Pictorial blethers

By blethers

A Friday

Friday has turned into a truly predictable sort of day. Since I began this Click & Collect malarkey, the collection part has marked out the beginning, just as Himself's excellent curries (currently being prepared downstairs) mark the end of any sensible activity. Indeed, as I wrote the last sentence, he appeared with a glass of chilled white wine and a little dish of cashews - bliss. I'm hungry ... 

Back to the morning. I have a silly tale to tell. The statue of Highland Mary (left in the collage) saw it all. Having collected the messages with great efficiency, I decided the morning was so glorious (despite my having to defrost the car again) that it deserved some photos, so drove round to the West Bay where only yesterday I was walking into driving hail. I parked at the kerbside, where there was a space; took several photos from interesting angles; headed back to the car. I hadn't locked it - I wasn't going far. It wasn't till I was sitting behind the wheel that I wondered why my driving glasses weren't on the dashboard, why the seat was so low ... why there was a strange bottle in the door compartment ... Oops. It wasn't my car. My car was two spaces along the road. I scuttled back to it, third in a row of black cars. Only Highland Mary had seen me. Am I losing it?

So that bit wasn't predictable at all. Otherwise, there was a FaceTime chat, Italian lessons, lunch, a walk along Loch Striven, where I became so hot marching along that despite a temperature of 7ºC in the sun that I had to remove my puffa jacket and walk in shirt sleeves. Must be the warm breeks. But I have to admit that there had been another unexpected turn just before we went out. The two photos that make up the right hand side of the collage were taken seventeen minutes apart, out of my dining room window. Snow, then sun, just like that. And we could see snow falling on distant hills - or even distant Gourock - on and off all afternoon, but it never fell on us.

So maybe not so predictable after all.

And the ChookieEmbro is dead. How extraordinary it seems - someone I have known of for more years than I knew my parents. And the obituaries that have been filed and updated and ready for years are now pouring forth. Maybe today wasn't such a predictable Friday after all. 

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