Photobomb

When you are sitting on the top of the number 25 bus at the top of Elm Row and you are photobombed by a fire engine.

Somewhat exhausting 36 hours. On Saturday evening we went along to the St Matthew Passion at the Usher Hall. Three hours of glorious singing, but we were rather uncomfortable, especially in the first half, because of cramped legroom restricted seats in the gods. Some people didn't come back for the second half (I can only assume they found better seats elsewhere...surely they didn't leave) so we managed to spread out a bit and it wasn't so wearing. However, as so often on the weekends of the Festival, no taxis to get home so a bus and a trek.

Sunday night we trotted along the Acoustic Centre to see Moishe's Bagel. Yeah, I know. From the sublime, to the ridiculous. But they were on good form, and they seemed to have some new material. My friend Lampis really enjoyed it too. Again, no taxis to get back, so another bus - this time the 25. Now the advantage of buses over taxis is that you do get a great view, and it was at an especially good time of day on what turned out to be a lovely evening.

Back in time to watch Murray, but we gave up after the second set and went to bed. I continued to follow online in bed, but every time I turned on the livestream he lost his serve, so I became convinced I was putting the mockers on him. I ended up just following on twitter. Less stressful. Anyway, a win was a win, although I really don't think he's played that well all week. I hope he doesn't now have some sort of collapse because he has to have a good chance of winning the US Open.

Enough of my Murray fangirl stuff.