Day 45: Cramond

Today we got up late. Well, "we," because I was awake since eight, but Papi Edu was dawdling in bed. The truth is that I forgive him, because it's been a very intense week, and also... you can tell he's a little sad about Aunt Rosa. I miss Uncle Joan too. There's no one left to pinch my ear or say "hey, buddy" when I do something weird.

So we didn't really feel like moving, and since the day is nice, although a little more cloudy than yesterday, we decided to stay here one more night. And the thing is, this place has good vibes. There are a lot of campers and motorhomes parked along the coast, people with dogs, bicycles, sunbeds, even a lady with an easel painting the sea (and, incidentally, her husband's white trousers with a blue drop).

After lunch, the tide was very low, and the beach appeared out of nowhere as if by magic. Let's run!
We went to the beach with the ball (my beloved two-tone ball!) and played for a while. I ran so much, I barked so much, I jumped so much that I ended up getting into the water up to my back.
Brrr! It was cold, but refreshing.
Papi Edu said:
— But you hate getting wet!
And I thought:
— I don't care today, I want to have a good time!

After the express swim and a couple of strategic shakes (one right next to a lady with a skirt, who didn't look at me very well), we walked along the beach to the dragon's teeth, again.
We went back to the coast, not by the causeway but on the other side of the teeth, through the wet sand and the stones half-covered with algae and shells. We didn't go up to the island this time. It wasn't necessary. The walk was perfect like that.

Then we walked along the promenade. Now it was warm, people in swimsuits, some in bikinis, others in those undershirts that show the belly without wanting to. And many children with buckets, shovels and castles that can't withstand a single wave.

Back to the camper, we had new neighbors: Giuseppe and his wife, from Catania, in Sicily.
They drive a giant white motorhome, with a huge fringe.
They only speak Italian (and Sicilian), but that didn't stop Papi Edu from having a laugh with them, each speaking in their own language and with gestures, laughter, loose words and many references to places.
They come to Scotland every year, they love it. They gave advice for the Isle of Skye, although I was more concerned with whether they would give me something from their picnic (they didn't give me anything, the bastards).

We spent the afternoon quietly, next to the camper. I on the rug, in the sun. Papi Edu in his chair, reading something on his mobile and looking at the horizon. Sometimes he laughed at something he read. Sometimes he sighed. Sometimes he stroked my head and said:
— You miss them too, don't you?

And of course I do. But there are days like that, days when you don't have to do anything to make them beautiful.

When the sun began to hide behind the clouds, the coolness arrived like a stealthy fox. We went inside the camper.
As today is Friday, there are more cars driving around than yesterday, but it's not the chaos it was at the other place next to the Forth Bridge. I think we're going to sleep well. And tomorrow... we'll see.