High Five for Friday!

I haven't done High Five for Friday for a couple of weeks, so here it goes:

1/ Driving back to England through the hills around Moffat

Loch Skeen

2/  Discovering a new bookshop near DPB's flat

3/ My cat sent me a text message...

Hmm, I guess I am now officially the weird cat lady.
It's quite strange how I'm ok with that...

4/ My big brother is in town and I got to spend the afternoon with him. 
He is possibly one of the coolest people I know.
He once stuck chewing gum in my hair and I had to have it cut out, thus leaving me with the worst hairdo ever.
I still love him, though.

5/ It's DPB's birthday this weekend. This means he's nearly as old as me.
Phew.

DPB in his preferred pose.
Don't be fooled by the air of relaxation - he's ready to spring into action at any moment
...

Enervated

MAN, I am TIRED.
This filthy, stinking, pooping weather (yes, I said 'pooping' - I don't feel that I should unleash my more, er, fruity language in a blog post). 
I just feel ENERVATED. 
Isn't that a great word? Sounds like it should mean 'energised', but it's quite the opposite. I first learnt it when watching High Society with Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby. Those were the days.

Source

Ugh.

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My mood and energy levels have not been helped by the completion of TWO, yes, TWO job applications today [insert round of applause].
Even my hair aches from the effort of concentrating.
Anyway, in the hustle and bustle and stress of preparing research proposals and funding bids, assessing societal impact, and making a case for the relevance of my research project, I haven't spoken to DPB in two days (including today).
In long-distance relationship speak, this is like not seeing someone you live with for, oooooooh, about three weeks. 
This morning it got to the point that he actually sent me a meeting request in iCal.
Prize for worst girlfriend ever?

But it wasn't just any meeting request.
Oh no, that is not DPB's style. 
The request was to inform me that I had been invited to attend a long weekend in the Lake District for my birthday.

Source

What a guy. 

I've been banging on about going to the Lake District forever because it's such a special place for me, personally and, I suppose, professionally. 
After all, it was the birthplace and (for a lot of the time) home of William Wordsworth. 
Enough said. 

For some reason, DPB and I have never managed to get to the Lakes together - it just never really seemed to happen. 
Until now. 

We're staying at the Moss Grove Organic Hotel (one of my favourites):

Here are some interior shots:

There's something so captivating and breathtakingly beautiful about the Lake District and I have been known to make a totally unnecessary and time-wastingly ridiculous 40-mile detour to Grasmere on the way home to see my parents (bearing in mind that my parents live in Hampshire, 229 miles away from Lake Windermere...).

Food for the soul.

I wonder if DPB will let me drag him around a tour of the Jerwood Centre, where I've whiled researched away many a happy hour? 

I'll be the one wittering on about the child as the father of man and daffodils and such-like.

Hmm.

I don't really need to tell you how excited I am at the prospect of getting away for a few days. 
Only 18 sleeps to go!
Oh, hang on, that also means that there's only 18 sleeps until I'm another year older. 
Gulp.

Small Fry

My youngest brother graduates on Thursday. 

Holy Moley, I remember the day he was born. 
I wanted a sister (I already had two brothers) and was conVINCED that the next one would be a girl. 
Turns out, he wasn't (much).
I threw a tantrum (but then, I was only just seven at the time and also very prone to throwing tantrums).

Kind of what B looked like as a baby.

Sometimes when our mother went out in the village without him, he would wait for her on our front doorstep, completely naked except for his red welly boots, holding a mini shopping bag that said 'Here Comes Trouble' across the front, with his beloved toy cat and rabbit in my doll's pushchair.
We were all relieved when he grew out of that phase.
Aged 17.
JOKE.
Aaaaaaanyway...

Ben the archaeologist.

Despite the reasonable age-gap, Ben and I spent a lot of time together. To begin with he was pretty much like my living doll awesome and when he started talking only I could understand what he said (my parents were a little freaked out by this). As he grew older I shouted at him a lot - a well-known sign of affection between siblings, no? - and was extremely somewhat mean to him (builds character). My eldest brother and I may or may not have told B that he was wanted the least by my parents because he was the last child (I told you it was character building. As in, building an emotionally and psychologically scarred human being...).

I'm still getting over the fact that he's old enough to drive...

My other two brothers went off to boarding school when B was pretty small, which meant that for a lot of the time it was just him and me. It was kind of cool.
By the time that B was 12, I went off to university and the age-gap seemed to widen. Imagine my delight, then, when he chose to come to Scotland for his degree (Scotland's second best university) I was pretty excited; we were back on a level playing field. 

Ben and a cake.

I can't believe the four years have gone so quickly, and I can't believe that my baby brother will be a graduate in two days' time (I say baby brother, but he's actually 21 and 6'4"). He's been through a lot while at university but has stuck to his guns with a maturity and determination that I can only ever aspire to. 
He never fails to amaze me.
Although, sometimes he is still a TOTAL arse.

Ben admiring his moobs/ sticking to his guns.
Ha ha, he'll KILL me if he ever sees this!

As a graduation present, I bought him this:

Have you read it? 
Here's the last bit:

You'll get mixed up, of course,

as you already know.

You'll get mixed up 

with many strange birds* as you go.

So be sure when you step.

Step with care and great tact

and remember that Life's

a Great Balancing Act.

Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.

And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed? 

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98 and 3/4 per cent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...

be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray

or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,

you're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So... get on your way!

*I hope that he does not get mixed up with too many strange birds... we might need to have words about this.

So, what I really wanted to say was: Well done, Small Fry, the world is your oyster. 

Oh, and even if you're not as good at table-tennis as DPB, I still love you.