Home juicing

Bean finds the best apple in our tree and hands it up to me. "You know what this tastes like when you first bite into it?" she asks.
"No, what?"
"Blue sky."
"You're zoomed."
"You ever eat blue sky?"
"No," I admit.
"Try it sometime," she says. "It's apple-flavored.“

I start the day with fresh apple juice. I’m not making an impact on my stock of apples, but most of them should keep for a few months anyway - especially if it stays cold.

After work, I head into town. I collect my headphone pouch from lost property at Waverley, and render the £3 finders fee. The fee neither adequately covers the paperwork needed, nor is it commensurate with my astonishment that the pouch got handed in.

Next to Straiton to collect my glasses. They fit. They work. I’ll use them on the drive home. I visit Angus in his detritus strewn hovel. He’s tired after a day in the furnace of industry. There’s a rip in his trousers which he will never sew up. Sainsbury’s trousers go from ‘Age 14’ to ‘30” regular’. What a marvellous world view.

I crash a strange Equal Experts social at the Jolly Botanist for beer, food, and networking. Jeremy, who invited me, is unable to come, but there is at least one familiar face. I have a few useful conversation too. And stuff my face with haggis pakora, onion bhaji, mini hamburgers.

My 9 o’clock sales call with Detroit has been cancelled, so I head home, via Bill’s. A cup of decaf tea and a chat later I’m heading homewards and to bed.