Flashback to winter

What an increasingly wild day this has been! (No, I'm not just thinking about politics...) Woke early, feeling (and I hate to admit this) tense because of the necessity to get some shopping accomplished. (I notice that the acquisition of a larderful of food has become much more of A Thing since the pandemic began - real survivalist stuff. And when did I last use parenthesis with such glad abandon?) When I consider that we were only recently having our lunch outside in the garden, the view over the town towards the northern hills at 8am came as quite a shock. Snow, right down to the lower slopes. But the Click & Collect worked, up to a point; I left the boys loading my messages into the boot and scurried into the pretty empty shop to pick up the chicken fillets that, unaccountably, had not been available for my order, put together all of half an hour earlier. 

That excitement over, the rest of the day just happened. I did some Italian, I Facetimed my pal over coffee to marvel at the grotesque political scenario evolving by the day (Tommy Sheridan. Kenny McAskill. And, on another front, George Galloway. What, I ask myself - and you, dear reader - do these people have in common?)

And in the afternoon, a walk. An exhausting walk because by now the wind had turned into a near-gale and was very hard work. Madly, we chose the shore road facing south, whence the wind did blow. But there were daffodils, and white-topped waves to look at, and the undoubted enjoyment of stopping when it was over, rather like the man who beat his head on the wall, because it was lovely when he stopped. I shall add an extra to show the amazing daffodils that pepper this coast road, presumably from people dumping garden waste in the past. 

And now, at only 11pm, I'm heading to bed, because it's actually midnight and we're going back to church tomorrow and will have to find some decent clothes and shoes to wear and not be late. Another day in the madhouse ...