Abi had a bookbinding event in Dundee on Saturday. We hired a car for the weekend, and we all drove up there for the day. Alex and I went shopping while Abi was binding, and towards the end of the afternoon we made our way up Dundee Law, the hill that sits in the middle of the city. It was bitter cold at the top, but the view made me forget all about that. The setting sun bathed everything in an amazing golden light. The Firth of Tay glittered like crumpled silver foil, and the city shone with an inner light.
Edinburgh is a city of sandstone; Aberdeen is a city of granite. Dundee is somewhere inbetween. Where the slanting rays struck sandstone and brick, the buildings basked in the warmth of the winter sun. Where late afternoon shadows crept over granite and concrete, a cool blue glow spoke of ice and rime. The slopes of the Law are wrapped in gardeners’ allotments. Steam rose from compost heaps and hugged the ground as if seeking shelter from the coming chill.