Best of the day ...

I think it was about 6.30am. Certainly too soon to get up - I'd not got to bed till after midnight, and the same gremlin that woke me with the sunrise had done the same about 2.30am with a crescent moon shining  rather fetchingly on that same bit of the Firth of Clyde that now had the golden path of the rising sun laid over its lilac depths. (I tried to capture that with my camera as well, but failed. I think I was only half awake.)

Be that as it may, this was certainly the best moment of the day. By the time I was drinking tea, an hour later, the sky was grey and there was a mist over the town - a mist which later turned out to be finely wet, like the summit of a cloud-draped mountain. And since then it's been increasingly nondescript, neither pouring nor truly, trustworthily dry. But I'll blip this sleep-destroying sunrise to make up for a very short night ...