After the fairly extreme start to the year on Sunday, yesterday was slightly calmer and less clinging-on-to-the-side-of-a-rock-expecting-to-die, thank God. Instead, myself and the guests visited Rosslyn Chapel and went for a country walk; nothing to be frightened of there, you might think. However, the steps down to the lower echelons of the chapel are steep, stone and uneven, which is about my worst nightmare, and I would usually avoid going anywhere near them, as I have done in St Peter's in Rome, the Colloseum and stairs in railway stations when I can instead take the escalator or lift. I blame this fear on a nasty experience on steps coming down from Old Budapest set high on a hill over the new city in Hungary in the dark when I was 17; more of that at some other point.
However, in the spirit of my resolution, I managed them, and later also embarked on a horribly slippy and muddy path past a sheer drop around the outskirts of the chapel grounds when usually I would have told my friends to go on and met them back at the car; the number of times I have missed out on fun experiences on using the phrase "I'll meet you back at the car/bus/assembly point/horse and trap/statue of the syphilitic dwarf" is unfunny. Well, no more. Fun, here I come! Admittedly, this time we didn't end up having any life-changing revelations and the wind RUINED my hair, but that's not the point; now I have an excellent opportunity to tackle my paralysing terror of split ends by investing in some double-strength conditioner!
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