Home Alone

Tragic

Beautiful Trees

Leaden Skies

All kinds of folly

Axis of Evil

Bleached Santa with a Gun to His Head?

It's official, it's a shame for me. Tragically home alone and trying to write an essay while everyone else in the world just has a good time. Buchanan is up North, striding out manfully on trails with his Hokas on. There will be photos and stories. I'm hoping to God he's not been drinking that cheap version of Red Bull he buys out the Co-op or there will be no end to it.

So it made sense that I'd plan to write my essay this weekend while there's no-one around. No distractions. But what an ordeal. And I mustn't let myself off the lead for too long just now or it will get away from me again. Or I'll get away from it.

I've promised myself if it's pretty much done tomorrow I can have a day off and go to Gullane and run around at the beach. That's my incentive.

Yesterday I meant to go a run up Arthur's Seat but then I had a strange sock fail not far from home. One sock crept under my heel and balled up under my arch. I stopped and leaned against a lamp-post and took my shoe off and sorted it out, tied my laces up tight and set off again. But then it did it again. I have no clue how this came about. Not new socks. Not new shoes. Never happened before.
I was reluctant to turn back but it seemed like if I didn't go home and change my socks I'd end up giving myself some weird injury or blisters on my heel, Taking note of my surroundings I noticed there were more than the expected (and much more than the desired) amount of Hibs Fans stotting about and I deduced (No Shit Sherlock) that 'The Hibs' must be playing 'at home'. I resigned myself to the fact that my home territory would be invaded for the rest of the day by a lot of drunken ding-bats with green and white scarves. After I'd gone home and re-socked I headed to Portobello instead, to avoid the football. The sun came out for a little while and lit up the beautiful trees on Leith Links and this was only slightly marred by the knowledge that just up the road ding-bats would be saying "Sunshine on Leith" to each other and taking it as an omen that 'their team' was going to be in some way favoured by God in his heavens. Maybe they'd get a night of celebrating by banging bin lids. Who really knew just how good it might get? I have it on good authority that God doesn't actually care about 'The Hibs' and never has.
"Oh My" I hear you say. "You're just being unpleasant because you have an essay to do and you don't want it!"
Well you're quite the analyst aren't you?
"Are you actually taking this all out on me, your ONLY blog reader?"
Yes I'm sorry, I was.
The sun went away again and although it was good to be out I got pretty tired of the prom and all the people and I turned around early. I thought maybe I'd run 10 miles but it was only 8.5 in the end.

I didn't actually do much essay stuff  yesterday. I kept getting distracted by things. I tidied up quite a lot more than usual. Damn near got the hoover out. I even found myself trying to clean a stain on the carpet in the sitting room that has been there forever. It was a glass of red wine, more than a decade ago. Cleaning it has made it much more noticeable - sort of picked it out. I'm looking forwards to Buchanan going on about it when he gets home.

This morning, I just started right away at 8.30. Right into it, essay world. I didn't stop at all until 12.30pm and then it seemed fair enough to have a cup of coffee and go out for a run.
I was going to run round Arthur's Seat but also wanted to dump off a load of old batteries in the battery recycling thing at the Scotmid. I've been meaning to do it for well over a year. Once I was round there I thought I'd diversify a bit and make up my run as I went along. I ran up Calton Hill and from there could see the horrors of Princes Street, so I thought I might go and skirt around it, avoiding the thickly crowded patches as much as possible. Princes Street Gardens is surprisingly nice. I ran along the far side on the grass next to the trees. There was no-one there but me and the magpies. I never think to go there. I went through the graveyard at the far end and then through the Grassmarket, up onto George IVth Bridge and down the Mound, always trying to avoid the shoppers and tourists. Then I cut back home, just shy of 5 miles. It was lovely to get out. But now it's nearly 4pm. And I still have to have a shower. And I need to get as much as I possibly can done before Peter arrives home at 9...

If you catch me signing up for any more courses - especially year long ones, just give me a slap.