Robynn

There's nothing like taking out two beautiful nineteen year olds to make me feel like a fully paid up grandmother.
Usually I can manage to delude myself that I'm not as old as my birth certificate has me believe, but in this morning's company, I felt every wrinkle.

My granddaughter from Oman and her friend are in town and we met up to do the ladies who lunch thing together with Edinburgh daughter.
But first there was coffee and a stravaig along Princes Street. Handsome young men who habitually fail to notice the ground I walk on, suddenly pay attention as we pass.
We stop at a shop so that the girls can buy speciality buns. Do you want one Grandma, they ask? You bet your life I do if I were as thin as you, but buns at noon are a no no, even if the grandmotherly scone with coffee has been refused- there is still lunch to come.

Do you like 'One Direction' they ask me after we discuss the Irish name 'Niall'? Apparently he is a singer in 'One Direction'. Well at least I know what boy band they are talking about, but the discussion hits the buffers when I say I mostly listen to classical music.
My granddaughter pays me a compliment when she tells her friend I am the most technically savvy member of the family. How son #2 would laugh if he could hear her- he knows the truth.

They take selfies, they take me in selfies, they take photos of the Castle, they take more selfies, they check their messages, they send selfies in messages. They hold their phones all the time. At least if they are holding phones, they are not holding bottles of water. They laugh when I say that the teenagers of my generation never felt the urge to walk around carrying bottles of water and we still seem to have survived hydrated.

The exuberance of youth is catching, but I send them off on a 26 bus to the seaside while I come home to draw breath.
They are coming for supper tomorrow. His Lordship will shed years, as testosterone course through his veins with two young ladies sitting at his table.