Not toilet paper

Mike and I take a walk into “nature”. From the vantage point at the top of the hill we take in the valley, running up towards Edinburgh, bordered by the Pentlands. I admit that I don’t know exactly where the Pentlands end and the Broughton Heights begins.

Angus returns, hungover, unslept. Mike leaves. I move insulation from the pallet left in the middle of our parking spot to the building site. It’s made from recycled polyester - and I’m looking forward to working with it.

Claire is looking for her driving license. It’s not to be found at Kirkurd or Kinghorn. A new one will need to be obtained - so that she can be censured officially for speeding in England.