Trouble at Mill

Up to Balerno to visit the aunt; she’d been putting me off as she’s had a bit of cough. But she deemed herself well enough to accompany me up to the Mill cafe at St Joseph’s where I treated her to their excellent scones and my sparkling chat. She’s nae craw* though, no sirreee. I’d told her which paper I read on a Sunday and she mentioned an article about Ron DiSantis. I hadn’t read it. She looked disapprovingly at me - I hadn’t properly read the paper at all. I must try harder. Fingers crossed to be as good as that at 92.
Later, to see My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock at the Cameo. Cheeky and insightful. Well that was one review headline, and it is very engaging. Though if you’re feeling slightly snoozy it’s probably not the one for you. My word, what a lot of films he did make. I got that.

 

* not daft. A colloquialism I collected from her sister, also a Gallovidian. Ancient. Scots. Aye, whatever.