Not the Way Home

The old entrance to the long gone Stockbridge market, it’s often our route to the pub but never the route home. Don’t ask me why.
Woke up to a cloudless, blue sky this morning and if it hadn’t been for the occasional, monstrous hailstorm it’d have been a perfect Spring day. So close.
Golf was disappointing, lost both halves on the last hole, so maybe just as well I’m not playing in tomorrow’s competition. Pub chat in The Tiq was much better, managing for the most part to steer clear of talk about the Jambos and the SNP. Wasn’t easy though.