Entry for 14th April, 2008

This is one of the publicity shots for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - The Charming Thespian and Lanarkshire's Leading Actress are at their sultry best. In the background we have cunningly disguised an Edinburgh car park as a 1950s San Francisco mental institution. It is barely possible to tell the difference.
After we took the pictures I spent a terribly adult hour, sitting at an outdoor cafe sipping espresso. I watched with awe as people actually sat and read the Sunday papers. The Sunday papers are a thing of the past since the arrival of the Small Round Faced People. The most extensive reading I get to do nowadays is the back of the cereal box over a hurried breakfast: I'm starting to think Riboflavin and Thiacin are actually characters from a Dostoevsky novel.
I felt a bit out of place at the cafe. As far as I could see I was the only one wearing clothes stained with yoghurt, pureed apples and at least three different types of bodily fluid. The joys of parenthood were as yet unknown to the bright young things sipping their lattes. Their day will come though. One day, I will be old and retired and will return to pavement cafes for a last Indian summer. I shall read the pensions section of the Sunday times and quietly chuckle at passing parents pushing prams.