Linlithgow

[smokingboot]

Exhausted by, shall we say, an inexperienced writer, and buoyed up by a very patient editor, I decided to get myself to Linlithgow, for a day outside a screen; to reset my head for my own work.

The town is charming without being twee, and Linlithgow Palace has a pleasant vibe. James V had the old place restyled for his fashionable French queen, and she loved it; The place has its ghost, a blue lady, but it had no gloom whatsoever, except deep down in the brew rooms, guarded by shouting pigeons. I climbed up high and surveyed the loch and lands beyond, woken by the rain and the wind; but it seems that the sun enjoys Linlithgow, and the bad weather didn't stay long. A blue sky shone above the ruin. It was a smiling place.

That wind at the topmost, though, was a bit deceiving; it wuthered all my exasperation away, cut through my head and threatened to send me hurtling over the edge. I came home tired, headachey, and better.

Meanwhile, my mother is sending me messages about how I must wear my glasses whenever I speak to people. Apparently coronavirus can get in through your eyeballs.