Sea wall, Bocca del Arno

After dropping J at Pisa Airport I popped over to the mouth of the Arno at the Marina di Pisa. It was chilly and the sea was moody, rolling its brown riverine waters like a bull’s flank and strangely full of menace.

I liked this photo taken on the turn after I’d passed this guy. It even looks like it’s been signed in bottom right corner.

I checked J had gotten through security etc with all her documentation and started the two hour drive back. Half way through I got a call that J had not been permitted to emplane. Due to some shit with a QR code. Seems it happened to 15 would-be Edinburgh-bound passengers. I schlepped back to the airport. Eight hours later from our 7am start we were back home.

Now that the land bridge to Calais is closed by the French government we are thinking of re-establishing the wartime Shetland Bus from Bergen.

Either that or I’m a gonna build a large trebouchet with hazel wood and fire The Boss into a low orbit over Inverleith Park. Which lead to this ditty to be chanted as per WB Yeats

I shall go down to the hazel wood
And there cut flexing wands
To send my love by catapult
To Inverleithen ponds

To Inverleithen ponds she’ll fly
A swan from far Coole lake
The moonlit bullrush banks abounding there
Her fall to gently brake.