Today me and R went for a Lothian Bus trip down to Portobello.
I’ve been playing football in this part of town for years without really venturing beyond the floodlit astroturf. While I’m sure I’ve been to the seafront as a child, today was the first time since I’ve lived in the city that I’ve bothered to check it out.
It gives my hometown, Leven, a run for its money in the faded seaside resort stakes. I particularly liked the wind-battered signs for the ‘Funpark’ and the lime green railings. While most of the entertainments of days gone by have long since closed or been demolished, the daft dogs yelping around provided much compensatory amusement. (In the picture above the tiny dog on the left was actually starting on the big, cowering boxer dog.)
There is something even bleaker about a past-its-prime promenade in February, when it’s getting dark at 5 o’clock. Still, it’s a good place to go for a walk, away from the traffic and shops of the centre, and those icy winds will blast away the heaviest hangover (not that I had one of course).
Anyway, this very ordinary Sunday afternoon out did remind me of this piece of comedy gold: