Self-isolation, Day One
After a long but impressively smooth journey, I found myself last night around 8:30 sitting on Dublin Street, waiting for the letting agent to bring me the keys for my flat, and singing this sotto voce as the occasional passerby slipped into the quiet of a Sunday evening in the less bustling parts of the New Town. I justify the sentimentality and arguably misplaced nostalgia by noting that the arranger (the tall tenor in the middle) is an American living in Edinburgh.
This morning I am barely jet-lagged. I've ordered grocery delivery, made my usual breakfast of buttered crumpets and cafetiere coffee, and sat down to plan my day. Being forbidden by law to leave my flat except under unusual circumstances, I have no excuse not to be productive, though I find that staring dreamily out of my windows is a perfectly good use of time in itself.