Mony a brattle, yirth din an wullfire, this muithy mornin, writes Peggy Farquharson, recalling meteorological excitements earlier today.
If it wisna routin, it wis flaffin, an if it wisna flauchtin then it wis routin or thinkin aboot routin.
Whit wi the dinnles an thuds an heavysome thunder-plumps, the hurls an flauchts, the skarrachs an rattlestanes, it wis mair lik the hindmaist day betimes, the plowtery crack o doom, the slabberin mou o muckle hell openin up aa the way doun Dunedin Street.
A graun mornin, sure eneuch – bleeters an blauds, sappled cats an hauf-drint tourists in cafés steamin ower their cappuccinos. No sae braggal noo wi yer exchange rate, eh chummy?
Aye, it wis fair drumlie fae ferst tae neen.
Summer in Embro – whit’s no tae lik?
[Weather symbol: Creative Commons]
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@theSpurtle Your correspondent is mistaken: there are many things on the streets of Edinburgh that should not be licked.