Home Truths

An afternoon of art - as I decided that I’d missed out on too much over the preceding few weeks. Hidden Door it was, though just the free afternoon admittance. And it was great. A couple of bands were doing lengthy sound checks, there were outside bars, and the sun was shining. Best of all was a room full of the works of one Vincent Inch (b.1922), who taught art at the school, before publishing a memoir of scabrous reminiscences of Edinburgh’s post war art scene a few years before his death in 2020. I bought the book. It was of course, entirely fictitious. But hey, the sad truth is that truth doesn’t matter. The great liar squats over us all.

Later we took the boat over to the mooring to avoid the outrageous £12.60 Saturday night pontoon fee. It was hellishly difficult in the gusting wind and the SK struggled up front to get the buoy, even gouging her shin in the process. I’m sure she agrees it was worth it.