Sunday, 12 August 2012

I love stones.

So I'm pretty much a self confessed stone lover. Holidays are a danger zone, especially seaside ones, where I tend to pick up and pocket more stones than is probably legally permitted (see bulging pockets of top picture). When we went to Wales it was all about the slate and the basalt. Fantastic craggy beaches got me hot under the collar. In Ireland, Shane and Marianna, who kindly gave us a bed in Sligo (thank you very much), saw a different side of me when let loose on a stony beach in the beginnings of a storm. I have never seen stones like that (see bottom picture). Amazing! I carried that whacking great big boulder in my rucksack through Belfast, almost triggering an angry hunger induced domestic, thankfully averted by cheap and greasy heavenly pizza from StarPizza. Hooray for StarPizza! I decided to put it in the hold luggage and only take the little pebbles (not really that little but relatively little) in my hand luggage. Just as well seeing as I got stopped and had my bag searched at the airport, the nice security lady going through all my stuff before incredulously asking if I had stones in my bag. I then proceded to unpack my haul and show her rather proudly if slightly anxiously, worried she might take them away. One of them was almost too big but all got through in the end. Not my fault they look like plastic explosives on the x-ray... Anyway, they're safe and sound at home with my fast growing brood. I'm going to have to start labelling them soon.