Dedicated to spiced chocolate

Spent a day out in Stirling, mostly lost inside the Thistle Shopping Centre. I find shopping malls so surreal - the white lighting, the smell of disinfectant, the clash of music flowing out of the entrances to the stores, and the sheer volume of stuff.
By the time I left the mall, I had forgotten where I was and had to walk into the old town for awhile to remind myself that I was Stirling. Then proceeded to Beanscene where I drank a beautifully bitter mocha, followed by a “spiced chocolate,” all the while staring across at a black and white photo of Mr. Cohen holding a shot glass of some promising potion. Bless Nif for sending me Book Of Longing so I didn't have to wait for months it to be published over here. (I shall take this opportunity to announce to the world that Nif is now 31, and juicier and more fabulous than ever)
Every night it gets darker a little sooner, and we have experienced a few serious bouts of Scottish rain – huge, cold drops that fall by the millions and are accompanied by an overall dim gothic glow. The stones glisten; the moss turns to velvet, and the last squeeze of lilac scent is battered from the drooping husks of the flowers.
I have finally found somewhere to buy local veggies and meat. The grocery stores here are so dismal – they fly over organic apples from New Zealand and the USA, when the UK produces some of the most beautiful organic apples in the world. This wee place is just a 30-minute walk away and they are open each Saturday for four hours. The best spinach I have tasted for years. Can’t quite get into kale, but I’ll work on it. And a lovely, plump spaghetti squash. Cooking apples, and also some advice on where to find the best blackberries. My latest dessert discovery is fruit cobbler – so much better than fruit crumble.
The other news is that we have purchased a keyboard, for Andrew is now taking piano lessons. I have learned how to do the warm up for the right hand, which is the first few bars of Beethoven’s 9th. This glorious machine can make more than 500 sounds, including footsteps, helicopter, laughter, and Andrew’s favourite, church organ.
Finally, my parents will be here in just over a week. We plan to tour them around old buildings and feed them haggis and neeps.
Blah, blah, blah. Every time I mean to sit down and write, I have no words. It’s not that I have ceased to be fascinated by the world, because I haven’t. I just don’t know how to put it. Hopefully my senses will shake up soon.
Byeee.