James Losh

I popped into the library on my way back to the station in order to see if I could find a book by Alice Munro (who just won the Nobel prize), as I've never read any by her. One can't visit the Lit and Phil without noticing the huge statue of James Losh standing halfway up the stairwell, clad in a most improbable toga. But the dedication beneath it is so long that I've never had time to stop and read it properly.

There was trouble on 't trains when I got back to the station - many were cancelled, including mine, so I had to squeeze on to anything that was travelling in a northerly direction. It meant standing in a crowded vestibule for the entire hour-and-a-half, followed by standing in a crowded bus all the way down Leith Walk. I could feel one of my occasional bouts of misanthropy starting to come on....oh dear, not at all like the saintly James!