wet weekend

 

12th and 13th Dec.

Worst weekend of the winter (so far) and nothing good to be said for it. I quite enjoyed Saturday but maybe that was just the strong coffee and Nick and Mary's company on a ten miler round Holyrood. Not even the otter could be bothered. Just disgraceful weather and scenery. Fucking pits.

Nice to see Bernie (and also Ken)
Forgot to photo Ken but enjoyed a quick catch up.

I swithered about which camera to take. I took the waterproof which is possibly the least good at real life, although it has the huge benefit of not having to carry it in a freezer bag between shots. In fact this is about all it is good for. Mistake! Because although there was no sign of the otter at Dunsapie I spotted a kingfisher (the high pitched peep confirming it) over the other side of the loch. It was only just discernible. The older dude next to us, heard me shout in excitement, trained his Canon bridge camera on the bushes and got a reasonable record shot. The w/p camera has what it claims is x5 zoom but really you'd have to have the vision of superman or Steve Austin to see the kingfisher in either of the shots above or below. Enjoy those luxuriant colours. Haha! 

Never seen one here before. There are also rumours from an unsubstantiated source of a turtle living here. I had a quick google, mainly to disprove such nonsense and the only (unrelated) thing I could find was that someone dropped off their terrapin in the Botanics tropical greenhouse pond in 2012. I doubt any tropical beast would last 5mins in the cold waters of Dusapie. But I like the rumour. Same with large cats in Pentlands. (But please don't put your terrapin in Dunsapie just to cheer me up.)

Kingfisher: just look really carefully at the yellow shrub
(I couldn't even see it on the computer at maximum magnification.)

That which the tramworks haven't closed yet.

We (well Mary) put up the christmas lights this weekend. I really liked her 2020 installation featuring a redundant cd rack wrapped in tesco's discounted lights, topped off with an anatomical skeleton she had in a cupboard. It looked a little bald, like it needed a hat. I was thinking black top hat, but all we have found so far is a red flashing button. Super-festive! And very apt for the spirit of 2020 as we crash out of Europe and the world kills off its old folk round the planet with C19. 

Sunday was considerably worse than Saturday. I tried to get out earlier ahead of the rain but a lack of impetus and a general sluggishness caused by a hatred of everything, seemed to slow things down and we only got out around midday just as the rain was turning from light drizzle to soaking drizzle to downpour. I was in a shit mood and it got worse as I got cold from running too slowly in rain. Mary tried to cheer me up but I was beyond help.

I think I do need to do drugs.

So instead of taking the waterproof camera I was still hurting from the missed kingfisher shots and took the B camera, an old TZ35. Great x20 zoom. And it had to stay in a poly bag. Wrong again. So the only shots I took were in tunnels on the cyclepath. But there was nothing worth seeing anyway. We ran down to Granton then along to Silverknowes on esplanade, then back on the cyclepath. It was completely unmemorable. 

as if

floater in Wardie Bay

ghost of a christmas tree

About this time last year Mary and I had a "who can take the most miserable seasonal photo" competition. I won with a pic of a panhandler sitting in the street at Haymarket in black and white who was possibly reading a travel brochure from the travel agent nearby. Above and below are my entries for this years "lovely landscape to celebrate christmas in a sarcastic manner" photo comp. There is a near continuous vista of stuff like this on the lower road between Granton and the esplanade. A winter wonderland. 

It was a relief to turn up Silverknowes Rd and get back to the cyclepath which meant we were now heading home (adn had some wind cover). I nearly had to run on ahead as I was getting close to hypothermic. My gloves were soaked through and my hands were icing over. The thought that kept me running alongside Mary was that if I stuck with her she could open the front door and I wouldn't have to get my key out with wooden fingers. While juggling the camera.

I managed to stay with Mary till about a mile from home then could stand it no longer. Almost as soon as I started running a bit faster I warmed up. The waving back and forth of my arms sent blood into my dead fingers and I managed to get my keys out and work the doors ok. I was very glad to get out of wet clothes and into a hot shower. And glad to knock out 10 miles on such a shitty day and thanks Mary for getting me out the door and my apologies for being less than sparkling company. 

Nearly forgot this episode. We came off the cyclepath at Groathill and ran down Craigleith Hill Avenue, the street of my childhood. (It always throws up memories.) Round about 50 years ago a primary school pal Graham invited me to his home which was beside Telford Rd at the top of this street (in photo above). He was not great company. After reluctantly going to his house and not really enjoying it much we got to playing a 2 person game of hide and seek. During one Hide I just went home, which almost definitely contravenes the Geneva Convention. I am not proud of this. It was a suitably bleak memory for a day like this. My belated apologies Graham. 

10 misery miles