oaves

It might only be a lump of concretey stuff painted white several times, finished with a red stripe then unceremoniously plonked in Castle Terrace car park to stop people squeezing around the side of a barrier but it's far more intelligent and thoughtful than a good many flesh-and-blood human people.

Rejoice! In the apparent one-up-one-down building policy seemingly in place at the moment the horrible grey pile of crap on the corner of West Port and Lady Lawson Street (featuring the lovely threatening K. Jackon's bar) is finally going the way of the almost identical pile of grey horrible crap which has been replaced by Novotel at the Lauriston Place end. It means I'll have to remember to start avoiding it on the way into work as I don't like breathing in building-dust and would rather my eyes were not infested by little bits of grit.
Only a short walk at lunchtime as I was waylaid by people wanting things again. Spotted a mysterious chap in Charlotte Square who climbed over the fence, wiped his bicycle-helmet several times on the grass between the emerging crocusblooms, hooked it carefully over the railings, climbed with some difficulty (the trousers) back over then bicycled away. Maybe he was rehearsing for the festival. Maybe the three wide monkeys shouting and leching on the scaffold on Shandwick Place spat on him as he went past in much the same way as they spat seemingly at random at buses, pigeons and molecules of air.

Finished at a mildly more civilised time this evening and trundled through the car park on the way back. Briefly tempted by some things which I shall save for a rainy day but got the block thing above (behind which are some steps) before proceeding up then down again to the wee steps and elevated path thing leading to Victoria Terrace where things became rapidly less civilised.

I was about to start trying to get pictures of the little alley down the side of Khushis when a pair of (and I use the term with feeling) fucking stupid drunken bastard racist arsewits shouldered their way past the bloke who looked like he was cleaning out mop buckets outside the side door to the building. Arsewit #1 must have made some kind of arsewitty comment to the bloke who shrugged it off and carried on with his work. After a bit more of the same arsewit #2 approached and attempted to retrieve his companion so that they might stagger further down the street. Arsewit #1 took offence at this and began a mildly physical altercation with his colleague, seemingly forgetting about the mop-bucket-cleaning guy who then stepped up to try and separate the two arsewits. Who then turned on him: luckily they weren't serious or couldn't be bothered but after pulling him over and wrestling lightly they continued, shouting unintelligibly at him, the people across the street (including a taxi driver shouting "leave it, there's too many people about" which might have been helpfully meant though grammatically incorrect but might also be taken to read "were there not so many people about, go ahead") and probably the lamp-posts along the street for not being the right height.
By this time I'd got through to the police and given a description and heading as the wankers reached and turned along the Grassmarket. They said they'd circulate a description and keep an eye out for them. The guy they were picking on had gone back to his task. Whilst waiting to be connected to the polices I did think to try and take some pictures in case things escalated and the police needed evidence but wasn't thinking properly and didn't just switch to ISO-pushing sports mode as I remembered that the flash would be disabled though it would have probably worked. Something to try and remember if such a situation occurs again. Trotted back up to Johnson Terrace to see if I could spot them but they didn't reappear. I expect they went in to replenish their teenytiny brains with alcohol.

Then I went home for my tea.