Today.

Today, Edinburgh has that odd light.
That pre-war light. Very Miss Jean Brodie.

I love this tiny art shop.
Crammed to fuck with wonderful art materials.
Sometimes I go in to smell the pencils.
I can tell the difference between a HB and 4B at 10 paces.
Or touch the beautiful drawing notebooks.
The texture of the paper, the hard crispness of the
cut paper edges.
I do have a slight addiction to them.
Usually I have about 6 on the go.
But now I'm down to 3.

Christ, I'm really in Ramble-town central today, aren't I?
And now I can't get off Talking Bollocks roundabout.

Sorry.