The Sausage Rolls

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellows,

Jasper seems very happy with his new life. Here's our little sausage, rolling around in the sun. And as you can see, it was quite the effort for the poor little chap.

It struck me this morning that we are now at the 3rd anniversary of my leaving Edinburgh. Back when we were in Stockbridge, I remember Caro telling the cats that one day they would have a garden in New Zealand and get to run around with grass under their feet*.

Seeing all this come to fruition, and how happy it has made them makes us happy. There is no doubt about this.

All the same. There are days when I long to step out of my front door and stroll along Stockbridge high street. I'd pick myself up something from Greggs and then cut through Arboretum Avenue by the Water of Leith and head into the botanics. I remember going in there one time and a fox came along and shared my sausage roll. 

I often have these imaginary walks around Edinburgh in my head. And then I wonder where I would go and where I would stay and what I would do if I came back for a visit. 

But I'm torn, because if I came back it will be all different, and that is just not right. Also, I have my mini-botanics out the back door. Maybe no foxes, but lots of large, lazy cats.

No Greggs sausage rolls though. That's harsh. If I do ever come back for a visit, I will have to triangulate between the nearest source of sausage rolls. 

S.

* We have quite long conversations with our cats. Just shut up about it.