Through the Balusters Darkly

It's Wednesday again, but I'm afraid I can't ask you in for coffee this morning: things to do, people to see.

It is not that His Lordship is in residence, because he has, although in apparent agony with a pulled muscle in his back, decided against all reason and advice to hobble forth for his foray to the Biggar hills with the 'lads'.( I use the term loosely). Kill or cure, seems to be his motto.

I am afraid I had delusions of size this morning and decided to exchange the trousers I bought yesterday for a size smaller. How are the vain brought down to earth. It was alas my thighs, which bear an uncanny similarity to those of Sir Chris Hoy, that let me down. That will teach me not to get carried away by weight loss.

It felt a little milder today than of late, 11 degrees ( but feeling like 8) compared with 20 degrees in London. However the trees are loving the double figures and are beginning to sport fat buds and new fragile leaves. Soon we will have a veil of greenery in front of the Dower House. It seems overlong since the last time.

This is the view from the Scotsman Hotel looking through the balusters to a refurbished Waverley Station, the old North British Hotel ( now the Balmoral), and Waverley Gate ( the old head Post office), wherein is the 'See Us' exhibition.