One of the very few cases (I wasn’t alive during the bombing of Dresden circa 1945) of rubble being more aesthetically pleasing than the shopping centre that was previously stood there … gawking at folk. It was Medusa in building form.
A horrible thing.
Nothing much to see here, just a Gorgie bar that has been resurrected. Sat in the pishing rain guzzling warm beer the price of your local hourly wage – #LifeGoals and all that.
I have never been in here but denizens of the ‘hood inform me that it is okay. Perhaps the backdrop puts me off; it reminds me of the Soviet Union circa 1991. Not that I ever saw it.
Bye for now.
Grim scenes. And some manky bastard (not me) left a plastic cup. Ruined my wee jog.
Bye for now.
A few cheeky ciders in the Ardmillan Hotel beer garden, getting bitten to fuck by midges and stung by ravenous wasps (the insects, not White Anglo-Saxon Protestants).
It’s a ritualistic endeavour and that’s my dream for the summer.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 