Sunset at speed

Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.

Morning is greeted with tea and oat milk. Al’s hip is in pain and there’s a cistern to be changed. It’s time for me to go.

In Islington I meet up with Aslak. We eat a crepe and talk Cucumber. It’s a hurried get together - he has friends coming round for sushi and I need to get packed.

Another couple of bus journeys see me at Kings Cross. I grab a bag of M&S salads, find a seat in the quiet carriage, and make myself comfortable.

Five and a half hours later, I’m in nighttime Edinburgh, climbing the garish Scotsman steps. And then I’m home.