Stuff On My Phone (26)

An unintended consequence of the rained-off trip to the airshow in July, happened in Haddington, a Royal Burgh town in East Lothian. Calum and I had repaired to a cafe to sift through the wreckage of our day's plans and come up with some different, drier, ideas. We were on the cusp of the decision to ditch the airshow altogether, and as we left the cafe and wandered along the street, the rain turned to something more akin to a monsoon. We dashed into a shop, any shop, just to escape the drenching.

Being a genteel sort of town, this turned out to be a gifts and cards emporium, the lady behind the counter probably hoping for a nicer class of customer than two grumpy blokes, soaked to the skin. We apologised for our 'dancing on the doormat' entrance and I decided we had better buy something to say Thank You for our temporary respite from the weather.

Whilst I rummaged through the greetings cards, Calum chatted amiably with the owner. She had once worked in meteorology for Edinburgh Airport, so was quite forgiving of our plight. As my purchases were rung through the till, I noticed some essential oils, displayed behind the counter (no, behave yourselves, it's not that kind of shop!). "And a bottle of Patchouli oil, please," I heard myself say. It's a scent which turns back the years for me, not that I was ever cool, or did drugs, or even had long hair. I just like the scent. Perhaps it was all those 'Guru' type shops which Our Lass dragged me into since our early days?

Photo copyright Guru (Darlington)

Anyway, the sales lady hesitated for a fraction of a second before her merchandising skills got the better of her. Apparently, they had a range of upmarket perfumes which were based on Patchouli oil, would I like to try one of those? I politely declined, though in my head I was thinking "Nope, I'll just take a bottle of the hard stuff, thank you."

So now Tense Towers has a fragrance to compliment the progressive rock thrumming from its speakers. Although my hair has just about run out of time to be anything other than short.

It's time for a xylophone intro and some weird lyrics... man.

Procul Harum's Pandora's Box.