Diary of an Edinburgher

By LadyMarchmont

A man in a kilt!

The 'walk that was no ordinary walk, it was an M&S walk' on Sunday was almost a life changing walk. We popped in to view an open house, and fell in love with it. It was ideal in every way - the area, the ground floor, the position for sun, the outside space and the price... We loved it! It was good for a dog (for me) and good for shops (for JR).

So yesterday was all about ringing the bank, or trying to, to see if we could borrow money until our flat is sold. But the days are long gone when you bought a house and popped yours on the market and sold it before the missives were completed on the bought house.

But I was amazed at how shambolic the bank (which shall be nameless, but you and I own quite a bit of it) was. You'd ring a branch phone number, then realise you were speaking to someone in Birmingham. He told me to look on the bank homepage and find all the branch phone numbers, which I did. But no, still not the branch number, but at least it was in this city. When two phone calls had not eventuated, I spoke to someone who said they would send an email through. I suggested ringing the person concerned.

'No. We don't use phones.'

The bank doesn't use phones. Even between branches!!

Anyway, excitement/panic over. Not moving yet. Maybe next year.

Popped down to see Uncle A this morning and went to the supermarket for him in his flash new car, which he can only gaze at out of his window. He doesn't feel like going out for a drive (me driving) yet. I did a bit of ironing for him, too. Don't believe I've ever ironed sheets before, so that would have made quite a boring momentous blip.

From there I popped into town. It was blowing an absolute hoolie, but at least the rain and the dark clouds didn't hang around.

I was in the gardens, examining the tilled field, when I heard the drone of the pipes. The way the wind was blowing, it was just the drone I heard, no tune. It must have indeed frightened the enemy in battle if the wind was blowing towards them.

Any suggestions that I must have hung around until the wind blew his kilt up are entirely spurious.

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