The Last Resort

You can tell from my blip offering that today was not a good day on the photographic front. It was not a good day for the consumption of unhealthy calories either.
With the sun up and sunshine creeping over the Meadows at an early hour, I felt emboldened to cycle up to Bruntsfield and consume a croissant . The latter’s calories hardly equates to the effort expended in cycling a mile, but it was a mile further than I have cycled for a long time, and it felt good. But enough unto the day is the evil thereof, so I ditched the bike to spend time reading the Sunday papers before wolfing down a savoury scone in Söderberg. I was reckless in my pursuit of comfort eating, and now I must pay the price in pounds.

As if to atone for my greed, I tramped around the locality this afternoon ending up in the bike shop looking at cycling jackets to replace the one that is now too big for my reduced frame. What is it with cycling clothes for women that the sizing bears no resemblance to fashion sizing. Even the consumption of a croissant and a savoury scone in the space of 3 hours should not mean I have to go up 2 or 3 sizes to get a jacket with enough room to fit a cycling jersey underneath.
No purchase was made

For anyone remotely interested in my flower selection, you have my Easter cactus, my wall climbing hydrangea petiolaris, my ground cover Vinca, and some other random moth eaten primula.