Today was a funny old day. Mainly it was very nice. The sun shone and we took Daughter 1, Son-in-Law 1 and Grandson out for lunch and then went for a walk along the River Esk in Musselburgh, near where Mr Life lived with his parents, in his teenage years and early twenties, in the lower half of a beautiful big house . The house belonged to the Coal Board, for which his father worked. It was Victorian, very elegant and spacious.
We observed the river, discussing the various times that Mr Life's family dog, a somewhat bonkers spaniel, had fallen in the water.
We looked at a chap fishing and wondered why anyone would.
We failed to notice (until he pointed it out) that Grandson had his hand stuck inside the buggy straps. And we approached the beautiful house that Mr Life had lived in, planning to show it to Son-in-Law 1. Mr Life and I had last walked past it on June 19th last year - Father's Day - after lunching nearby.
Look at what we found.
It was gone. Demolished.
I don't often feel the need to use the word "gobsmacked" but this would have been a suitable occasion. Gobsmacked and horrified.