Speaking of tacky

Having had the good sense to leave the car where it was parked and get the bike back on the train, I then had to cycle all the way to Edinburgh this morning. I say "all the way" like it was a huge distance but since the morning run usually includes six unnecessary miles on top of the required six, another four isn't much.

Whatever it looked like, the bridge, like the view of the gasworks from Cramond, was going to be photographed to have, as they say, something on the card in case the rest of the day went tits up photographically or otherwise. And go tits up it certainly did: photographically, weatherwise and otherwise. The photographically and the weatherwise were related - the rain was hosing down at lunchtime. The otherwise was someone else's trouble but rather than the day falling over at least I had the guilty pleasure of pushing it onto its back and then getting all forensic on it, picking the flesh from its bones like some demented Hallowe'en zombie. Metaphorically speaking. For a disaster, I got a little too much pleasure out of it.

I suppose the karma payback was the instinctive use of my unshod foot to catch the mug I dropped, leaving me with throbbing metatarsi to go with the grumbling ankle tendons.

*****
So, that's the air out of the balloons and the clock's ticked over to 1,001. Thanks for the all the stopping by and congratulations and nice things. Come back soon. It'll be 1,095 soon enough.