Chalk and cheese

Bright sunshine greeted me this morning as I opened the curtains, and it's been more or less like that until this evening, when there is, I think, quite a spectacular sunset going on round the other side of the building (I can only see it reflected right now in the famous "stairwell").

I was going to walk to work, but I wimped out of walking the whole way because of concerns I'd be too tired this evening if I did. So I got the bus to St. Andrew's Square, and - after a detour to the bank to unblock the pin on my credit card - I walked the rest of the way, past all manner of tourists enjoying themselves (and getting in my way). I was particularly irritated by the people blocking the pavement next to Greyfriars Bobby, and pawing his nose manically. Later on, I completed my steps by walking back to the Traverse, enjoying the Meadows on a sunny, if chilly, afternoon. I'll miss the Meadows when I move out of my current office in less than 2 months time.

We roadtested Dine, and pronounced its Market Menu to be excellent, and then enjoyed Shackleton at the Traverse. A tour de force of mime in our view, with a hypnotic and effective soundtrack, although the gentleman sitting next to Mr A absolutely hated it. I was transfixed. I could see, however, how it might divide opinions.

Home to enjoy the gloaming as the evenings stretch out almost as far as they will go this year.

Dreading the next two days. And probably the next five years. But at least today there remains some hope.

Update: he finally got round to photographing it and blipping it, but it was better earlier. I know, because I was watching.