Autumn ramblings

 
 

I really missed the Scottish weather

No - I am not mad. I’m Scottish. Let the sun’s appearance be a blissful surprise, not a given.

We’ve been back from Australia for about a year now. In Australia, the word “season” seems to be thrown around as a reminder to Australians that this would be the time of the year when you would wear a jumper if there weren’t beads of sweat cascading down your face. Let’s take spring for example: that’s about 4 hours one Tuesday in September.

I miss people back in Australia. I don’t miss the heat.

(Although I am quite adept at holding court at a pool bar when the situation presents itself.)

How many of you can walk 20 metres to find a view of a UNESCO World Heritage Site like this?

 

What’s going on in the Wife’s mind?

The wee wander that got me thinking

Angela (who is currently pinching me and telling me to call her her ‘Lady-Wife’) and I went for a walk over the weekend. You see, the Firth of Forth and the Three Bridges are but a short stroll from The Queens Bed & Breakfast, down South Queensferry’s cobblestone High Street. And a tree-lined forest trail? Well that starts 20 metres up the road.

It was just another one of those glorious days we must make sure we never take for granted. The air was crisp so we rugged up nicely.

 

Winter is coming! Sure, but let’s have autumn first.

Autumn forces you to unpack some more layers of clothing which, let’s face it, you probably needed most of the summer anyway. (I think anyone living in Scotland would agree, this summer was the exception.)

An Autumn frost is the herald of snow sometime soon. And a reminder to stock up on wood for the fire.

Autumn means the apples are ready to be picked and used in the compote for our breakfast bircher.

That chill in the air, the leaves turning, the taste of mulled wine and the promise of family and Christmas and boardgames all had me thinking: do we have a word to describe this feeling the Autumn day had inspired within me?

From the tree to our breakfast compote…

 

Hygge with a capitalist twist.

The Scandinavians call it ‘hygge’

You might have heard of it. The Scandinavians will tell you it can’t really be defined. And then they’ll tell you it kind of means “creating a warm atmosphere and enjoying the good things in life with good people”.

This wander with the wife is hygge for me. Snuggling up to the fire back home as well. (We’ve got a fireplace in the Drawing Room for our guests in case you were wondering.)

The Scandinavians have a word for it. Surely we must have one.

Hygge or a wet, damp hole?

Last year, VisitScotland took the Scottish Gaelic word Còsagach and repackaged it as Scotland’s version of hygge. They told us it meant ‘snug, sheltered or cosy’.

They didn’t get it quite right apparently.

 

Last chance for the berries!

Mark Wringe, a senior lecturer at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, Skye’s Gaelic language college described the word còsagach as “an adjective derived from còsag, a wee nook or hole such as very small creatures might live in.”

Gaelic language novelist Calum L MacLeòid said “if squidgy, damp and lousy are really the vibe VisitScotland are going for with their version of hygge, then their opinion of the Scottish tourism sector is even lower than mine.”

Maybe we’ll just stick with hygge

A wander through the forest with the wife on a crisp autumn morning in Scotland. The Scottish sense of humour. Snuggled up in The Queens by the fire reading a book. Boardgames at Christmas with the family.

They’re all hygge for me.

What’s hygge for you?

- Judith