Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, Blip Everything
3 is the magic number... 3 years of blipping (over about 3 and a half years).
Good news day, after leaving work at lunchtime and taking Mel to the fracture clinic. Break still hasn't moved - the x-ray looks impressive. By next week she should be able to put all weight on it, and if the bone hasn't moved by then she'll not be seen for three weeks until the case comes off - 2 weeks before we go to Lewis.
This is all good news, which makes all of the running about more worth it. And it's, I'm afraid to say, a little more important than 3 years of blipping, so I'm not re-shooting this after it didn't quite work the way I wanted the shot (and I've got to go and make dinner anyway, then do the ironing, and get more shopping on, and maybe hoover - had hoped to make some Battenberg tonight as well, including homemade marzipan - that can be for the 3 year mark).
Oh, and the cat wants fed.
Tomorrow = Friday. Thank deity-of-your-choice.
Forgot to mention the other day as well the latest piece of ridiculous management speak, the latest euphemism for redundancies tied into the restructuring at work... "Reduction in our headcount". Unless they mean they're going to start decapitating people? Why on earth can't anyone just communicate in normal English anymore?
Brief spin by Duddingston Loch produced no Bittern (but a few scoped-up birders - I was after some quiet away-from-everyone time for an hour so amde for the opposite shore), and no Otters, but a few nice moments, and the Heronry is in full territory-acquiring boisterousness.
Punk Ringed Cormorant