Whatever happened to Baby Bear?

Some of this ...

We would probably have enjoyed it more if it hadn't rained quite so hard and if Madame had brought her wellies and had a map rather than a vague list of directions and I hadn't ended up with bright red fur thanks to a dodgy bag and a leaky water bottle.

We did like our hotel - we had a snuggly room just right for a bear and its Madame.

There were some nice little shops - I got a 1966 Sooty annual in the bookshop and Madame found one of these in Jenny Wren's shop. Making her a very happy Madame.

But we had to come home. To bills and work and washing.

So yay for the weekend! I'm bear-coloured again. Madame's going to get her fluff chopped tomorrow and then she's going to see that Hanif Kureishi bloke talking about the film Venus.

If you're looking for something cheery to do then she would like to recommend the play The Wall. I would like to recommend snuggling up somewhere warm and doing as little as possible but a bit of brilliantly acted, funny, heart warming theatre is good stuff too. :o)

Argyll adventure.

We went to Argyll. On the bus.

It's a nice bus trip. Once you get out of the city, and assuming you are not stuffed at the bottom of a rucksack, there's a lot to see out of the window. Lochs. Hills. Sheep.

There's a stop in Inverary so you can admire the rain. Very pretty in the rain. I imagine I wouldn't want to leave if I saw Inverary in sunshine. There is a coffee shop on a boat. Or is it a ship.



Back to the bus. And on to Lochgilphead.

Lochgilphead isn't, to be honest, the most attractive place on Earth. It's a typical little Scottish town. A few shops. Couple of pubs. Stuff like that.

But it's a good place to stay if you are planning to travel about the area. And you have to stay in the Empire Travel Lodge. It used to be a Glasgow cinema. How brilliant is that? And the owners are the nicest people. They didn't even get annoyed when Madame managed to dye one of their lovely posh white pillow cases pink with her mad hair.

You can go for a walk in the grounds of Kilmory Castle. I did. There were photographs. Which someone accidentally deleted. Fiddling with the camera. In the pub. I'm not bitter. Oh, no.

Or there is Kilmartin Glen. It's just full of ancient piles of rocks. And big old ancient standing up rocks. And other rocks. Ok. That was the day that I stayed in bed and read "Bear". But I'm sure that it was all very moving and spiritual and probably full of echos of ancient pagan rituals and all that stuff. Didn't they worship bears? Maybe I should have gone after all. Doh!

She did have a bear with her. The mysterious Humph.

Humph the Bear. We met him in Lochgilphead. We rescued him from a certain gift shop. He agreed to look after Madame while I relaxed. He doesn't say much. He is never seen without his shiny white mac and his shiny brown boots. He's not that tall - about 5 or 6 cms - but I am rather intimidated.

Back to the travels.

He does look like he has been trained to kill with his bare paws, doesn't he? Sorry. Argyll ...

And the best bit. The Crinan Canal.

Very beautiful and peaceful.

We want a boat. We really want a boat. And a crew who'll see to all the twiddly stuff with ropes and locks and bridges. While we sit in the sunshine. Enjoying champagne and strawberries. And waving regally to passing horse riders and cyclists and that limping girl with the broken rucksack and the funny looking toy bear. Funny looking. Pah.

And we'll maybe stay at the Crinan Hotel. She had a drink there. It looked like it would be a nice place to stay. If we become millionaires.


And then it was time to get back on the bus.

holiday reading

You need a good book when you're travelling. I'm always up for a interesting read but it's essential when you are on the move. For passing the time when you are stuck in traffic. For pondering in the sun. Sitting in a deck chair on a busy beach or a lazy afternoon of tea and cake with a city buzzing about you.

Hide in a good book when the crazy stranger on the train tries to tell you about his dodgy prostate. Or when an over-excited travelling companion, who really should get out more, starts to squeal "oooooo, look at the pritty ickle baby lambies ..."

Fan yourself on a hot day or shade your sun burnt snout from the midday sun. Not so useful in the rain perhaps. Swat annoying bug things. Fend off the pritty ickle baby lambies when they try to trample you to death and steal your picnic. They are not always as lovely and polite as the delightful Callie and Jerome.

