Friday Again

It appears that the arrival of what might be our summer has coincided with a large part of the population deciding that necessary exercise consists of sunbathing on the Meadows. I can hardly blame them as I sit in the sunshine on my patio reading. The police who patrolled so thoroughly earlier in the week when only the hardy youth impervious to the chill east wind took time to sit during their exercise, are nowhere to be seen. It seems to be lockdown only for the more mature now, and possibly the way forward, hard as it is to watch.

My 3 blips illustrate my day. I was up and out at sunrise with a coat over my nightie when I saw the mist gradually disappearing from the grass and the sun appearing from behind Arthur’s Seat. I admit to going back to bed until it was a reasonable time to get up.

My walk today took me along the canal to Craiglockhart and back by leafy Merchiston. Although the route was free of pedestrians, the roads were noticeably busier again.

I find it strange that I am happy to sit outside in the sun and read but can’t do it inside during the afternoon. The current book was recommended by a friend and brings back memories, long forgotten, of starting married life in deepest darkest Lanarkshire. The title- Motherwell by Deborah Orr.

I still remember the depression that descended when I caught sight of Ravenscraig steel works as my then husband and I drove back from a weekend with my parents in Edinburgh. The great black mass of the site was awful to behold by my east coastie eyes. It has been obliterated now. It may even have become a park.