Borderlands.

I spent yesterday and today in the borders with friends. I walk around the ramparts at Berwick, a beer, then back across the border for a barbecue. And beer. And wine. And whisky. And lots of sausages. (Others had halloumi. Awful stuff. I had their sausages, too.)

Today we had a walk on Cheswick Sands, with views of Holy Isle and Bamburgh.

I've had a minor cold for the last few days. Today my hangover and cold have been battling it out in my throat.

My cold won. The hangover is gone but the cold has tightened its grip on my throat and nose.

The Whole of the Moon.

My twenty four hours in Berwickshire and Northumbria in the company of an old friend. We were students together, and sometime lovers.

I would walk to her flat late at night across the Meadows with my Walkman on.

And so I associate the Waterboys' The Whole of the Moon with late night romantic assignations, and, particularly my friend.

So it was quite strange when, driving her back to her house, she chose to put the CD on in my car. Much has changed in the last thirty years.