Just fishing

I must say it's amusing how a photo of a bunch of poetry books gathers hits compared to my more usual fare of landscape shots - I suppose it's curiosity about titles or something that makes people look. But today the sun came out and so did I, so it's back to boring old light on water and shining bramble branches ... (do brambles have branches? Can't think ...)

So today was Pilates class day, with the class much depleted because of the schools' mid-term break and as a result much chattier. (We were back to the bedrock group of us who are too old to be affected by school terms!) Then I had to negotiate a fresh packet of prescription drugs because the one they gave me, from a different lab, had talc in them (I'm allergic). Then my bestie texted that she was coming into town and would I like a walk, so we ended up walking round the Bishop's Glen, our former reservoir, with one of her son's King Charles spaniels. (I realised that a skittery little spaniel is a useful distraction when meeting strange/large/possibly threatening dogs, though I'll not be getting one for myself). My blip shows the end of the loch that the reservoir reverted to, with three fishermen in the shadows; you can probably see the one nearest the camera, but there are another two further round.) 

And it was a day of memories. 48 years ago today the boiler of Dunoon Grammar School ran out of fuel, giving everyone a half day. This meant that Himself was able to return to Glasgow just in time to accompany me to Redlands Maternity Hospital (now defunct) in Great Western Road, where I had been summoned to be induced for the birth of my first child. My memories of it are bleak but distinct, including those of some of the barbaric rituals that went on in ante-natal wards in 1974. I have the diary to refer to - reading the entry for this day brings it all back. I shall not, however, quote from it directly - I think my style has matured along with the rest of me!

Wasn't the full moon fabulous? I took a photo on my way home, and realise that I get far better detail of the surface, even with a phone camera, when the sun is just setting. I shall stick it in as a possibly disposable extra if I need the space later. 

Footnote: Johnson came and went, little regarded by any other than an admirably realistic BBC Scotland interviewer. I find myself consumed by an unedifying sense of loathing when I see him on the box these days.