On trying to be sensible ...

I had promised myself - and one or two blippers! - that I'd try to take it easy today, so last night I began by actually being in bed by midnight. Meant I woke insanely early, but thanks to sleeping under a lesser duvet I was actually able to go back to sleep and didn't get up till after 9am. I did two small loads of washing - one dark, one pale - and hung them out; I chatted on the phone to my younger grandson, who was 13 yesterday, about the perils of a VR headset (one of his presents) and how he would make sure I didn't walk into anything when I get a shot; I had another call, this time from my sister, and I hunted for a pair of socks I knew I had but instead found some shoes I had no recollection of. (Bad, isn't it?)

A text from Di, however, called me from housebound torpor to go for a walk up Glen Massan. After a dry, bright morning we'd had a lunchtime smirr of rain but it had stopped - or so I thought: I drove through a thick wet fog in Sandbank and we were rained on several times up the glen as the promised minor cold front passed down Scotland and left us with a completely clear evening. As you can see from the photo, it was already clearing as we walked back down the road, with the blue of the sky echoing the blue of the bluebells in the wood. The scents after the rain - bluebells and yellow azaleas in great clumps - enveloped us as we passed and it was simply lovely. 

I still can't sing - voice feels very peculiar, and think it may be because of the ibuprofen I've been taking for a swollen hand after some extreme weeding. Hope it stops soon, 

Last word: I was delighted to read in the Editor's column in today's Scotsman a reference to a favourite saying of my father: Any damn fool can be uncomfortable. I must remember that...