Muffins on the Beach

After dropping my car off at Seafield this morning, I wandered along the promenade to Portobello. I only tend to find myself at the promenade when I'm out for a run - and as such it is generally frowned upon to stop and have a latte and muffin half way through an 8 mile run.

No such restrictions today. It was deliciously deserted on a Monday morning, and the only other folk about were rugby players pounding along on a training run, and dog walkers. The dogs were less handsome than in my last beach walk, which was in Padstow, but considerably more mental. Springer spaniels were bouncing about like bams; an overweight Rottweiler was stomping around like a Mitchell brother; and the teeny tiniest Jack Russells were standing on the sea wall with a proprietary air. How do they get up there?