Easter

Friday was a nothing day. Although Good Friday is a holiday, all the shops are open, so Ian and I went to the supermarket. Waitrose. And that's as interesting and exciting as Friday got.

All of me wants all of you.

On Saturday, Ian's Aunty June and his Father came up to Edinburgh from The Borders. After a spot of lunch, we drove into the city to see High Society at The Edinburgh Playhouse. I've not known an afternoon of such absolute campery in years, dear reader. The entire cast were a bunch of 'mos. Wayne Sleep was outrageous. And playing straight. He reminded me of that wee guy Karen Walker often spars with in Will and Grace.



Ian's Father brought the above photograph with him. Ian's paternal Granny is in the front row. Seventh from the left. It was taken in Fishguard in 1904.

Even in her nineties, Ian's Granny could name every child in that photograph. Amazing.



On our way to the theatre. Razed in black.



On Sunday, we went to The Dean Gallery and I cut Ian's hair.

Today, a trip to England was in order: Berwick Upon Tweed.

While driving along the city bypass, I noticed the car in the above photograph. The driver seemed to be inviting all and sundry to sit on his or her face. Really.



A few miles later, on the A1, we see Minge, almost in England.



We stopped in a layby for the photo opportunity. We were accompanied by lorries, one of which I photographed. Strange. All European lorries seem to look the same. And all American lorries seem to look the same (but different). Our variety lacks the sticky-out bit at the front. I love American lorries. Don't ask me why. And yes, I know it's not like me to be into things as butch.



We were soon in Berwick Upon Tweed. Here we find Mary sat upon the town ramparts. It's still at war with Russia, you know, my little maid.



I thought that this house was delicious. Notice how the windows get progressively smaller as ones eyes rise to the roof, my love.



Looking out to the North Sea.



The Tweed.



A wee street/lane, leading to the old Customs House.



And a fabulous pub. There are hundreds, if not thousands of pubs in the UK called The Crown, The Red Lion or The Kings Arms. How many pubs include the word hen in the name?



After a tour of the town's defensive systems, a trip along the main street. I noticed that all the highstreet shops in the town could be found in any other city or town in the UK. There is no point in any Briton travelling to another part of the country to go shopping anymore. The only shop I saw in Berwick's main street of which I was ignorant was called Greenwoods - and it's closing down.



The main street. I took this photograph while sitting on a bench. I was waiting for Ian to come out from Caffé Nero with coffee and sandwiches.



Looking down the street. Do you think the people look English or Scottish, dear reader? The town's changed hands so many times, it's difficult to tell. Also, the dialect and/or accent is something else. Northumbrian? Lowland Scots? Je ne sais pas!



We resumed our walk along the perimeter wall. I soon saw this bird on a shitty window sill and thought of Reluctant Nomad.



The main street. Again. I'm sorry, I don't know what it's called and the urge to look up said information escapes me.



Mon beau et mes chiennes.



Berwick has a Town Hall to rival any French Château.



After the town, the beach. Meg looks out to see Mary and Phyllis playing on the sands. Meg has to stay with me. Mucking about is not on the cards for her just now. She's hurt her wrist, you see, dear reader. The vet ordered to her to rest. Only gentle walking on the lead! And to lose weight!



Mary returns to me with a portion of log. Can you see Phyllis, my bird?



The Spittal amusements. It's a British seaside cliché. Family fun? Yes. Sure. Nice to lose loads of money through gambling! Exciting! Fun!

British seaside resorts have all seen better days. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings inside the Family Fun Centre. They were all yellow from cigarette smoke and broken.



The sandwiches were not enough. Ian treated us to chips.



Then, later, at Eyemouth, en route back to Edinburgh, ice cream from Giacopazzi's.



A sea mammal (don't ask me which one) patrols Eyemouth harbour, looking to be fed. You can buy three fish heads for a pound from a stall by the harbour wall. Some boys were dangling heads from a string attached to a bamboo cane in order to make said mammal jump. And jump, it did. Sadly, not while I had my camera out.



Back on the A1. Edinburgh is just out of sight. However, Bass Rock can be seen. Also Torness and Dunbar.