Today I saw three sea eagles.  Normally this excitement would dominate my brain for at least three days before fading, gradually.
Not today.
Sodding independence referendum. My emotions lurch from fear, to anger, to disgust, to hope, to dread, and back again, with a touch of astonishment thrown in here and there.
Saltires everywhere.  Demonstrations outside the BBC. A general feeling of aggression and threat.
I can understand the thuggery that goes on.  People's feelings are ramped up and that is how some people behave, at such times. That doesn't appall me. What does appall me is the arrogance and smugness of the artistic community.  I'm shocked that there are no dissenting voices, no-one who challenges the nationalist line, nothing remotely controversial in terms of artistic content.
I don't want to be part of any of that.  I've considered going along to writing events - I'm not much of a joiner-in, so I never have - and I certainly won't now, if I'm going to be surrounded by delirious yes-men and women, belching on about independence and building their careers on it.  Is there nobody who disagrees with them?  I even read something about change not being possible without pain - so the feelings of people like myself (no voters) don't matter - we must be sacrificed for the greater good, apparently.
My blood runs cold.
Thank God for the internet, where you can speak to a world-wide community and borders (for now...) don't matter.
Goodness only knows what is to become of us over the next week.