Look, no pedals

It's grey and mild. Claire gets back from Cheryl's and heads off to her next appointment. Angus starts building up his new bike frame - there's a problem with the old bottom bracket that stops the job. I bumble through the day without achieving much.

We treat ourselves to dinner at Osso and leave Angus in Peebles to hang out. He did some maths and modern studies today, but might not be in any state to do more tomorrow.

And talking of states, Stewart came round later with some gin and stayed to help me drink whisky. We got as far back as Islands by King Crimson before his mobile warbled merrily with a family summons to get home. He boldly disappeared into the darkness to "face the music."