Life is busy but not, never, boring. The other day we took the little ones to the Botanics, always one of my favourite ways of spending time. The sun shone.
Grandson played with sticks and admired "his" tree.
It used to be no. 17 Tree, but since his family has moved house it's become no.21 Tree. It has (according to him) front and back doors, front and back gardens, stairs, a television and a bed. What more could a boy want?
Yesterday we had an outing with our walking group, passing Peffermill House (above). It's famous for the story of Half-Hangit Maggie, who, having been hanged in 1724 for giving birth illegitimately and concealing the birth (and possibly killing the baby) was brought here in her coffin. There was a tavern in the grounds of the house; and while the men who were transporting the coffin to the graveyard were having refreshments there, she woke up and banged on the coffin lid. She was let out and, judged to have paid the penalty of the law, was allowed to go free.
Then we tramped past the ruins of Craigmillar Castle, one of the residences of Mary Queen of Scots. She had ultimately less luck than Maggie, poor soul.
And today we had the family. We played Snakes and Ladders and Granddaughter played with a dice. Or, if you like, a die, but no one really calls it that any more. Son-in-Law 1 suggested that it should be a douse, by analogy with mouse, which does seem an attractive idea. And now I must go to choir.