The Wall

Hardly even a wall really, it's a slate seat at The Fisherman's Wharf in Leith.

I was meant to have coffee with my now recovering pal, but a bad night put paid to that. Yesterday's coffee with another not so recovering pal had me highly amused. Our conversation is normally about how much walking we should be doing and how much less cake we should be eating. Her illness has seen her lose such a lot of weight so she had a bacon roll, hot chocolate and a cake. Entertaining.

With free time I had a yearning for Leith. I sat on said 'wall' and watched the workforce striding out. I still have no desire to join them, although if my girl is going to get to University I may have to.

Later I went to harvest the pumpkins from the allotment. Poor babies, they have grown this year in the firm belief that they are marrows. For some time they have borne green stripes and are long and cylindrical in shape as opposed to a big fat circle. They are almost completely orange and having harvested one earlier, I know that they are only marrow-ish on the outside. I think it is because I saved the seed from last year and it must have been an F1 variety. This doesn't means that they have the speed of a very very fast car driven by rabbits and rats, although I did find the remains of a fox on my plot. I don't know what got it but I am looking out for Scottish Wildcats, and edging ever closer to my Elmer Fudd rifle.