctly from orafice to orafice.

(Cue Groucho Marx voice: "When I said I wanted a vacation that satisfied all orifices, this is not quite what I had in mind!")

Unfortunately, Amber also woke up feeling under the weather, and displaying distinct symptoms of catching my illness (I'M SORRY).

Ergo, we decided NOT to go camping today, as originally planned. (We were going to go see the Castle Anthrax, and camp in the area.) Between that and the incredible soaking we got yesterday after getting lost looking for the Burrell Collection meant that we were less than enthused about staying out in the weather.

And really, my idea of an excellent vacation is a fluid one. So instead we decided to catch the bus and head off to the seaside town of Largs, have a little fish and chips, and generally be tourists for the day.

The bus ride down was absolutly gorgeous. It took about an hour to get down and back, but for a three buck bus pass, I wasn't complaining. (We could have taken the train, which would have been significantly faster, but also significantly less pretty.)

We saw this bad boy on a hill pretty close to Paisley. I suspect it is a lot larger in person, as the door is less than two thirds the size of those windows. I wonder what it was? I suspect a church. Neat buildings usuall are. Or banks.

Also, these were the first non hairy coos I saw. It was quite startling to see regular cows amongst all the hairy beasts. I have yet to get a good picture of a hairy coo, but I'm trying, I promise.

I saw this little girl on the bus. She amused me, so I tried to sneak a picture of her, but it turned out mostly blurry.

The busses are all very tall and straight on the sides, I suspect so that they can whip by each other on the narrow roads without worrying so much about scraping each other. This also means they wobble madly as they go careening down the country roads, and vibrate the hell out of my camera.

Still. Funny sulky little girl.

This is Largs:


That little dog on the edge of the seawall there was playing catch with his master, who was walking along the beach below him. The guy would throw the ball up over the wall, and the dog would chase it, but the ball was almost as big as the dog itself, so the dog would kick the ball back over the wall and wait until his master threw it again.

Amber and I walked around the shops for a little, buying 'tablet' (which is basically butter and sugar cooked together into deliciousness), and finding dinner. But first we went to this place:

Which was an arcade and casino mixed into one. There was a little fence inside that separated that adult games from the kids games, but no one around to keep kids from going over.

However, they did have those coin push games that carnivals always have that I like so well. I don't usually gamble, because I like spending my money on other things, but the coin push games only required two pence (two cent!) pieces, so I spent a whole pound playing the games. I think I got my money's worth.

I am still a little disappointed that there was no pillaging or raping at a place called Viking Amusements. So I compensated by brushing up on my viking research.

Unfortunately, I just ended up looking a little constipated.

C'est la vie. I suppose.

After our viking adventures, we went to the chippy (you're apparently not supposed to say 'the chippy shop', it's just 'the chippy') and got fish and chips and haggis and chips.

I also ordered scampi, because I'd never had it before.

"Can I get a fish supper and a single scampee, please?" asked I to the Scottish fellow behind the counter.

"Wha?" says he, eloquently.

"Fish supper and single scamee?"

"Wha?"

"She wants a scawmpeh," says his co-worker.

"Oh! Scawmpeh!"

So far he's the first and only person who hasn't been able to understand my accent. As Amber pointed out, they still get a lot of north american movies and stuff, so they understand our accent quite easily.

That above is the haggis.

Now, seagulls were something else in Largs. They were huge, and vicious, and begged.

This is how they start.

As soon as one discovered you have food, it will sit at your feet, making small, plaintive noises, in hopes that you will give it food.

You really shouldn't. Really, really shouldn't.

After aquiring our food, Amber and I found a nice spot on the sea wall to sit and eat. We also found company.

He was very well behaved, this bird. Just stood (relatively quietly) at our feet and tried to control us with his mind power.











He controlled me with his mind power.

I fed him the deep fried bits I peeled off my scampi.

Amber tried to feed him part of her haggis, but he wouldn't eat it.

(Later, another bird came and SWALLOWED IT WHOLE. It was so fast, and so grotesque, I wish I'd gotten a picture of it.)











And then he called friends.



















And some more friends.
















They were vicious. If we weren't paying attention, they'd dive for our chip boxes.

They were also HUGE. This one here is pretty small, but there were some that were larger than cats I've owned.

Beady yellow eyes, vicious pointy beaks...

It was a lot of fun.


After giving the birds all the rest of our chips, we walked back along the beach towards the bus stop to catch the last bus. On the way, we considered getting ice cream, so we wandered towards the ice cream shop to check our options.

Near the ice cream shop, we found this cannibalistic fellow.

He did bad things to us.

He made us lick his ice creams.

If we didn't...well, I don't know what would have happened, but there was a look in his eye I distinctly didn't like.

Once we distracted him with some small children, we escaped to the bus stop.

On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store and bought Guinness and ice cream to make Guinness floats with (which Amber had never had), and a selection of cheese, because I still cannot get over how cheap cheese is here.

Then we watched Exit to Eden.

THAT MOVIE SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN MADE.

I cried as it ravaged a perfectly good book (even if it was a book by Anne Rice), and put Rosie O'Donnel and Dan Ackroyd in a fetish club.

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN.

Then I went to bed and slept for twelve hours.