On a Cold and Frosty Morning

I braved hypothermia this morning to record the first blood red winter sunrise over a Meadows white with frost.
It was so cold today (officially feeling like -1°) that the trees shed their leaves like confetti as I cycled underneath them on the paths to Bruntsfield.
It was an outing more for my new Brompton than anything else, a chance to get familiar with the gears. I was somewhat alarmed on a few occasions to see potholes on the main roads in the cycling lanes that had the same diameter as my wheels. It’s not acceptable that the Capital city of what the Nationalist describe as a wealthy country should have main roads that are a patchwork of holes and lumpy tarmac repairs crumbling at the edges. Fortunately I was able to avoid the worst of them and not get run down by cars at my back.

I made a purchase today of a sheepskin rug for the side of my bed, to replace the North Ronaldsay one which I have had for at least 30years and which is beginning to look it’s age. The new one belonged to a sheep considerably bigger than the wiry North Ronaldsay one living off seaweed beyond that island’s encompassing wall.