Of dismantling, shearing, and a tottering walk ...

It was still snowing a bit this morning, and the hills all around were white, as was our grass. This brought about the first depressing reflection of the day: I remember when the sight of the white stuff was exhilarating and tempting; now I wonder if the road is icy and picture broken bones and overworked A&E departments. I cheered myself up by making an appointment for later in the day to get my hair cut (it's been driving me dotty) and phoning blip-friend Lady Findhorn for a brief and cheerful chat. This set me up to dismantle the Christmas tree as briskly as I could because it always depresses me. Before I began, I photographed a selection of the favoured ornaments which made it onto this year's (small) tree, and that's the main photo as a composite. Most of them are either old (50 years or so) or have associations with people or events, and I love them all.

I was in medias res - actually clutching an armful of branches - when the hairdresser rang to say could I come an hour earlier because he'd found a better gap in his clients - and I answered the phone on my watch for the first time and found it ridiculously satisfying. I couldn't hang around to dwell on it, however, as we then had to scamper to get something to eat before we went for the ferry. (I should add here that Himself is still not keen on my catching a bus on the Far Side in these plague-ridden times and drives me there because parking anywhere near the salon is chancy.) 

When we got back to this side of the water I was so cold and stiff with all that sitting that I thought I needed a brisk trot round the 'hood to restore circulation. Bad idea. I was down on Argyll Street before I realised that great swathes of the pavement seemed to be turning to black ice before my eyes; it took all my will power not to sit down on the ground and wail. Instead, I stalked carefully to the edge of the pavement and took to the road, which had been gritted at some point and was merely wet. So the walk was shorter than intended, but incredibly stressful.

I opted for a hot shower instead of a proper walk. Extra photo of the tiny moon over Milton Gardens. You can't see the terror ...