Canalside

Something rattled his Lordship's cage this morning and his early morning smile, so ready, especially at the weekends, was replaced by a scowl daunting enough for me to decide to leave him in recovery position behind his Door whilst I went out to amuse myself.

There something to be said for wandering hither and thither with a camera, unencumbered by a husband; my time was my own, and elastic.

I cycled the canal, I blipped merrily, stopped to chat with neighbours at the Farmer's market and later had coffee and a blether with two cycling friends.

I had expected to see hordes of green and maroon scarves massing in town before their sortie to Glasgow for the Scottish Cup final, but the only scarves I saw were fashion ones snuggly wrapped round tourists trying to beat the May chill.

I have no allegiance to either side, not being a football fan, but I would like Hibs to make history by winning the cup for the first time in 110 years. Hearts of course are determined to make sure this doesn't happen and they probably have better form.

Whatever the outcome Edinburgh is preparing itself for a victory parade later in either Leith or Gorgie.
I hope the fans behave themselves.