Oh Son..

Wrapping myself up and loading myself with essentials such as coffee,cigarettes and ipod I took a very leisurely stroll along the canal.
Very content for no particular reason which made me smile even harder even though I didnt see any ducks. Just some nasty seagulls bobbing about.
Looking at the reminants of Saturday night shown on the pavements as I walked down Lothian Road.

Choosing to walk down the caslte side of Princes Street was a wise move. Watching the swarms of Christmas shoppers laiden with bags and their contents most probably still being paid for in 9 months time.
It was inevitable that I would soon have to join this army but until then I carried on through the crowds in the style of Richard Ashcroft in 'Bittersweet Sympathy' but bearing a smile.

Met up with an old friend. Fiona (aka Son) is a great friend from when I lived in the coastal sticks (as apposed to my Border sticks). She moved away about a year before me when she fell pregnant very early on in a relationship.

I was always there for her. Put up with her chronic mood swings,pregnancy medical worries and supporting her as best I could. Its funny think of it now. Weekends were spent wearing trackie bottoms and carrying handbags while we bought gifts and necessaties for her ever growing bump. Waiting up all night with her sister to hear the news when she was taken into hospital. Her dad being the head gynecologist ment we were free to see her as soon as she wanted us. Walking into the labour suite at 3am cluthing 'Its a girl' helium baloons (bought previously from the 24hr Asda) I was presented with Anna.
The youngest person I had ever held. As beautiful as she was and with both parents unable to take their eyes from their first born it still scared the shit out of me ever having my own. This fragile, helpless human and you have sole responsability for her. Dont get me wrong. Deep down I think I would make a great mum. The adamancy not to let my children have the complex upbringing I did and guide their development would be a rewarding and loving challenge to say the least. But not just now. I know the environments I want my children to be brought up in and at this moment in time, none of them are met.Also the fact that there was blood up the walls soon knocked me back into reality thats this aint no easy task!

So Fiona moved into her partners place (Scot) and we both moved on with her lives. I moved into Edinburgh and she had another child. But last week it dawned on me I had not called her in 9 months. Christmas is a good a time as any to get in touch with her.

She looks great, her kids are doing great and her and Scott have just bought a house to accomodate her 3rd bump. Due in April.
4 hours of Christmas shopping. Or should I put it,helping Fiona shop as we chatted like we had never been apart.
Having no children with her must have been difficult as she didnt have any willing children to put on the flying swings that reach a little too high and a bit too close to St Andrews Mounument on Princes street, so I was the chosen one instead. Not too hot about flying in circles in a machine run by some hilly billys and their dodgy sidekicks but I smiled and waved like an over enthusiastic kid trying to impress their parents. Then The Fear kicked in. Ok I want to get off now. Looking up trying to examine if these chains are really going to be safe or am I going to end up crashing through Jenners window and landing at some grannies table while she has a cup of tea and scones with her chums?

A mental slap was given as I glanced at the 8 year old beside me throwing her arms out and then looking bored.

Stumbled about with legs like jelly for the next half hour.

A friendship was revitalized and a jolly nice day was had by all.

Now its back to all things crafty and listening to the infectious grooves of Mr Scruff.