A bit gloomy today. Springing out of bed early (hooray for daylight-spending!) and swimming failed to work their usual magic. The postie brought tripe, I wrote half a page of tripe, and nobody emailed. Didn’t want to blog, probably ever again.

But gloom, like the fudge that arrived today from Edinburgh in an paper bag, has a way of melting. My housemate was cheerful; a friend shared some exquisite news; and for some reason I remembered the dogs of Iowa.

There in autumn 18 months ago, I caught wind of news that the city’s hounds had been given the freedom of the municipal pool. What matter a few hairs, drool and yellow water on the last day of the season?

Big dogs hit the water running. Little ones minced about the fringes of the toddlers’ pool. Some were too precious for words, or water.