There's a story over at the Sunday Herald, jumping the gun on figures due out tomorrow regarding drinking (of alcohol) in Scotland. I find myself in the peculiar position of being a semi-pro drinker (in that I get paid for writing about whisky) who is beginning to realise that enough is well and truly enough, both personally and....what's the right word? Collectively? Socially? Politically?
So...mine's a soda water and lime (or one of those rather delicious Cherry Diet Cokes). For the time being. For more see the Nippy Sweeties blog or, if you're on Facebook, the Aff It group.
Anyway, a fantastic weekend of weather in the Zetlandic Archipelago, featuring, for the first time in many years, North Atlantic sunburn. I write after a Sunday spent lazing about and then pedalling (stupidly not a road bike) 11 miles from Brae to Hillswick against a vicious and unexpected little wind. On the way I passed these pipes, which are hidden away in a quarry I've barely noticed in the car and which, by the presence of empty wine bottles and, uh, a mattress, seem to be a place of (how can I put this?) assignation.
And finally, Skipwatch Day Four: It's full! Everything including a chest freezer. The Cross of St George, alas, has gone.