Along the Pentland Road, 25 May 2017

Sunday, 1 November 2009

Closing the day

Eleven minutes to eleven in the evening as I start to write this post. My header pictures has been changed once more, and this time it is not a landscape picture - it is quite typical of this time of year. The time was 8pm yesterday evening, and I went to the shop to try to get a copy of my daily rag (the Press and Journal). It had of course sold out hours before. The street is in an industrial area of Stornoway - yes, those are private homes on the right of the picture. I like taking pictures at night, and have devoted an entire set to them on Flickr.com.

I have sorted out my subscriptions on Google Reader, and noticed quite a few blogs that were on there which were no longer in existence. The mess, caused by my ill-advised link-up to Blogger, has been sorted - I have a group of blogs that I monitor regularly; the rest are a repository of links.

Spent the afternoon and evening watching an episode of Colombo and one of Poirot. And managed to find the score for the tune for Poirot, so I can now play it on the keyboard. Should be interesting. For now, we're heading into a week with a lot of wet weather. November here we are.

7 comments:

  1. Your night set of pics are very nice, but I think I just realized that I don't like NIGHT, all the pics looked eery to me. Was that on purpose for Halloween... LOL!!!

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  2. I like your header picture ~ it looks like a ghost town though. I am going to check out your other night photos.

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  3. Love the big picture. It is as if I'm traveling down that road myself as I look at it.
    Sonya

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  4. I do enjoy the night light effect....
    Nice morning here blue sky and not so windy was it was yesterday.
    Love Sybil

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  5. November here we are; December here we come!
    The future winter we will survive!
    Spring will prove we are still alive!
    And music will play for the deaf and dumb!
    Yet all will sing with only one voice,
    As those that seek the words to speak,
    Find the thoughts that flow from the weak,
    Are the loudest of all and the final choice.

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