I've been using up my annual leave for my NHS job and so had a few extra days off here and there.
Last Friday Peter had finished up the job he'd been working on, so since I was off, he was at me to go to the BP portrait award exhibition at the Portrait Gallery. I wasn't keen. Our forays into the city aren't as successful as our forays into the country. At the risk of sounding like a philistine, art galleries are okay if it's raining or you're too tired to run or you need cake or you're cold, but otherwise...
and particularly the gallery space at the Portrait Gallery, which is cramped and brings you into much too close proximity to other people....
I went for a run first, which was good, because otherwise I'd have felt like I wasted my day. It was maybe bad because my legs were sore afterwards and sore as I walked around the gallery trying to fight down my irritation and wishing Peter would hurry up. There were some posh kids running around the gallery in outfits that probably cost more than my car. They were getting shushed not vigorously enough by whoever they were with. Clearly, they wanted attention. Nothing wrong with that but not in that context. Meanwhile the guard eyed me suspiciously, like I was going to steal the picture of the bishop. Who wants a picture of a bishop? "Don't eye me! Go and tell Delilah and Abigail to shut up!" I didn't say. Maybe I should have.
I liked this painting best. I see it didn't make it to the "highlights" part of the webpage, which is a shame. It was only later I realised that it was one of the few paintings that was of outside - which is probably why I liked it. I like the strong sun, and the flaky wall surface and I like the boy's tousled hair and the way he looks like he wants to be moving on somewhere else.
Evaporar-se pinched from the National Portrait Gallery website
Nothing creepy about this at all.
Here's me wearing a burn's helmet.
The next day I thought running would be challenging as I'd over-cooked it the day before. However, the sun came out, and maybe getting a bit more sleep was helping, because I felt super-charged and we had a great run round Gullane. The toads were out, which is always a really nice sign that spring is on its way. It was very still, so all we could hear was birdsong and nonsense. The nonsense was our own.
The next day I happened to notice that sunset and moon rise and the tide being low enough to go over to Cramond Island all happened within a few minutes of each other. I proposed that we hang off until nearer the time and maybe run over to Cramond island and get pictures if the moon coming up. I went on a bit of a cleaning spree before this, however, so I was kind of done come running time. This tends to happen and it's why I don't like putting running off until later.
We ran the airport route - which was kind of nice, but I was tired and my legs were achy.
I took the next day off running to try to help my legs recover. When I'm working there are two days when I pretty much can't run, so these are my days off. Without these days I have to actually decide when not to run, which is hard! Anyway, Monday was it. I hoped that would mean I'd be fresh for Tuesday.
The Holy Grail. Scones and cups of tea.
Tuesday there were westerly gales forecast for the whole day but it looked like it would be sunny. We thought about going to the hills but it looked like it would be just too wild. I think this was right. We hatched a plan to start running from Longniddry where the nice trails start and run to North Berwick where we could catch the train back to Longniddry. Not a bad plan. In my head we were going to be sailing along lovely flat beaches with the wind behind. Sometimes that can be just the greatest feeling. However, we were both unaccountably done in and the wind was troublesome. It was knocking us side-ways, making us lean, blowing sand and foam in our faces and generally making us feel harassed. The tide was close up to the shore and the sand that was exposed was water-logged and very, very sinky. The wind was too loud to talk to each other a lot of the time.
At Yellowcraigs we made the decision to steer inwards rather than stick to the shore, where we were taking a hammering. I was grateful for a bit of tarmac again and the pace, which had been glacial, picked up a little bit. In North Berwick we just had time for a slightly incongruous scone and cup of tea in a Thai restaurant before getting the train back to Longniddry.
Hours before I had voted for parking the car in "Longniddry Bents Carpark no. 1" because it would give us a bit more distance than just parking at Longniddry Station. I had not anticipated just how tired we would be by the time we got off the train and how unwelcome the 1 and a half mile run into the teeth of the wind would be. And then it started to rain. Buchanan berated me pretty much every step of the way but sadly I couldn't really hear what he was saying as the wind was too loud.
Now I have books to read and some work to do this evening and I am avoiding it.
I quite like all of my work but I like doing whatever I like when I want to best. I would like to win the lottery. There are a lot of stories about how winning the lottery brings suffering in its wake, and I would like to take on that suffering so that someone else doesn't have to. Just sayin'.