Not Gleneagles

Well it’s back to Earth with a bump after two days of celebration and a wealth of lovely comments yesterday guaranteed to keep me blipping for a bit longer. Thank you all so much for every single one of them- my head is feeling quite swollen.

There are always corners of Central Edinburgh that tourists don’t see nor should they see. This is the back door of one of the restaurants on Frederick Street, a stone’s throw from elegant George Street and in a lane off Thistle Street. It happened to lie on our route through town to visit daughter# 1 on gallery duty in Dundas Street and was in complete contrast to the ambience of the Ivy restaurant in St Andrew Square where we rubbed shoulders with the beautiful young people as we coffee-ed.

Returning home by crowded bus to prevent frayed tempers trying to negotiate a passage uphill through the hordes, we were surprised to have two people get up to give us seats.
It is politic to be grateful for such kindness while regretting at the same time the fact that we must look old enough to be accorded such measures. Self deception is vanity personified.