After the photo.

The weekend weather wonderful. We park by the harbour and walk with Sophie up through the old cathedral. En route we chat to 'our' fisherman who promises some langoustine for tomorrows nights dinner. Sophie has to be encouraged away from his lobster creels that are exuding exotic maritime smells. For an old lady her enthusiasm for mischief - or diesel oil - remains undiminished. A Canadian woman in one of those long padded coats stops to tell the fisherman that they have tides like this on the Bay of Fundy. 'Oh yes we do ' says her husband in case we're in any doubt.

Peak wedding season. Covid saw many weddings delayed. There's now a mad rush to catch up with the backlog. The ten o'clock crowd block the pavement while the nine o'clock crowd head off to the altar.

Tourists are also beginning to arrive . For some reason the town is full of Italian visitors. I'm guessing the airline summer schedules have started and with them direct flights from Rome and Milan to Edinburgh.  They stand and watch as a lady in a startling green dress tries to herd the nine am's  kilted male guests into posing for a wedding photo. ' Canapes will be served after the group photo ' she says over and over. Herding cats might be easier. The Italians are delighted and reinforced in their view that all Scots men spend their day wandering around in kilts while playing the bagpipes.  Student sunbathers look up from their revision with the studied disinterest that is the hallmark of  late teens. The Italians, in unison, clap. 

The ten am wedding is more patrician. Most of the men are wearing formal Highland day wear rather than evening wear. A small but telling difference.

At the Good Coffee Cafe this morning Sophie knows the window cleaners dog is about but try as she might she can't see where he is. The window cleaner promises to attend to the windows at the wee house in town. ' I've no wanted to disturb yer tenants ' he says in what might pass as an excuse for his inactivity.