Just a small one....

Hope the image is not too stressful. Presence here because someone sent me some belly-dancer photographs and invited comments. Firstly, we need to dignify the lady by giving her a proper name. She is an as-sharqi dancer - a dancer of the deserts. In her own community she is highly respected and has none of the sleazy night club image we might have. The top dancers have their own troup of musicians and lighting men. They are paid large sums of money to entertain at big events - weddings, christenings and things such as that. Anyway - that's why she is here. A c t u a l l y - er hum - er - she is here because I like her. She is modelling part of a costume - they cost large sums as well - so we do not know if she is in fact a dancer. Just say, she has the right basics for the job. She is a well-rounded girl. Plenty of assets. The pose is unfortunate - she looks more like a person who puts loads on camels. Might even be the Governor of California in drag. Hasta la vista baby.
I have fond memories of this sort of lady.
Driving to the beach today we passed through Foulden village. This is a place that has won the Scotland in bloom competition. Quite a pretty little place really - just a line of cottages alongside one edge of the road. When the flowers are in bloom it is very pretty. There is, however, a certain regimentation that the old soldier in me recognises. All cottages have to have the same range of flowers. All must have windows and doors floralised. When we were looking for a place up here I commented to Norma that Foulden was one place that we would not go. It was quite clear to me that there was a flower gauliter who ruled with a rod of iron. Anyway - long story short - today I noticed that there was not one single sign of the approaching festive season (for oldies - Christmas; there - I've said it!!). All other places have their displays set up. Some a bit tacky to my old eyes but festive - yes. Foulden looks like Colditz on a wet Monday. Obviously, the uber-Witch of Eastwick-manque has spoken. Nothing until zero hour on C-Day minus five. Only real holly or ivy. No moving images. Bulbs in two colours only. Nothing more than x-metres tall.
My God - village life!!