And then it's time to go ...

A brief ear worm of Leonard Cohen there ... and we weren't having a sip of wine and a cigarette in this photo of what was essentially a wee breakfast party. Our wonderful, accommodating friends, with whom I always feel I could just settle down and stay for a week while I'm at it, entertained our #2 son to breakfast this morning so that he could bring me some Mothers' Day chocolates and say hello before we left for home, and the result was a really jolly hour of relaxed chat about such diverse subjects as flights from Kuala Lumpur and the reasons behind the demise of Ocean Terminal, as you do. At breakfast. And then he scooted off back to Edinburgh to meet someone and we packed our bags and were off by 11am and on the ferry at 12.30pm, having realised how much closer East Calder is to home than Newhaven is!

Lunch was a plate of oatcakes and cheese in front of the Scotland-Italy rugby (the bread was all still in the freezer) and then we went out in the desultory rain and the not-at-all-desultory wind for a brisk walk by the sea, having spent far too much time sitting around and drinking for the past couple of days. The tide was way, way out and a couple walking their dogs on the sandbanks looked as if they were halfway to Rothesay. 

I decided to pre-empt Mothering Sunday and open a bottle of pink prosecco which was among some goodies waiting for me in our neighbour's porch, so dinner was jolly and the aftermath comatose. Not as bad as last night, however - I've decided to let the incoherent ramblings of yesterday's blip remain as a testimony to the difficulty of writing sense on a phone when you're actually asleep.

Tomorrow there is work to be done in both speaking and singing departments, and I need my wits about me. To bed, to bed ...