Collared

More gardening was the order of the day, but I decided I needed a trip up town to get a feel for things. The lie of the land. And maybe take in a bit of arty schtuff. Some people weren’t happy that tings were opening up when numbers had been ratcheting up, but hey ho, things have opened up to some extent and the numbers have been dropping now for a few days. Pin the tail on the donkey time. I’m not staying at home cowering* anyway, no sirreee! 
So, there was a free exhibition at the Dovecot. I made my way there to find it closed at 3pm and so found myself in the considerably less than free Archie Brennan exhibition. A lifetime doing tapestry. I’m no fan, so it was mostly just interesting at best, and as for the municipal hangings commissioned in the 60s and hung with pride in the new council offices which sprung up in that era - oh dear.
I’d suggested a meet up to MrT (the great news over the past week is that he’s been given an all clear by the oncologist) and he duly obliged by cycling to the Grassmarket on a bike he’d found the day before hauled out beside the canal. Who knows why. As soon as he sat down, he was phoned by W. He had ostensibly gone out to buy a steak. “I bumped into Jim,” I hear him say. It was a very swift pint.
Later, to Ocean Terminal to see Old by M.Night Shyamalan.** Haha, a most entertaining big B-movie of a thing. And we’d an enjoyable time looking at the sunset from their top floor. That’s because we were an hour early, y’see, someone*** having bought tickets for the wrong cinema. Not that I’d cast that up, but that may not have been the first time that had happened. Haw!


* quote, now retracted
** just had to write that 
*** (….)