The Bridge

The fireplace man turned up late morning. No escaping the developing chaos. Walls will need stripped. Carpet lifted. I may even have rashly promised that shelves would miraculously appear in an alcove. I think I should run away to sea.
Which I did as soon as I could. The hottest day and a beauty for sailing. Got as far as the Rail Bridge which I inched under - at that moment the west wind which I'd been beating into, fell away to be replaced by a fresh breeze.... coming from just the way I'd come of course. Still, enough northerly in it to scrape back into Granton.
A fine day. No idea why I felt the need to go and see A Field in England. Still, got a pint afterwards with MrT round at The Ventoux, so it wasn't all bad.