A Moist Day in Kirkwall

Went into the toon at the back o’ three and the wind was a steady 45mph.  Home at the back o’ five and it had disappeared.  No indication of where to.  But hang onto your hems as it will apparently be back on Friday – with gusto.
 
Spent a great deal of time with the Current Mrs Creel composing a reply to SSE about the Hoy Kirk billing fiasco.  We have received 21 invoices within ten days. 
 
I went in to the hospital to see Davie.  Out of my rucksack I pulled two cups, fresh milk, 4 pancakes, butter, spoons, knives, raspberry jam and a flask of industrial tea..  It was his request, but he had forgotten so it was a real boon to him.  Ironically, he doesn’t know when he’s hungry as the signal from his stomach to his brain has severed.  He’s tremendously game.
 
Once again, I know many of you have restless nights when you lie and ponder, not the unfathomable abyss, but whit like Albert Street, Kirkwall is on a wet Wednesday in March.
 
Now you know.