I chose the right day to be out working. After my colleagues all developed trench foot yesterday, I did well to avoid sunstroke today. 

After a high tempo dart across the north of Edinburgh, I sought refuge in Porty's bookshop at lunchtime. I left with Demon Copperhead and demon whisky aficionado MrSmith.

Backstory:  I had been tasked by a grateful customer of his with bestowing upon him a package containing some of the finest whiskies known to man. And some Highland Park, too. When I was last in Orkney, a celebrated Orcadian blipper had pressed upon me said bounty and asked that I deliver the goods personally. And drop the whisky off.

For an unemployed layabout, he's remarkably busy. What with Grayson Perry etc.... but our diaries finally synchronised and- viola.

An hour later I figured I'd better get back to work and spent the afternoon writing reports before turning on the out of office thingy.

She's disappeared off to watch Oppenheimer Barbie with her lass; whilst I got lumbered with walking the dog and waiting for the shopping to be delivered.

No whisky for me tonight. I've a weekend planned in the Heilands that - if all goes to plan - will see me knock off a quarter of my remaining Munros. SGSR and Ring of Steall if you're interested. Shame I'll be missing Don's 60th, a league flag unfurling and a chance to see the World Road Race Championship on my doorstep. 

Needs must.

MrSmith needed a new LinkedIn photo now he's in the job market. I duly obliged