The yellow on the wall there is my favourite colour. Ever. I love yellow. But I don’t love Gorse. I got caught up in one day when I was wee. It hurt. Lesson learned: all that is gold may glitter [but can also hurt in that way where you silent scream at first, eyes wide in horror, so shocking is the pain].
Gorse is a big feature in the natural Scottish landscape. I’ve had to learn to see its colour and let that shout over the top of the bad memory.
I often start the day wondering how I’ll get everything done. I can get lost in a fog of over-thinking. The things I’d like to do before 10am tangle up with the things I want to do before 2025 so that sometimes I shoot myself in the foot and lose my mojo a bit.
I have been asking myself a calming question recently and it seems pertinent as school holidays draw to an end and scheduling comes into view again;
What if, just maybe, what if there will be time for everything?
I’m not into monarchy. To me, the idea that one family’s worth is higher than another is an assault on the beautiful potentials of many.
By accident, we’ve been following a Robert The Bruce trail recently. In truth, you’d be hard pushed to go anywhere in Scotland where he hadn’t been. Reading a little about him makes him pinball in my mind’s map, horseback ricocheting from one coast to another.
The Bruce’s story seems to have been one of family expectation, ego and opportunity. And of Scotland; ever divided, ever beautiful.
Portobello reminds me of going to Saltcoats with my Grandparents when I was wee. It was an epic, stressful passage from East Kilbride.
Then….. Sea. Sand. Chips. Sun. And the shows.
By all accounts Portobello’s changed a lot over the years. Until the 70’s there was a heated outdoor pool. Less appealing is the thought that just over a century ago there was a human zoo here, featuring 70 Somalians, shipped in for paying visitors’ amusement.
I love noseying at life and homes, grabbing a take away coffee and beach wandering.