Come in Number 17

Up early again to get down to our marooned buoy at lower water with DrD. Having taken along his hacksaw, and me with my jemmy bar, we found it was quite easy to lift out despite the two previous attempts failing. Then I’d to lug it back as he hadn’t brought gloves. Twas perishing.
Despite the cold air, by the time the daughter arrived with her wee one at midday it was warm enough to sit out the back in the sunshine. Good to have some blethers, and it was the first time she’d seen the SK since her return. Later, the skies being blue, we continued sitting out and reading. It was a shock to go through the house and look out the front across the Forth where dark clouds loomed. Not long afterwards, said dark clouds began to tower over the house and deposit hailstones on us, so that was the end of our sunbathing. 
Later, the Baftas with our Ms Bowman and canned applause and laughter, which actually didn’t bother me at all. I need to watch Rocks, I guess. What’s this, “A Promising Young Woman” though? Must watch that too. And The Father, obvs where Hopkins likened the confusion of his character in the film to the universal disorientation caused by the pandemic: "We are in another reality; we are losing our anchors.” Aye indeed, and our buoys.