Of Roses, red and otherwise

Another of those alarmingly swift days in which you run simply to stay still, all under a blue sky which called for outdoors activities and cheerfulness. It wasn't sunny throughout, but when I was hanging out a washing after breakfast, even the pale grey morning felt mild enough to be out in a t-shirt. I had plans ...

But I also had an hour of teaching to do, so fortified by a strong coffee I plunged into the intricacies of the good Critical Essay. It's not easy to make up for months of your student thinking the bald statement of terminology will demonstrate sufficient knowledge - not when you have only five weeks to put things right. I was poleaxed by the end of the hour. In conversation later, my son pointed out that a teacher online has to expend so much more energy than in the classroom just to project her personality and engage with students - he'd been watching his own children at online lessons.

After that I spent several hours in the garden pruning roses and then pulling out dead plants from the border, as well as attacking the ivy which every year threatens to advance from the old stone wall and engulf everything. We were amazed when our neighbour started on his side of the wall for the first time in living memory; we spent some time speculating as to whether in fact he'd cut the roots, in which case we'll have a great brown mass of deadness to deal with soon ...

Lunch in the garden again provided some respite, but the projected visit to church to make another recording of a piece didn't happen - we ran out of time and energy. Instead, we watched the pink eastern sky echo the brilliant sunset, and listened again to a recording made by our Russian friend Jurij of his choir, Voskresenije, singing Himself's arrangement of A Red, Red Rose somewhere with a lovely acoustic - we came across a link to it on Facebook. Vitalii, the soloist, has a remarkable voice; the photo shows him and the lovely Anatoly, the oktavist, against the background of the Firth of Clyde from our study window. Music and singing are never mentioned in those briefings about returning to normal life in this pandemic, and yet for so many of us this is a major part of our lives.

To end on a cheerful note, however: I learned this afternoon that my older grandson, who is 12, was out "walking with friends" on The Meadows at the end of the afternoon. It sounds very civilised and very grown-up. Apparently the highlight includes calling into a Greggs for some sustenance - how very Edinburgh this Londoner has become!