Bacon

So, the bridge. What a saviour. It it hadn't been for thon chump of a lorry driver ignoring the signs saying the bridge was shut and getting blown over I'd have felt obliged to get on my bike again and drag my weary limbs into Edinburgh. Instead I got to slump on the bus and a train reading. 

Home to fish pie and some bacon to take out of its cure, dry off and wrap up to hang for a wee while to do some drying. Smells great. For future reference, it's spent two weeks soaking in cider, water, black pepper, fennel, bay and slices of pickled garlic. It goes a strange colour on the outside - a sort of grey-orange. Probably the colour Trump went when the golden showers story broke.