Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Another cold, brilliant day, this time without the snow showers - just one quick flurry of wet on a north-facing window in the morning, after another fabulous sunrise that I'd post if I didn't think everyone would be sick of that view ... 

And another day when just living seemed to fill all the available time, like a gas. Having got myself up because I wanted to hang out of the window taking photos, I then sat over breakfast catching up on social media. Washing some towels (which actually almost dried outside) satisfied a slight but nagging need to do something useful, as did a FaceTime with #2 son arranging various get-togethers usually connected with attending concerts involving granddaughters. I did some Italian, I had a longish phone call with my sister - and then it was lunchtime.

Some cloud that had formed over midday began to clear again in time for us to go a walk, though we were confined to walking from the house because the car was having the electrics checked at the garage. So we bashed off along the East Bay, seeing the snow on the northern hills and small flotillas of mallard ducks swimming parallel to the shore; noting the progress/lack of same on an old building in Kirn that had fallen into ruin and is now swathed in scaffolding. It was on the way back that I got my blip, as I rather liked the reflection of the High Kirk tower in that glassy bit of sea. Incidentally, the High Kirk is one of those affected by the recently publicised merger of C of S congregations, the powers apparently landing on the big church near us because its hall - where we have our choir practices - is an integral part of the building instead of being five minutes' walk away. 

This evening, we indulged ourselves by downloading and watching the 6th episode of Hold the Front Page, lest we miss it by going on holiday. This, the final episode of the show which is showing on Thursdays, took the pair of aspiring journalists to the Scotsman, where we saw them having a few consultations with the editor, who looked vaguely familiar ... 

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