TUESDAY, 22 AUGUST, 2000, EDINBURGH

All right, I’m not going to go on and on in my longwinded fashion this time. Just some lovely snaps for you today, darlingtons. The view I wake up to. Thanks for the sofa, Badjuju! (Two photos poorly pasted together.) In the Public Hanging Square there is a cobbled heart in the street that used to be the cover for the oubliette that lays beneath where the condemned are held until show time. Custom goes that one is supposed to spit on the heart to demonstrate one’s disapproval for the rapscallion who shiver in darkness beneath it. Can’t really make it out here, but Juju has a nasty, gooey gobber dangling from her lip after true peasant fashion. I am a fatigued boy. I like spooky old things. I like spooky old things a lot. You probably already knew this but I did not: that the symbology of the skull and crossbones was an old Xtian belief that all one needed to hike up to the Pearly Gates was one’s brain and some legs to walk on — thus the skull and two femurs. I like Tennent’s Lager. I’m going to bed now.