Road Closed

So, into my fifteenth blipping year and out I did step, picking up letters from the boat club, depositing bottles (so many I could hardly carry them) in the thankfully emptied glass bin, and talking with neighbours. We have two new babies very close by, so cards had to be delivered too. That’s what communities are all about. Me being the kenspeckle kindly old gent. Maybe I should become a lollipop man, though I’d get cross at bloody motorists when I wasn’t shouting at the brattish local weans.
So,  a longer walk - to have a gawp at the wobbly tenement at Anchorfield. The reduction in traffic is most welcome. Onward to Waterstones where, picking up a sticker book for minky, I chanced upon a most marvellous book, Edinburgh: Mapping the City. Ooooft. I had to have it. 
Later though, we were stuck in the traffic so thankully diverted from the shore road, as we made our way back to Ocean Terminal. The Holdovers. What a delight of a film - totally authentic in its setting in the early seventies. Not that I lived in Boston. They say they don’t make films like they used to, but as been observed, with Alexander Payne they certainly do.