Plans

I haven't been stood up in years.  Actually, not since the very early 1990s as I recall.  But I was stood up today.

Brett's pal Andy was to meet me at one o'clock in Edinburgh city centre, on Princes Street, right in front of the Scott Monument, over the road from Jenners.  I waited for half an hour, called him, sent him a text.  Nothing.  No response.  No show.

And the weather.  According to Carol Kirkwood, it would rain all day until three o'clock this afternoon and then dry up.  As it happens, it was dry until three o'clock this afternoon.  At which point, when I was alighting the bus for a ten minute walk up the road to my house, the heavens opened.

All the clothes I was wearing are now in the washing machine.  No umbrella on this earth could have kept me dry.

I'm depressed.

The day, so far, has gone really badly.  We were contacted this morning by the proprietor of a hotel in Co Kerry.  Cutting a long story short, the lady had booked us in for one night instead of the three we'd requested back in March.  The morning then consisted of a frantic search to find accommodation for Ian, the dogs and I for two nights at short notice at the height of the Irish holiday season.

Not an easy task, but nothing insurmountable either.  We're now staying with someone whom Ian describes as a fag hag and mad about Border Collies.

So all is well.  Ish.