Through a Close Darkly

This is the much photographed Advocates Close off the High Street. I was there early enough to be able to photograph it empty, but tourists were waiting in the wings to see what I was blipping and to then bring forth their cameras.
There is such a disparity between the dour greyness of the ancient stone buildings in the Old Town and the garish Ferris wheel and illuminated attractions nearby in Princes Street Gardens.

The town was seething with humanity-not only tourists savouring the tackiness of the Christmas markets, but locals, wallets bursting with the end of the month’s wages intent on spending. I have two grandchildren’s birthdays before Christmas, hence my reason for being out and about this morning.

It is particularly hard to walk among the festive crowds and feel any part of their excitement when one’s mind is fixated on the death of a loved one. This is the second funeral I have had to arrange in the weeks running up to Christmas. My mother died on the 15th December 1984 and it was hard then to get everything organised before things shut for the holidays.

The sympathy cards drop on the mat and my first unconscious move is to go towards his man cave behind THE DOOR and share them with him and then I remember..........