Whistling in the dark

Normal service was resumed today in the weather department - I woke in the dark at 7am, went out in the gloom just after 8am to do the shopping, now happily restored to the right day, and went out again to the Co-op in the late afternoon to try to make up for deficiencies in Morrisons*, all in the gloom. Not rain, really - just damp gloom.

In between these outings I was tied up with what has struck me, in a way, as whistling in the dark. We had our annual meeting with our financial advisor in the morning - not something we ever needed in the days of work, earn, spend, but more necessary nowadays just to keep us up to speed. He did say one thing that struck me as hopeful among the gloom: this middle-class talk of not putting on the heating, of wearing gloves and coats in the house - he suggested what has been stirring in my mind: how much of this is fanned by media hype based on the worst case scenario? Though I do remember the early 70s, sitting in an all-electric flat in the darkness between 6-9pm, crouched over a paraffin heater in my duffle-coat doing my English marking by candle-light ...

After so much talk about numbers - I don't really do numbers much - we were both exhausted enough to keep falling asleep over the Sunday paper (I know - there's a lot of it) and, worse, in the middle of trying to do my Italian on Duolingo. I announced that I was going to the Co-op and headed upstairs - only I ended up looking online at holidays, as I was yesterday, and booking one some half hour later. Warned by the excellent reminders from helpful blippers, I've gone for the very beginning of February, when schools will only have been in for 3 weeks after the holidays. A real oldies' holiday, direct from Glasgow to Madeira ... 

Thus boosted, I marched briskly up the road, did the shopping, and came home the long way round via the shore road. That's when I took the above photo - and a video for Instagram - of the outflow from what must surely be a side-show from the Milton Burn. Its caged brown energy contrasts powerfully with the calm high tide and the lights from the town on the water and I'm rather pleased with it. 

*I got the tarragon, but there was no happy chicken to be had anywhere. Seems the financial situation has condemned us to eating sad chicken or going without ...