Under the A7 / Eskbank

It all started when I bumped into Ambioran the other day. Previously the 3rd best placed Cigspotter [..citation required..] had yelled at me as we passed each other near the red bridge on the N Embra cycle path as I sped homewards 6 months ago, and he did likewise. But as She and I were heading for some supplies during my lunch hour, a fit looking gentleman ran passed, did a double take and turned back. And so we had a 45 second formal introduction. 
As is befitting of my lack of social grace, I made sure in the limited time available (he had a meeting, I had to be in George St for an appointment) that I asked about any recent Cigspotting activity. Despite near misses, there were none. I remarked that the ones that were still out in the wild were becoming less and less likely to spot. But we agreed to keep on keeping on.

And so to Friday. A frankly dispiriting day. After the school drop off, I got mired in terse correspondence with my landlord, a joyous energy supplier switch (for the 2nd time; the fucked it up at the first time of asking), school fitba admin, a conversation with the guy fitting the new bike shed door as we compared notes on the incompitence of previously slated landlord (as a contractor he spent 22 minutes on a call to go through the main switch board to get transferred to the local office to sit on hold whilst they tried to locate the person who'd organised the work order. To be then told he had to drive 26 miles to get a key to access the job before he could even begin, and despite showing him my keys for the secure area, he wasn't able to let me have keys for it so another weekend of episodes of the hilarious sit com Bikes in the Living room'. )
Oh did I mention the gas engineer came for his PM visit at 0825; just as I'm walking out the door to drop Zander off at school? 

I was halfway through my second can of Merrydown and 3rd rerun of Jeremy Kyle when the day took a turn for the better.

As I was drowning my sorrows, I was idly scrolling through Instagran and noticed a recent posting by Skem (or possibly Kebab?) and nestling in the corner of the shot (posted by the imaginatively titled Edinburgh Graffiti - it posts photos of - erm graffiti in / around Edinburgh..) was a recognisable C and an I.
I sent a speedy DM - the post had only just gone up. In 3 minutes I had a vague location (near Dobbie's at Lass wade, there's a couple of tunnels under the road there) and downed the rest of the cider and was off.

A grand day to be out on the bike; despite the odd southerly head wind that hindered but cooled. And so I swept past Dobbies and swung right at the roundabout. Big wire fences everywhere. Hmmmm. So I slowly headed of down the A7; and across the River North Esk. As I peered over the edge into the abyss (or Midlothian as it's known locally) I could see a path below. But unsure if this is where I needed to be, I kept on south and popped off the A7 over a fence and explored the south side underneath the bridge. Plenty paint on concrete but no Cigs; no big name taggers.
Back up onto the bridge and south some more. The A7 on a bike at Friday rush half pissed on cheap cider is not a good look. So into Eskbank ; hard left at the Justin Lees and back out; a wrong turn into a private house and eventually into the Melville Castle road.

There were a couple of cars parked by a gate and a sign for a bridle path. So off into the sylvan wonderland I strode.

3 minutes later - a Cigs. And another. And another. One 2019, one 2017 and one marked Too Much Valium. 

But I knew there was another tunnel so off I went; turned right under the A7 and through some nettles and thistles and 3 minutes later - another Cigs. And another. And another. Valley of the Kings, so it wiz. So I spent a pleasant half hour photographing them and mentally preparing myself for the task of enticing Her to come and join me to enliven some of the future blips.

I reported in to my sponsor and I believe the share price rallied strongly in the final hour of trading for the week. The timing's not excellent, but I await Tokyo opening on Monday with a hopeful feeling. And as with Magi and the lanes off Rose St, it just takes a little impetus from another interested blipper and viola!

A Fuck Yeah! Friday. And now I've swilled down the last of the tea, I'm off for another 25 miles to snaffle another blip ahead of the Pieute street party this afternoon. 

Silver infill; royal blue outline; dated 2017. A bastard to shoot with the overgrown foliage. Maybe a winter jaunt here is required.