Friday 16 April 2010: magma, 2m years later
When something vaguely science-based hits the headlines and infiltrates the wider public consciousness it can be considered quite instructive and demonstrative of how simple failures to clearly state facts, apply logic and generally THINK USING BRAINS can end up in reactions ranging from suspicions of conspiracy to denial to panic-buying of bread and bottled water, though supermarkets seem to finally be getting wise to such situations and are possibly maintaining their own stockpiles so that the shelves can be quickly replenished in case of sudden news-prompted Hovis-frenzies. Presuming that the same failures to efficiently deal with information also occur when the happenings are of political, economic or social natures illustrates how important it is to ignore almost any secondary reporting anywhere, or at least to seek primary sources.
As it still appears to be summer I went for a wander along the river at lunchtime as the trees are almost sufficiently caught-up to provide a reasonable amount of shade. For some reason the bridge across to the back of the National Gallery of Modern Art appears to be closed (though would still be passable to anyone either desperate or just annoyed) which would have annoyed me if I'd gone the same way a little earlier in order to pop to the Diane Arbus thing. Apart from a few people clinging to their coats and scarves the majority of the visible local populace similarly considered it to be summer though news still has to filter through to the people who control the central heating in the office.
Although there are almost never any people around the hill in the late evening (at least when the gates are shut, preventing people from doing up in cars to sit and smoke beside the loch) there were evidently some people on Crow Hill at about eleven when I ran past underneath along the railway as what I had initially though to be a lowish, isolated cloud turned out to be a bit of smoke drifting down from the fire which only became visible after I'd turned round, going back along Old Church Lane in case the other surprise human presence (a bloke lurking on the railing in the old station opposite the old graffito saying "TORIES OUT" who provided a surprise second adrenaline-boost after the previous one caused by something reasonably heavy moving about in the undergrowth off the track half a mile earlier) turned out to be a knife-wielding miscreant. The smoke had only been visible against the sky and could barely be smelt except for a little waft around the car park opposite Duddingston Kirk. I haven't seen any park wardens around the park since the G7 when they were sighted tent-spotting so never really expect to see them when someone does something like start a fire somewhere on the hill but they might one day surprise us.