Roosting

Roosting hot in fact.

Twenty three degrees when I escaped work. It's October on Saturday, it's Scotland and the last time it was this warm was, funnily enough, in Falkirk in 1959 (this was mentioned on the radio as I was passing the Falkirk stadium).

All a bit surreal.

Spent most of the afternoon huddled around some hastily recovered cooling fans trying to keep cool and thinking of ways to get students out of the class and into the sunshine before they melted into big sweaty puddles all over their keyboards. And just when I thought I was going to make my escape out into the late sunshine I got roped into helping out humphing a pile of 8 x 4 exhibition boards into a van for a colleagues up-coming exhibition. Didn't mind too much, all for a good cause, but next tme I see you coming Miss R., I'm hiding. I was goosed.

Talking of which...

Took a long leisurely walk along by the River Forth to the south of Kincardine and timed it nicely to catch a few hundred pink footed geese heading home and trying to gain some height over the huge pylons to save a roasting before roosting.

See me and the burds..? Stick a feather in my hat and call me Bill Oddie.