Out alone

I liked the way these trees were silhouetted in Princes Street Gardens as the sun tried to break through this morning.

His Lordship has taken to his bed;he has succumbed to a chesty cold of the man variety, and is putting on a bravura performance of abject misery which I am trying to ignore in the hope that a little less sympathy than his mother would have given him will have him up and dancing soon.

And so I am a 'feel my fevered brow' widow today, and after checking that he was comfortable, I set out on my travels with camera and new fitness bangle which is still not entirely playing ball with me.
It did note though that I had a restless night on 7 occasions last night. Really? I would have thought that was a very conservative estimate given my sleep interfering preoccupation trying to figure out why the only digital gadget this thing will sync with is my IPhone.

Now I must put on my Florence face and see if the patient wants some lunch. He does not appear to be off his food, just his feet.