We wiz robbed ...

Actually my day wasn't as disgruntled as that title suggests - just a wee bit of it. After last evening's jolly I had a relaxed start, pottering downstairs at 9am with the sudden realisation that if I didn't get a loaf on there'd be no lunch; things began to move on thereafter. I rang Di to discuss making porridge with pinhead oatmeal (I've had some for several weeks without trying it), as a result of which I learned that she was on her way into town. So she came for coffee and then we went out together, she to a meeting while I staggered home from the Health Shop under the weight of 3 kilos of bread flour, a litre each of laundry liquid and shower spray, and some vitamins. 

That safely home, I went out with Himself to run through an anthem for tomorrow's service - the soprano line of a piece in which I've sung alto, transposed and accompanied by organ. I just hope I don't slip down to my usual part tomorrow.

Because the bread was a little late in finishing, we ate our lunch with the rugby. 80 minutes of high tension culminating in that Scottish try that was declared invalid because, said the ref, the ball hadn't landed on the ground. Reader, we saw it on the ground, between the feet and the big legs, on that VAR moment - we did, we did! 

Overcome by the stresses of the match, we headed out again, to walk round the West Bay in the last light. The photo shows how the sunset caught a departing ferry off the Island of Cumbrae, though up at our part of the Firth it remained resolutely cloudy. It seemed half the town had had the same idea as us - the prom was busy, and people were saying "hello" to strangers as if somehow bonded by nothing tangible. 

#1 son phoned before dinner, safely home from hospital and feeling much happier. A photo posted later showed one of the cats sitting on his knee, so all is obviously well. Thanks all for sympathy extended!