A wet, wind-blasted day and a monochrome landscape beneath moody, pewter skies. Rain batters the windows of the number 44 bus to Balerno. I hop off and strike out across the moors. The air is good and clean, the wind blowing away the cobwebs.
Over West Kip, East Kip and Scald Law in drenching mist and I'm blown around by the wind so that I'm walking as if drunk. The rain starts and I pull my hood in tighter but the drops still sting my face. It's grim ... but in an enjoyable sort of a way.
I tick off the tops as I track eastwards and the mist clears above Allermuir. How funny to have such an east/west split in the weather in such a small range of hills. There's a view now but still the wind that sends waves of movement across the pale winter grasses. And still the grey, glowering skies above.
Off at the far end and pick up the number 4 bus homeward, collecting Gorgie Road football fans along the way. I jump off briefly for some shopping necessities. Into the seething masses of Saturday afternoon Princes Street. It's grim ... in an unenjoyable sort of a way.
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