If you're that kind of person, you can squiggle things in the margins and on the blank pages. There are *cough* other things you can use the paper for. Things I wouldn't know about. But I understand that the works of Mr Jeffrey Archer can be soft and absorbent. If not exactly a good read.

"Bear" by Jamie Smart would be a wonderful, twisted read wherever you are. I got the first volume - "Bear : Immortal" for my birthday and took it on our trip up to Argyll. To be honest I didn't do much holiday stuff because "Bear" was so brilliant and the Empire Travel Lodge was so comfy.

While She limped about the countryside, scowling at small children, and failing to attract a yacht owning multimillionaire, I caught up with the comic adventures of the dashing Bear. We have so much in common.

"He fights dastardly sorts! He drives fast cars!! He schmoozes the honeys!!"

Like me, he shares his life with a *cough, loser, cough* human companion. Unlike me, he has to battle the ultimate evil cat - called Looshkin. And when anyone presses his nose - eek - his head puffs up like a scary balloon. That never happens to me. Occasionally certain people will prod my snout and squeak "ding dong". It's not funny. Back to Bear.

Jamie Smart's witty, bobbly drawings can camouflage the dark and disturbing world of these stories. Bear is sent to fight in the First World War, is held captive with Dave Grohl, and forced to appear in - oh, the horror - a Jane Austen style costume drama.

(oh, and today is Jamie Smart's birthday - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)

For the next part of the holiday - Fife, where the scary tiggers and the crazy people live - I had a copy of "The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse" by Robert Rankin. Hum. Now, Robert Rankin isn't, in my humble opinion, a great writer. He's no James Joyce. He's not even much of a Terry Pratchett. I found his writing style to be clunky and stumbling.

Yes, I know. I'm one to talk. But I've not had much education. Story for another day. Back to the Chocolate Bunnies ...

Or, more importantly, to the hero of the book - Toy City private detective Eddie Bear. The novel is an attempt to blend classic Chandleresque noir with nursery rhymes and fairy tales. Eddie's boss - Bill Winkie (Little Willie Winkie) - has gone missing. Young lad - Jack - comes to town to seek his fortune and drags Eddie into the hunt for a serial killer. Hum.

Eddie Bear is a well written, convincing character. Unfortunately he is the only one and the story drags whenever he is out of action. I'm not just saying this because he is a bear. A toy bear. Eddie's distress at the loss of his "bestest friend" is genuinely touching. He drinks, he has fun (but not with dollies), and struggles with paws. The things you can't do when you don't have thumbs ...

I won't be rushing to read the sequel but I'd have a look if it came my way. The second volume of Bear is on my Must Have book list.

Not said much about the actual holiday yet. Or the mystery bear. That will have to wait for another day.

Before I go. Have just been "approved" by the lovely people at Blog Catalog. So wavy paw to all my new friends and neighbours. Haven't had time to have a proper look about yet but I'll do my best to be a good blog animal. Thank you!

There is a bear, and he never goes out

Ok. Yes. Barton Fink is a film. I knew that. I did. Honest.

Would I lie to you?

So. The holiday. Definitely going to tell you all about the holiday. Except ...

Not really in the mood. It's Friday night. I'm still young. I should be out there. A few drinks. Friends. Laughter. Bit of music. Fun. Frolic. Froth.

Instead. Stuck in with Madame Misery. She's tired. She's got no money. So much housework to do and her life is a wasteland because she doesn't have a solar lighted Eiffel Tower. Or the sunshine to power it.

Try turning that into a musical comedy.

Apparently she is going to put on her serious pyjamas. Big boy pyjamas. Pyjamas that shout "See that tub of ice cream. I'm eating it all. And I'm eating it in bed. Without you." And her fluffy Latvian socks. She might read a bit of her lovely green and white vintage Penguin copy of "The Department of Dead Ends". She might not.

