Blossom hunt

JR had a couple of fitness sessions, so Archie and I went out for a walk. (7,613 steps). I’d seen Instagram photos of blossom on Princes Street with the Castle in the background, so I thought I’d go down and get one. But no. Those shots I’ve seen are not current! Instagram is not like blip, where we (are supposed to) post a photo from that day.

I’ve seen this boarded up shop front so often in the papers, and I’ll be glad when it opens up and removes those very annoying ‘decorations’.

Back round to the Meadows, passing my favourite cafe and stopping for a coffee and chat with my favourite waiter, Julian. 

While walking across the Meadows I spotted an old man (JR: ’He’s probably actually the same age as you...’ )  I went to thank him for what he was doing. Although all the big stuff has been picked up, the grass is covered in small things - bottle tops, those wee cartridges that young folk do something with, fag ends, but mainly - broken glass!! I helped him a bit, and then walked on. But I came to a huge area of broken bottles, mostly in tiny shards. I could not walk on. I had plenty of spare poo bags, so I picked it all up. I kept getting dizzy spells, bending up and down repeatedly. Archie just sat and chewed a stick and waited patiently. But I averted my eyes at the next pile. It’s disgusting - the yobos that did this should be made to pick it all up!

Popped in on Christine on the way by, and she had two visitors for the day (Extra) - her nephew’s dogs, Ghost and Quine. She loves to have doggie company.

As we came up the road, I spotted the new schnauzer neighbour (and his mum) going in their gate, so I rushed to speak to them. Turns out Pip is a boy, and he’s quite timid because he’s had a bad experience with another dog. He’s a lovely wee chap, but we’ll arrange to let them meet up on neutral ground, off leads, when the weather warms up a bit.

So far, my thumb/wrist has not been unduly sore after the jag, after all the dire warnings. Of course, they always have to warn you of the worst case scenarios, just in case.

I had to ring my phone provider, as I had a message to say that my direct debit had been cancelled. I’ve been practising the phonetic alphabet for ages, and can spell random words easily at night in bed, so I was ready when she asked for the first character of my password. ‘Sure! T for... er... umm... TEAPOT!’ 

Is it an age thing?

PS I have just read that Sarah Hughes, who wrote the Line of Duty blogs (and many others) has died. She wrote her final one for Episode Three on Sunday night, and posted it just after it finished, as usual. And she died on Monday. So sad.