Normal social life

Today was the first on which I woke up with the knowledge that there wasn't a single huvtae - pleasant or otherwise - on the calendar. Other than the distinct need to wash my hair, the day stretched emptily before me. The alarming thing is how swiftly time flew by - rather like the figures on my new Apple watch when I set it to record a specific period of exercise like a walk outdoors, of which more anon. I did take some time between coffee and lunch to peruse a couple of new cookery books (extra photo) which were part of Christmas presents - I really need to find a source of good Italian sausages other than the wee butcher opposite St Mary's Cathedral in Glasgow, which is great but not exactly convenient. (I draw the line at making my own - all that skin-stuffing.)

We went for a walk in the afternoon, getting out early enough to drive to Loch Striven for the last of the bright sky. Apart from a few irritating cars which had us up on the verge to let them pass, the only people we saw were two ladies with dogs (on the lead) with whom we exchanged New Year greetings. I couldn't help contrasting it with our walk along Princes Street last week; no wonder I've turned into such a country bumpkin and so wary of crowds: social distancing on an afternoon like this involves several miles of empty road. The photo above is of a heron sitting on a mooring platform at the POL pier - you can make out its silhouette on the left of the structure. 

The evening was dominated by the sudden arrival of a stabbing nerve pain along my lower front teeth. Trigeminal neuralgia is whatever your worst expletive is ...