Not Fish Boxes

Spotted through a gap in the fence at Quartermile. Definitely not fish boxes, but with some labels saying London Bridge, you have to wonder at the contents.

His Lordship and I took the slow bus this morning to the shopping Mall the furthest removed from the Dower House and yet still be within the city boundary.

The 'weel kent' no 35 bus crawls and lurches a return journey from Ocean Terminal in Leith to the Airport over some of the worst road surfaces in the city, but gives a wonderful view from the pole position on the top deck, of houses, a prison, and industrial estates.
It did not give a view of any trams: they must be having a rest day before their long awaited inauguration on the 31st.

At the western end of the route, it navigates the huge Gyle Area, a modern soulless manicured landscape of banking empires and other moneyed businesses with lots of cars visible but no people.
Its numerous highways and byways are so spacious and confusing that I imagine one could get hopelessly lost and be lucky to find a way out in time to qualify for the old age pension.

Having completed our business, we lurched back home on the return bus to lunch in the sun.