The Baillie Bugle

Is the alarm really set for 830?
It can't be!
It's three minutes past six in the morning for God's sake!

I asked the taxi driver to drop me off where my old bus used to in the morning (not the bust stop near the main entrance - the one in the middle of nowhere which students from West Lothian have to use). Some mornings I’d be arriving only half an hour or so after this, and the twilight walk along Hermiston Path was eerily nostalgic.

I saw about thirty bunny rabbits on my travels and, for the first time, a fox.

It amazed me how sad the fifteen-minute walk back to the halls of residence made me. Sad because of the things I miss.

I even miss the bits of that particular journey I used to hate: the windy bus stop (I wish I'd left my name graffitied on it as some sort of proof I’ve ever stood there), the completely unsheltered crossing on the way to the Engineering buildings (I remember hating this especially when the rain came sideways).

I wonder if, in ten or so year’s time, I'll look back and wish I were back where I am now...
'Your life's a piece of cake at the moment,' James pointed out when I mentioned that I was pining for days gone by...
It was back then, too.I just didn't appreciate it at the time.