Andrew MacLaren-Scott's Blog, page 25

Dog day afternoon and night

Just after photographing a vast bank of cloud swelling up in the western sky, an old woman approached me and said very loudly, "You're bald! My son is bald! But he's handsome!" And while I pondered her use of "But," I reached a tentative diagnosis of the manic phase of bipolar disorder, rather than dementia, while the photos of her son came out, and then she started ruffling a young child's hair and telling him he looked like her son as a lad; and then she opened her purse and began dispensing coins to all of the children in the coffee shop while their parents looked bemused; until she returned to me and asked me where I lived, and what I did, and where was my wife, and did I have grandchildren... until eventually I had to abandon my attempts at work, shut the laptop, make my excuses and go.


Then later, walking on the dark South Inch, a big hairy dog galloped past me heading to catch up with its human, until a few seconds afterwards I felt a nudge by my knee and looking down I found the dog with my glove in its mouth - a glove I did not know that I had dropped - and the dog nudged me again, until I accepted the glove and moved on. A Retriever? How clever, how kind.

But then as I approached the walls of Perth prison, just beyond those glimmering buildings up there on the right, a dismal December dread suddenly filled me. I don't know why, although I have an idea. And I felt cold, and old, and alone, neither wanting to walk forward or back. What time was it? What should I do? The work was done by then. A bit further on and a few miserable visitors were leaving the prison - two women, one child, one bent and hobbling old man. I changed my mind three times, turned back, and went home; where a headache grew. I felt miserable. Nobody knew. My mood is lifting now, with no more sore head, in early bed. Goodnight.

Beside the pond, Gloagburn grey, every way

From Roseburn Bar to Stockbridge Nero

A wander in Edinburgh is always worthwhile







especially when the alternative is joining in on a trip to the shops

Another December Dawns

As I wander in to talk about the electron wave equation to people who have seen many fewer December dawns than me. My impression was that they were quite pleased... when I stopped

Wondering

Combustion

I am worried about his head. Was it something she said? I just liked the effect of the light and shade in the wider view, then later noticed that there was possibly smoke coming from the lad's ears.

The new King James

I can't decide if looking at old stones believed to have been set in place around 1231, as referred to in a comment on the previous post, is interesting or simply boring. Anyway, I present them here, along with a history lesson from outside the pub that can be enlarged by clicking to read (or if that doesn't work try clicking here for a newspaper story).




The pub has been called Christie's for years, but the owners decided to exploit the site's history.

The bigger they are the harder they fall...

Radial head fracture: emedicine.medscape.com
Just for the record... While proceeding steadily and straight towards an assignation in a university establishment, I was only vaguely aware of the young students larking around just ahead and to my right. Just at the wrong moment one of those youngsters with his back towards me thrust his foot outwards in response, I believe (although it is all a bit of a blur) to a violent push from one of his friends. The young outstretched foot landed precisely where my old front foot was rapidly heading, and I fell lengthways until my outstretched right arm hit the solid floor with a horrible slapping crack. The youngster was decent enough to say, "Sorry, are you alright?", to which I replied, "I will be," and walked away not wishing to make a fuss. I headed back towards my car in the car park, feeling that a sit down was required, but after about twenty yards I nearly vomited with pain, and somewhat collapsed in a sweating faint. Perhaps I am a wimp. Within the hour, having been transported in a university car, I was having x-rays blasted through me, then was soon looking at an image much like the one above. This was when, with me standing again, the very small nurse gazed upwards and told me I had "a long way to fall." Unable to drive with an immobile arm, I walked about three miles from the hospital to the suitable bus-stop, perused the timetable, saw that I had over an hour to wait, and so wandered across the road to a conveniently located pub. The left hand was unaccustomed to raising beer to mouth, but together, we managed... several pints. And thus, life began to seem not so bad again. Now, nearly two weeks later, the arm is still significantly sore, especially when I awaken with it having sneaked its way into an undesirable position. "Whose fault was it?" everybody asks. "You could make a claim". And the institution involved has had to file an incident form, and interview me by email, and, etc... etc... Apparently nothing is ever allowed to just be an accident nowadays. It was, however, an unfortunate accident, that is all, I generously decided. Anyway, I don't even know the identity of the bloody stupid, larking, idiotic, fools whose blame it was, and they have been understandably unwilling to make themselves known. Incident over (as soon as the bone and soft tissues mend). My dear lady and my lovely adult children, with touching tenderness, just commented, "That's him started the falling down then." My lady's major and most immediate concern was that I would be able to learn the left-handed arse-wipe and would manage to wash for myself the delicate bits of the body that most need washed in the welcoming hot bath I retreated into, for about an hour. Dear reader, I managed, although I did need some help to get out.

Fiddling in Caffè Nero while...

Simply seen on Saturday