Shades of Fife

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

Claire heads off early to the Musselburgh regatta. Angus fiddles with his lights and sound system. I chop up the ‘waste’ wood from the squash court flooring and stack it for the fire.

It rains briefly. When the clouds pass, I open up the semi-permanent hole outside the warehouse and begin my latest experimental solution to the water supply problem. The first task is to run a cable from inside the warehouse into the hole. There’s a conduit, but both ends are plugged with foam - not to mention blue alkathene pipe and phone cable. I make a good start, but can’t get my rods round the bend.

Angus’s pal arrives in his van. They load up and disappear. Look out, Cramond.

I clean up and head for Fisherow and the regatta bbq. I’m late, but manage to scrounge a veggie burger. In the bar the drinks are super cheap. A couple of the Musselburgh yachties are playing guitars and crooning chart classics, occasionally backed by a woman from Anstruther.

Nick calls. His mother, Catriona, died yesterday, peacefully, while he was with her. It’s sad, but also expected and a relief. She would have been 92 today.

Night falls. The road unrolls darkly homewards.