Meaningless, All Meaningless

On Saturday, given that we were in the political as well as cultural capital of Scotland, Carol and I sought out to do more refined, classy activities like visiting the museum, the theatre, and having tea. (After a night of chick flick, chips, candies, and ice cream, our bodies needed a change of pace.) As we were walking up to the museum, the wait staff at the restaurant on the top floor was looking at of their glass walls and started waving at us. It was a bit awkward. Within the museum, we realized once again how harsh life was "in the olden days" and how scary their machinery was. And we also came upon this puzzling display.
An empty display frame. Had the frame not been there, it would not have been a distraction (or attraction) at all, but then again, this is not a land of logic. And so the display remained, with a polite sign reminding you that yes, somewhere in Eddie Bert, people actually do work hard. They just don't have any work to show of it.












At the theatre, Carol and I watched "Edward Scissorhands." Our student tickets were so cheap and far back that I actually felt physically ill for being so high up. (Could also have been the gross amounts of food I consumed, but I don't like to put any blame on food when I can shift it elsewhere.) But thank God for a sparse attendance at the matinee showing that allowed us to keep moving our seats up closer and closer and closer to Edward and his scissor hands. Yeah, did anyone else know that that was a musical? (They didn't sing or talk, so maybe musical isn't the right word. Dance show? I don't know.) Yeah, Edward Scissorhands just doesn't have that same ring of pretension that you get with other shows you might see at the theatre. Ah well. You can't always look down on people. Well, we did, being so high up in our seats, but that's not what I meant.


That's Carol, trying to fit in with the classy theatre crowd. (Note my UK spelling.)





A view from the theatre. This thing is mad, mad old.








Of course I'm ending the entry with a toilet picture. Have you not learned to expect this from me already? You'd think, being the historic and wonderful theatre this place was, with the dough flowing and the ornate decadence of it all, that they would be able to expect more lights in the bathrooms and give off less of the 'suffering artist' vibe. Honestly, the darkest bathroom stall I've ever been in. Each stall is only lit by a tiny lamp above the toilet. Otherwise, the entire facility has no lights. Black doors. Black walls. Black everything. Most intimidating visit ever. Plus, you'd think the theatre could also afford some soap dispensers, or at least liquid soap. No. Each sink had a tiny, tiny sliver of bar soap. That's high society for ya.