wingpig

By wingpig

so shiny you could see your dome in them

I like it when I manage to completely fill a day and waste almost none of it. Up nice and early for a little wander. Went to the Braid Burn again to try and get some early-morning long-exposure flowy-watery-stuff to go with the shot I got in the evening the other week but underexposed everything a bit too much to be rescuable before bedtime. Also had a spectacularish slide down a damp, leafy bank which fortunately ended an inch above the water on a conveniently grippy moss-free rock. Tried a bit of long-exposure handheld-bicycle-light-running-trail stuff on the way which would have worked if it had been a bit darker.

After lunch I managed to avoid a bit of cupboard-clearing by demanding the right to pop into town to get Nicky's birthday present for tomorrow. Spotted the pipe-man on the corner of Waverley Bridge unpacking his gear with a fag in his mouth but to see it the image has to be expanded past the point where the noise is tolerable. Slightly better results on the bloke whose trousers are made of shopping trolley and vice versa and Cockburn Street demonstrated that christmas lights are nice if you just leave them turned off.

I believe the dome is the dome of West Register House. The puddle is called Michael and consists of specially-imported Ukrainian puddle-water (£6.47 per 100ml in Harvey N). The cobbles are from the Jenkins clan and the clouds were by Jeremy.

Just finished wrapping gifts following the usual dump-shirts-and-trousers-in-work-locker Sunday evening journey and Planet Earth. Knackered. Offsleep. Bye.

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