Falkirk (The Landlady)
2 October 2009
TC is currently on holiday with a return to his roots, to Falkirk and The Landlady!
Fill in the form (see link above) if you want to host a visit from TC in the future.
Bjärred, Sweden (Barney)
18 September 2009
The adventures of an errant teacosy (written by Barney)
The journey
TC was all of a flutter. She had been packed in soft tissue paper by SarahMac and a packet of vanilla fudge placed beside her for the journey. Once in the Jiffy bag she felt sure that SarahMac had said something about swedes – was she about to be banished to a bleak field in the wilds of Lewis? But who grows swedes there??
After a long time she felt the jiffy bag being opened and a large and knobbly hand gently pulled the puir wee thing into the daylight. She saw a horrible man staring at her and beside him a dog, black as the Devil, who obviously wanted nothing better than to sink her (or his) teeth into Tea-cosy. Indeed, after sampling the delicious fudge (which TC has somehow forgotten about) the HM went over to the dog, which was now lying down. He placed puir wee TC directly in front of those slavering jaws and left her to her fate! TC’s heart beat faster than a para diddle – was this the end? DevilDog put a paw over little TC. It looked down at the helpless cowrin’ “beastie” – and went to sleep.
Some happenings in Sweden
When TC had recovered from the strains of the journey and her terrifying introduction to a new household, she learnt bit by bit that she was in a land called Sweden – or Sverige, as they said, and that she wasn’t about to become the DevilDog’s dinner. So she began to perk up a bit.
DevilDog was actually called Stumpan in their strange language, but TC preferred Stumpy. Quite soon she was taken to see the puppies that Stumpy’s sister had made during the spring. They were of course much smaller than Stumpy and Chiquita and some of them were a creamy colour while others were as black as their mum and aunty. Although she had quickly realised that Stumpy was not going to tear her into pieces TC felt safer with the puppies, which were more her size. TC snuggled up to the chicken netting of the puppies’ pen and asked when it would be tea-time but alas – nobody understood what she meant, least of all the puppies.
On the way back they visited a very strange, tall house in the nearly city of Malmö. It was called Turning Torso. It looked crooked and yet right in a curious way. TC wanted to climb up it, and she could see that there was a sort of scaffolding on one side which looked rather convenient. But when they came closer she saw that the building really was VERY tall and that a little TC really wasn’t up to the climb. She wanted the HM to do some digital jiggering with a photo so that she would look as if she was climbing, but HM, who was obviously stupid, couldn’t “cut the digital mustard”, as TC later confided to Saga, the daughter of the house. Anyway, TC thought the tall building had a beautiful harmony about it. She wanted to come back at different times of the day to see the play of light and shadow but HM was stingy and didn’t want to stay, or even take her back another time.
The last adventure that TC had in Sweden came a few days later. HM took TC to the “Långa Bryggan” in Bjärred, the small town where HM and his nice wife and daughter lived under the dominating paw of Stumpy. Bjärred-by-the-Sea is built on the shores of the Sound, a wide ditch that separates Swedes from an even stranger bunch called Danes. All Danes go about with a hot potato in their mouths so no one can understand what they are saying. This doesn’t stop the men all sitting around drinking beer and smoking while most of the women are busy advertising on YouTube after more interesting men to act as real or surrogate fathers.
To get back to little TC, the sea at Bjärred glitters appealingly during the summer afternoons but it is useless for adult humans to use because the shore is very shallow. So the ingenious inhabitants of Bjärred have built a long pier – the “Långa Bryggan” 570 meters out into the Sound. At the end there is a platform with a small restaurant and two “bastus”, one for men and one for women. HM asked TC if she would like to accompany him, but when she learnt that the men sat around stark naked and sweating, that they drank beer and threw cold water about the place, and that the really traditional ones took in birch twigs with which to flagellate themselves, TC blushed a deeper blue than one would have thought possible, drew herself up to her full height and excused herself on the grounds that heat and water might ruin her form. When she learnt that after getting all sweaty, and regardless of the season of the year, both men and women jumped naked into the waters of the Sound, she knew her decision was both factually and morally correct. There was even talk of “holes in the ice”, although TC couldn’t see ice anywhere.
Whilst the HM carried out his depraved rites, TC decided to watch the children bathing. Not having access to the “bastu” they were properly clad and were having a great time. TC went gingerly to the top of the steps but she resisted the temptation to take a plunge on the grounds that salt in her hair might affect the taste of the tea. When she grew tired of the children she went into the restaurant to wait for HM. It was a fresh, posh sort of joint, up-market even when compared with the Anstruther Chippy. She asked for a pot of tea to cuddle but the strange Swedes just shook their heads and made her to understand that tea was never served there! So TC went to the window and looked longingly across the Sound in the direction of her beloved Scotland. How her heart pined for home!
