It's late ...

Well, it's late still to be in my outdoor jacket and desperate for tea and toast and marmalade (it's choir night) and suddenly find that I've not taken a single photo all day! So this is a real blip of desperation - the view in front of me as I realised this thing. In my defence, I've been busy at non-photogenic things like hanging out washing in a chilly gale (it felt like one) and visiting my sports therapist, and then too busy singing lovely Byrd to take photos. 

So here you see my desk. The sharp-eyed might notice a tiny glass of whisky (Campbeltown whisky) which is medicinal (really) - I don't usually quaff whisky after choir. My spec case is there because I use the same focal length for reading music on a stand as I do at the computer. The poetry book is one I took of my shelf while waiting for the iron to warm up, and discovered a hitherto unfamiliar Edwin Morgan poem about the death of a priest on Arran - I posted it on Facebook earlier for such friends as are interested in That Sort of Thing. And on the wall, dimly behind the desk lamp, you can see a small painting of Ailsa Craig (right) and to the left of it the copy of an icon of St John the Hermit, which I bought in a monastery in Crete close to where he was a hermit. I love it - it tells his whole fantastical tale in pictures.

And on the computer screen? My last photo of the pond in Benmore Gardens in the sunshine, taken last week when I was with my granddaughters. I guess my desk sums me up pretty well, really.

Apart from the whisky ...