The best of a bad lot

I've had better days.

I messed up the weekly grocery shopping for my dad, so he ended up with enough loaves and fishes to feed the five thousand, but no teabags or chocolate.

After sorting that, I scooted down to Musselburgh for a photo of the boats in the harbour, but found that they'd been put to bed, or wherever boats go to for the winter. I should have paid more attention to pensioner last weekend, but I was preoccupied with trying to memorise all those names for rope.

Still in Musselburgh, I stopped off at the racecourse, but inevitably as it wasn't a race day, there were no horses.

In a last ditch attempt to get a blip, at nearly midnight I walked up to the new Apple Store to snap the gathering crowds camping overnight in anticipation of the much heralded grand opening tomorrow morning. Not a single soul was waiting. No tents, no festival atmosphere, no Elvis Costello giving an impromptu concert (as hinted at by the local TV station), no sad losers who'd come all the way from America because they've been first in the queue at every Apple Store opening since Steve Jobs was still in nappies.

So I was spoiled for choice for a blip - my dad's Weetabix, an empty harbour, a suffragette's view of a deserted racecourse, or the four security guards outside the Apple Store who took pity on me and posed in front of the redundant barriers.

Song