It was cold this morning. As I walked to the co-op to buy my morning rolls, the sun was only just dissipating the freezing mist that hung over the city of Edinburgh. The slate roofs of the new town tenements were white with hoar frost; the air was crisp and sharp. As I walked back, the sunshine illuminated the grey walls of the city so that they became honey-coloured in the northern light.
As I cooked the square sausage to insert in the roll for breakfast, I reflected on Voltaire. Perhaps I lived in the best of all possible worlds. Despite the Scottish Executive, despite all our problems, despite embittered expats seeking to do us down, perhaps - just perhaps - I live in a decent small country. Not the best, but no' that bad.
2 comments:
I agree: it's no' that bad. I bet you can't get square sausages in Belarus.
And certainly not in Harvard!
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