Greens and blues

An unusually productive day found me up with the lark and on the bus to go to the garage to pick up my sick car. I swear it's a hypochondriac.

Unusually, the bill wasn't as breathtaking as expected, so I took myself off to the large flatpack emporium to buy a bookcase to house the vast overflow of novels that's taking over the property (and, of course, all my new photography books). The thing about Ikea is the annoying struggle to get heavy things to the car without the faff of moving the car to the designated area while hoping that no-one nicks your stuff during the process. The sheer cumbersome nature of my purchases meant I didn't even have enough hands for the customary ice cream at the end. Disaster. Anyway, at the other end, a neighbour kindly helped me unload the car in exchange for me helping him carry his new and vulgar 42" telly into his hall.

The day was nicely rounded off with some boisterous tennis - with a borrowed racket due to my own having been apparently half-inched by a budding Andy Murray of the future when my back was turned for ten days.

This blip was taken on the way home. The weather over Fife was looking distinctly ominous.