Ghost Stories

Picked the right time to go for a walk down to the cemetery earlier so we did not.

After dodging the plague of frogs around the local pond (hundreds of wee ones hopping around all over the paths) and telling ghost stories around the ancient gravestones, the biblical rain soaked us right through to our undercrackers by the time we got to the end of the field there. Cue thunder and lighting and a frantic and squelchy dash home.

That was all after a practice run getting back into work mode, helping out a less-holiday-gifted colleague with a bit of IT support.

It was just as I remembered it.

The most productive part of it all was managing to update the dozens of apps on various bits of kit using the unburdened internet connection. That, and trying to get Stirling Council to see sense over a farcical photo competition they've launched in which they were taking all the photos submitted and publishing them elsewhere copyright free, under their name, without any proper accreditation and for anyone to download and use wherever and for whatever. Very naughty.