What’s to be done …?


What’s to be done on a misty, rainy day in Edinburgh?

Have you finished your housework and combed your hair?


Then I’d settle for warm and dry if I were you. Letters and some catch-up emails, perhaps. And how about coffee, biscuits and a lovely long read near your window – so you can watch the mist and rain too?

You know, you’re an inspiration. Thank you. Warm. Dry. Watching the haar. Several books on the go on my Kindle. That’s exactly what I’m going to do …


archive – a list of all earlier posts

Ocean Terminal

Lothian no.11 for Ocean Terminal

Warm and dry on the top deck of a Lothian double decker is a good place to be on a wet and windy Edinburgh day.

The run down to Ocean Terminal is not at its largely Georgian prettiest right now, choked with roadworks as the city’s tram line is being extended all the way down – decidedly to the chagrin of hard-pressed retailers and those who have to drive the route often. Bus drivers ought to be awarded medals when the extension is finally opened.

Up on the North East coast, Edinburgh is not always sunny and mild, of course, and at times the wind here blows through you rather than around. But even on a rainy day, bus windows streaming, there’s a distinctive, different, beautiful something special about this city …

running down part-laid tram lines
new traffic direction by the minute
The Scottish Government Offices
The Shore, Leith
The Shore, Leith
Clock on the Shore, Leith
The fabulous Topping and Company Booksellers
Lothian No.16 for Colinton
The Balmoral Hotel and Wellington Place
The Scott Monument, Princes Street
Edinburgh Waverley Station
Waverley Corner
Waverley Bridge
better prospects for the weekend 😊


2017-02-26 17.54.36.jpg

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.

Denise Levertov

The aftermath of Storm Doris (who seems to have enjoyed a second coming) has left our fells and mountains veiled.

And I might as well have been swimming when I returned from my walk. Beneath the layers, even my inside pockets had been given a soaking.

And there has been the sort of constant-attendant greyness that, coupled with irritation about the rain keeping one indoors has had the potential for getting under the skin.

(Oh, the perversity! – in one who is perfectly happy at the library desk!).

But the rooms of our home are presently housing assorted glass vases of Cornish daffodils – and no matter their size or shape, all appear to me to be smiling and nodding.

So it’s been up to me really. Be grumpy about the grey veils and ‘having to’ stay close to the warming hearth. Or look around me once in a while, recognising the festal presence of yellow and gold – and a million other life forms …

and witness.