Back to the grind; on what should have been the first day of our Easter week together. Instead I logged on whilst them lads slept and eventually both were through, asking for breakfast. 
Duly done, but I didn't a keep a close enough eye on Zander who's reading was off the scale high towards lunchtime. I factored in a tattie scone that wasn't eaten - oops!

A walk at lunchtime to stretch their long legs - not for long though but we managed to attract sideways glances from the constabulary 4 times in the 25 minutes we were out.

The constabulary were to feature later - we dived out for milk to Scotmid at Boswall; and in hindsight I should have been paying more attention - a guy with a hood and a mask on got to the head of the queue just after me - I'd been aware of him as he was standing about 6 inches behind me in the queue and I'd turned round and asked him to back the f up. He made a point of justifying his mask, saying it made it safer for him to stand closer than 2 metres but I insisted he step away. As I was getting served I could hear him demand money from the guy at the till. The assistant clearly thought he was not serious and the lad then bounded over the counter, threatening to pull a knife from the back of his jeans (which never materialised). To his credit the guy that was serving me got straight onto his phone for the police, and the other one just stood there and went 'Nut, ya fanny, awa wi you' which got him a smack in the teeth. But our brave assailant then had to deal with a customer who threw a basket of biscuits at him, kncoking him over, before chasing him out the shop with his boot up his erse. 
Tom managed to get his reg number (no getaway driver, a solo job) and a description which was duly passed to Tattoo Tony (local beat cop) before we went home, all a little buzzy. It was more comic than serious; I left my number with the store in case they needed a witness, but I've heard nowt. 

Strange times, eh.