Grey Day

It's another grey day in Dunfermline. Rain streaks the office window, and daylight is defeated by think cloud. Those at altitude are promised snow to brighten the landscape, but down here there is just rain, rain and more rain.

I look out at the building opposite - an office of the Dunfermline Building Society. I am told that the design has a strong nautical influence, with masts and stays protruding from the roof. I do wish it would set sail, as to my eye it is a blot on a skyline otherwise populated with trees.

I imagine the rains contuniuing, and the unseaworthy building starting to float. I fear it would founder quickly with it's cargo of financiers. They should have read the small print, understood that their ark was suitable for use in fair weather only.

Our building is more firmly rooted, entirely without "nautical influence", in fact without any influence. A utilitarian shell. Here I imagine the waters rising steadily up the windows, so my view changes to one reminding me of an aquarium visit. Somehow in this bleak landscape I can't imagine fish. Instead I will watch plesiosaur and ichthyosaur swim past ponderously, revived from their fossils in the Fife coal and hungry for a meal after their 90 million year hibernation.

Reality intrudes.

Blip!