D&G

Dumfries and Galloway, that is, not the other one...

Spin down to Drumlanrig Castle, forgetting that I probably knew the Cycle Museum doesn't exist anymore. Oh, and the Castle itself was closed. But had a lovely walk in the grounds, which turned into a longer walk up to a viewpoint, and a spiffing lunch in the tearoom.

Wander back towards the road home via the bleak-but-being-tarted-up surroundings of Leadhills and Wanlockhead.

Home to let the chooks out, lock them back in, make dinner, watch GBBO, think "Haven't seen the cat in a while, should really get her in given it's getting dark and we've already had one fox visiting the garden*". Treats shaken. Plaintive meow. Shoes rushed on and torch grabbed and... It appears she was in the chicken run when I'd locked it 3 hours earlier... She must have spent the incarceration time tucked away in a corner avoiding the matriarchal form of Skye until they all roosted. She was rather clingy most of the rest of the night. 

*not that she's bothered by foxes, and generally chases them out of the garden, but every now and then one will look like it might stand up to her. Mind you, a couple of nights ago she was out, as was Fred, and a fox wandered into the garden, walked between them to go and sniff out one corner of the garden, then wandered back out between them, the two cats watching all the way, but there seemingly being some sort of weird uneasy truce.