Lockdown week 8 - Tuesday

Today, after a pleasant coffee in the garden with Son-in-Law 1, who was kindly doing an errand for us (thus rendering his visit permissible - more or less), we had to go to the Post Office, so we walked along the cycle path,

which was lined with drifts of lovely cow parsley. The flowers are much prettier than the name. By this time, it was dull and we wondered if it would rain. We do need rain!

And then we went through a few streets, with the Pentland Hills as a backdrop,

and had a little wander round Corstorphine Old Parish Church. There was a chapel here since some time before 1128, but this building dates from 1473. Much of the medieval building survives, including the tower, the south transept, the vestry and the chancel. The porch dates from a comparatively recent 1646 and was probably built of the stones from the earlier church. Oliver Cromwell's troops occupied it for twelve months in 1650-51, and defaced various effigies and memorials.

There are lots of ancient and unreadable tombstones but some of the more modern ones tell sad stories, like this one above. How dreadful that must have been. How lucky we are, despite feeling very deprived of grandchildren at the moment.

And there's this, proving that ours is not the only age when people gave their children strange names.

So we sat on a bench for a few minutes, looking at the blue coming into the sky

and then wandered along through Corstorphine Village (actually, we don't wander. We stomp along. And it's no longer a village, just part of the town, though it's still referred to thus)

and home, as the sun started to shine.

4.9 miles.