Staving Off Cabin Fever

It's only the desperate and needy who are out and about today: a day of Sabbath wet gloom and despondency: a Scottish Sabbath like many I recall from my childhood.

I am neither desperate or needy, well not yet anyway and that is why I am fairly content to sit inside in a cosy warm room and view the sodden bleakness of the world outside my window.

The ground in the Meadows is waterlogged with numerous ponds developing and seagulls waiting forlornly for drowning worms to surface for air.
I can see a boot camp of eight stalwarts doing press ups in amongst the puddles before jogging off, water splashing up from their heels as they go.
They must be desperate.

The needy come in dribs and drabs along the paths, umbrellas held aloft while they skip around puddles.
They will surely be on their way to town, mindful of the fact that in four weeks they will be expected to have neatly wrapped gifts stowed beneath a glittering lighted Christmas Tree.

My Christmas presents are bought and wrapped and shipped. I have only one more crafty one on the needles. Lest I appear smug, I confess my Christmas cards are in total disarray, but that's another story.

And so today His Lordship and I are happy to stay put and read the Sunday papers, thankful that there are no dogs or small energy charged children to entertain.
There are distinct advantages to being senior citizens on a day like this.