A strangely variegated day began with a visit to the newly-refurbished Queen's Hall for my flu jab - our doctors' practice hires a venue and does a mass vaccination on one day at this time of year. It was mobbed - clearly we are all staying alive too long and the crowd seems to grow year on year - and once again I was reminded of the scene in P D James's novel The Children of Men where all the old people line up, dressed in white, and process into the sea. Every year I am reduced to unseemly hilarity at the thought, as we sit waiting - today I was number 370 and had 30 minutes in which to behave badly. (My extra photo shows the approach down the old Tattie Brae to the side of the hall).
Crazily, I went home and spent a strenuous hour raking moss and weeds from the gravel of the front path. The afternoon took us with our friends up the hill behind Blairmore, over the top of the golf course and down into Strone, a satisfyingly circular walk that was also satisfyingly strenuous. It was bitterly cold, but very lovely - the view is up Loch Long from near the beginning of the hike.
Clearly a day of protest against The Quietus ...