Dewar's Folly, Holyrood.
Wandered into the Capital today to look at Betty Windsor's collection of Italian Renaissance art at Holyrood (plebs admitted for £5). Lunched al fresco on the stone seats opposite Dewar's Folly (aka The House of Fun) courtesy of Jesse Boot's lunchtime special (buy 5, get 1 free). Reflected that it must be early summer in Edinburgh, as you can sit out comfortably in a light jacket and the air is rent with the pleasant twitter of the first migrant Japanese tourists of the season. As I munched contentedly on my prawn sandwich, I realised that I was sitting dressed in the summer plumage of the off duty, faux-hip cleric in early middle age - jacket and shirt from M & S, Armani jeans, shoes from Next and prescription shades by Police. I have become the Betjeman-esque clerical ruin I was intended by nature, nurture and grace to be. Middle class (by salary), middle aged (by default) and middle brow (by nature). And I don't care. I'm comfortable with it. I feel no pain or angst at ceasing to be a bright young thing (now at any rate) and am happy to enjoy being in my own skin. I may never go gentle into that good night, but I'm happy to bask in the early afternoon sunshine today.