Last nights Scottish independence debate an acrimonious, unedifying affair. Angus is on the wagon for a week but is off it by the time the broadcast ends.
This morning we've had our coffee ( and illicit half croissant ) and are heading back to the car. It's still early enough for there to be no one around. The three of us wander down the hill and settle on the steps outside the old pilgrim church. Inside a young German organist is practising for tonight's recital.
Sophie falls asleep, Bob lies down but keeps one eye open in case of danger. Some pilgrims, keen to be on their way before the sun rises, look at us. '' A day as beautiful as God's justice " says a tall thin man in an orange tee shirt. This is rather a profound thing to respond to ( let alone translate ) at this time in the morning so I nod and smile. On reflection the man is right. Can there be anything as beautiful as sitting on the church steps in the eight o'clock sunshine, a PON on either side , listening to this through the open door ? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZY8iJ8pf24