Graveyard Leaves

Somehow on a cold grey autumn day like today, the fallen leaves in a graveyard seem more symbolic of death and decay than they might otherwise do elsewhere.

I tarried a while in the silence here with the roar of traffic in Princes Street and Lothian Road muted in the background.
I was on my way to the Filmhouse for lunch and to see 'Le Weekend' at the 1pm showing. I was delighted that the early hour meant a rather meagre audience, but I had cause to wonder yet again at human nature when I chose the middle of the back row (lest I had a few untoward seconds of shut eye) only to be followed by the three people directly behind me in the queue who sat on the seats on either side of me while the rest of the row remained empty. In fact there were rows with absolutely no one in them while we felt like sardines in a tin.

A little bit of shopping therapy before that has eclipsed the small hiatus on the domestic front. There is nothing like a new pair of shoes to lift the spirits of a girl.