The Sunday feeling

While I thought yesterday was Saturday, I am hopelessly thinking this is Sunday. It feels a bit  Sundayish, maybe because my routine has been knocked for six. The daughter was working in the gallery today and wasn’t  wanting to meet up for a coffee and so I decided to go down to Porty and swim with the BlueTits. The conditions weren’t ideal in that I knew the tide was low but I hadn’t realise just how low. It was a 50yd walk from where we changed to get to the water and then another 50yds to wade in until the water was deep enough to swim. I felt I could have walked over to Fife. However the sun shone, the wind didn’t blow and it was mild. 
I afforded myself the luxury of an Uber home. While I am quite prepared on my journey to the sea to walk to Princes Street and catch the #26 bus, the reverse is never appealing especially if I have to go along Princes Street looking like an aged, ragged, unkempt mermaid.

The domestic goddess inside this aged mermaid has made an almond and gluten free orange cake to freeze for my next book group meeting, also a pan of embellished stovies  to use up the contents of the fridge and done a washing. I’m now sitting with a cold compress on my head after all the effort. This goddess nonsense is very tiring, I much prefer my mermaid mode.