Little Siberia

Rather than being called 'The Athens of the North', Edinburgh should be renamed 'The Tomsk of the South", so like Siberia does it feel.

But it is very beautiful: the trees, branches laced with snow, the crow step gables highlighted in white, the stone buildings standing out starkly against the white ground and blue sky, and with all the chimney pots capped with deep hats of snow.

It is still bitterly cold and although in the sun some of the icicles are melting and dripping on to the ground, underfoot the snow is icy and treacherous.

The gritters have been out round about the Dower House allowing safe access to the paths across the Meadows. Once safely across, the pedestrians are however faced with lumpy, slippy pavements and a slide down the Mound into Princes Street.

I was expecting daughter #4 and granddaughter to come through from Glasgow for a meeting today and I was going to meet them off the train and take charge of little Nina.
However, my daughter, having struggled with the buggy along to the station in Glasgow only to find there were no trains running, no buses or taxis either, discovered there was nothing for it but to struggle back home again with Nina screaming with the cold and then, too late, to read an e-mail sent at 8am saying that the meeting was cancelled anyway.
I think in view of the weather last night, the e-mail might have been sent a tad sooner and saved a lot of hardship.

With my morning suddenly free, I took a slithery outing to Greyfriars Kirkyard to blip the views through the trees and grave stones, but have perversely posted a blip of the human tide of commuters making their way into town up through Middle Meadow Walk. A big thank you to the lady in the red coat who lent a bit of colour to the scene.