Grotty

There is not much of beauty that appeals to the blipping eye on the early Sunday morning march to the temple of toast, especially if the wind is threatening to blow of our bunnets and rain is waiting on its wings.

There is plenty of seediness around after a Saturday night of local debauchery in Tollcross, but this corner beside the public toilets opposite the fire station gives a vivid description of what is on offer.
Nevertheless the walk back home through the Meadows is so pleasant even in the face of driving drizzle that all memories of grotty corners are forgotten until given prominence on these pages.

The brightness in the sky at lunch time yesterday, which I thought might have been an omen for the Scottish rugby team to win the Calcutta cup, was misplaced. I can't exactly say 'we wis robbed', but watching the match raised my blood pressure to an unacceptable level. The better team won and we Scots take defeat like men, but 'smugness' is hard to watch.