High Pressure

We had an breakfast visit from son #1, down from the Northlands for a lawyery meeting about new European legislation on employment in the Playfair Hall of Old College this morning.
At least that's what I think it's about, but with a roomful of lawyers what ever is discussed it will be mighty dull I imagine.

To ensure he stayed awake for the duration he needed a coffee, but as an afficionado of the same, he declined his Lordship's offer of a cup of the instant stuff and instead we repaired to Peter's Yard for the real McCoy where we discussed grandchildren, recession, family benefits and other such important issues of the day while tucking into buns and people watching. It's amazing how busy that place is before 9am
Too soon he was off but hopefully the coffee will have kept him awake.

I went into town by myself having learned my lesson of yesterday, to buy a cheese cellar, a plastic box affair which the shops of the Lakes sells in which you plonk your cheese. We left the old one which was getting on in years and a bit battered behind in the castle.
Because a friend said her weight loss was down to banning cheese, we have not eaten any Camembert, Cheddar, Gloucester or Brie for 6 weeks and it has been a kind of torture. What is worse is that not an ounce of avoirdupois has been lost for the effort. And so we stocked up on cheese yesterday. I tell myself it is needed to offset any likely osteoporosis. A very palatable medicine indeed.

Edinburgh seems to be in the epicentre of high pressure, which made today a gloomy affair and the buildings of the old town loomed grey, misty and forbidding as a backdrop to the autumn foliage.