Good Journal Name

I'm a bum.

The definition of a bum is someone who wanders around the city looking for opportune places to sleep. Alex left for a football match in Croatia this morning, shortening my sleep by a good few hours. I hauled my ass down to the street corner and caught a bus into St Andrew Square, then hoofed it through the early morning festival crowds around Princes Street, across the North Bridge over the railway station and up onto the Royal Mile.

I'm sleeping tonight in Peter's bike shop. It's an interesting place that looks more like someone's living room than an establishment for the hiring of bicycles. But since my greeting this morning from the female half of the resident American couple working in the shop was "I thought you weren't coming until tonight," followed by "Are you going to be here all day?" I gathered that I would not be welcome to snooze there.

I'm prowling the streets looking for any of the following:

1) A comfy couch in a secluded corner of a public establishment, such as a library or museum.
2) A park bench in a secluded corner of a public space.
3) A patch of grass that is not boggy in a quiet piece of park or similar.

POSTSCRIPT: I went with the patch of grass option, constructing a rudimentary shelter out of my waterproof jacket (for the bottom) and my pink frilly french undies umbrella (against sun, wind and rain). Unfortunately the wind and rain part of that equation laughed in the face of my efforts, and I was forced to give up and go buy lunch and eat it in the bus station.

I repeat. I am a bum.