All that jazz …

Back in Edinburgh, back in the chilly east … Another beautiful morning at home saw us once again cramming the absurd number of things required for a night away into bags. I’ve given up on my small case with the wonky wheels, setting instead for the wonderful multi-compartment squashy bag I got from Rohan some twenty years ago. It weighs very little in itself, which is becoming important…

We had our morning coffee in the sunny garden, then left, stopping en route to collect a sandwich and a cuppa and arriving , three hours later and six Celsius degrees cooler, to have our tea at #2 son’s before all leaving to get up the hill to The Dean. This traditional red sandstone church was where Himself’s cousin was married but is now part of the grands’ school, used for such diverse events as fencing tuition and - as this evening - jazz concerts.

It was such a good night. My photo shows #1 granddaughter in full swing on the trombone, along with the rest of the girls’ group The Jazz Ambassadors. My ears are still ringing. I shall soon declare myself too old for all this, but I’m glad to say I’ve not yet arrived at that age.

Cheers!