Downtown Edinburgh, from whence I wrote this piece
Block after block of grey, stoic flats flit past to converge with still others in a parade past my train window. An aging reflection gazes back reminding me I need a haircut. The broom-covered, volcanic hills stand guard against a broadening horizon of uncommonly blue Edinburgh sky, and I am pensive.
My wife, as I have described her at least, is a tempest in a teacup. Actually, human hurricane was the term as I recall.
My wife and fellow partner in words, curiously quiet
She is the poster child for extraverts, an off-the-charts go getter with a zest for life and love for adventure. It’s fun but rather exhausting! I accompany her downtown from Brunstane to Waverly Station where she caught the morning train to a writer’s retreat near Bath.
After seeing her off, I indulge in another quick jaunt up Princes Street. I…
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