All that Remains

It felt as if I had stepped into a holiday destination this morning with the temperature of 9° at 9am - no hat, no scarf, no gloves, thinner jacket. I looked at my phone which said it would be 12° in the afternoon. Last week it was -4°. It just goes to show the vagaries of a British climate. The bad news was there was a constant drizzle from midday which made the decision to stay indoors a very easy one.

I baked an Orkney Beremeal and oat farmhouse loaf with the flour I had in the house and it came out of the oven just before David and Luca came by and stood on the patio for a chat. They of course left with half of the loaf, still warm.

Since then I have been waging a losing battle with His Lordship’s MacBook. Ink cartridges were replaced successfully but my attempt to sign in or even create an account to use Word was a failure. I’m not even sure I’m locked out for eternity because they said I had far to many attempts to get the password correct. You win some you lose some.

I passed these remains of a bicycle in George Square this morning. Someone has comprehensively creamed off everything save for the last remaining twisted wheel.

I also notice as I do the rounds past the racks of ‘Just Eat’ bikes to hire throughout the city centre that people must come in the dead of night with metal cutters to cut through the holding metal parts of the parking bays to release the bikes for free. There is absolutely nothing sacred to some people. I don’t know what the culprits do with the bikes once they have them;they are hardly things of beauty or of marketable value. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few were in the canal.