I really wish I could convey the eerie, quiet beauty of this place. If it tell you that all the sound I could hear was the call of a blackbird, the rushing of the river and gentle slap of the waterfall that I'd had to walk behind falling on the rock. The light filtered through the fog, filtering out all the other background noise so that it felt as if I might, at this moment in time, have been the only man in the world.



I had, again, planned a day of revision, but Theo called me at 11 with the words 'do'ya want to go on an adventure?', a question to which I always hope my answer can be yes. I cycled to meet them at Roslin, home of the Rosslyn chapel of holy grail fame. We walked around the castle, around the woods with amazing, twisted ancient oaks, and back in the village joined the mothers' day crowds for a roast lunch.

They had to catch the bus home at 5, so I took another explore down into the gorge. Calved out of sandstone, the riverbed itself is rock, in a rock cradle. I loved it. You could walk along a platform cut by the water, a few inches above today's river level. That's how I found myself here.

Back home, collapsed with a tea and digestive. Meg and Sean cooked a lovely flat meal.

I plan to return as soon as the sun comes out. I feel it's perfect picnic territory.