Mug shots

Out to see the Aunt up at Balerno; we always seem to settle into such good and easy blethers - next time we resolved to meet down town.
Then, via the old gaff to pick up a pair of stepladders the boy made years ago at college and head down to the orange room, where I’m able to help him navigate the bureaucracy online with the help of my magic transportable wifi hub.
Over to the boat to fiddle awhile (it’s been on the pontoon all week - concerns have already been raised that coincidentally it’s been my week on the rota, ha) before getting home to spruce.
I’d lined up a teatime pint when it was glorious and sunny (and warm, yes, really warm) with the daughter. By teatime it was chucking it. I legged it from the bus to the bar at Dock Place - jees, a slippy as f*k slab at the corner and I was sprawling full length across the cobbles. Oh, my poor kneecaps. I was lucky enough to be unscathed apart from the scuffing of my palms, and the bruising of one shin and my pride, obviously. 
Still once, settled indoors I found that several of their beers seemed to provide excellent pain relief.