On the way to the Cafe Royal

Out to meet old pals G&L, up from down south for a few days. Seventeen years since we'd seen them. Their wee kids are now 24, 22 and 21, and they're both retired, spending winters working in French skiing chalets and summers just hanging about. G in particular has grown a fine head of hair. There were some sups in the Cafe Royal before they were due to head off to meet others in Leith for a curry, but L changed her mind and stayed on; we then perambulated down Broughton St for an eat.
All very unremarkable, really. Though I could gossip about her political lurches, an obsession with Nigel Farage and irresponsible parenting. But of course, I'm not that judgemental. Or indiscreet.