A9

Down the road back home. Via a stop in at the House of Bruar. First time ever. Better than your average Scots tat, but it’s still a queasy experience pressing into holidaying throngs. Bought some fishing flies, mind. Some buzzers and a couple of goldhead nymphs. Back to the car and more blethers. I’ve declared the car a “safe space” as I believe that is much sought after these days. One needs safe spaces to discuss issues free of intimidation. Yes. A place to call tripe tripe. 
Home to a soaking wet Edinburgh which put the kibosh on the idea to cycle to the Dreadnought for a Friday teatime pint. But, by a remarkable coincidence, the SK was heading in roughly that-a-direction in her car and she offered me a lift. Not sure it’s such a safe space mind. For all sorts of reasons. Haw.