The Day after Yesterday

I made a swift detour into the quadrangle of the City Chambers this morning as I made my way down to the beach in order to photograph the post box topping crafted by one of the Porty BlueTits . It’s a pity it’s not more obvious for tourists passing on the high Street because it is so skilled. Well done Margaret!

It was a short dook in the water this morning as we shared the sea with a fair few blue moon jellyfish. Nobody was stung but nobody , stinger suit or not was prepared to venture far from the group. It felt like the sea version of walking through land mines.

As I waited for a bus home, I noticed the branches of a Rowan Tree overhanging a garden wall were heavy with berries. I hope the old adage of equating such a crop with a forthcoming hard winter is not true.

Meanwhile this summer just keeps on giving. The sun is shining and it’s warm. Even the breeze feels as though it has come from Africa.  I am outside on the patio writing this blog while watching the world go by on the Meadows. The Festival Fringe is behind me as is the Book Festival village and I feel transported away from the melée of humanity. Had there only been an Argo’s  shop through the railings I would have been tempted to succumb to an ice cream. I feel deprived having not licked one since Orkney.