The Journey

We were just discussing before I came up to bed to blip how exhausting this week must be for those involved - from the King to the red-haired pall-bearer in today's and yesterday's ceremonial moments to the journalists and other media people involved in bringing it all to us and recording it for history - a journey for which real stamina is required. And it seems fitting, perhaps, that our new Pilates set-up involves our teacher in wearing a T-shirt branded "The Journey", which is the trade-mark of the new firm at the studio, where this morning I once more joined my fellow-classmates in effortful grunting and almost-impossible side-planks ... (Reader, I did two!)

When I got home for my coffee I remembered that we had no bread - I'd not had time even to put some in the machine - so I made cheese scones. I rarely bake, so the mess I make is considerable, but I have to say they were delicious and worth the effort. They fortified me to watch on TV the slow march up the High Street of Edinburgh to the service in St Giles, to feel strange at its familiarity, to admire the Royal Company of Archers, to feel a pang at seeing the Crown of Scotland (and to learn that it's the oldest crown in the British Isles). The service itself reminded me of my Presbyterian childhood, though then I wouldn't have realised that there were other forms of worship.

By the time it was over we'd really missed the sunshine in Dunoon, but managed to find some further south at Toward, which is where I took that rainbow photo. Toward is good for rainbows at this time of day - the dark clouds are often to the north, with the sun coming from behind us - and there is often dry weather when Dunoon is wet. 

Later we had a welcome phone call from #1 son before he was called back to his computer again and we subsided in somnolence in front of the telly. I've added an extra in the form of a collage of views from the centre of Edinburgh and in St Giles - I was watching on my computer, so these are screen shots.