Tempestuous wind, doing his will
This was a productive week, though of the unspectacular sort of productivity that involves writing replies to referee reports, writings one's own referee reports, correcting copyedited manuscript, and finally acceding to the relentless insistence of the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy that one's article be updated every five minutes. Still, productive, so that I dropped my plan to head in to the office today and instead decided to take a proper day off. There must be nice walks somewhere within easy day-trip range, I thought, and a quick visit to my new favorite website turned up Linlithgow, an easy twenty-minute train ride away, with a ruined palace and a loch and the whole shebang.
When I arrived in Linlithgow it was raining pretty hard. Not an auspicious start, but maybe I can wait it out. I need to get lunch anyway. But it's noon, and since the pubs and restaurants are all closed, the few cafés that are open are either booked solid or packed. I end up at the Granary Café. There's a long wait, but fortunately I have equipped myself with a P.G. Wodehouse novel for just such an occasion. Lord Ickenham keeps me amused until I can get a table, at which point I eat a bacon-and-cheddar toastie that is inexpressibly delicious.
Time for a walk around the loch. It's a flat, if somewhat muddy, walk. The sky is ever-changing. There are wind gusts of the kind that threaten to lift you off your feet, or at least blow the phone out of your hand.
There are always people walking dogs when I'm out. Scottish dogs are trained to be very well-mannered. They don't rush at you and jump on you; they carry on as if you're not there. I suppose if I feared dogs, or even disliked them, I would find this to be a good thing. Occasionally, though, I encounter a dog who is (by Scottish standards) offensively forward, and I am always delighted.
And so it happens that an adorable Labradoodle comes up to me, wanting to make my acquaintance. "Is it OK if I pet him?" I ask the couple who are walking him. (I always ask.) "Oh, yes," they say. "We're terribly sorry. He always feels the need to go up to people like that." "Frankly," I reply, "I'm always disappointed when they don't." They laugh, and I enjoy a few moments with the dog before we move along.
In addition to dogs, there are sheep
and all manner of birds.
