Revolution: There have been 11 since my last update.
Revelation: I look not unlike 'The Machinist' Christian Bale in his latter stages of insomnia, in the torso certainly. It is not down to insomnia, I think, as I sleep well. Nor is it down to poor diet, as my intake has improved inexorably from the slop I used to serve myself in Maidenhead. Indeed, my culinary skills have improved almost beyond recognition (not such a bold boast when considering the starting point), and I now have a healthy interest, perhaps even keenness, for bakery.
Revolution: I am, literally, on lap 3 of Scotland.
Revelation: Saw the face of the Gnome King in a pile of rubble near Aviemore.
Revolution: In the last 336 hours I have watched 32 episodes of Peep Show. And two-thirds of the Matrix trilogy, but not the Revolutions. Watch me as I discover the world.
Revelation: An evening jaunt to the laundry room brought me face-to-face with a young male deer; barely five yards apart we were. He didn't even see me the hapless, doomed beauty.
Revelation: Familiar faces become less so the more you gaze upon them. I watched Synechdoce New York again.
Revolution: After nigh-on two weeks unbroken sunshine, Findhorn is given to rain. And, boy, is it given.
Revelation: I'm about as Virgo as it is possible for a man to get.
Revelation: Blinked away an hour between Pitlochrie and Stirling.
Revolution: Stood atop Randolph's Leap, the point at which a Comyn escaped across the River Findhorn as they fled from Randolph.
Revelation: It's raining in Glasgow.
Revolution: Departing Scotland today.
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Number three on The List: Master Baker
Apparently my spelt fruit loaf is Farmer's Market-grade spelt fruit loaf.
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