Postman Pat

And his infra-red cat. Pseudo infra-red at least. There is a Postman in this photo, honest; zoom in for a better chance of spotting him.

Loving all this bright sunshine, makes for some great shadows and sharp snaps, and some contented sighs when I get a chance to wander around in it all for a bit. Long may it last.

Another Tuesday of driving between college campuses today, managing three today across two counties. One of my (female) colleagues managed to lose a handbag as she left to travel to another campus today, dropping it in the car park and driving off without it. Luckily it was found by an honest type (is there any other type in Falkirk?) and it was handed in. I was asked if I wouldn't mind taking this back to her to which I happily agreed. But, for some inexplicable reason us men (or is it just me?) have a healthy dislike for even handling one of these things, I don't even know how to hold one as evidenced by my screwed up face and bag being pinched between finger and thumb at arms length as if it was a freshly filled steaming Pampers, and I wasn't about to walk along corridors and across car parks with one clutched/strapped/dangled in full view for all to see. I have a reputation to uphold. Cue a frantic search for a carrier bag to disguise the offending item: Tesco's bag found, Every Little Helps and all that. And what thanks to I get for this? A full blown slag-fest taking place on Facebook at my expense and in my absence, that's what.

If any of you lot are reading this, and I know you are... Quit it!