Cockenzie no More

This morning was arguably one of the coldest we have had recently, with not a glimmer of sun until about noon.
His Lordship ferried me down to Gosford farm shop to buy wild boar and apple sausages for a stew which he, as a card carrying vegetarian, will not have the pleasure of tasting.

The tide was out and the seascape looked cold and bleak with the hills in Fife standing out white against the steely greyness. Coming home, the Pentlands appeared as a scaled down version of the Alps, having not lost an inch of their snow cover.

I was allowed to wander in the chill along the harbour at Port Seton to blip the eerily silent and deserted looking chimneys of Cockenzie PowerStation, shut now for a month and in limbo until its future is decided.
In the background, Arthur's Seat and the castle seemingly slip sliding down its slope.

The heating is on again at home and I'm beginning to thaw out.