I am trying to teach the Gullane jackdaws to recognise the familiar refrains of Classic FM and come over to the car to be photographed while we drink coffee and eat raisin brioche. Second week into this; they will approach for rb crumbs and hop over with one eye on me and any sudden moves. If it continues to go well I may get a wee tray to clip on the door out the open window and see if they will fly onto this.
After a bit of stretching and limbering up we set off. The weather was even crappier than the forecast with a near constant drizzle. Still, it was a nicer venue than running round town.
Down the golf course and across the bridge at Aberlady and who should we see but Digby, who had done an out and back from Aberlady and was nearly finished his run.
Mary was a bit too broken to do intervals this week so we just had a pleasant jog along the beach. At the other end we had a pop quiz on pop tunes with "rain" in the title (or maybe just in the song). Mary sang some of them, but still the light rain fell. After the first easy few I started to cheat with the likes of god save the queen (long to rain (ahem) over us). And it reminded me of all those who sang the national anthem while getting their medals. I much preferred the likes of Bradley Wiggo who made a funny face and kept schtum. Proper northern reaction to such anachronistic flapdoodle. He gets my vote. For those who missed it it is well worth clicking on the above link and has to be one of the better statements of the games. But you can see how some who should know better (Brownlees) get carried away and caught up in their own delight to be there. Or maybe they think the privileged deserve hereditary titles. I suspect they haven't really taken the time to think about it - if it's not about shaving some seconds off a swim run or bike time it probably hasn't come up.
raining in my heart