My heart’s in the Highlands
Not long after this, the HM packed a great bag with gear which TC recognised as the sort of kit that crazy “yachties” used around Millport and the Firth of Clyde. Her spirits leapt when she too was carelessly stuffed into a black bag along with some computer gear, a smoked Baltic herring and a bottle of Aalborg’s Jubileum aquavit, which seemed to be the local equivalent of whisky. Even when she heard the word “Turnhouse” her spirits remained high. The journey was cramped and uncomfortable as everything else in that bag was harder than TC, but she put up with the discomfort and unruliness of her companions without complaint: “once a lady, always a lady” as LL had impressed upon her at a tender age. As none of her travelling companions could get the top off the bottle – though they tried hard and long – they remained sober and therefore morose and introspective.
The first thing that TC saw when she emerged was a group of blokes poring over a chart, trying to look as if they knew what it was all about. Next day TC found herself, with no little consternation in her valiant heart, bobbing around on the Firth of Forth. Some of the chaps looked alert enough but TC’s worst fears were confirmed when on returning to port it turned out that the propeller had fallen off. Being Swedes, this made everyone even more morose than usual and TC quickly found herself in a drinking orgy. She managed to get four of them under the table; the fifth one should have fallen too, but having a military past, he had a ramrod instead of a backbone. So the camera can lie.
Now this long tale nears its happy end. A few days after arriving in Scotland the HM visited some pleasant inhabitants of the Kingdom of Fife. During the day TC had the honour of making the acquaintance of a couple of cats. The one of noble appearance even condescended to pose for a picture together with her in the lap of the HM, whom by this time TC had begun to think might not be as ghastly as her first impressions. The native called “fpu” examined TC and called attention to the precarious state of her bobble, making insinuations that were both groundless and cannot be repeated in polite society – the camera cannot lie! Let the world know that it was the fpu who arranged this shameful picture and it is to the fpu that all indignant letters, full of righteous indignation, should be addressed (copies to the RSPCTCs, please). At this point HM once again showed his low breeding by talking about “superglue” but the fpu snatched TC into her motherly bosom and declared that she would defend the wee thing from such an outrage. Finally HM left. TC felt herself begin to relax in the warmth and cosy-ness in which she was embedded. She knew now that LL was just another jiffy bag away.
Author’s Note (Barney not X333XXX!)
This work is entirely factual and any resemblance to fictitious characters is absolutely intentional.
Isle of Lewis (Lochs-Living the Dream)
13 July 2009
After an extended and thoroughly spoilt stay in Languedoc with Taddoe, the travelling teacosy reached its next host, SarahMac, near Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis on 10 July.
Check out her blog, Lochs – Living the Dream – for details of what the teacosy got up to during its visit to the Western Isles.
Finally!
26 June 2009
Well much to everyone’s relief the Tea cosy has arrived in France and has had a full schedule of events organised by Taddoe. Visit her blog to find out more…
I was lost in France…
15 June 2009
Well, actually, Tea cosy seems not to even have reached the shores of La Belle France. Despite Grannye paying an exorbitant amount of cash over to Royal Mail to deliver Tea Cosy safely into Taddoe’s hands, we can only assume that TC is taking the slow boat, or has gone AWOL.
Any sightings will of course be noted here, other than that- well, I guess I better pick up my knitting needles again!
Languedoc, France (Taddoe)
4 June 2009
The Travelling Teacosy will be departing its present location (Glasgow) today.
It’s next host will be Taddoe, who lives north west of Avignon in the Languedoc region of La Belle France!
Glasgow (Auchenshugglegranny)
27 May 2009
The Travelling Teacosy is now in Glasgow, being hosted by Auchenshugglegranny.
Check out her blog for further updates.
A meeting with The Queen (Chorlkie & FX)
25 May 2009
Dorset (Chorlkie)
22 May 2009
At Hardy's Cottage
Teacosy spent the weekend of 22-24 May with Chorlkie in the tiny hamlet of Lower Kingcombe (“the farm that time forgot“) in rural West Dorset.
Chorlkie made sure her companion got to see the best of Lower Kingcombe which really does look stunning at the end of May, and the en route for home on Sunday TC stopped off at Thomas Hardy’s cottage near Dorchester.
Pop over to ‘Introductions all round‘ to see pictures galore!
The New Forest (FX)
19 May 2009
Route planning in the New Forest
The Travelling Teacosy arrived in the New Forest, Hampshire, on 18 May, and was warmly welcomed by Chorlkie and FX.
Their valued guest was given a tour of The New Forest, and then headed to Dorset for the weekend before returning to meet a queen and a lovely china tea service.
Find out more about what Teacosy is up to at the moment on their blogs at http://chorlkie.wordpress.com and http://x333xxx.wordpress.com.