I'm just going to sneak off to my corner and try not to draw attention to myself. Do a bit of thinking. Hang on. Here's an idea. Richard Hawley - Coles Corner. Smooth and soothing. Enjoy.

fireworks!

Bye, bye, Tiny Blur.



Now he's wild and free (to a good home).

In other news.

Holiday! Birthday! Both coming up soon! Yay! Too much excitement! Too many !!!!!!!

But if you think that's excessive - over to our Wainwright correspondent ...

screeeeeeeaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeerufusglasgowclydeoctobergotticketsoexcitedscreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There may have been more screaming but I blacked out. I don't know. He wore a flat cap well, but, ow, ow, ow ...

Nose now pinged. Must not mock the Wainwright. Humpf.

Before I go and sit in the naughty corner - the fireworks are, of course, from the Singapore Fireworks Festival. I am not aware of any mass celebrations to mark the end of this era - the People's Tone shuffles off without pageants and ceremony. I could be wrong. Maybe somewhere in Britain tonight a sad and lonely figure is trying to light a damp sparkler and raising a cup of warm Vimto.

In which She reveals her plans for a holiday

Help.

Unfortunately this isn't available in bear size. So I'll have to panic.

um, cough, shuffle, need a holiday ...

I'm a bit embarrassed about my "fear of Tom Waits" confession. On the other hand I am trying to be open and honest. Possibly. Perhaps. Maybe yes. Maybe no. Anyway ...

I think that it would be nice idea for me to have a holiday to get over all my trauma but every time I mention this to Her she growls at me from under her pile of bank statements.

I haven't told her about Toy Voyagers yet - thank you, Travel Ted - so if she doesn't shape up and get unbusy soon I'm going to tag myself and see if I can get a posting somewhere exotic. A beach, a bear, and a deck chair ...

Until then I will be watching Mr Darthkittenlover producing one of his most excellent Wondermark strips. Over and over again. And humming "Icky Thump". Because it is still the best thing since ears.

postscript

Did get the day off on Friday. Failed to provide comfort and support when water started to drip through the ceiling. Refused to be interested in her "what will I wear today?" crisis. Watched Series 2 of "Extras". Very good. That Orlando Bloom ... snork.

She did have to spoil it a bit. Insisted we watch "The Children of Men". Thought it was going to be a charming, utopian tale of a world without screaming, sticky sprogs, but, apparently this is not a Good Thing. All misery and doom and Clive Owen in flip flops.

Bears! Bears! Bears!

Potapych : the Bear Who Loved Vodka



More from Metafilter.

And today's Savage Chickens.

And I finally got to see the Werner Herzog film "Grizzly Man" yesterday.

It's like Bear Day has come early this year. Meh. "Teddy Bear Day is NOT an official holiday. Your teddy bear does not get the day off". We'll see about that.

Sveiki

Sveiki. That's Latvian for "please don't eat me, I'm not a doughnut". Or something. Maybe it's "hello". Humpf. We're going to Riga. That's in Latvia. Probably.

Last year we were definately going to Berlin. Berlin - city of bears! We own it. It belongs to the bears. They don't give out a best film Oscar - they give out a Golden Bear! How cool is that. And there's Steiff. And Cabaret - divine decadence, burlesque, and Liza Minnelli, when she was still young and sexy.

"The World Cup's on". "Yes, the World Cup is on." "In Berlin." "Yes, in Berlin."

I like a bit of footie. I wear my Partick Thistle scarf with pride. I enjoy a bit of a kickabout. Or I would do if my footieball hadn't "disappeared".

She would rather lick marmite off John Prescott than have anything to do with the Beautiful Game. We weren't going to Berlin until it was all safely over. Humpf.

So this year we are definately, definately going to Berlin. We have the map. I've been practising. "Mein Name ist Bear und ich bin ein Bär. Sie sind ein sehr schönes Steiff."

But we're not going to Berlin now. We are going to Riga now. Because.

I expect that they toast bears over an open fire for fun there. In fact, here we are, the Bear Slayer. I'm going to die - my head pulled off by some big, fuzzy eared Baltic maniac.

I might just go to Berlin without her. Or Vienna.