A day of two halves

The morning was action packed, successful and relatively warm. The afternoon I spent standing freezing, waiting for HOURS for a bunch of horses to come up the Royal Mile. Not really a success, but once I’d waited for an hour, I didn’t like to give up.

We went for a browse around a furniture store someone had told us about. Never been there before - it was cavernous. And inside, there were all sorts of things. And a very very nice oak table, rustic without being too rustic, the right size, the right shape, ‘on special’, with chairs that were funky and rustic and - importantly for short people - the right height for the table. There were other pieces of furniture in the same style too…

I’m a reluctant shopper, but when I do shop, I’m impulsive decisive and the deal is done in a matter of minutes. What’s the use of spending weeks going round shops, searching Gumtree etc, when the perfect one is right there! JR is a little more indecisive contemplative, and she loves looking round ALL the shops to compare. But we left the shop a little poorer a lot poorer, but not as poor as if they hadn't all been discounted. But felt we had a good price and a lovely table (and other things) which we will treasure.

That task accomplished in record time, I got dropped off in town to wander across to the Royal Mile as the Riding of the Marches was on at, what I thought was, 2.30. It was actually 4pm!!

I had a Very Good Flat White in a new funky cafe in the Grassmarket. They played excellent (loud) music and I kept asking them who each one was. One of them was an Edinburgh band - the leader of whom is JR’s ex-colleague! The man behind the vinyl counter came out to chat to me about them, as he could see I was interested. See - I’m not against music. I’m against sreechy, tinny muzak, in restaurants especially.

Mind you, having said that, I may have accidentally switched off the CD player in the furniture shop…

I got a really good spot on the Mile. A chap with a film camera (and I mean a film in his camera) and I were well ready. In fact, hours early. I began to get rather cold, just in my gillet (and other things!). We were on the shady side of the road. I texted JR to see if she was thinking of coming to see it, and if she was, to bring my hat and my jacket. She did. And she found me with my scarf tied round my head and knotted several times under my chin, like I had a big toothache. I hope nobody I knew saw me and hurried by...

Actually, anywhere along the Mile you got a good view. So I certainly won’t be spending half my Sunday standing in the shade next year.

There were two ladies, obviously horsey folk behind me, which was interesting.

‘There’s a hen toe.’

'That one's from Connemara.'

‘Those shoes are badly fitting.’

‘Bare feet!’

‘That one’s from Iceland.’

And that was just the horses they were talking about.

And yes, there was a horse with NO shoes on. They were rather annoyed outraged that should be allowed. There is such a thing as 'bare foot riding' where the horse isn't shod if it's just in fields or being shown.