Dreary

I thought I'd over-used "dreich" as a description in this journal, so I've gone for another version of it in the title, for today really merited just that. The sun never made it to more than a paler bit of cloud all day, though the sunrise had a bit of colour to it, and by the time we were out in the afternoon it was reaching maximum misery in a snell wind and the threat of sleet which now appears to be falling (11pm) wetly but solidly enough to whiten the grass and the roofs of cars. It's also nastily cold, an east wind sneaking past me into the house as I looked out before locking the door.

I also felt dreary enough to accomplish very little with my day beyond tackling the unpleasant detritus that collects along the back of the work surface in the kitchen. This involved bleach, another gentler stuff, rubber gloves and a lot of uncomfortable standing at strange angles... but it does look a bit better. Apart from that, I read a bit of a book I have contributions in and did a lot of Italian on my phone as a sort of excuse for inactivity. I'm beginning to feel like one of Larkin's Old Fools - well, maybe not quite, but heading, terrifyingly, in that direction. I suppose we all are ...

The photo above comes from the walk we had this afternoon, and shows the cottages on the perimeter of Benmore Gardens, where, I think, some of the staff live. We walked along to the beginning of Loch Eck, to where our water works are nowadays, keeping, as planned, out of the wind except when we'd to cross the width of the glen at the start. Joyously, we saw a red squirrel feeding at a station on the usual tree - I'd just been saying I'd seen hardly any all winter and there it was, moving away too speedily to be photographed, a neat little creature more dark brown than red but making my day nonetheless. 

And that was it, really - except for a glimpse of the sad travesty that was Match of the Day without Gary Lineker and his cohort. I don't think anyone at the top of the BBC is at all suitable for the job.