To Dunbar

We drove out to Dunbar where I’d managed( it was J actually) to nab a Covid and flu jag appointment at the diminutive hospital on Beveridge Road hard by the Belhaven brewery, the oldest in Scotland I’m told. I thought initially that the address was Beverage Road ha ha. As I waited for my go the clinic was rent by what sounded like a loud hiccuping. On being called in it was the injecting nurse who was afflicted by a persistent case of the hiccups. We both held our breath as the needles went in.

I then offered up my remedy for persistent hiccups: lie on your back in a room with no distractions and focus on relaxing the diaphragm while taking very shallow, I mean really shallow, breathes. Place hands gently on edge of rib cage to help focus. Persist while keeping a zen-like calm. When hiccups cease gradually, slowly lengthen breathing.

As I left she closed the room’s double doors and gave it a go. On leaving after my five minute wait she told me it had worked. Most chuffed was I.

We wandered down in a brisk cold wind to Dunbar’s still very working harbour with its fleet of 20 creel boats. Storm Babet had caused no end of damage to many creels that couldn’t be lifted before the raging Easterlies struck. At £150 a pop the cost of lost gear soon mounts up. One guy reckoned he was eight grand down.