Life as a sporting grandma…

It’s been a day of chilly air, hard plastic seating, rugby, football and grandsons. I feel a bit as if I’ve played two full matches… As it was, we were out quite smartly on a grey Edinburgh morning to watch James play rugby for his school, a match at once exhilarating and terrifying (that moment when you see said grandson throw himself at an opposing player, or wrapped round the waist of another in an inhibiting moment… they won, did James’s team, and handsomely.

We had time after that for a visit to George Mews, my favourite cheese shop, where I spent a small fortune on different kinds of pecorino. A swift lunch back at the house followed, and then we were out again, this time to watch Alan captain Spartans to victory in a home match under an increasingly wonderful purple sky.

And then back to the house again, where the songs and cheers from the rugby at Murrayfield rose in the still evening. All this sport is so removed from my normal life - to say nothing of an evening draped in two cats and a colllie.

Must be on holiday right enough…