Somewhere there's ...sunshine ...

One of the songs we're preparing in 8+1 for an afternoon gig in a month or so is How High the Moon, so I tend to have the odd ear worm involving parts of it. This afternoon as I walked along the East Bay to visit my friend Paddy, just returned from walking the Portuguese Camino (which I feel is probably spelled with an h in it) I found myself improvising new words - "Somewhere there's sunshine, down there in Ayr; the sun is shining, but not up here..." and it made me giggle and take a photo, so that's what's up there and why.

The rest of the day was less amusing. I hate packing, and this was the day we had to get ready for the best part of a week in Edinburgh, taking responsibility for the granddaughters while their parents are abroad. The forecast isn't good, and the necessity to pack for such things as cooking as well as - I hope - the odd meal out means that the usual rather minimal bag is a tad inadequate. And packing always makes my back ache, and there's an unholy mess in the spare bedroom right now, and we don't want to be late getting away in the morning, and ... and ...

By the time we reached the respite of lunchtime I wasn't at all hungry and made do with a poached egg and a banana that needed eating as I tried to catch up with bits of the Sunday paper that I'd barely had time to glance over, but eventually I realised that I'd feel better after a bit of a walk and some fresh air and went out. I called in at the pharmacy and was told to come back later, so spent the intervening time drinking tea and chatting in Paddy's kitchen while the collie enjoyed skidding across the new wooden floor and trying to smash me on the leg with his ball on a rope. 

Now I've just discovered that the Loch Fyne Restaurant on Newhaven Harbour, where I'd hoped we could have our dinner tomorrow night, closed its doors for the last time ...today. Would you believe it? It's been a mainstay for years, though not always as well-served as it might have been, and along with the excellent and now defunct Pier Bistro next door had saved many an evening's wrestling with an unfamiliar oven. 

Bother.

Extra is the view out of a back window today - autumn colours instead of the usual grey sea.