Off to the Northlands

Our departure to the Northlands is imminent: Cases packed, flight checked in online, buckets emptied, fridge cleaned, all ship shape and bristol fashion.
All that remains is to hand over the keys to Budapest boy and give him last minute instructions about leaving the house the way I'd like to find it when we return.

With the dire predictions of a cold week ahead with strong NE winds, his Lordship is wearing so much thermal underwear that he feels it difficult to move.
I have a more optimistic outlook and besides, I can't fit any thermal things under my clothes, but I don't think we'll find it as cold as we imagine it might be.

It's ironic that despite all the police presence in the Meadows last week, lest the evicted tented brigade from St Andrew Square set up in the park, the minute no-one is patrolling anymore, a posse of tents has sprung up like mushrooms overnight with not a policeman in sight.

Perhaps it has nothing to do with the 'regime change' activists, but whatever the reason for their being there, the facts are that they are dangerously placed on a football area with the probability of having a football kicked into their midst, and there are no toilet facilities within half a mile if you don't count the trees.

We await developments; who knows, when we come back we may find a small township of tents on our back doorstep.