An early start; at Hers for 0730 on a glorious if nippy morning. GLoves were required as we wheeled the bikes out and set in for a head wind slog to Falkirk. A slightly belated birthday breakfast catch up with the de facto MIL. We figured a 10mph average would just about get us there for 1030 but at 1000 we were only as far as Linlithgow so jumped a train (for free!; cheers, Scotfail) to Falkirk High and arrived with 4 minutes to spare. Still; 24 miles clocked up and boy was I in need of somethign to warm my hands on. Cue flat white and some avocado / eggs on toast.

Then whilst she humoured her Maw, I was let of the leash to prowl Falkirk's retail parks with a camera and eventually we grabbed a midday train back to town.

To Hers and the aftermath of the G birthday sleepover (not too deadly) and for the 6th Saturday in a row, I harboured ambitions of meeting Pensioner at the fitba. Alas he was cosmically speculating elsewhere so me 'n' Her watched what was an even and sometimes entertaining game as Hertz huffed against Kilmarnock's stoicism with occasional guile. And so when the 86 minute winner appeared for Killie it wasn't a total surprise. She was amazed at the fickleness of the home support who appeared to get up en masse and filter out the door.

Back again to Hers and I conjoured up a BBQ sauce to accompany the gargantuan pork chops I'd 'sourced' and fuck me isn't Britain's Got Talent crap?

FT WildlifePhotgrapher is alive and well and shooting crows in Falkirk...no no no not like that...Chris Packham would be right on my case...