Rose Street Lane North

From an unlucky omen to a lucky omen. 

Previously on Cigs (series 7 epsiode 3) Magi had been penciled in to feature on a Cigs blip. We'd signed the waiver, agreed the fee, set the date, done the make up and costume, done the dress rehearsal, got the council performer's licence sorted only to find when we got there, a graffiti scrubber was doing his best to foil our plans.

Since then, any time we've met, we've just gone straight to the pub. It's just easier that way. 

Today however, we met at lunchtime. I'm not averse to a pint at lunchtime but today we decided to walk and talk. As we were heading this way and that, I thought out loud that I had scoured every corner of Edinburgh and my chance of getting 1,000 Cigs entries was doomed to fail. I needed something like a Scara Brae sandstorm to reveal ancient artifacts previously undiscovered. No sooner had I uttered those words than I glanced over my shoulder and spied a Cigs. White paint. So off I went to investigate. 3 minutes later - a car park that holds 3 cars max had yielded 7 examples of our hero's work.  Dear reader, I uttered a profanity. Or 7. Malcolm Tucker would have blushed. 

So here's the first. With Magi. Gazing in wonder at a safe respectful distance.  Undated. For now. But the triple underline is a joy to behold.