Of feasts, lesser and greater

I put on decent clothes last night for the first time since I've been in Edinburgh. I had a reservation at Café St Honoré, a wonderful little French restaurant down a cobbled street in the New Town. It's the sort of place where posh people in Alexander McCall Smith's novels are always having dinner for some special occasion. My special occasion was the end of my fourteen-day self-isolation.

The decent clothes, I must say, were a bit snug. A basically sedentary two weeks had done wonders for my Anselm bibliography and my progress on the second Brahms violin sonata, but it had not been kind to my waistline. Five pounds, maybe. But I had neglected to remind myself that the reason I can always eat everything I want in Edinburgh and still lose weight is that I'm walking. All the time. Everywhere.

Which I hadn't been. For two weeks.

The modest protest from my waistband notwithstanding, I set out for dinner. Such freedom to do as I pleased, to walk along the streets of this endlessly lovely city as the sun was beginning to set.

The food was exceptional. I managed about three-fourths of a starter and maybe half of the main. My esophagus is still doing portion control for me (which, obviously, is just as well, or no telling how huge I would be after two weeks of self-isolation). I did wonder if these lesser feasts, the most that my condition will allow, are really worth the expense.

But I think they are. I do hate wasting food, and I'm not going to do this as often as I had been planning -- Edinburgh is an amazingly good city for restaurants -- but yes, the occasional celebration still makes sense. It's an expression of joy, of gratitude for how far I've come. Every bite is a small miracle, and I am going to savor some really fine food when I can do so without extravagance.

Today was my first full day of freedom. I went to the Cathedral for Morning Prayer and Eucharist to celebrate a major feast, St Michael and All Angels. No sermon, alas, but I contented myself with recalling the excellent sermon I heard last Michaelmas. From there it was off to get into my office at IASH, with a stop along the way for a sausage roll and some coffee. (Why not a full Scottish breakfast? See above.)

IASH was eerily quiet: the usual army of postdocs and other fellows must be working from home. I should be able to get tons of work done.

Then it was back to my flat in time for Latin Reading Group.

All of that amounted to over 10,000 steps, nearly five miles, close to two hours of walking. Those trousers will be fitting perfectly again in no time. And if Edinburgh by itself doesn't do the trick, I'm going walking in the Highlands this weekend. I'm not exactly in the condition to spring up a Munro or two, but I shall do my best.