Oscar and I took what is now known as the horror ride (not to him, we are still trying to play it light and hope the travel sickness abates), into town, to see some potential properties. The pickings are slim, but I believe that's the same everywhere these days. One agent/owner didn't turn up at all, but he messaged to say he was a Judge or as they are called here in Scotland, or should I say, still, called here in Scotland, a Sheriff, and he was held up in court all day. Not sure I would want the sheriff as a landlord anyway. I was totally depressed, which is my usual mood these days, mixed with stressed and panicked.
I bought a fast food lunch, a vegetarian one, but still, its not something I usually do, and tried to eat alfresco. No such luck. The pigeons were a flapping ratty nuisance, but when a seagull the size of a toddler showed up I scooped up a startled Oscar and made a break for it. I may do a post on my fear of birds at another time.
Duncan cut out of work early to look at an unsuitable house with me and I became teary behind my sunglasses when the 3 people I thought may be able to give us a ride home turned out to be unavailable.
As I sat on the bus home, one eye on pale face (Oscar, and Duncan a bit actually), I was in real despair. Then a funny thing happened, I saw us in a little period flat (apartment to any American blogger friends), in my most favorite part of the city (between the art school and the botanical gardens), and it suddenly seemed possible. I expect there will be some talking behind my back and at the very least a few raised eyebrows if we move from a large house in a beautiful rural setting to a city flat. But that wouldn't be seeing it from my point of view. I just want to go home, and that isn't here.