No time for much more than a strap-line (was that the term?) this morning, but all is well, or at least well-ish.

The big news is that we've got our Disabled Parking Badge and can now park with impunity on yellow lines, and for free in parking-meter slots. I have read the booklet carefully and note that I must not park on a yellow line and go off shopping, leaving my husband sitting in the car. The badge belongs to him and not to the car, so I hope Alexander can find some creative places to park in Inverary over the holidays.

I did the post-office-queue business yesterday, I hope for the only time before Christmas. We used to have our own sub-post office around the corner on Broughton Street. Very handy. Then it closed, and I mostly used the  big one in St James Centre opposite Boots. But it has moved away -- just in time for Christmas -- so I have no alternative to the pleasant Pakistani-run PO in Canonmills. The queue could scarcely fit into the shop yesterday.

I want to write about the length of Archie's sweater, but I'll leave that for tomorrow.