I walked for miles around Edinburgh yesterday morning, so much so, that both the socks I had on now have holes in them. They definitely weren’t there when I put them on in the morning. I’m not that kind of guy.
I started by walking into Leith so as to use the Saturday morning banking facility in the Kirkgate. The Saturday staff generally looked as though they had all been on a night out and were trying to mask the fact. One young female teller had bags under her eyes like a baby panda, and the young guy who served me had some weird stains on his tie. Professionalism to the point of no return.
From there I hopped a bus way out to the south side of Edinburgh—way, way out to the south side—then began the long trek back. It was a great walk, taking in Morningside, Bruntsfield, the Meadows, Prince Street Gardens and George Street. I passed Charlotte Square for a photograph—it was a sad site with all the trucks in and scaffolding lying around. I couldn’t get the picture off but will try again later.
Being in the centre of town I stopped at an ATM machine to retrieve some cash. My attention was grabbed by the sound of a strange whirring, double click then a message much different to the one I was used to flashed up on the screen: “Your card has been retained. Thank you or your service.” Hmmm—no money then.
Fate was smiling on me, however, because I had just enough cash for a Pan au Chocolat and Guardian, the large cappuccino coming courtesy of my overflowing loyalty card, which meant it was free. Phew! I spent over an hour writing into my notebook in the coffee shop and it felt good.
Back home then and with my in-laws coming for dinner mid-afternoon there was much to do around the house. Gail and I had demolish an old wooden porch that had come attached to the house and several trips were required to get rid of it all at the Tip.
While we were there we noticed a small shoe box abandoned in a skip on top of some rubble. We opened it and took a look. It was full of old pre-War photographs, memorabilia, old passports, birth and death certificates—a sad find but fascinating stuff. We took it home for proper analysis later on, with I immediately thinking “crime story”.
The in-laws arrived and we had a few drinks followed by a rare meal served up by my wife—she insisted on absolutely no help, whatsoever this time—of home-made prawn cocktail (even the sauce), roast beef, Yorkies, veg, roast tatties and gravy, followed by profiteroles and cream then a slice of cheesecake. I was absolutely stuffed. It was glorious and the drinks continued long into the night after the oldies has disappeared into the night.
Today I have to help shifting some kitchen tiles and utilities in my in-law’s house but I hope to get into some longer periods of writing later on. I’ve set my agenda for this year’s Muse Conference, confirmed only this morning by the organisers:
- Are Your Characters Alive? with Ann Hite
- Book Trailers – A commercial For Your Book with Delilah Stephans
- Dialogue Workshop taught by Devon Ellington
- Flash Fiction with Jim Harrington
- Plot Your Novel in 15 Minutes or Less! with Claudia Suzanne
- Story Building Workshop with Devon Ellington
- Meet Rachelle Gardner – Literary agent
That’s all for today—peace out!