In which I pottered in the drizzle, between meetings and before lunch in Reading Lasses, taking photos. How beautiful Scotland's Booktown is. Don't you think?
I've been a bit obsessed by it for years, and for years been writing a children's novel based there. I've nearly finished it. It's kind of instilled Wigtown into my bones. Though then again, it's a Wigtown that isn't quite Wigtown. I've got the weirdest mental map that overlays reality without any conflict at all.
One of the best things about Wigtown is its wear and tear.
What I like best about this portico is its hefty electric cable. On the other side there's a big white rusty box that looks like a heat pump. (To me, which may well mean it's something else).
'The pattern of the railing reflects great credit upon the taste of Mr Smith, its designer, for though not gaudy, it is both ornamental and strong. It has eight lamp-posts at regular distance around it.' Records of the Town Council, 23rd October 1810.
Sadly, no lamp left, just graceful ruination.
Nothing ruinous about Wigtown though. Great lunch in Reading Lasses and I bought a book in the Old Bank Bookshop.
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